[ Everything that should happen happens, and the next time the copy falls out of Saber's view, it and its damaged leg will be gone, leaving Saber alone with a god and an act of rebellion shattered on the floor.
Paced in his movements, deliberate in how he watches the other man, Zephir puts the cigarette out in his own palm, the noise and smell of burnt flesh floating between them. Away from the window, crunching ceramic under his shoes every other step, he comes closer to the rotten, splattered plant, kneeling down to pick up a fragile piece before he's towering over Saber again. Already healed from the burn, he uses the resulting black substance generated in his mouth to spit it onto the plant. The dark sludge is quickly absorbed; in the seconds that follow, what once looked like a replica of decayed flesh reverts back into something more fitting to be in a pot. This is how Zephir has been healing what refuses to stay alive. ]
It feeds on death. All the others prefer life, but not this one.
[ And he hands that little piece over to Saber, if he'll take it. The rest is staying here, the threat he issued minutes ago seemingly a thing of the past. ]
[zephir casts a heavy shadow over him and instincts tell him to step back, but saber's anger wins and keep him in place. annoyance twists up his expression as he watches the plant get brought back to some semblance of life.]
'Cause I feed on death. What's so surprising about that? Damn thing came from me, after all.
[staring down at the piece zephir holds out to him, then up to meet his eyes as he snatches it from his grasp like he'd been holding it from him in the first place. for saber, he reminded him of it after being forgotten about. like he knew he was moving on from their little 'tussle'.]
Fuck you.
[a broken record at this point and he doesn't care. at least he got part of it back, right? he'll be going now.]
no subject
Paced in his movements, deliberate in how he watches the other man, Zephir puts the cigarette out in his own palm, the noise and smell of burnt flesh floating between them. Away from the window, crunching ceramic under his shoes every other step, he comes closer to the rotten, splattered plant, kneeling down to pick up a fragile piece before he's towering over Saber again. Already healed from the burn, he uses the resulting black substance generated in his mouth to spit it onto the plant. The dark sludge is quickly absorbed; in the seconds that follow, what once looked like a replica of decayed flesh reverts back into something more fitting to be in a pot. This is how Zephir has been healing what refuses to stay alive. ]
It feeds on death. All the others prefer life, but not this one.
[ And he hands that little piece over to Saber, if he'll take it. The rest is staying here, the threat he issued minutes ago seemingly a thing of the past. ]
You can visit us any time.
🎀
'Cause I feed on death. What's so surprising about that? Damn thing came from me, after all.
[staring down at the piece zephir holds out to him, then up to meet his eyes as he snatches it from his grasp like he'd been holding it from him in the first place. for saber, he reminded him of it after being forgotten about. like he knew he was moving on from their little 'tussle'.]
Fuck you.
[a broken record at this point and he doesn't care. at least he got part of it back, right? he'll be going now.]