no sign yet as to whether the boredom is going to kill him. granted it’s only been–what–twenty minutes, if that?–and he’s gone years and years and hundreds of years without anything exciting to take his mind off the burrowing itch of tedium, but it’s worth keeping an eye out all the same. if he gets the itch, he’ll scratch it, and it’ll be fine.
or–a much better idea–how about he doesn’t wait for his grand godly weakness to strike him down in a strange land, and makes his own fun instead?
and what better fun–really, nothing beats the classics–than perching himself in a tree, kicking his legs like a child, and throwing acorns down at the poor young man making the mistake of walking past.
“hey–” he has to stop, stifle a laugh, and he takes advantage of the pause to throw another acorn. “hey! are you a monster? it’s too dark, i can’t tell!”
to say zen was in a bad mood would be an UNDERSTATEMENT. the situation at hand is, truthfully, not one that’s entirely new to him, yet zen finds himself even more aggravated and upset despite having more here than on garage island. the luxuries here far surpass those he’d been given before, yet zen finds himself feeling even more lost and powerless than before. perhaps the larger environment has something to do with that? the lack of his companions?
whatever the reason, everything about this place pisses him off. it’s not like he won’t be able to adapt, or anything, but doesn’t mean he has to accept things. and so, in typical zen fashion, he buries those feelings deep down as he treks through the city, attempting to gain his bearings and suppress the cacophony of doubts plaguing his thoughts.
he’s caught off guard when a little acorn connects with his head. it isn’t unusual for them to fall for the trees, but the voice makes it apparent that it was deliberate. zen spins on his heel, brow twitching as he eyes befall the figure in the trees. but he’s quick to put on a falsified smile, laced with passive aggressiveness.
“ aha, funny you should ask. who knows, maybe i am? ” he shrugs, “ nah, sorry to burst your bubble. not a monster. ” zen drops one hand to his hip, the other moving to rub at his neck as his head tips to the side, feigning innocence.
“ though, surely you already knew that. i mean, throwing an acorn at a monster? now that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do, would it? ” the maybe not-so-hidden implication? idiot.
