Drabble a la Mexico
It's amazing what week-long trips to Mexico make you come up with EXCEPT NOT RLY since this is so generic and only half-done sob
The sun blazed an aged, smouldering orange as it slowly began to descend and fall behind the vast expanse of sea that met the sky in all directions. Heat made it seem as the sun was rippling, like a reflection in a pond as it hovered low in the sky. It cast a golden filter over the whole Island, making everything seem an off-shade of red and orange, and it was times like this that the strange, sentient Island seemed almost normal to Zelman as he sat and watched the sun slowly descend from the sky and begin to set.
It was quiet that evening, something he had to marvel at. None of the residents were yelling or fighting, or if they were they weren’t making uproar about it. Even the monkeys and dingoes seemed to have taken a break for that moment, and the only sounds that reached Zelman’s ears were the muted sounds of wave rolling onto the shore as the tide came in and the distant cries of the seagulls that flew above it. If he focused he could also hear the wind rustling the leaves of the many palm trees, and the very, very faint smouldering sound his cigarette made as it burned.
The wind blew away his smoke before he could really smell it. It wasn’t strong or disruptive, but at the high altitude he rested at it was constant. Sitting on a cliff branching off from the main mountain that made up the Island’s volcano tended to mean a constant breeze, but it wasn’t as though he really minded. What bothered him more was the sunlight despite how its intensity was fading slowly with its light.
It was easy to think up there since it was rare one would get disturbed. The cliff wasn’t even accessible by normal means since he’d pretty much walked up vertically to reach it for a good fifteen minutes. This made his lips tilt up as he continued to stare at the sunset. He would have complete solitude for as long as he remained up there.
Solitude… Such a thing was so rare to receive when one lived on an Island that was pretty much the melting pot of the universe. Most times that he’d wanted it even his cave deep in the forest hadn’t been sufficient enough. There was always someone nearby causing a ruckus, which meant there was little time for him to think in peace and quiet. Since he had it now though, he allowed his mind to drift without purpose from one thought to the next.
Zelman honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he’d sat and watched a sunset from start to finish. The first couple years of his life as Black Blood had meant no exposure to sunlight at all, always coming out once it had sunken safely into the distance and retreating when gray started to stretch across the sky. That had been back in the 12th century though, and he’d long since been able to tolerate the sun’s deadly rays should the need strike him. It rarely did. Even when Gintou had arrived in Special Zone and he’d been awake during the day he still didn’t venture outside. He’d left fetching the hero of the Hong Kong war to Sayuka. This was probably his first sunset in at least a century or so.
It definitely stung. But then again, Zelman was almost growing used to the painful throbbing in the back of his head and the sting that burned his eyes when his undead body was exposed to sunlight. He had spent so much time in the daylight hours awake since arriving on the Island that it was almost a familiar pain now, even if he preferred not to be subjected to it at all. He was an observer, and there was just so much more to observe during the day. He’d spent so many years just watching the world without getting involved that not doing so just seemed…strange. Lately it seemed almost like he’d begun to involve himself much more though.
He hadn’t always been an observer of course. After being turned into a vampire there had been the war he and his bloodline had been subjected to. It was a struggle to prove that they of Asura’s line weren’t simply trash to be disregarded by others. They had wanted to prove themselves and gain a place for themselves, but by the time that was possible there wasn’t anyone else left but him. There was no great line to continue on Asura’s name…just one young stripling who was so cold and ruthless he’d been given the alias ‘Red-Eyed Murderer’.
But Zelman had eventually grown tired with all of that. Killing and killing for no reason other than hatred hadn’t fixed any of his problems, so he’d stopped bothering with it all and sat back to watch what the world would do on its own. He bottled up all his feelings of hatred and anger towards the world that had shunned and punished him and simply watched. But that had all started to change when he’d been taken to the Island suddenly. Or perhaps when Gintou had arrived in Special Zone and he’d met Kotarou. Either way it had set things in motion and as he stared out over at the slowly-pinkening sky he couldn’t help but frown ever-so-faintly.
He’d met so many strange and unique people on the Island it had been hard to believe at first. Demons, humans with the ability to time-travel and even speaking animals was simply too much to fathom for the red-haired vampire. It all seemed like some horribly messed-up dream, and when he’d been taken back to his own world for that short period of time… Zelman closed his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette.
That Gintou… Who would have thought that he could have possessed power like that? But it had been so exciting, so exhilarating that it felt as though his blood had begun to boil again with the same intensity it had all those many centuries ago. If Mimiko and Kotarou hadn’t intervened he probably would have died. Not that would have been a bad thing, exactly. It would have been an honourable death befitting any warrior. A descendant of Asura couldn’t die in any other manner; it was his bloodline’s destiny to be in conflict. Zelman had never felt more alive than when he’d been faced with Gintou, his face distorted and feral.
Several months had passed since then though, and Zelman opened his eyes again to observe that the sun was more than three-quarters gone. It would be dark soon and that meant his eyes would cease stinging shortly, something he took note of with a faint feeling of relief. Of course, if he really didn’t want to experience it he could always just avoid it… Well, maybe he’d just write that off as laziness--too lazy to save himself the discomfort. He wasn’t too lazy to replace his cigarette when he noticed it was almost gone though, flicking it over the edge and watching as it ignited, turning to ash in perfect unison with the flashing of his eyes. Zelman moved to replace it with another but he paused with the small stick halfway to his mouth and quickly chuckled, packing it back away. He’d smoke it later, when he wouldn’t be scolded for the smell.
Which reminded Zelman that he probably wouldn’t be able to suffer through the rest of the sunset if he wanted to make it back before it’d be a hassle to get down to the church. As nice as it was to walk through the jungle at night, it was less fun to be berated for appearing out of nowhere, so with a small sigh he pushed himself up sluggishly and launched himself from the cliff with his hands in his pockets. He fell slower than a normal person ought to have towards the small alcove of boulders he tended to enjoy landing on after jumping from cliffs high upon the volcanic mountain and when he landed his feet made no noise other than a light thumping sound. He hopped easily from there to the sand-and-dirt forest floor and began walking at a leisurely pace until the familiar sight of the gothic structure came into view, a stark contrast to the tropical foliage all around it.
There he saw the familiar mop of messy white hair and a familiar set of hot-pink beetle shoes that made him sigh as he approached the albino sitting on the steps. “You know I hate those things…”
“And I don’t really care. You’re late, Zelman.”
“I was watching the sunset… You should try it sometime. It’s very relaxing,” he noted, lips tilting at the raised brow and slight frown he received in response.
“Aren’t you supposed to hate sunlight?”
“I dislike it, yes.”
“…”
“Just because I dislike something doesn’t mean I can’t spend time doing it you know.”
“…Whatever.” Heine shook his head, and Zelman bit back a comment that would undoubtedly irritated the younger male as he took a seat at his side and chuckled. It caused the albino to look over but Zelman kept his silence as he sat and rested his elbows lazily on his knees, arms hanging limply. Heine frowned again, but then again he always seemed to so Zelman just closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment for as long as he could.
The sun blazed an aged, smouldering orange as it slowly began to descend and fall behind the vast expanse of sea that met the sky in all directions. Heat made it seem as the sun was rippling, like a reflection in a pond as it hovered low in the sky. It cast a golden filter over the whole Island, making everything seem an off-shade of red and orange, and it was times like this that the strange, sentient Island seemed almost normal to Zelman as he sat and watched the sun slowly descend from the sky and begin to set.
It was quiet that evening, something he had to marvel at. None of the residents were yelling or fighting, or if they were they weren’t making uproar about it. Even the monkeys and dingoes seemed to have taken a break for that moment, and the only sounds that reached Zelman’s ears were the muted sounds of wave rolling onto the shore as the tide came in and the distant cries of the seagulls that flew above it. If he focused he could also hear the wind rustling the leaves of the many palm trees, and the very, very faint smouldering sound his cigarette made as it burned.
The wind blew away his smoke before he could really smell it. It wasn’t strong or disruptive, but at the high altitude he rested at it was constant. Sitting on a cliff branching off from the main mountain that made up the Island’s volcano tended to mean a constant breeze, but it wasn’t as though he really minded. What bothered him more was the sunlight despite how its intensity was fading slowly with its light.
It was easy to think up there since it was rare one would get disturbed. The cliff wasn’t even accessible by normal means since he’d pretty much walked up vertically to reach it for a good fifteen minutes. This made his lips tilt up as he continued to stare at the sunset. He would have complete solitude for as long as he remained up there.
Solitude… Such a thing was so rare to receive when one lived on an Island that was pretty much the melting pot of the universe. Most times that he’d wanted it even his cave deep in the forest hadn’t been sufficient enough. There was always someone nearby causing a ruckus, which meant there was little time for him to think in peace and quiet. Since he had it now though, he allowed his mind to drift without purpose from one thought to the next.
Zelman honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he’d sat and watched a sunset from start to finish. The first couple years of his life as Black Blood had meant no exposure to sunlight at all, always coming out once it had sunken safely into the distance and retreating when gray started to stretch across the sky. That had been back in the 12th century though, and he’d long since been able to tolerate the sun’s deadly rays should the need strike him. It rarely did. Even when Gintou had arrived in Special Zone and he’d been awake during the day he still didn’t venture outside. He’d left fetching the hero of the Hong Kong war to Sayuka. This was probably his first sunset in at least a century or so.
It definitely stung. But then again, Zelman was almost growing used to the painful throbbing in the back of his head and the sting that burned his eyes when his undead body was exposed to sunlight. He had spent so much time in the daylight hours awake since arriving on the Island that it was almost a familiar pain now, even if he preferred not to be subjected to it at all. He was an observer, and there was just so much more to observe during the day. He’d spent so many years just watching the world without getting involved that not doing so just seemed…strange. Lately it seemed almost like he’d begun to involve himself much more though.
He hadn’t always been an observer of course. After being turned into a vampire there had been the war he and his bloodline had been subjected to. It was a struggle to prove that they of Asura’s line weren’t simply trash to be disregarded by others. They had wanted to prove themselves and gain a place for themselves, but by the time that was possible there wasn’t anyone else left but him. There was no great line to continue on Asura’s name…just one young stripling who was so cold and ruthless he’d been given the alias ‘Red-Eyed Murderer’.
But Zelman had eventually grown tired with all of that. Killing and killing for no reason other than hatred hadn’t fixed any of his problems, so he’d stopped bothering with it all and sat back to watch what the world would do on its own. He bottled up all his feelings of hatred and anger towards the world that had shunned and punished him and simply watched. But that had all started to change when he’d been taken to the Island suddenly. Or perhaps when Gintou had arrived in Special Zone and he’d met Kotarou. Either way it had set things in motion and as he stared out over at the slowly-pinkening sky he couldn’t help but frown ever-so-faintly.
He’d met so many strange and unique people on the Island it had been hard to believe at first. Demons, humans with the ability to time-travel and even speaking animals was simply too much to fathom for the red-haired vampire. It all seemed like some horribly messed-up dream, and when he’d been taken back to his own world for that short period of time… Zelman closed his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette.
That Gintou… Who would have thought that he could have possessed power like that? But it had been so exciting, so exhilarating that it felt as though his blood had begun to boil again with the same intensity it had all those many centuries ago. If Mimiko and Kotarou hadn’t intervened he probably would have died. Not that would have been a bad thing, exactly. It would have been an honourable death befitting any warrior. A descendant of Asura couldn’t die in any other manner; it was his bloodline’s destiny to be in conflict. Zelman had never felt more alive than when he’d been faced with Gintou, his face distorted and feral.
Several months had passed since then though, and Zelman opened his eyes again to observe that the sun was more than three-quarters gone. It would be dark soon and that meant his eyes would cease stinging shortly, something he took note of with a faint feeling of relief. Of course, if he really didn’t want to experience it he could always just avoid it… Well, maybe he’d just write that off as laziness--too lazy to save himself the discomfort. He wasn’t too lazy to replace his cigarette when he noticed it was almost gone though, flicking it over the edge and watching as it ignited, turning to ash in perfect unison with the flashing of his eyes. Zelman moved to replace it with another but he paused with the small stick halfway to his mouth and quickly chuckled, packing it back away. He’d smoke it later, when he wouldn’t be scolded for the smell.
Which reminded Zelman that he probably wouldn’t be able to suffer through the rest of the sunset if he wanted to make it back before it’d be a hassle to get down to the church. As nice as it was to walk through the jungle at night, it was less fun to be berated for appearing out of nowhere, so with a small sigh he pushed himself up sluggishly and launched himself from the cliff with his hands in his pockets. He fell slower than a normal person ought to have towards the small alcove of boulders he tended to enjoy landing on after jumping from cliffs high upon the volcanic mountain and when he landed his feet made no noise other than a light thumping sound. He hopped easily from there to the sand-and-dirt forest floor and began walking at a leisurely pace until the familiar sight of the gothic structure came into view, a stark contrast to the tropical foliage all around it.
There he saw the familiar mop of messy white hair and a familiar set of hot-pink beetle shoes that made him sigh as he approached the albino sitting on the steps. “You know I hate those things…”
“And I don’t really care. You’re late, Zelman.”
“I was watching the sunset… You should try it sometime. It’s very relaxing,” he noted, lips tilting at the raised brow and slight frown he received in response.
“Aren’t you supposed to hate sunlight?”
“I dislike it, yes.”
“…”
“Just because I dislike something doesn’t mean I can’t spend time doing it you know.”
“…Whatever.” Heine shook his head, and Zelman bit back a comment that would undoubtedly irritated the younger male as he took a seat at his side and chuckled. It caused the albino to look over but Zelman kept his silence as he sat and rested his elbows lazily on his knees, arms hanging limply. Heine frowned again, but then again he always seemed to so Zelman just closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment for as long as he could.