‖‖ ~~~~~~~~ ☾ 𝓜 ☽
❝You remind me of a human chipmunk, All nice and woodlandy❞
( She said in a monotone voice, Stepping closer to her
Smirking softly, Tilting her head inquisitively )
❝I’d bet you’d scamper off like a chipmunk to once you saw— What I AM❞
“I’ve always found myself to be
more like a deer, personally.
Smile still chirpy as ever the
Pagan was quietly aware of
the thin blade tucked against
her thigh, just in case this went
downhill.
"Are you a demon of sorts? I’ve
never met a demon but I’ve felt
them, they’re hot- like fire and
such a brilliant shade of Red.”
‖‖ ~~~~~~~~ ☾ 𝓜 ☽
❝——-
…….. I Am So lost right now❞
( She exclaimed more to herself, She had hastily teleported away from a fight,
Not thinking About the Location she just had to get away,
She was Kinda wounded But she didn’t care about that,
Her eyes scanned the Forrest a confused look on her face )
"I’m afraid I won’t be much help there,
I only wander these woods- no map.“
Eyes flicking over the creature before
her, a curious hum rumbled through
her chest, not actively moving closer
but investigating all the same.
"What are you? May I ask? You’re
certainly not human- while every
being is invited to stay I would quite
desire to know what you might be.”
A smile leaps over cherry painted lips,
visitors are rare these days- the ones
without canes to walk or mouths that
run faster; not that the Pagan dislikes
company but rather that she prefers
quite conversion to booming voices.
They frighten the bluebirds
“These are strange times I see, your
kind don’t often venture here anymore.”
”Like the sky?”
It brings a brief spark of mirth
to his otherwise serious demeanor.
Simon has no idea what his eyes used to resemble. All he knows
is that his pupils were either blown or pinpricked, with no inbetween.
He remembers traipsing home, in the early days, to find his Dad
waiting up for him. Remembers him staring into those altered pupils,
curling his lip back in a snarl, you’ve been at it again.“I don’t know. Maybe,” he decides,
glancing upwards a moment
before eyeing Dakota playfully.
“Hope me bein’ blue doesn’t mean
I’m miserable to be around?”
"You don’t know?!”
A flutter on confusion flashes across ivory features,
wholly astonished by this revelation; unsure to how
re-approach their conversation, Simon doesn’t seem
phased perhaps his own image never occurred to him.
That would be an incredibly rare trait though, most of
the population were obsessive when taking note of their
own features.
“I would’ve liked to see your eyes,
they can say a lot about a person.”
A burst of laughter erupting from
the Pagan she waved off his
comment.
"Of course not! You’re more lively
than half the people I bump into.“
Here is a creature that respects power,
that uses it wisely; Simon lives in a world
where the elite exploit their lessers,
where the Redeemed are subjugated
only because the living hold power over them.“There’s too many people in this world willin’ to abuse
their power over others, Dakota, I’ll tell you that.
I’m glad you’re not one of ‘em.”He likes her already. It’s been clear from the start
that she’s neither a radical nor a visionary, but
all the same, she’d held true to her own values
where others around her - her family - would not.
"Simon,”
the undead murmurs with a smile, and
his cold hand clasps her own firmly
before drawing back again. Dakota is a strange name,
but the girl herself is far more unusual, and that
tugs his interest much more.
“The pleasure’s mine.”Turning a little, he gestures for her to follow him.
”Walk with me?”
“You believe in the soul, in spirits -
what sort? I can see you’ve got faith in somethin’.”
Dakota did not feel it necessary to abuse
her power over those unable to protect
themselves, it was cruel- meaningless.
He seemed to respect her cause , a trait
which often did not occur in strangers.
"I’ve never seem the point, I’m glad you
approve of my justification, it’s not east
to justify death; s'nice to hear a second
opinion on the matter.”
The pagan liked him. Perhaps once he reigned
chaos but there was a lack of people who did
not let darkness consume them. He was one
of the brighter souls in life.
She could feel it.
“Your names suits your face.”
She commented with a chirp,
taking his hand merrily and
shaking lightly- no need to be
rough. Fingers lingering on his skin,
desperate to know more about the
frozen surface. It was ever so new.
All of it.
“The feeling is mutual.”
Feet already treading a familiar path she
trails after him wordlessly.
Lighting up the woman physically flinched.
“I believe in souls, our souls are in harmony
with the world, nature and the spirits when
we are born but through our lives most stray
away, it makes us feel less alive. Less good,.
It’s my theory that the more at peace I am
with nature the better I feel and I haven’t been
wrong so far. Souls are precious things, Simon.”
“What do you think?”
“Fair enough.”
Simon’s fairly used to being looked at, for one reason or another - but those
usually involve a response to something he’s said, or simple alarm at his
general, dead visage. To be stared at for something as innocent as Dakota’s
curiousity is different, and it makes him shift, almost shy.“They used to be blue,” he blurts; uncharacteristic
for someone that usually calculates his words carefully
around others. “Before I kicked the bucket, I mean.
You can stop starin’ now.”
"I’ll stop if you want.“
The pagan generally doesn’t see any harm within her own actions,
however she succeeds in recognising the flaw and strives to excel
it- drawing away her gaze away, down to her own bare feet as a
bright smile dawns over her features, head whipping up.
"Blue? Yes. Yes you seem like a
Blue person, not within your voice
perhaps but blue all the same.”
Had they been like ice?
No, no that was far too cold
perhaps they were like the sky-
never ending and hopeful. Fogged
over with Grey on some days but blissful
all the same. Yes. His eyes must’ve been like the sky.
“Sorry… were they like the sky?”
”Yellow?”
Simon speaks the word like it’s foreign, somehow,
evidently confused. He’s been trying to figure out
for some time what exactly she’s been staring at,
and now he’s completely lost (if he wasn’t already).
”I don’t get it—
…
…my eyes?”
"Dandelion yellow…
Not sunflower…“
Eyes fleeting away for a moment she re-considers her choices,
perhaps they were more like the base of a Honeysuckle flower?
Certainly nothing bold but mesmerising all the same, she’s so
washed away in tones of yellow she completely forgets to talk
for a short interval.
"Yes of course, why else would
I be staring at you?”
[ he can see the conflict surge up in her throat; it patterns discontent
across her face. this issue is not new to her. simon understands
it’s a question of morality - is she betraying her own principles,
does she make herself a hypocrite by spilling blood?not in simon’s mind. not if she kills
for the greater good. ]“They must be important to you.
How do you honour your dead?”[ the disciple looks for answers in his new companion’s face,
curious rather than judgemental, as she too seems to be. ]
[ Alas her conscience is redeemed, he looks at peace with her
answer while unexplained but supposing he wished to accept
his own reality- justifying killing for certain cause or under
certain conditions must’ve snagged his interest.
Although it mattered not to the pagan,
his opinions were his own to keep. ]
"All on this planet are important- some
let importance mean far too much to
them though.
I bless them. It may not matter in the
grander scheme of things but to me
if I put their soul to rest before they
die it seemed justified. I also use the
entirely on the body. Not a piece wasted,
even blood has it uses…
Oh and I leave an offering for the spirits.
My cause is just but if I abuse the power
I hold over animals and abuse their
material bodies when I have slain them?
I would be no more than a murderer.“
[ Oh, elderflower berries.
Had that been rude? To mention murder at such a time,
she’d meant no offence and a proud smile remained,
her curiosity brimming for his reaction or any input he might
bestow. ]
"Dakota.”
[ With a merry voice she extends a hand, he seemed honest.
Without prejudice to her beliefs. She likes that. ]
”Is there a problem?”
roarton’s redeemed may, as a whole, tolerate
their mistreatment at the hands of the living,
but simon won’t.
no matter how subtly it manifests itself,
injustice is injustice, and he’d rather die
than let them silence him.
"Not that I’m aware of.“
A frumpy smile and the pagan is already back to
her previous actions, eyes locked onto his face
entirely. It could be rude…
but she’s not certain in fact, she’s rather lost
trying to pinpoint the colour of his eyes. Not
certain if it was improper to ask.
"I’ve decided yellow.”
“You’re going to save the monster I just tried to kill?
Are you completely seriously here?”
"Who are you to deem a creature unworthy of it’s own life?
I will heal all within my forest.”