03-23-2018, 08:40 PM
Saving the light that is dying. Seiji wonders, maybe (briefly), how this place is sick. There's a flicker of confusion - doubt - before he turns to the task at hand. He cannot think on it now, but it remains in mind, a lingering sliver of thought, to worry at later in private. He should be more baffled by the friendliness of the creatures here. He is, instead, relieved. He can do help. He's good at help. So it's with relief he paws tentatively at the shadows lingering below the tiny suns. He can think of this now, and other things later. Roots and soil turn up, bare to the sky. To the soft darkness of his eyes. Sorry, he thinks, one ear on the others should they take offense. But then a feeling, like a deep breath: flickering light. It burgeons. Strengthens. And then the living flowers, those around him, burn again with life. Bright; bright as sunlight, warm and generous. He pauses to blink at them, alarmed but then clearly pleased. There's an eager softness in his eyes, an almost childlike wonder. He was right! So his hours in the garden have served him well, here. He bounds forward to the next patch of shadows, to uproot that, as well. The others are forgotten; he's too eager in his task, enlivened by success. He hasn't tasted such a thing in a very long time. |