Contemplations of a Rose Bush (SSoDI-N)

[Pink Moon Wolf]

"I did run a check-up. She's stable enough that I wouldn't worry about it," Mino responded as he watched El steer the worm with practiced ease. "She's recovering, if slowly. Paul's keeping an eye on her."

She wasn't wrong when she guessed that something was bothering Mino, but by this point, they had both settled into a routine of not discussing serious matters and simply waiting for them to pass. Mino was the antithesis of an open book, and El-Sayal had learned quickly enough that pestering him was the fastest way to get on his bad side. It wasn't that she lacked empathy; far from it. They both understood and respected each other enough that El would give Mino his space, and Mino would in turn prevent El from going insane from the isolation. As a result, their relationship was one of few words and even fewer conversations.

But this needed to be discussed. Mino didn't have to like it, but he knew it had to be addressed.

"They're gonna come." Mino folded his arms and glared into the sky. "Kelsey clearly has a target on her head. If she stays here, it's only a matter of time before Paradiso finds her. And even if she doesn't stay, they're still bound to find us in the midst of their scouring."

[ParamountKeymaster]

"I'm aware..." El-Sayal murmured, her gentle voice just loud enough to be heard over the high winds and churning earth. "I've been preparing myself for such an encounter, admittedly more so mentally than physically. The most important thing is keeping Kelsey and her friends safe. Whether that means defending them on our own turf or sending them someplace safer once Kelsey is in a better condition, I intend to see it through to the end."

She looked back at Mino, her deep brown eyes brimming with wisdom and warmth. "I don't blame you for your concern. Whatever you choose to do when the angels do arrive, I'll understand. I just don't want you to worry about me."

[Pink Moon Wolf]

Mino's chin dropped as he looked down at El-Sayal with a grunt and a deadpan scowl. As per usual, the meaning behind his reaction was difficult to parse out. Either he was annoyed by El's insinuation that he was feeling any sort of emotion besides indifference, or he was rejecting the notion that he shouldn't be worried for her sake. His subsequent statement, however, seemed to lean towards the latter...

"Your weird fixation on suicide is rearing its ugly head in the worst way it possibly could've. I get it. You literally can't die unless it's for a noble cause. Considering how much sh*t regularly takes place on any other part of this rock, I don't understand why you didn't go chasing some other villain a long time ago. Why do you feel so inclined to die by the angels' hands?"

[ParamountKeymaster]

"It isn't that simple, Mino," El-Sayal snapped, her eyes narrowing in the shade of her hood. "I don't want to die, but the fact of the matter is that I need to die. I'm too dangerous to be kept alive."

She glared ahead into the desert, biting back tears. A Fremen could only spare so much water for the sake of basic emotions. "I came here to hide. To bide my time until the right opportunity arose. I stayed because if I did go back, even if was to search for that opportunity, they would find me again, and they wouldn't let me go if they did. I'm not risking that. I'm not letting my friends die because of me."

Her hands tightened around the maker hooks. Leto bellowed in an almost sympathetic tone.

"Besides... when my time does come, I want to go out fighting for something that matters to me. This is it."

[Pink Moon Wolf]

"Why does this matter to you?" Mino questioned, folding his arms and staring skeptically at the back of El's head. "This isn't your fight. You have no quarrel with the angels, and you only barely know any of the people you're protecting from them. They're only going to see you as an obstacle. If you really wanted your death to be poetic and personal, I would've thought you'd try to go down swinging against that demon you're hiding from. What was his name again? Clock-?"

[ParamountKeymaster]

"MINO!!!"

El-Sayal's hand firmly gripped Mino's scarf, pulling the six-and-a-half-foot angel down to her level. A finger pointed to him square in the face.

"Do not... for the love of God... say that name. If he were to EVER show up on our doorstep, so help me, I would spirit bomb this entire ISLAND into OBLIVION. DO YOU WANT THAT ON YOUR CONSCIENCE, MINO? DO YOU?!"

She slowly uncurled her fingers, letting Mino go. Then she picked her fallen maker hooks back up, affirming they were still tightly gripping the sandworm's scales. "The entire reason I'm hiding is because if that demon gets his hands on me, it's game over for everyone. For you, for me, for this island, for Paradiso, everyone. And for whatever reason, being isolated here with you has warded him off. I don't know how that is, but I dread to imagine what might happen if I departed."

El's stern expression gradually softened. Her shoulders slumped with restrained sadness. "But all of that aside... I want to join this fight, not just because these angels are causing so much grief, but because... you're my friend. This matters to you, even if you won't admit it. This is your fight, and so by extension, it's mine too."

[Pink Moon Wolf]

Mino had zero outward reaction to El-Sayal's outburst. He simply stared back at her and gave her leeway to scream at him. When she finished, Mino paused to readjust his scarf, then dropped the subject altogether. After all, he more or less knew what the outcome was going to be. He knew better than to talk her down.

El's reason for fighting Paradiso, though... Mino wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't know how to feel about El calling him her friend. He didn't know how to feel about the inevitable battle with his past. All he could say for certain was that he didn't want it. He didn't want this fight. He didn't want the trouble. He didn't want the burden. He didn't want it... for either of them.

"You're a fool, El. Always have been," Mino sighed, staring down the worm they rode together. "But don't get me wrong... Being a fool is not a novelty, but it's also not a bad thing. I have a strange admiration for fools. Always have, though I've never been able to figure out why. Not until now, at least."

He glanced back at El with a slow nod. "I know I can't stop you. I didn't exactly come out here with that intention. I guess I just wanted proof to not entirely give up hope on you. And for what it's worth... I'm not going anywhere without you."

[ParamountKeymaster]

El-Sayal briefly looked back at Mino, significantly calmer and... almost touched by his response. Sure, it was spoken in that same monotone voice and detached vernacular that she was used to from him, and in any other circumstances, she might've been somewhat hurt by his referring to her as a fool... but for one fleeting moment, she understood exactly what Mino was feeling. The thought of it raised the corners of her scarf as the tiniest of smiles formed underneath.

"I... appreciate it, Mino. Thank you."

She stared into the horizon, pondering that one little word. Hope. It had been so long since she'd given it any sort of genuine thought...

As she considered it, El couldn't help but snicker and repeat the line Mino had used that word in. "'To not entirely give up hope on you.' I shouldn't be this amused by a split infinitive."

---------------------------

"HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGKKKKKK...!!! HCK...! BLEUGH...!"

Paul let out a deep sigh and rubbed Kelsey's back, wholly unfazed as the two stood on their knees, the latter hunched over the wastebasket. "Maybe it was too soon for water..."

"N-No...! Please...!" Kelsey lifted her head, saliva dripping from her lips, her shaking hand reaching up to gingerly grab her empty glass. "My throat... is burning. Everything is burning. I-I-I need more..."

"O-Okay... If you say so." Paul took the glass, anxiously staring between it and her. "I guess we don't want you to dehydrate... as long as you're comfortable with it."

Kelsey limply climbed back onto the bed, weakly pulling the blankets up over her with some help from Paul. She lay down on her side, facing him, meekly staring up at her caretaker. "I'm sorry."

Paul returned her distraught expression, tenderly brushing her hair. "Don't be sorry. You're sick. You can't help feeling the way you do. I'm here to help you. Right now, I guess the way for me to do that is to find you some more water. Will you be alright if you're alone for a few minutes?"

"I... think so..."

"Okay. I'll try not to take too long. You just relax and hang tight." Paul offered Kelsey a tender smile, then turned around and started walking towards the door.

"Paul?"

He stopped in the doorway, warily glancing back at Kelsey. "Yeah?"

For a moment, Kelsey didn't speak. She sunk into her bed, wrapping the blankets around her like a cloth cocoon. Her cerulean eyes welled up with tears as, finally, a pitiful squeak escaped her. "What did I do to deserve this?"

To that, Paul could only sigh and shake his head. "You don't deserve this, Kelsey. Please don't blame yourself. The situation we're in... it's just unfair. There really is no way to justify what's happening to us. I'm sorry that you feel this way. I... I wish there was something more that I could offer to alleviate it." He dropped his head with shame, then continued on his way. "I'll be right back..."

As the dragon man disappeared down the hall, Kelsey buried her face in the blankets, practically disappearing beneath them. Oh, how she wanted to. What she wouldn't give to just disappear and not be anyone's problem anymore. Low, raspy weeps wracked her body, aggravating her nausea, weakening her body and will.

Paul's words echoed in her mind. This wasn't her fault. The universe was simply conspiring against them.

Kelsey agreed with the second part.

She knew better.

She knew why this was happening.



I am a spiritual disease.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." I think most people are familiar with that old Nietzsche quote, but I wonder how many people genuinely have to live it. I'm sure everyone has at one point given into their darker tendencies, their natural capacity to be violent and irrational. I'm sure everyone feels like they're staring into an abyss every now and then. But I highly doubt most people's personal abyss has actual eyes to stare back at them with.

I try to be good. I try to help people. I try to let the light within me shine through. I don't fight demons and monsters for personal glory or vengeance. I don't fight because I want to. I fight because my friends need me to. Because the one nonhuman force in my universe that I can trust and depend on compels me to. I face these horrors because I'm the only one who can.

But sometimes you have to take a step back and analyze the things about yourself that are constant. You can't please everyone. Someone will always be better than you. You have no control. You're going to die one day. Your soul has both Essence and Blight, light and dark, and that war between the opposing forces is simultaneously internal, external, and eternal.

No matter how much I try to do what's right, to act upon the righteous, virtuous instincts and desires instilled by the light within my soul, I cannot deny the fact that from my conception, I was always a being ruled by darkness.

My body was forged with Blight. The tainted energy flows through my veins. It mingles with my spirit, staining my heart black as night. My soul is too weak to resist it. This corruption has affected me for my entire life. I grew up Catholic, and I remember always feeling uncomfortable whenever my grandparents took me to church, as if God's house was trying to purge me from its system. None of the other churchgoing kids seemed to like me very much for no apparent reason. Whenever I would pray, the only answer I ever seemed to receive was indifference. To the Essence, I was a parasite. What use did It have in helping me?

I didn't choose to walk this path. I walk it because it was my only choice.

Being both a source and a conductor of Blight, I spread suffering wherever I go. I experience that suffering every day, whether it's inflicted upon myself or the people I care about. My parents were killed for trying to protect me and transform me into something I wasn't. The Blight consumed and compelled me to kill Jeremy for deigning to stand in our way. My best friends face horrors that no human being deserves to witness on a regular basis. My grandparents were even ripped apart right in front of me for no reason other than association. Whenever people get close to me, they suffer fates generally only reserved for the most vile and evil of creatures. My pain becomes theirs.

I don't know why I bother trying to be a good person anymore, let alone normal. I guess people see enough charisma in me to want to be around me, even if they know what I am. Maybe they appreciate me for the work I do. And maybe I'm just too nice to turn them down, regardless of the consequences. Whatever the case, it's becoming increasingly clear that my role is one that I was meant to play alone. Alone with my demons, real and metaphorical. Any help I receive, I consume like fuel in a fire until there is nothing left to burn.

At this point, I dare say I'm more Blight than I am flesh and blood, and what little Essence I... oh... oh geez... OH CHRIST, NOT AGAIN...

"HHHAAAAAUUUUUUGGGHHH...!!! BLEUCH...!!! COFF...! HRK...! GACK...! COFF...!"

FOR F*CK'S SAKE, HOW DO I STILL HAVE ANY FLUID LEFT IN MY BODY?!

...........................

Excess Essence can be just as noxious as Blight. Humans may naturally possess both, but they are not built to carry the raw power of God Himself to such an intense degree. They're much too physical and soft-willed. I think it's worse in my case. The Essence of an angel has been eating me alive like it's an antibiotic trying to fight the disease that is my entire being. Anything good in my life quickly turns sour, hurting me, hurting those close to me, which only serves to hurt me more. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish I could be good in spite of the powers afforded to me. I wish I could find that balance between the light of my character and the darkness of my inherent nature.

That feat seems to be beyond me. For a long time, I didn't even believe it could be accomplished by anyone. Quite recently, I was proved very, very wrong.

Some people in my universe, the Blood Elders included, believed that it was possible for a soul to achieve perfect balance between light and dark. Between Essence and Blight. Such an achievement was nearly impossible; the two forces were naturally in constant conflict, even within a person's soul, and one would always inevitably grow stronger than the other given the proper time and influence. But if one were to find that balance, that harmony between the equal and opposite energies, they would achieve great power. Power over the forces of reality itself. Power to transform themselves into a being not quite angel, not quite demon, yet not quite both simultaneously. A being unlike any other, the embodiment of creation and destruction, time and space, good and evil, light and dark.

Some believed that this beast's existence was blasphemous in and of itself. Others believed that it was the absolute pinnacle of a human soul's potential. Both sides agreed that the presence of such a being would usher in the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, and whether that era was one of abundant Essence or Blight fell almost entirely on their shoulders.

The Blood Elders referred to this being as the Demiurge.

Here, that creature takes on several different names.

[DanteMGalileo]

"Blargh!!!"

Jordan sprung awake, hair falling out of his face, tossing aside the blanket. What the hell was that? He hadn't had nightmares like that since he was a child. Well, at least he wasn't covered in a cold sweat. "I need water." And he was up.

"Where the fuck is a sink? Or something with running water at least!?"

Well, these people did live out in the desert. Figured. Still annoying. With a loud sigh, he sank back down in that couch again, bringing his hands to his face. "In... out... in... out..."

...



It's a lesser-known fact, but there were human heroes during the Great Undoing. Or at least three of 'em. Nobody really knows where they came from, how they obtained their powers, and what happened to them after the war. How do I know this despite not being a well-read man?

Because Leanne and I are descended from them. A combination of a taste for expensive shit and a lack of financial sense means whatever wealth they might have had was squandered long before our time. They also had certain distasteful habits that I won't go into, but mercifully, someone had the sense to stop it long before us. Alas, it didn't make them good with money.

Saint Artaxias. Said to be the strongest man who ever lived. Despite his own demons, he never cared for his own issues, instead dedicating his strength to others.

Saint Cato. Said to be the swiftest. Wasn't much for spoken word, but what he said moved people. He left behind some poetry, though most of it is rather crass.

And finally, Saint Milcah. She was revered by all for her ability to heal even the most grievous of wounds with a touch. At the same time, she was also a military leader.

And if you ask me, it's all bullshit that someone down the line made up to make themselves feel better instead of actually trying to make it right. Thanks for leaving us in poverty, assholes.

[ParamountKeymaster]

Paul descended the stairs with Kelsey's glass in his hand, his head hung low, and his tail dragging on the floor. He passed through the dining room with little more than an aside glance at Mic, who was far too engulfed in his work to even notice Paul. Leaving him to it, Paul continued on his way into the kitchen, looking to get Kelsey some water.

"............"

There was no sink in this kitchen. There wasn't a refrigerator. There wasn't even a case of bottled water or anything of the sort.

In hindsight, Paul knew he shouldn't have been surprised, given Mino was a water angel and thus could produce his own water with relative ease, but... what did this guy eat? There was next to nothing in the kitchen in terms of consumables.

Paul took a deep breath and turned back around. Mino hadn't returned yet, so the fast and easy method was out, but maybe El-Sayal had water in her house.

He stopped along the way and took another, longer look at what Mic was working on. The scattered parts all over the table made it a little difficult to discern what feat of engineering the little yellow angel was piecing together, but after studying the mess for a moment, Paul started to notice that the larger pieces of metal were fastened in a way that roughly resembled armor. Curiosity was quickly piqued.

"...What're you working on?"

"GAH STEVE JOBS!!!!!"

A screwdriver and several bits of metal loudly clattered to the floor as Mic jumped in his seat. Paul yelped and stumbled back a few steps in shock, then rushed over to pick up the fallen pieces. "I'm sorry, Mic! I-I didn't mean to startle you!"

"O-Oh...! Paul...! Heh..." Mic relaxed somewhat, taking deep breaths as a lemon blush tinted his cheeks. "I-I-It's okay! I was... I was kind of in my zone. Didn't hear you come in."

"Well... still sorry..." Paul shakily chuckled, setting Mic's supplies back on the table. It was only then that he noticed the rough schematic spread out beneath the piles of scrap. "So... what is this thing?"

"Oh, this?" Mic eagerly pointed to his work in progress. "This is my lightning armor! I've been tinkering with it for years now, never got it to work, thought I'd give it another try. I'm designing it to absorb electricity-based attacks, storing the resultant energy for counterattacks while entirely protecting the insulated wearer from electrocution!"

"That's pretty neat!"

"Eheh... Thanks... It hasn't really worked out so far, though. Every prototype I've built has fallen apart from the excessive electrical charges."

"Well..." Paul gently pulled the schematic out from under the scrap pile. "Maybe you should consider adding more means of ventilation and cooling. Considering how much electricity this armor is meant to contain, it's bound to start cooking pretty quickly."

"Hmm..." Mic considered this for a moment, scanning the blueprint, mentally picturing Paul's suggestion.

"What's this part here in the chest? Is this where the absorbed electricity is stored?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Maybe you wanna try dispersing that energy a little. Not condense it all into a single power source. That would lower the risk of an overload."

"Yeah, that's a... good point, actually..."

Paul shrugged. "Just my two cents, one engineer to another."

Mic's jaw slacked ever so slightly. He looked up at Paul with a glimmer in his ruby eyes. "You're an... engineer?"

"I certainly am," Paul replied with a meek smile. "I wouldn't call myself an inventor by any stretch of the word, but I know my way around mechanics. Made a living building and repairing machines for the organization that took me in. I haven't really gotten my hands dirty in the field for a while, but I certainly would like to."

"That... That's... Wow! Cool!"

"Yeah... I'd love to help you out a bit more, but I don't want to leave Kelsey alone for too long. I really need to find her some water."

"Ah... Yes... Of course." Mic bashfully nodded and took back his schematic. "Thanks for the advice, though!"

"No problem. Let me know if you need a second opinion on anything else," Paul offered as he made his way towards the front door. "Looking forward to seeing that bad boy in action!"

"Y-Yeah! Me too!" Mic hollered back, exchanging eager smiles with Paul before the dragon man stepped outside.

The little angel rested his hand in his cheek and started sketching, mapping out some ventilation design ideas. He couldn't believe what just happened. Someone had offered him genuine, heartfelt advice. Someone had... complimented him.

---------------------------

Paul knocked on the front door of the next house over, taking a peek through the nearest window all the while to see if anyone was home. "Hello? El-Sayal? You there?"

[DanteMGalileo]

!!

"Go away! I don't have the money! Or the head! ... Blargh..."

Augh, wrong words, Jordan. He pulled the blanket close to his chest, teeth bared at the intruder... only to realize it was Paul. "Oh. It's you. Sorry. _{Not really.} Was... having a bad time..." He averted his eyes. "... If you need water, good luck. I need to splash my face."

He placed his hands back to his face. "Bad time. Really bad. Can't get it out."

[ParamountKeymaster]

"W-What??" Paul poked his head through the doorway, staring into the living room with utter bafflement and a hint of discomfort. Fortunately, Jordan realized who he was talking to without Paul having to clarify.

He fully stepped inside and nudged the door shut with his tail, letting out a deep sigh in response to this house's apparent lack of water. "Go figure. Mino's house, I could understand, but how does El get by without water? How am I supposed to...?"

Paul quickly dropped the subject, shaking his head as he turned back to Jordan with an expression of sympathy. "What's going on, man? Bad dreams, or just not enjoying the desert scene?"

[DanteMGalileo]

"Bad dreams. Really bad."

Jordan let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "War. Dreamt I was in one. So many dead. Can't stand it out in open. Especially with so many." He shook his head, allowing his hair to fall in his face. "Thought of my ancestors. Cursed them a bit."

Especially you, Saint Cato. Bastard. You were good with words but not money, even more than Artaxias or Milcah.

"... Kelsey. How is she? Can she talk normally?"

[ParamountKeymaster]

Paul's shoulders drooped with dismay and pity. He didn't know what to say. He certainly empathized with Jordan's perturbed state, but he couldn't put his feelings into words. What could he even say to make Jordan feel better? What could he do to alleviate the mounting tension?

"That's... That's really harsh, buddy. I'm sorry..."

It wasn't much, it didn't fix anything, but it was clear that Paul meant it.

When Jordan changed the subject, Paul shrugged and responded, "Kelsey's... getting better. She's talking, she's aware of her surroundings, and it seems like she's puking a bit less. I... don't really know if she remembers who I am, but at least she trusts and communicates with me well enough."

He shuffled towards the kitchen and took a peek inside, searching for any possible source of water. All the while, he kept his voice directed at Jordan. "Do you know where El is? Maybe when she gets back, she can point you home."

[DanteMGalileo]

"Well, that's... an improvement, I suppose? Compared to the puking princess from last night..."

Jordan let out a short, bitter laugh. "Don't even have the energy to make my usual jokes. As for her... desert. Don't ask me why. Even I know not to head out into the desert most hours."