Susanoo has tended to them on more than one occasion. They are a beautiful flower, but require the utmost, specific care to thrive. Without certain nutrients in the soil their deep blue color will fade to a pink, or a white - still lovely, but nowhere as striking as blue. He can tell at a glance which ones need a little more rigorous care, and it perturbs him slightly, but more important is what he's doing here in the first place. No sense in worrying about something he can't immediately fix - and he doesn't have any fertilizer, anyway.
It's not a place he recognizes, as well-traveled as he is, though he'd really only recognize cities. Every time he enters one, he finds brief, quaint reminders of what they once were, walking past a house he'd lived in just a century ago, remembering the details of the kitchen that he's sure have changed with time, the voices of the people who inhabited it. The greenery and rolling hills of the country are just as ever-changing, adapted to suit whatever needs humans have of them, astonishing him every time he wakes up. It's entirely different from cities, which remain as strongholds for humans to thrive at their very essence. A village will always have been a vilage, but he can't say for sure that this has always been a flower garden.
...There's no sense in standing around and admiring the flowers, though. He's content with watching them go by as he starts forward, unsure of where to go, but the best way to get your bearings is to explore.]
[The woods don't go unnoticed, but it's a better strategy to find higher ground - it's more efficient to survey the area that way. If nothing of interest can be found atop the hill, then he'll make the forest his route.
For now, though, he focuses on ascending the hill. He doesn't know what fatigue feels like; he's heard it described when climbing hills like this, but the sensation of sore backs and shoulders and knees just from walking is an alien concept. Even the pain he does feel in battle is only temporary, healing almost immediately. Neither does he need to breathe, though he's adopted the sigh after spending so much time with humans, who adore the gesture so much, so what might be an otherwise troublesome hill isn't much of a problem without a need to catch his breath.
It's still a lovely, clear day, so if nothing strikes him as familiar at the top of the hill or in the woods, he may have to wait until nightfall to navigate to somewhere familiar. The stars, at least, even after 1,000 years, have remained the same.]
[ The journey takes longer than appearances would suggest. Despite the absence of a burn in your muscles, or sweat upon your brow, there's a feeling of slow progress....of working hard to achieve "this", to walk this path, to move forward in this way. To reach the peak of the hill is what you want, what you've aimed for since an unknown time before the here and now. It would be accurate, in a sense, to say that standing at the top is your dream.
The sentiment is not your own, but takes root among your emotions as if it was.
And then: the distant sound of voices, of what might be thunder. Yet as you continue to ascend, the sky remains clear....? ]
[The sound gives him pause, and he looks over his shoulder first. He can't make out where it's coming from, so naturally he looks behind him to see if there's something he missed. But it's just the same path as before, not only behind, but in all directions - he thought he'd be further along than this by now, he thinks, watching a hydrangea bush sway in the breeze. He's the Speed of Lightning for a reason, but despite traveling at what he thought was a moderately fast pace, he doesn't seem to be making much progress.
Should he turn back to investigate, despite no visual cues? No, that isn't an option anymore - it's strange to think that it was even an option in the first place. There's a sense of urgency about reaching the top that he doesn't remember feeling before, and he can't place why it's there. Hadn't he initially set out to just get his bearings?
Susanoo shakes his head, unsure of what to make of this drive to reach the top of the hill, but if there's nothing behind him, then he might as well continue forward, as unexpectedly difficult as it is. Perhaps that's where the noise is coming from.]
[ The sounds get louder, sharper, more defined. Laughter and cheering, triumph and joy. The rumbling isn't thunder, but the sound of hooves.....of many horses galloping in energetic concert.
After what feels like hours, or maybe just minutes that stretch on and on ( years...?) you crest the hill to stand at the top. For a single shining instant, you feel happy. Satisfied. Proud of yourself and your efforts.
But what waits below you is only horror. ]
[ Finely dressed riders on horseback hunting down naked, screaming, fleeing people.
Your happiness withers inside your heart like spoiled fruit. ]
[This is hardly the first time Susanoo has seen the atrocities committed by the empire. Even before it had degraded to this state, there had always been humans who abused their power, driven by greed, treated others as less than the dirt beneath their heels.
It is never any less revolting. He was built with the power to crush humans as easily as a grown man may strangle a child, and he has done so more times than he can remember, but never with any more brutality than necessary. He was designed to operate as efficiently and quickly as possible, so it's a concept he has difficulty understanding; how twisted must one be to view every living thing on the planet as something so beneath them? To hunt down one's own kind, to do so with a smile on one's face?
Perhaps it's presumptuous of someone like him, who was granted a life rather than chancing into it like a human, but...he can't forgive atrocities like this. There was a time when he would've been able to overlook them, but after 1,000 years for caring for humans, he can't think like that anymore. After a certain point, he realized he couldn't let this cycle continue. He'd rather it all stop - even if he's the one who has to stop it - and that's ultimately what led him to Najenda, to recognize her as worthy of his strength. Because she, like him and like many of his masters before, saw the potential for how vile humanity could be, and needed a tool powerful enough to kill that potential before it could spread further, like a shriveled, diseased branch on an otherwise perfect tree.
He can't just stand here and watch. Najenda would definitely consign these people, Susanoo is sure of it...he can only hope the trip back down the hill, toward the horses, isn't as arduous as the trip up.]
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no subject
Susanoo has tended to them on more than one occasion. They are a beautiful flower, but require the utmost, specific care to thrive. Without certain nutrients in the soil their deep blue color will fade to a pink, or a white - still lovely, but nowhere as striking as blue. He can tell at a glance which ones need a little more rigorous care, and it perturbs him slightly, but more important is what he's doing here in the first place. No sense in worrying about something he can't immediately fix - and he doesn't have any fertilizer, anyway.
It's not a place he recognizes, as well-traveled as he is, though he'd really only recognize cities. Every time he enters one, he finds brief, quaint reminders of what they once were, walking past a house he'd lived in just a century ago, remembering the details of the kitchen that he's sure have changed with time, the voices of the people who inhabited it. The greenery and rolling hills of the country are just as ever-changing, adapted to suit whatever needs humans have of them, astonishing him every time he wakes up. It's entirely different from cities, which remain as strongholds for humans to thrive at their very essence. A village will always have been a vilage, but he can't say for sure that this has always been a flower garden.
...There's no sense in standing around and admiring the flowers, though. He's content with watching them go by as he starts forward, unsure of where to go, but the best way to get your bearings is to explore.]
no subject
Ahead is a steep hill, lined with more of the same flowers. To see beyond it, you must first reach the top.
At your back, the dark green expanse of woods awaits. ]
no subject
For now, though, he focuses on ascending the hill. He doesn't know what fatigue feels like; he's heard it described when climbing hills like this, but the sensation of sore backs and shoulders and knees just from walking is an alien concept. Even the pain he does feel in battle is only temporary, healing almost immediately. Neither does he need to breathe, though he's adopted the sigh after spending so much time with humans, who adore the gesture so much, so what might be an otherwise troublesome hill isn't much of a problem without a need to catch his breath.
It's still a lovely, clear day, so if nothing strikes him as familiar at the top of the hill or in the woods, he may have to wait until nightfall to navigate to somewhere familiar. The stars, at least, even after 1,000 years, have remained the same.]
no subject
The sentiment is not your own, but takes root among your emotions as if it was.
And then: the distant sound of voices, of what might be thunder. Yet as you continue to ascend, the sky remains clear....? ]
no subject
Should he turn back to investigate, despite no visual cues? No, that isn't an option anymore - it's strange to think that it was even an option in the first place. There's a sense of urgency about reaching the top that he doesn't remember feeling before, and he can't place why it's there. Hadn't he initially set out to just get his bearings?
Susanoo shakes his head, unsure of what to make of this drive to reach the top of the hill, but if there's nothing behind him, then he might as well continue forward, as unexpectedly difficult as it is. Perhaps that's where the noise is coming from.]
no subject
After what feels like hours, or maybe just minutes that stretch on and on ( years...?) you crest the hill to stand at the top. For a single shining instant, you feel happy. Satisfied. Proud of yourself and your efforts.
But what waits below you is only horror. ]
[ Finely dressed riders on horseback hunting down naked, screaming, fleeing people.
Your happiness withers inside your heart like spoiled fruit. ]
no subject
It is never any less revolting. He was built with the power to crush humans as easily as a grown man may strangle a child, and he has done so more times than he can remember, but never with any more brutality than necessary. He was designed to operate as efficiently and quickly as possible, so it's a concept he has difficulty understanding; how twisted must one be to view every living thing on the planet as something so beneath them? To hunt down one's own kind, to do so with a smile on one's face?
Perhaps it's presumptuous of someone like him, who was granted a life rather than chancing into it like a human, but...he can't forgive atrocities like this. There was a time when he would've been able to overlook them, but after 1,000 years for caring for humans, he can't think like that anymore. After a certain point, he realized he couldn't let this cycle continue. He'd rather it all stop - even if he's the one who has to stop it - and that's ultimately what led him to Najenda, to recognize her as worthy of his strength. Because she, like him and like many of his masters before, saw the potential for how vile humanity could be, and needed a tool powerful enough to kill that potential before it could spread further, like a shriveled, diseased branch on an otherwise perfect tree.
He can't just stand here and watch. Najenda would definitely consign these people, Susanoo is sure of it...he can only hope the trip back down the hill, toward the horses, isn't as arduous as the trip up.]