Sure, it was seedier than what the little prince may have been used to, and sure, the stench of grim and disrepair burned at their nostrils with every breath... But for the homounculous, the lower floors were the closest to his heart’s home he could imagine.
A couple weeks of exploring the hundreds of tiers Greed had been able to access with his status of a newcomer, he’d settled himself into a sort of residency within the 100 to 50 range. A sweet-spot of debauchery and corruption, but without too much sacrifice of the worldly technology the locals seemed so reliant upon. His need to venture back to his housing was only as present as the second strongest soul within him’s control---With no need for sleep, and a rare need to eat, he’d passed his time in a veritable land of plenty.
Women, drugs, men, weapons, drunks and addicts looking to be humbled---With the absence of Father, a sacred purpose, and his annoying ‘siblings’, this place had become a playground. If he weren’t such a covetous bastard, then perhaps it wouldn’t’ve bothered him to have his Ultimate Shield stripped away.
No matter, he’d regain his trump card in time.
Presently, he’d been troubled. He’d noticed their body growing lethargic in the past handful of days, and an abdominal region stricken with borborygmi. ‘Hunger’, as Ling had explained it. He had no desire to waste his precious attention span on something as tedious as eating, being Greed rather than Gluttony after all. He supposed he’d allow his backseat driver the reigns of their shared body, if only to save himself the tedium.
As his consciousness came to the forefront, Ling Yao reflected on his vastly different proclivities. How Greed hadn’t seemed to notice or become bothered by the irritation in their sinuses was beyond him. Such squalor was a reason he’d wished to become the Emperor of Xing in the first place... There were good, kind people here living in filth without a way to elevate themselves, and all they’d need to do is look upwards to see just how much healthier those above their caste were able to live. When he’d been given the reigns, he’d felt it was his duty to improve the life of those he came across in any small way he could manage. They weren’t his subjects, but they didn’t need to be---A good, kind leader seeks to make the world around him better. His country is just the start.
When his thoughts had concluded about the subject, as if by cue, a call to action presented itself in the form of a young woman, not much older than himself.
Her shouts of displeasure were audible, but at his distance, unintelligible. Her tone sounded short and distressed, her permed pigtails bobbing with the effort of her dispatch from the resident who’d dared to hassle her. The bass of his voice reached his ears more clearly; shouts and curses, accusing the young girl of being an outsider.
With a placid expression on his face, the prince’s marital arts prowess made itself apparent by way of two boots to her assailant’s face shortly before he’d been able to make contact with a palm to her own. It was as if he’d dropped from the sky, an angel meant for the sole purpose of her rescue. The man crumpled to the gritty concrete as his consciousness floated from his eyes.
“Sorry ‘bout all that, miss. Seemed like that meathead was giving you a bit of a hard time.”
