The Void is not Empty

@nuciferaneophyte​

She looked at the look on his face, and held up a spare glass, not speaking the offer aloud. He’d decide on his own terms, she trusted that much.

She nodded, “Yeah, boss seemed impressed with the fight your mortals put up; at least they’ve got some drive.”

“It’d probably do some good to keep an eye out for replacements,” she said, swirling her drink, “You do still have the authority to do that, right?”

Mojito stared at the glass for a few moments before taking it, as if to wonder if drinking right now would be in his best interest.  It was no surprise that he gave in this easily.  If anything the burn of the alcohol reminded him that he could feel something.

“All they have ever done is suffer,” Mojito sighed as he took place beside of her.  "That’s why the entire tournament was disappointing.  Whether or not we lost, I knew it wouldn’t be permanent…and why would it be? It’s so much easier for Universe Seven try and make ammends to be in our good graces…as if that’s something to be had with me.“

Whis’ acceptance from the Grand Priest after the whole ordeal just made him all the more bitter.

Thinking about it made him take a sip of the alcohol. The burning of his throat felt like the incineration of his pride.

The angel furrowed his eyebrows.  "They may be mistakes, but they are mine.  I’d like to make things work, even if they are a bit…disappointing.”

“I can’t change your mind for you. Just remember, we’re always here if you wanna talk.”

(Of course he does)

Life had always been a strange, yet foreign concept to him - life in normal terms, the natural cycle of all things.  It all seemed so fleeting.

One day he held her in his hands, a precious symbol of new life and endless possibilities.  She was so small and calm, clutching at his robes for security and gazing upon him with startdust in her eyes.

A tiny being he wished good fortune on.

It seemed just that was happening. She had found someone to love, someone she felt worthy of her body, mind and soul.  As much as he may feel like somewhat of a brooding hen, wishing to protect her from harm, she had assured him that her lover would treat her with gentility and adoration.  So, he would trust her choices.  After all, she had grown wise despite a part of him seeing her through nostalgic lenses.

Seeing Ina walk down the isle, donned in a beautiful wedding dress with the love of her life filled Mojito with a sense of pride.  She had grown into a beautiful woman, shining brightly on her happiest day.

And as she passed him, a small smile adored his face.

On anon, describe a date that your muse would take mine on and  they’ll say if they’d be interested based just off of the description. | Accepting 

“It’s always an honor for me to learn more about mortals and their history, their lives and everything that makes them so…magnificent, in my eyes!

You know I’d go anywhere that has flowers! And the fountain of youth…I’ve heard several tales about it, a long time ago. I wonder if a single drop of it would bring me back a few centuries of my youth…

I’m up for it!”

           You think they are all dead, 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳.                                         (ᴛʜᴇ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇꜰᴛ) 

                         "𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖆!“

Pausing from writing “ORODOROS SUCKS CO-” for just a second, Naina gave them a blank stare. She gestured to the scrawling,

“What does it look like I’m doing, you vain virgin? Calling you out to the whole neighborhood.”

Said random sap also happened to be her new equal in status, so she didn’t care. Dabura’d probably laugh at the audacity anyway if he ever actually slept in his own house.

   A very slow, measured blink, as if they have trouble processing the sheer inanity of it all. Their eyes drift up to the back of their skull, and they audibly sigh.

   “So–Do I suck cock, or am I a vain virgin? Make up your mind, much?”

   They toss their head back, hoops rattlings on their ears as they shrug, considering the interaction a complete waste of time–but put both hands on their hips as they begin to wander across the front of the walls scrawled in ink.

   “What the absolute fuck do I care what some shitty’ neighborhood’ in the armpit of the multiverse cares?

“An overgrown rat that dresses better than you, by the way.”

   “Um? Like, what are you doing, basket case?”

   It seems they’d wandered right up, unable to go any farther without officially announcing their presence. They cast a curious glance at the graffiti. Is this supposed to be directed at them? 

   Why some random, poor saps’s door, of all places?

“What does it look like I’m doing, you vain virgin? Calling you out to the whole neighborhood.”