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+--- Thread: Luneshale Pass fear the reaper (/showthread.php?tid=66172)
fear the reaper - Disa - July 21, 2025
The shrubs stood in neat, unnatural rows, shaded by a tall outcropping of rock that wrapped protectively around the squat plants. Like a mother shielding her nursing pups. The sun only touched the fragile leaves for a few hours in the morning; during the worst heat of the day, they were protected.
Disa hadn't been sure what to look for at first. She had heard it called many things, but never seen the product – only the effects. Herb. Green. Thrill. She could not recall the face of the wolf that had sent her to the desert; only her wide, black pupils and erratically twitching lids. She had been so thin.
Disa watched @Soto tend to his crop as though they were his children. He weeded and watered, scratching channels into the earth to feed the plants that were farthest away from the water source. A father as much as a gardener.
Disa stepped into view from behind the mother rock. A shaft of light cut across her delicate face, brightening the silver of her eyes.
"Why do you do it?" she asked, surveying the garden.
RE: fear the reaper - Soto - July 21, 2025
why does he do it?
habit, soto supposes. the question at face value was innocent enough - but it reaches deep in the segundo, bringing to life old memories and old blood.
what other purpose was there? to have children, to raise a family, to lead a pack of mindless hunters that went from peak to peak in pursuit of brainless prey. these things didn’t appeal to soto; this life was all he knew.
he set back from the rows, nose twitching as he watches her pass between pylons of sunlight. fiamma would have liked her - juarez, maybe not so much.
purpose.his monosyllablic answer fell short of amicable conversation but his eye remains sharp upon her, as he scents trace amounts of fever or sickness he cannot place.
RE: fear the reaper - Disa - July 21, 2025
"Purpose," Disa repeated, nodding as though she agreed. She stepped into the garden, flashing the jagged wound in her thigh for a split second before it disappeared behind the green.
"There's a name for your kind," she said, her hard gaze appearing and disappearing as she stalked down the row like a cat with its eyes on a mouse. "Many names, in fact. Mind eaters. Jardineros de la muerte," her pronunciation was bad, but decipherable. "Or just gardeners, but that sounds almost sweet."
RE: fear the reaper - Soto - July 31, 2025
she says much as she stalks between garden rows, pantherine in her prowling. soto’s lone eye follows her, almost reproachfully as her paws tread close to fragile upshoots. the green is his life’s work and she walks among it — does she know she treads hallowed ground?
she calls him a mindeater, the gardeber of death. a quirk appears in the corner of soto’s lips. he would argue the mind of those that seek the green are already dead. they had taken the most beautiful thing given to them; their sweet, beautiful, ugly consciousness — and they had torched it as the drought does to the desert.
they are lost souls without provenance and he simply provides them relief.
and you say that, porque?
RE: fear the reaper - Disa - July 31, 2025
His single eye was like the lantern of a deep sea predator that Disa would never see or name, whispering through the biological switchboard of a distant ancestor in a voice that is cold and ancient. It was an ugly thing, she decided, and so was Soto.
He tracked her path through the green. The very fact that he cared so deeply for the infant plants made her want to rip them from the ground. Less because of what they grew up to be – he was right, all parttakers had a choice – and more because he might attack her, and Disa wanted an excuse to bite the wicked lips off his face and spit them in his eye. She didn't know why. Something about him inspired violence and rage, and it wasn't the trail of addicts up and down the south road.
Disa stopped at a struggling plant. Gently, carefully, she heaped the soil with her paw to push the stem upright. "I just thought you should know," she said sweetly, eyes on her work, "In case you start to feel haunted and wonder why."
RE: fear the reaper - Soto - August 14, 2025
something prohibitive moved behind her expression. soto tracks the fleeting ghost of its presence as it darts across her eyes and then disappears into a nether he cannot reach.
he stiffens as she moves to a wilting plant, the care she administers earning the slightest softening of his shoulders.
what does she mean by being haunted? soto catalogues his English words until he comes across its equivalent.
a broad grin cracks the ugliness of his great skull. she does not know of juarez, or niño, or marciela.
i have this haunting already.he announces as he walks past, supplementing the mound of dirt she’d cupped moments before with his own earthly contribution. he meets her eyes somberly, wondering.
do you not sense them?
RE: fear the reaper - Disa - September 02, 2025
He leered at her over the sapling. Disa cut him a sour look, saw his expression change, and felt her heart pull at the reins when his rough paw brushed past hers. Do you not sense them?
She did. Sort of. He brought an aura of general unease with him. Disa had no specific ideas about the afterlife, but now thought she could hear the desperate, grasping souls of those he had condemned to the green.
"Who?" she asked, pinning his paw with her own. Her eyes remained on the work.
RE: fear the reaper - Soto - September 02, 2025
muchos,soto informs, drawing his paw back and shaking the dirt from it.
disa’s gaze holds true to the mound. soto’s single eye roves over her, then back to the dirt. he senses an undercurrent in her; one he’d sensed before in brothers too angry with their lot in life.
but he is in no mood to recount ghost stories. his tail sweeps across his hip as a book might clap shut.
tu tambien las tendras.in afterthought he tacked on in coarse english:
you have them soon, too.
if she did not already. the flinty burn in her eye tells him something follows her, however dark.
RE: fear the reaper - Disa - September 02, 2025
It was Disa's turn to smile, brows rising. "Many?" she translated, "That's it?" She sneered. "You're a ridiculous man that pedals poison. If someone has a hole in their soul, you fill it with tar and call it good work. You and your gardeners in arms." She stepped closer, speaking slowly so that he might catch her meaning. "You are bad. Your work is bad. I don't like it."