10/28/04    4. A.M. It’s raining, it’s storming, I’m cold, I can’t sleep and I can’t find the sleeping pills… Damn…

AND I know a strange animal commonly called a Zenon-fan…

 

Disclaimer :Not Mine. Of course not.  

« Boredom »

    o OoOoOo   The oppressive heat overthere is so heavy and wet that he doesn’t know how he can stand that. The hot breath coming from outside mercilessly invades the vast room in the tower they « stole » on Earth. Too stuffy to even think, isn’t it? Or even to dare moving a finger. Even fishing the cigarettes’ packet in the jacket he got rid of on the back of a chair along with the machine gun, at the other end of the bedroom, is too much of an effort. It isn’t worth leaving the windowsill where he is perched. He only heaves a somewhat irritated sigh as he feels a new bead of sweat running down his skin under the white T-shirt.   He is bored to death.   Maybe it’s the youkai’s blood’s fault. Maybe he would be more contemplative if he were simply a god. Well, why not? Let’s try to contemplate…   He lazily lets his eyes wander. Sorry, his eye. But his look is intense enough for anybody forgetting the fact. And he heard once, some people really think he can see through the patch on his left eye. Figures.   Shien is not so far, sitting just in front of him on the edge of the large bay. By stretching his leg a little, Zenon would be able to reach out for him with his bare foot. The other god doesn’t seem to mind the weather as much as him. But Shien never looks like he could mind anything. Or cares. Bandages on arms and torso are still here. They always are. Now the pale folds of the yukata reveal only a little more of smooth skin and flesh on the shoulders and neck than usual. Maybe.   But the long hair is loose. The silent toushin god is absorbed in the long task of brushing it. Even the ivory comb looks yellowish between his white spidery hands.   Maybe he is bored too, thinks Zenon with sombre amusement. And, this hair must keep him hot like hell…Who would think of letting such a blanket on their shoulders during a weather like this? He almost snorts.   But he is bored.   « Why do you keep it that long? You always tie it back, anyway… »   So bored he has to ask. No that he is waiting for an answer. As expected, Shien merely ignores him, going on with his slow work. Minutes are blew by with the sight of the hypnotic motion of the pale hands on the darker colour, lithe spiders on a bluish silky web…   « It reminds me of my wife… »   Zenon realizes he has talked out loud. He comes back at the present moment as a hand enters his sight. Strange discovery, it looks like it is his own tanned hand frozen without reason, fingers intertwined in a soft grey strand. He finds himself leaning towards the other god. Shien’s eyes are still downcast to his comb. But he has stopped his stroking motion. And he sighs. It’s somewhat amused.   « As long as you can make the difference… »   Zenon straightens up and settles back against the strong wall.   « It’s hot, » he only complains.   Shien arches an eyebrow. He looks down for a while at the desert landscape openly displayed outside for his sole half-closed eyes’ pleasure. He hardly shrugs. It’s only the sixtieth time he hears these words, this afternoon.   « So da… »   Today, one would think Homura is the only one with some decent common sense. He buried himself in the depths of the fortress, far from the heat, far from them (but utterly surrounded by his thoughts and his loneliness, though).   Zenon doesn’t envy him.   The man with a scar eventually decides to retreat inside the room, and lets himself fall in the crumpled sheets of the open bed. It’s not any cooler, over there. With a grunt, he lays on his side. His hand reaches out towards a strange snake hiding in the sheets. A very long, very thin, very yellow one. He ponders whether he is going to tell Shien he has found his ribbon. He ponders whether that bait will be enough to make the other god come closer to the bed.   « Shien? » he calls…   oOo Owari oOo