@singofruin liked for a starter!
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ 💖 ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
What does he know of Magic? As far as he’s concerned, the...Anomalies of this...Branch? That Accord had used to explain the odd little flares in magic that allowed moving from one universe to another are just a pain in the ass, which is why, for now, he’s avoiding them. Pointedly so, as if perhaps they have a mind of their own and he can somehow insult them with his seeming indifference. Like a cat pretending it doesn’t care about what treats are in the bag the kind old lady next door is shaking.
He isn’t sure where Decadus ran off to, or Cent. He isn’t sure where Octa went either, but he decidedly doesn’t care about the last one. For all Dito knows, he’s gotten his dick stuck in one of those strange tears in the universe, part of him hopes so, that would be hilarious.
It’s still early enough in the evening that the sunset’s fingers are curled over the horizon in mingling shades of pink and gold. He likes this time of day, he likes that palette. It’s soft, it’s beautiful. He likes beautiful things.
It reminds him of spilled fat, it reminds him of the fresh lining of someone’s belly pulled from abdomen into air. He likes that too.
Despite the lingering light there’s a fire going, and he tosses a handful of grass into it just to watch it burn. Here in the land of forests, it’s lush enough that it mostly just makes the fire pop and sizzle, not as satisfying as it could be.
The fire turns his eyes bright; less molten gold, more molten glass. If he could see them, he would probably want to tear them out, but he can’t, so he doesn’t. Instead, he’s watching her from across the fire, just her and him. Mikhail had toddled off into the woods with the promise to bring back food, though knowing Zero’s dipshit dragon he’ll be shocked if he comes back with anything more edible than a week old carcass and a funny rock he wants to show the intoner.
Part of him debates going to gather up an armful of mushrooms from the woods, someone has to take care of this bunch of idiots. But then, he decides it isn’t going to be him, not tonight, the promise of food doesn’t quite outweigh his desire to not drag his ass through the woods for nothing worthwhile in the way of thanks.
“How long until Octa loses his cock in one of those gaps in reality?” he speaks after an aching length of silence. “I’m thinking of starting a betting pool.”
He throws another fistfull of grass into the fire.