CLOSED ⤧ trouble's a mangy stray dog: play with it once, it follows you home
Who: prayforprey and nicotine_patch.
What: Badou confronts Genkaku. GUESS WHO MURDERED YOUR FAVORITE REPLICA, BITCHES.
When: After both the Entry Post and the Log Below, meaning it's likely happening early morningish. Sleep what is sleep.
Where: Monk's Zen Gardens. 8)
Warnings: It's Badou and Genkaku WHAT DO YOU THINK.
Another death on his belt. More blood soaking into him, on his hands, through his pores, into his own veins. Staining everything, the demonic flash of his irises and the brightness of his hair standing out in the synthetically lit gardens. He recalled Christianity’s thoughts on gardens, the most forbade fruit being the most succulent. Funny how they were different things in Buddhism -- a sacred place of meditation, a collection of thoughts, sand over stone with no erosions despite all those lines looking like well-placed waves in a microscopic world.
He breathed in. Down to his last roll-up. He was going to get twitchy from here on out -- no more of “the good shit”. Cheap rat poison and arsenic.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
But, at the very least, despite all the insufferable damages he’d so been suffering, there was a silver lining (I Miss You, Owl), a sliver of hope (Where Are You, Badou?): he’d found a place to plant his seeds.
… All of them.
Atop that rock, another King Of The Underworld, another black-red-toxic snake belly-up in the clouds of his own making (both those of dreaming and incense), pensive and reflective and feeling all that tension just wash out of his bones -- and then he felt it. A presence. A soul, maybe, if he wanted to get fancy with his titles, but Badou wouldn’t appreciate that.
Teeth cinch the cigarette with a soft crinkle.
“Knew you’d find me.” He sits up, taking his eyes off the fake sky, lowering them down on his companion.
“Do you like what I’ve done for you?” Like it was a gift. On a fucking slivered silver platter for Badou to devour -- and damn that almost sounded like a nursery rhyme. Hibana would have been proud. Genkaku was so well-learnt. ♥
He’s up all the way, landing down on the stand with a splash of their grains, careless of destroyed sacred property or meditation lines or whatever the fuck.
There were more important things at hand, as he smiled a smile like a gleaming scythe, red eyes on his … new favorite prey. For now.
“Devil’s in the details … yeah?”
What: Badou confronts Genkaku. GUESS WHO MURDERED YOUR FAVORITE REPLICA, BITCHES.
When: After both the Entry Post and the Log Below, meaning it's likely happening early morningish. Sleep what is sleep.
Where: Monk's Zen Gardens. 8)
Warnings: It's Badou and Genkaku WHAT DO YOU THINK.
Another death on his belt. More blood soaking into him, on his hands, through his pores, into his own veins. Staining everything, the demonic flash of his irises and the brightness of his hair standing out in the synthetically lit gardens. He recalled Christianity’s thoughts on gardens, the most forbade fruit being the most succulent. Funny how they were different things in Buddhism -- a sacred place of meditation, a collection of thoughts, sand over stone with no erosions despite all those lines looking like well-placed waves in a microscopic world.
He breathed in. Down to his last roll-up. He was going to get twitchy from here on out -- no more of “the good shit”. Cheap rat poison and arsenic.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
But, at the very least, despite all the insufferable damages he’d so been suffering, there was a silver lining (I Miss You, Owl), a sliver of hope (Where Are You, Badou?): he’d found a place to plant his seeds.
… All of them.
Atop that rock, another King Of The Underworld, another black-red-toxic snake belly-up in the clouds of his own making (both those of dreaming and incense), pensive and reflective and feeling all that tension just wash out of his bones -- and then he felt it. A presence. A soul, maybe, if he wanted to get fancy with his titles, but Badou wouldn’t appreciate that.
Teeth cinch the cigarette with a soft crinkle.
“Knew you’d find me.” He sits up, taking his eyes off the fake sky, lowering them down on his companion.
“Do you like what I’ve done for you?” Like it was a gift. On a fucking slivered silver platter for Badou to devour -- and damn that almost sounded like a nursery rhyme. Hibana would have been proud. Genkaku was so well-learnt. ♥
He’s up all the way, landing down on the stand with a splash of their grains, careless of destroyed sacred property or meditation lines or whatever the fuck.
There were more important things at hand, as he smiled a smile like a gleaming scythe, red eyes on his … new favorite prey. For now.
“Devil’s in the details … yeah?”