❀ IC INBOX

[intoningly]

[ To the tune of a programmed animatronic voice ]

"This user's voicemail inbox is full. Thank you, goodbye."

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Comments

[extirpator]

Uh, you mean herbs?

[intoningly]

Don't care what you call 'em. I just need to know if I can smoke any of the shit in here and kill a few hours.

[ She crosses her arms over her chest, very serious. ]

If you're making me take care of something I want it to be something I'd actually give a fuck about.

[extirpator]

[ he stares. ]

Sorry, haven't seen anything like what you're looking for in these parts. [ he says it so flatly you think he couldn't be sorry if he even tried. ] I think she wants us to be fully conscious. Now pick a flower.

[intoningly]

[ She silently stares back at him for a long time– well actually, its more like she glowers. Eventually she sighs, resigned and vexed all at once, and points to the white carnations. ]

Those.

[extirpator]

[ he laughs to himself, just a little. ]

You're just like her, huh?

[intoningly]

[ She turns her head slowly, annoyance softening just slightly to make way for curiosity. ]

Like who? Don't giggle about secrets to yourself like some kind of weirdo.

[extirpator]

[ he smiles the slightest bit, like an asshole. ]

Not sure if you know her, but those are the flowers I gave A2. You two are pretty alike, so I can't say I'm surprised.

[intoningly]

[ ... ]

Yeah, I know her. You could say I'm intimately familiar with her, actually.

[ She draws closer to the bush of carnations, frowning at them– reaches over and gingerly touches one of the flowers. ]

You say anything like that to anyone else here and I'll shove this whole bush up your ass. Got it?

[extirpator]

Yeah, yeah.

[ he brushes both of those comments aside. classic zero. ]

Are you familiar with the meaning? I think it suits you both.

[intoningly]

[ She looks up at him from where she's crouched, head leaning on one of her palms. ]

Why do I feel like you're going to tell me even if I say I don't care?

[ She rolls her free hand in a gesture that indicates he should go on. ]

[extirpator]

They used to call it the flower of the gods. It represented innocence and pure love. You give it to a woman when you want to bless her with good luck.

[ he runs his hands delicately along a single flower's petals, treating it as though it were a mere babe. ]

Or at least, that's what they believed. I don't see any harm in putting my faith in it too.

[intoningly]

[ Zero snorts, finally standing up. ]

Well they believed wrong, and so do you.

[ Purity, innocence, good luck– what a joke. ]

What else do I have to do before you'll let me nap in peace?

[extirpator]

I believe what I believe. You're wasting your time if you think you can change my mind.

[ he tosses a watering can in her direction. ]

Already told you.

[intoningly]

[ She catches it, grumbling something probably obscene under her breath when the weight of it knocks her back a little and makes her nearly spill water all over herself.

Be begrudgingly, she starts watering the stupid weeds.

She's quiet for awhile, but is suddenly roused to life by a thought.]

You know, I find it funny that– 

[ That's already a bad sign. Her voice is alarmingly light all of a sudden. ]

– a Grade A nutjob like you has such prissy hobbies.

[extirpator]

[ he folds his arms, watching intently. a brow raises at her statement. ]

A "hobby" is one word for it. Flowers sell well, and mercenary work and odd jobs will only get you so far. I like 'em, though, for what they are. That's why I don't mind doing this here, too.

[ he voice is leveled when he speaks; gentle in spite of the insult. ]

And cultivating life instead of taking it — it's nice, in a way.

[intoningly]

[ She hates it when he does that; kind even when he doesn't need to be. She doesn't know if she would hate it less or more if she wasn't aware how false so much of his kindness was. ]

Yeah?

[ She moves on to the next bush, not looking at him. ]

Think that makes up for all the sad sacks you killed to make a dime?.. Do you even think about any of them?

[ And before he can answer she turns her head, meeting his gaze as she continues to water the shrub. ]

I don't– not a single one.

[extirpator]

[ he blinks slowly, tiredly, gazing off into the distance. for a moment, how exhausted he is — not with her, or anything in particular, but just about everything weighs down the muscles ins his face. ]

There's no point in looking back.

[ he was a hypocrite, through and through. he knew well that living was a matter of surviving above all.

but it was nice to pretend, sometimes. ]

I let people try to get even with me if they want to. Whether or not they succeed is up to them.

[ and then he crouches, delicately running his thumb along the petal of a carnation. ]

But we all have things to do. There's no point in letting someone use something so vulnerable — so precious against you. The blood on my hands won't keep me from cherishing a flower in bloom.

[intoningly]

[ Wordlessly, she looks down at his crouched form. And then, she tips the watering can right over his head. ]

You've really raised the bar for self-absorbed pricks in every universe, you know that?

[ She grabs the watering can with both of her hands, turning it over and dumping its contents out on him entirely. ]

You don't worry about anything do you? Nurturing life? Cherishing flowers? Give me a fucking break. People like you and me? Everything we touch turns rotten– because of what we are.

[ What kind of future had she left behind for Mikhail, she wonders finally– because she has tried her best to not even dare to wonder since she's gotten here. It had been for him, she'd said; but she knows that so much of it had been for herself too.

To feel like something mattered, to do good when she had no right to ever be pretend to be good.

Good and bad aren't real, but she'd let herself play pretend and act like they were in one last moment of selfishness. ]

Everyone here thinks you're so nice! So kind! So gentle! If you were any of those things you'd keep that shit to yourself!

[extirpator]

[ water rushes down his back, matting his hair down. it's cool and pricks against his skin, and he doesn't react, not initially, crouched there in silence as she speaks.

slowly, surely, does he stand up. his hair clings to the sides of his face. he dusts off his shirt. ]

There's something that you want from me, but I can't give it to you. I can't give it to anyone.

[ honesty? atonement? regret? nothing at all, everything at once?

if he let himself regret, even for a moment, he would crumble. he would suffocate to sleep. he would cry, and he would scream, an immovable object dwelling in its own misery.

if he let himself regret, let alone feel, he would do it with the entirety of who he is. it would hurt so terribly. it did, once. ]

There's no point in rolling over and dying. It's not going to ease the pain of the people who hate you, and it'll only serve to hurt the people who love you. I'll nurture this world and its people until I meet my end. I don't know if that's good or if it's bad, it doesn't matter either way; it's all I can do right now.

[ and then— ]

Go and refill the watering can.