thusia | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Slick and you
When: Day 29 middle of the night through to early morning day 30
Where: Level 3 main hallway/shrine room/level 4 forest.
What: Slick making awesome choices.

[Slick heading down the stairs, looking cut all to shit (but still on his feet) and dragging some dead thing or another behind him, will probably be a bit of a common sight on day 30.

It's been a while since he was making choices this awesome openly! Clearly good news is afoot.]

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[is this a popcorn.gif moment!! I think it is!!

leans against the hallway wall, watching him pass.]

Your majesty.

[SEEMS OVERALL DISINTERESTED THO. keeps on his way]

[unfortunately for you I am the curious one. Follows along.]

Troubled?

Annoyed.

[chuckles]

And this helps you, does it? How base.

I have that habit as well but if that were the case I would look for more interesting targets.

So there is a purpose to this?

Someone I'm rather fond of has gone missing.

[hmmm ... tilts his head, looking amused.]

And you intend to follow him into death or obscurity? That seems to be the avenue you're headed down.

Edited 2012-03-09 08:11 (UTC)

I'm surprisingly adept at staying alive, despite not really putting much bother into it.

[thinking about it :|a if a monster eats you so I don't get to kill you someday I'm gonna be pissed.]

That's an ironic sentence given our location . . .

I've only died once, which is a much better score than most of the people I know.

[just arches an eyebrow at the word "score"]

You make it sound like a game.

How many times have you died, your majesty?

[laughs! and then says a sentence that it is generally extremely unlikely to hear from any Gilgamesh ever:]

I don't care to compete about it.

[can read between the lines]

More than once, then.

That's the nature of a life lived twice.

[shrugs]

But death does not become a game, or a joke, because you cheat it once. The gods are cruel, no matter where you are, and life can be ripped from most easily enough. If there's a lack of caring about that very simple fact here — from the worms who ought to be most grateful to still hold onto a piece of their miserable lives — then I can only consider that utterly pathetic.

How is it my life is both worth nothing and yet something I should worry over? Do you listen to yourself?

It's nothing to me, but why does that mean it's nothing to you?

I accepted that death would catch up to me long ago. Worrying about when it will happen seems like an unnecessary nuisance. And I've looked into the eyes of many fearing their own death, or simply defying it, and they're still quite dead, I assure you. It doesn't seem to make any difference how you avoid it or worry over it, so I don't bother.

I reject your logic, but your opinion is your opinion, I suspect.

That's fine. I like it better when people fight. It's far more interesting that way. But I'm not interested in being interesting to his majesty.

That loss is entirely yours.

Even so, recent events suggest I haven't completely avoided it. Excuse me.

[LET'S GETTING HEALED]

It's not so much a virtue of yours so much as I have become very curious in recent years. It passes the time.

[then waves a hand obligingly. off you go, off you go.]