driftfleet | ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ/ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Who: Dezel and whoever
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Yes, if you're on the Golden or the polluted moon!
When: April 2nd, various

[video; the golden]
[The feed shows what appears to be the Golden's main hallway, though there's no one in it. And yet there is audio. Someone is clearly talking.]

This is for everyone on the Golden and whoever might think about coming here. The second room on the left is off-limits. If I catch someone sleeping in here, I'm kicking you out. I don't care if you can see me or not. I can't see any of you, but I don't use your things or sleep in your beds.

[He scoffs and cuts the feed.]

[action; we like the moon]
[Dezel was given a mask, but he's not using it. It's hanging off his belt-- and it's decorated like a dog-- but don't you dare point that out. He's standing at the edge of the woods, arms out, little metal pendulums swinging from his fingers as he calls on his native element.

There's a wicked breeze afoot, tugging branches off trees and picking up dead leaves; anyone who can't sense seraphim will simply see a dust-devil whirling in place. But the important thing is that he's trying. And around here, the air actually seems breathable.

Before it's swept away into the unrelenting smog, that is.]

Ugh. This isn't working. [Damn it, trees. Do your job!]

[ooc: Dezel's sensing permissions are here. Over the network he can be heard but not seen, and in person, you have to have some kind of sensitivity to hear or see him. Shipmates who've been on the Golden for at least a month should be able to hear him either way, however.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I could have spent those two hours doing something else.

[Like brooding. Or studying the wildlife. He turns away brusquely, forms a fist and sort of half-punches the nearest tree. He stands there with his fist against it.]

This is just a vacation for you-- but it's different for me.

Just how exactly is this a vacation for me? You think I'm not feeling what you're feeling right now?

[Have you seen the state of the water in this place!?]

[sharply] That's not what I'm talking about!

[The outburst is kind of rare for him lately, as he's been good and quiet and trying to keep his problems to himself, but the air quality has him bothered as much as the malevolence on his ship. And he doesn't want to involve Sorey for what he thinks is a stupid problem. He ought to be able to just... keep it under control.

But the truth is he can't. If he could bless the ship, he wouldn't, simply because of what happened to the Windriders.

He takes a deep breath.]

I can feel every second ticking down my back. When it's done, it's over for me.

[Oh.

Oh.

Mikleo doesn't say anything for a long moment, arguments and assumptions tossed to the wind with those words. Dezel has good reason to hate this more than he or Sorey, and probably many more of the people living here. He's on, quite literally, borrowed time, and without any idea of how long they'll be here... two hours could be a waste, for someone a breath away from dying.

He wants to echo Sorey's words - that they'll keep looking, find a way to bring Dezel back alive - but it isn't like the idea has any weight behind it. Right now it's just a goal, not a guarantee, and he has no faith in his ability to say it with any confidence. What kind of comfort is that? He's less of an idealist than their ever-optimistic Shepherd. He can hope, but he can't promise.

Instead, he steps closer, stretching a hand out, his staff materializing beneath his fingers.]

It'll be faster if we work together. The trees are being poisoned by the water, right? We should start with that.

[Dezel relaxes after a moment, just a little, just enough that Mikleo can tell he's relenting. He's not angry at the water seraph or even at Sorey. He's angry at himself. It was stupid to get in over his head, and even more stupid to contact his friends after he came back to life. But it would be hard to remain hidden when he's audible over the network and to certain people in the Fleet, including one of Sorey's friends. So in the end, he has no choice; he has to deal with it.

Being dead would be simpler. Now he's living on borrowed time and all he wants to do is get back to Rose. Mikleo's a poor replacement, but he's all right.]

It might be a drop in the ocean, [he murmurs, and summons his pendulums back into his hands.] You sure you're up for it?

I'm up for it.

[His response is just as quiet, his resolve something of an unspoken apology. Usually it feels like there's very little that he or Sorey can do to help Dezel- they're not the ones he really wants, nor does he seem particularly fond of accepting any help. If Mikleo can do this much, even if all they do is purify a tiny fragment of this world... it's worth trying, he knows. Sorey would approve.

Spinning the staff between his fingers, he calls up a good-sized bubble of water, focusing hard on drawing the clean water out from within all the chemicals. There isn't much to be found, but it's only the first attempt. He'll get more, and better, the longer he tries.

Once the water is pure, a circle of crystal-clear floating in all that fog, he directs it towards Dezel. Take it to the trees, partner!]

[Dezel is absolutely fine with silence. In fact, he prefers it. He and Mikleo can get a lot done if they cooperate, though that goes for all the seraphim; they tend to bicker but they get serious when it's necessary. The flow of battle necessitates it. This isn't battle, there's no physical enemy to hit and that has its own set of difficulties, but it's a task and Dezel will put himself up to it. Even a crummy seraph can still do something.

He's ready for the water when Mikleo floats it over. He carries it gently on the wind like rain on a spring breeze. He isn't sure if he can handle purifying multiple trees at a time-- at least not without Sorey's help-- so he brings it to just one, an oak tree that acts as a guardian for the other trees.

He lets the water down, and clears any gunk away from the roots within a beat of the pendulum. The tree eagerly laps it up. To a degree, Dezel can tell it's trying to purify the air and do its job, but it's hard to put out pure oxygen with all the contaminants in the environment.]

If Edna was here, we might have a shot at purifying the earth. [He's not sure Mikleo's artes can make up the difference. His own sure can't.] This'll have to do.

I'm sure we'd all be more powerful if Lailah was around, too. But we'll have to make do like this.

[As nice as it would be to have, well, everyone here, it's unlikely. He'd rather not say that, though, since Dezel won't get a chance to see them again if they never show. Saying that would be even more depressing.

So far so good, at least- there isn't any noticeable change, of course, but it feels nice to make the attempt. He starts purifying more water and passing it along to Dezel, creating something of a tree-watering assembly line.]

Yeah. [Mikleo's right, and Dezel doesn't push. He doesn't want to say it out loud either, as if acknowledging it outright will confirm that as his destiny. He's not naive enough to believe that Sorey can find a way to bring him back, but he knows he'll try.

Just like Dezel and Mikleo are trying the impossible here. He feeds the tree more water, careful not to misplace a single drop.]

[Mikleo keeps silent for a while, content to work through the process without bothering Dezel overmuch. It's easier for him to be quiet without anything around to goad them into conversation - namely, Sorey.

At the same time, though, he can't really believe that it's better for either of them to be doing this solo, even though he himself had started out on his own the same way that Dezel had.

So, before too long-]

You know, Sorey would help with this too, if we told him.

[Nah, he's right. Mikleo is usually the voice of reason except when he loses his temper. Not that Dezel can say much about that, since... well, they have that in common.]

He's not supposed to be anywhere near the water. We're seraphim, so it's different for us.

[But is it really?]

Sorey's reckless, but he's not stupid. He would know better than to go into the water.

[Mikleo has his doubts about the latter comment, honestly, although he's choosing to try this anyway. The chances are good that, since they haven't gotten ill from exposure yet, their tolerance to the environment is at least better than most.]

He'll worry if we don't let him at least try.

[Do you want a fretting Shepherd, Dezel?]

But we're working with it. Imagine if you lent him your power to help purify a lot of water at once.

[Mikleo's remark rings true, though.]

Mm. He doesn't like not knowing.

It's a different kind of purification... I wonder if it would have any effect.

[He's not used to working against anything but malevolence, so this is all experimental, really. It would be interesting to see what armatization could accomplish.]

ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ/ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | stale air

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