mossy balls: arts

Aria always wondered why so many love stories ended in tragedy. It was the main reason she believed to be aromantic. Devoid of romance. They liked it that way, it fitted them, it made life much simpler. And yet, the first thing they thought of as the zombified masses approached, was the one who loved her most. The memory of Matvey’s bright smile lit up their dark thoughts. The road she stood on filled gradually, by the dozens. Aria was glad to have him for a husband, even if for such a short while.

It’s funny how despite death approaching, one still is so desperate to fight, to go out with a bang, to make their final moments worth something. Even if it’ll add up as close to nothing. She had a few “cure bombs” as she called them on her person, along with some vials of the stuff; although they believed them to be less fun. If they were to try to cure the zombies as they fought, it’d just make the cured suffer more. She’d just have to take as many as she could down with her.

Even as they prepared to fight, their thoughts went back towards home. To her mother, to her little brother, to her kind husband. He was the only person she’d even remotely doubt their aromantic self for. Her best friend in this destroyed world. Aria smiled at the memory of her family, whole and happy, and began the massacre.

They began the battle, two axes in hand. She swung them left and right, up and down, front and back. The undead bodies fell all around her, forming a near perfect circle of bloodshed and carnage. The more of the infected she kissed, the more approached. A slight smile caressed their face. A mark of violence taught them by their adoptive mother, Kate. The only parent they ever considered their own.

The exhaustion came with the first bite. The arm went numb, making Aria drop the first axe. Then came the desperate tugs, scratches, and tears. She bled. They fought unyieldingly. Up until they were lightheaded enough to be knocked down by the infinitely starving crowd.

Alhrimo surveyed the sandy landscape with a bored expression. In truth, he didn’t even want to be there. Eshan planned on going and forced him to come with. And where were they now? Giggling in the water, dodging waves, completely leaving him behind.

Was he upset? Not really. More like disgruntled. He hated the unbearable warmth that the sun provided, and the way sand felt beneath his limbs. The heat hit him with extra force because of his shirt he refused to remove despite Eshan’s pleads. His long, black hair didn’t help much either.

He focussed his eyes on Eshan. Oh, how he loved them. Even if they were often loud and irksome. But they were also absolutely and delightfully chatty and beyond beautiful in every way. God, this was pathetic. He was pathetic, and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before he would get emotional and burn everything in his surroundings to the ground, killing everyone unfortunate enough to be near.

He sighed and leaned back, fidgeting with his near empty pack of cigarettes. He’d already had one this hour, but the heat and all other displeasures enticed him for another one. Al pondered what to do. He could just go join his best friend in the water, but he was set on being stubborn and didn’t want to get his clothes wet.

He took out one of his remaining fags and spun it in his fingers, considering alternate options. There was always the need ti practice his magical abilities. Syndicate has been asking him to do so more often anyway. What could he do besides hurling fireballs at crabs from a distance anyway?

He could “dig” an Alhrimo and/or Eshan sized hole and lay in it and letting it fill with water. He’d be able to protect Eshan from drowning, and he himself wouldn’t be able to drown anyway. He tried in the 1900s, after repeat 4. What else was there? Sand, water, Eshan. He could practice displacing various amounts of water, but that was boring, and he preferred fire anyway. There was a reason he was proficient with it.

All this thinking was making his head hurt. There was a reason he developed a habit of skipping class. Or maybe he was in pain from dehydration. Either way thinking so much bothered him. That did continue for some time though, averting his boredom long enough for Eshan to tire out and come to him. They smiled as they approached and Al’s heart skipped a beat lovingly. He rolled over grumbling to hide his feelings.

“we should do something together” they insisted “I didn’t bring you out here to lounge around miserably.”

“You didn’t?” he replied avoiding their eyes “I was about to do just that”

Although the sarcasm in his tone was clear and evident, they forced him to sit.

“Oh! I know! What if we build a sandcastle!”

“aren’t we a bit old for that?”

“You, maybe, I could never grow too old. Come on it’ll be fun!”

With that they pulled him along to a pile of sand with shovel left over from a random kid. The two of them started putting the structure together. Beginning with a rough shape, which was later defined into it’s respective sections. In the end, Al had to admit, that it was quite impressive. The duo even dug out a channel leading from the water to a moat. Al then created a few bridges with minimal magical help.

Afterwards, the boredom returned with twice the intensity. They decided to have a smoke break and talk. Eshan encouraged Al to remove his shirt and to follow them into the water. He in turn, got suspiciously defensive and so they quickly let the matter go.

After putting out the cigarettes, Eshan went back to playing mermaids, well, more like a singular mermaid. And Al was left to his own devices yet again. After some more grumpy mumbling and pondering, he discovered all one needed to make glass was sand and a shitload of heat. Both of which he possessed.