Michael
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
HOME.
It was a strange place to be after such time had passed. So much bullshit, so much knowledge gained that he wished he'd never heard. A nomad without the support of others, a wanderer who couldn't wander, not really. Not anymore.
He'd come back here to collect some of the caches he'd hidden under the sand, within rock, in caves. In the oasis itself, a place deeply familiar to him. Most dug up already by others, discovered over time, but he had a backpack full of perishables and small necessities from those that hadn't been discovered.
As he approached the tree, waiting for a moment where no others were within the vicinity, he side eyed the seed pods. Suspicion, paranoia - ALWAYS that wariness that something or someone was dogging his heels with the worst intentions - stopped him from getting to within arm's reach at first. He stepped aside, a little farther away. Watched as others approached and took seed pods without sustaining harm.
And there the question rose as seed pods were taken and placed in safe pocket: IF he took one… what would he DO with it? Obviously it was meant to grow. This tree had broken through the surface of heated sad, massive. Not some sapling he had seen here before, this was new despite how massive it was.
He watched as the the man he'd met in The Fangs take a seed pod with caution. And in the end deciding it was safe.
A white crow plucked two seeds and flew away with them, both locked within sharp talons.
More came and went, little birds and dragons, each of them taking seeds as though drawn to them. A lull, a pull that Michael didn't like. Reminded him a little too much of the INVASION in his mind, to be MADE to do something.
What was the worst of the two evils, though?
That voice in his head or the soft press of a tree offering seeds to be buried?
"God damnit…" A low mutter before he moved suddenly. Strode to the tree without reverence and reached up to grip one of the seeds. A firm yank and it was free. He paused, didn't feel any ill effects, hadn't been struck down by lightning or crushed to death by falling boughs.
A rough shove into a pocket, and the seed was placed there safely as he turned to retreat. Now, he just had to find a place to plant it. That was the logical thing to do… no?
It was a strange place to be after such time had passed. So much bullshit, so much knowledge gained that he wished he'd never heard. A nomad without the support of others, a wanderer who couldn't wander, not really. Not anymore.
He'd come back here to collect some of the caches he'd hidden under the sand, within rock, in caves. In the oasis itself, a place deeply familiar to him. Most dug up already by others, discovered over time, but he had a backpack full of perishables and small necessities from those that hadn't been discovered.
As he approached the tree, waiting for a moment where no others were within the vicinity, he side eyed the seed pods. Suspicion, paranoia - ALWAYS that wariness that something or someone was dogging his heels with the worst intentions - stopped him from getting to within arm's reach at first. He stepped aside, a little farther away. Watched as others approached and took seed pods without sustaining harm.
And there the question rose as seed pods were taken and placed in safe pocket: IF he took one… what would he DO with it? Obviously it was meant to grow. This tree had broken through the surface of heated sad, massive. Not some sapling he had seen here before, this was new despite how massive it was.
He watched as the the man he'd met in The Fangs take a seed pod with caution. And in the end deciding it was safe.
A white crow plucked two seeds and flew away with them, both locked within sharp talons.
More came and went, little birds and dragons, each of them taking seeds as though drawn to them. A lull, a pull that Michael didn't like. Reminded him a little too much of the INVASION in his mind, to be MADE to do something.
What was the worst of the two evils, though?
That voice in his head or the soft press of a tree offering seeds to be buried?
"God damnit…" A low mutter before he moved suddenly. Strode to the tree without reverence and reached up to grip one of the seeds. A firm yank and it was free. He paused, didn't feel any ill effects, hadn't been struck down by lightning or crushed to death by falling boughs.
A rough shove into a pocket, and the seed was placed there safely as he turned to retreat. Now, he just had to find a place to plant it. That was the logical thing to do… no?
YOU PULL THE TRIGGER YOURSELF
