#goseiko

        It took the RK900 four days (night, rather) of watching, waiting, ANALYZING...before he decided to take the jump. He spent his nights at DPD, in a docking station, in low power. Nines’ Zen Garden was still intact, and to him, still a place of serenity. He often spent the nights walking the grounds, staring at the water, feeling the breeze on his face. Sometimes he talked to Amanda. Things rarely changed in his Zen Garden. Static. Never changing. 

        That was, until 4 days ago. 

       His eyes had caught a...it looked like a door but NOT, almost like an entryway, a very noticeable RIPPLE in the brush along the edge of the treeline. Was his Zen Garden collapsing around him? Would this ripple spread? Was it a glitch, a virus? The first day, once he awoke, he ran 32 system checks, for good measure. No viruses (other than deviancy). His low power stasis mode was FULLY operational. 

       Then what was that door? 

       He watched it for two more nights. Analyzing it, monitoring its length, its size, its depth. His system turned up zero results as to what it could be. It didn’t spread, or shrink. It stayed, taunting him. DARING him. 

       He resisted its pull until night four. 

       Do you know what it is? Amanda had asked. He didn’t. 

       Then why go? she had wondered, her question punctuated by the snip of a rose. 

       Nines had NO answer. He stepped through. 

       It was...another garden. But not? It looked different from his own Zen Garden, it followed less rhyme or reason, with different types of foliage strewn all about. Something pieced together, crafted carefully but with a certain amount of passion that had Nines speechless for a moment. Among a swath of grass, a FIGURE. Sitting, enjoying the sunshine and the day. RK900 furrowed his brow. Was this a trick of his software? It couldn’t actually be --- 

fingers tighten —      entangled in his hair,  a  gentle  tug.   quiet ghost of a breath,  heart  of  a  peach.   insensate with longing,  alight with immolation.   desire born,  impossibly hungry —— something  so  tender  to sink into.   [thick,  like hands filled with pieces of pomegranates ——— splitting apart like a sugar apple].   fingers  prying,  twisting in silken locks & how  gentle  and  cruel.   she’s tender for him,  spreading bruises for  deviation.   her heart crawls across her chest,  cruelty as the nothingness.   nothing  but the emptiness in her mouth and her tongue.   distant  from  everything  but  him.

❛❛  are you comfy?  ❜❜     soft in her tone,  nearing a  husk  in her words.   sweet  and  wet,  cavernous heart —— nearing an empty atrium with  nothing  but a singular  beating,  red  heart  and  blue  thirium pump.   [and maybe he’ll never see how it feels like a  storm  on  coming  and the  burn  of it inside of her,  settling in  every  inch of her body].   bones creaking with  unspoken  words  and  pathetic  feelings  that will never be returned.   it is no longer enough to just be gentle.

        ❛  there  ain’t  nothin’  there  for  ya,  and  the  last  thing  people  need  down  there’s  another  scare  from  some  uppie  ‘detective’.  ❜  

𝙷𝙴    𝙸𝚂    𝚂𝙾    𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴    ——    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝙲𝙰𝙽    𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙻𝚈    𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳    𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻.

digits    leave    imprints    as    they    curl    tightly    ‘round    cold    metal,    steadying    form    that    threatens    to    liquefy    with    each    passing    moment.    𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴    ——    𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴    ——    𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴.    he’s    so    focused    on    each    empty    second,    he    nearly    forgets    how    to    fill    them.

                   >>    𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝    𝚊𝚛𝚎    𝚢𝚘𝚞    𝚞𝚙    𝚝𝚘    ?

❛❛  come on a walk with me.      i want to take sumo out.  ❜❜   it weighs her pocket down,  as if a black hole consuming her tenderly.   their boots crunch under a fresh layer of snow,  the large st bernard bounding ahead of them.   passion is lovely and lilting,  burrowing itself into every inch of her and painting itself on her skin.   it still feels like the whole  world  goes silent everytime they whisper  i  love  you.   hands twisted together,  calloused palms pressed to smooth ones.   fresh snowflakes dotting her cheeks and curling themselves in her hair,  darting of dark eyes and rosewood lips pursed in a smile.   [even if masked by thick layers of wool,  she fears he can see the soft outline in her pocket and months of planning will be exposed].   

@goseiko​    sent:    ❝    get    in    loser    we're    going    to    cause    a    public    disturbance.    ❞

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼    𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂     /     always    accepting.

her  foot  slips.   possessed by reality and unreality,  throat  sharp  and the quiet ghost of a breath.   [part slaughterhouse,  aren’t you?].   fever in her bones,  uncertain and apprehensive.   it’s enough for him to gain a lead on her,  it cuts  through  her.   she stumbles,  half fear —— tears swelling.   it cuts with a feral screech,  fingernails  dragging  across the gravel.   [acute jab to the shin,  hoping  to hear a crack as she breaks free].   it feels like endless hunger,  her skin  crawling.   enraged,  she  scrambles  to her feet,  cutting around the nearest corner.

❛❛  connor,  please —      you don’t have to do this.  ❜❜    ugly tears and a cracked voice.   it’s a  sad  song,  thick blood trailing down from her nose and painting her lips.   it’s still  haunting.   she’s tainted with grief and horror,  stomach holding every facet of fear as boots  crunch  against the ground.   [heart pounding,  screaming in her ears].   all but cleaved in half,  all tender and raw.   gravel stuck in the open wounds coating her knees and lodged inside of her palms,  grinding into the skin.   you  saw  humanity  where  there  wasn’t.