ximilialog | sad things will never end but || open

CHARACTERS: Zhao and OPEN!
LOCATION: Teleportation room, sunlight room.
DATE: Immediately upon arrival back at the station, and the next few following days/weeks.
CONTENT: Zhao brings home some Ciraiwei plants and puts them in the sunlight room.
WARNINGS: n/a this should be pretty wholesome
NOTE: will match format style of brackets or prose, your choice

I. in the end it'll be ok || teleportation room

As they all arrived packed into the teleportation room as usual, Zhao felt a sense of relief that they made it. He knew that they had done all that they could, and even if it hadn't been perfect, rarely anything ever was. Even Viv-chan was proud of them for what they accomplished though.

Zhao was ready to return to his room and pass out from exhaustion but then a thought occurred to him as he began to turn and leave with the mass exodus.

"WAIT! HOLD UP. NOBODY MOVE. Wide berth there, thank you thank you. I need a moment. I NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS AND A PAIR OF TWEEZERS. YO! Help a guy out!!"

In the meantime, Zhao stood frozen in the middle of the group, refusing to move. He had just remembered he had some left over plants from Ciraiwei he was holding onto... and he wasn't sure how well they would survive if he didn't find them sooner than later considering the jump in size. He...he could use some help finding the tiny plants stuffed into his pockets.

II. see the sun rising again today || sunlight room

The next few days Zhao could very likely be found in the sunlight room tending to the tiniest garden ever conceivable. It all fit into one medium sized pot full of dirt but it looked like there was half an ecosystem all tucked into it nice and neatly. Zhao had gathered many plants for the Hivawei to take with them but some of them had been in his pockets before and remained there after. He had wanted to preserve a few--oh, who was he kidding, he selfishly had just wanted to keep some of the beautiful flora species for himself.

Of course, then he had forgotten to account for the size difference. In the back of his mind he'd always thought the world might be small--confirmed by Newt during the mission but--it didn't really hit home so fully until he'd gotten back to the station. Now here he was cultivating the tiniest bonsai garden he'd ever taken care of in his life. Good thing this was his favorite hobby.

He wouldn't mind company, gawkers of his small ecosystem, or even some helping hands. Although he would watch like a hawk if anyone wanted to help with the plants considering their small and delicate nature. He was willing to teach though if anyone wanted to listen to him ramble on about gardening. Or listen if anyone wanted to talk to him about the planet they had left behind to be destroyed by the asteroid. On approach he was probably whistling an easy tune but his attention would turn to the person and he would offer a wide smile.

III. wildcard

[Hit me with anything else you have in mind! PMs or pings to AisuYoukai if you need me, but seriously...anything goes.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zhao grimaced at the implication but he had set himself up for it. Maybe he was a sap. He just didn't like it to be pointed out to him.

The gangster runs a hand over the plants, not touching, they were too delicate for that kind of thoughtless abrasion. Just- hovering over them protectively, contemplatively. They were precious. Unique. And a very particular reminder of bygone things.

He arched a brow as he looked back up from his reverie. Was that a pun? Not that Zhao couldn't appreciate a good play on words, but someone else might not have taken it so nicely. It seemed...too spot on, all things considered. Funny to him though he didn't laugh.

"Weapons and jewelry mostly. I like sharp and shiny things." He said with a dark smile. He wasn't kidding. Though he might have been playing up the 'bad boy' aspect just a little. "I've got," he reached behind him and pulled out a bone knife made from the tail of the snakes from the desert world, "this on me right now. A few more deadly trinkets in my room."

"Ah- shiny and deadly things."

He doesn't reach for the blade, but looks away to examine it from a foot away. The ridges of bone and the sharp edges. "Any particular reason why you might be armed while we are on the station, or-" what he means, is 'do you know' but he doesn't ask. There is no suspiciously specific question about it. But Kovach did have a big mouth, and Aleksander can only guess at who he might have told.

Who Newton might have told, but somehow it felt like a bigger knife in the back for it to be Kovach. Who slept in his room for months, who changed the deal with the orbs and who tried to murder them all last winter. Instead, Aleksander smiles.

"Or are you a careful person. It must be hard, not having the Small Science at your fingertips, and in a way, I am never not armed myself."

Zhao's smile faded and he pulled the offered weapon back away from the cautious man. "Habit from living on the streets. I usually keep a gun tucked away somewhere but I've tried to keep it in my room while on the station. Knives are just useful tools..." he said with a shrug. He smiled again but it was thinner this time. "I like showing this one off because I made it myself from those snakes. Got a couple left if you want one."

He had given a few away like they were friendship bracelets or something. Seeing Aleksander react the way he did made Zhao realize how stupid that was though. Normal people did not carry deadly weapons on them at all times or talk about them like they were pretty accessories.

He put the knife away, back out of sight, and stood awkwardly in front of the other man. He stared at nothing as he thought about Aleksander's last words.

"I don't have any fancy powers, but I was taught to be a weapon from a young age. I don't have to have a sword or a gun to defend myself or kill someone. Sorry if that's disconcerting. It's just...the truth." His eyes flicked up to meet Aleksander's own. "I don't want to hurt anyone. That's always the last option. I definitely don't want to hurt anyone here."

Edited 2023-04-22 18:17 (UTC)

"I am--" he starts, watching the easy smile slip from Zhao's face,"a general. I command an army in my home world. No, I built that army, a little over a hundred years ago. After I watched too many people just like me be cast aside or forced to hide what they were."

The story behind the Second Army was hardly a secret, even in his own world. Grisha lived long lives, far longer than any without the Small Science, yet no one would live as long as him. "I have trained many men, and one thing we train is to never touch a soldier's weapon."

"We also train with swords. With knives and rocks, because sometimes our powers might fail. They might work less effectively or we might be drugged."

Or dragged far away from the element they control. So many creative ways to hurt his people. "I wouldn't insult you by taking your knife away. If that was wrong, then I am very sorry."

Because the second smile, the one that doesn't reach Zhao's eyes, feels-- empty.

"I would very much like to see what you've made."

"Should it scare me, that you might have killed a man. Without a weapon. No-" his voice drops low, like it was on Cirawei. "I am well aware of how cruel life can be, and how hard it works to break children."

The part about that which got Zhao's attention was the over a hundred years ago. Generals of armies he sort of understood. He wasn't that strict, and he wasn't commanding an army, but he felt responsible for the gang that he inherited. And he remembered the stories of his grandfather about the war, and he knew some of his underlings thought of themselves like soldiers even if it wasn't exactly the same. He wouldn't hold the illusion that he knew what it was like but he could imagine it.

What he couldn't imagine was that age drop. "I'm sorry, you're how old?" he blurted out before he caught himself. He shuffled, grinned to mask the embarrassment, and continued on as if he hadn't got stuck on the stupidest part of that information drop.

He shook his head then. "It's not an insult. You're right." It wasn't the lack of reciprocation for the weapon that had faded Zhao's smile. It was the fact that it did seem appropriate, and reminded the mafioso that he didn't fit in with normal people.

Then again, he should know by now that most of the people here on the Ximilia were not all that normal. They all came from different walks in life but most of them were extraordinary in some way, whether it be their own traits or the traits of their world or both that set them apart. It was all very...interesting.

He laughed and turned his head away briefly before returning his attention to Aleksander. The light wasn't as bright in his eye as before but it had returned at least a little. But it wasn't harder now to tell if it held real warmth or was just part of the act. Zhao's whole life was a play he put on. Sometimes it was hard to turn it off.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's hastag Ximilia problems, right? We're all just trying to pretend to be 'normal,' whatever that word means. Anyway," he pointed towards the potted plants, "I should probably finish up what I started here. I'll be free in a bit if you're still interested after that, o.k.?"

"More than a hundred years," but it's said with a grin, teasing and only half-serious. His age was... his. Most people back in his own world would burn him for that alone, even without everything else he had done.

Or been a part of doing.

They feared him. And a general who could rule an army for centuries was- a threat. He still keeps it vague on the station, edging around the full truth with a smile. "I know how I look, but that is because I am Grisha. We look young for decades."

But the line about pretending stands out, coupled with the dimming light in Zhao's eyes and the way his smile is a pale imitation of the one that graced his mouth when he pulled the knife. Well, well.

"Of course, I didn't meant to interrupt your work. I will let you get back to it, but if you want to grab a bite to eat later? I will be in the kitchen."

That was interesting. He wondered why the connection to the the elements gave the Grisha extra long lives but that wasn't really his concern. The point was the man in front of him looked damn good for his age. And as shallow as it was, it was it couldn't be helped. Why not appreciate a fine piece of artwork when it was sitting right in front of one? It seemed rude not to.

Zhao perked up at the mention of food and the kitchen. He smiled. "I won't be much longer here. Do you cook?" he asked innocently. In all honesty, Zhao would love to do the cooking himself. He enjoyed it, and showing off was something in his nature.

"I feel as if I need to talk more about my home world," as he turns, eyebrow arched and smile firmly and warm on his face. "In Ravka, unless you are born rich, you need to know how to cook."

"And Grisha are never born rich."

One sentence, but it explains so much about the way people think in his world. It should stand out, that Grisha were always born to the poor. That the nobles sometimes had children go missing or turn up dead in preventable accidents. How even the tsar (any tsar) never raised a Grisha.

"I am fairly good at making fish, but I am always willing to try new food. Fish are not in everyone's tastes."

sad things will never end but || open

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