minecraft is unrealistic

[vagabone]

Who: Héctor, anyone
What: His spirit is as dead as he is.
When: July 25th
Where: Enso
Warnings: Mild injury, and a truckload of d e s p a i r to start with.

It's mid afternoon, one year and then some after he first arrived on the beaches of the island. The thirteenth month. Thirteen's been said to be an unlucky number. Certainly it's not doing him any favors.

As good and kind as everyone is... it's just not enough. Not every day. There's only one thing that ever will be, one thing which he always seems to be denied, one way or another. Granted, not much about his situation is new, when it comes down to it, but then neither are these deep black moods. There were no failures this year. No bridge. Nothing to try. Everything's perfectly fine until he can't fake it anymore, because everything is not fine.

He had four pleasant days with his family, after so long dreaming of them. Was that it? Is that all he'll ever have? And there's no reason for it, seeing as there's very little he can do someone else can't do better. Of course, if he hadn't been so stupid, he would have had many years with them before being drawn to this world, not only four days... stupid, stupid, stupid. He's always been stupid. It explodes outwards as anger first, for a few minutes, but that's hard to sustain for him. So...

He's just lying on the ground, in the leaves underneath a tree, no smile on his face and cracks spiderwebbing through all the bones of one hand. Don't punch trees if you have no padding on your hands, you won't like the results. He doesn't want to get up, he doesn't want to goof off, joke around, play games, none of that. There's... nothing. No point at all.

Comments

[eudaimonikos]

Michael leans back, propping himself on his hands. He's on the ground now, he's just sort of here. "You're so fragile when you're alive, there's no reason to go around making it worse after you're dead."

[vagabone]

That he is. They're both. Here. Hooray. Boy, look at that sky.

"I'm not. I haven't done anything. I can't make it better or worse, I don't have any say in it."

[eudaimonikos]

"Well, you did something." Michael nods down at the wrapped-up hand. "I know you weren't smashed up like that the last time I saw you."

[vagabone]

Oh. Hm. Well, what does he have to lose? Let the demon dude think he's dumb, it won't change anything.

"I punched a tree."

[eudaimonikos]

Well, Michael already figured that injury was from punching something or other, so he doesn't really react. "What'd you do that for?"

[vagabone]

Silly question. Might've gotten a rise out of him any other day.

"I hate this place. I think you do too, right?"

[eudaimonikos]

Does he? Michael shrugs. "Well, I think it's a waste of my time. I was very busy. And I didn't appreciate...any of the things that have happened, to be honest."

But does he hate it? His life here isn't too terrible, overall. There's far much more downtime than at home; he's actually been able to relax for weeks on end, just sort of putter around doing whatever he wants without stress. Without his friends too, which is the biggest downside, but at least the people here are nice...

"The people are alright," he concludes eventually. "But I want my friends here, or I want to go back within a few years. A decade at most."

[vagabone]

"I'd been..." Two words make it out before he falters, subtly hunching in on himself even though he's flat on his back. What a pathetic sight, and that's without him continuing to make it all about himself.

"I'd been waiting almost a century to see my family again, and then... I only had four days before I woke up on the beach." A beat, a sigh. "I wonder if this is one of your demon things."

[eudaimonikos]

"That sucks."

One of his demon things? Michael chews that over for a moment, before admitting, "I guess it might be. I mean, I've been alive since the beginning of time. Being stuck here for a few months or years..."

He waves a hand idly. It may not be his favorite thing in the world, but to him it's a minor inconvenience. Everyone gets stuck doing things they don't want to sometimes. Not worth getting angry over.

"You're more or less immortal too, at this point, but I don't think humans ever really get used to it. Plus, you're pretty young."

[vagabone]

"I get that a lot." he says, without any humor. Died so young, you poor thing, yadda yadda. He is still not looking at Michael. "If it is, good for you. You did a good job. I know I deserve it too."

[eudaimonikos]

Michael really meant something more along the lines of "120-ish is young", but okay. He leans back, squinting down at Hector for a moment.

"I think I may have misunderstood what you meant by 'my demon things'."

[vagabone]

"...one of the tortures?"

Seemed clear enough to him. Maybe not Michael specifically, but some demon's handiwork... Either way, he's not getting out on his own. So what does it matter today?

[eudaimonikos]

Michael interpreted it more as "you're a demon and your perceptions of things are weird". At that, he sits up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "We're not even in Hell. You said there weren't any demons in your afterlife to begin with!"

[vagabone]

"Never met any before. What if they're tricking you too?"

So not a helpful idea. Rather mean of him, actually, it's not going to magically get him away from Enso. Does he care? Nope! What a jerk!

[eudaimonikos]

"Hey, man, I didn't come over here to get accused of things." Michael's quick to get indignant, but he did tell Hector all about his human friends, and how he had sword off torture. To be accused of torture anyway is - well, he probably deserves it, but it still feels sort of rude.

He should probably just leave, but instead he keeps right on going. "Do I walk around telling people you eat brains, just because you're a walking skeleton?"

[vagabone]

"I didn't say you're the one doing it. There are other demons, right?"

The sheer level of apathy in him--he's not getting worked up at all. Calm and quiet, mostly because he is so tired and so done. "Also, I never ate brains in the past."

[eudaimonikos]

"Not here. And you literally just told me I was doing a good job!"

In some ways, that's what he's most worked up over. Because he can definitely appreciate it; this is the kind of thing Michael would have enjoyed doing as a torture project, had it ever occurred to him at the time. The psychological weight of being separated from one's home and friends, the constant unknown threats coming out of nowhere...it's a good setup.

[vagabone]

It's worked wonders on him!

He drags a hand through the air--whatever, dude. No point in arguing about it, consider the subject dropped. "Okay. Fine. I don't really know. It's a mess."