Day Two: Afternoon

[Minoshia]

Trying to understand what had just happened was pointless. His mind had been racing like a hamster on a wheel ever since the android had agreed to his statement about his methods. Seventeen, the person who had harbored hatred for Minoshia’s actions for years now, had seen the logic in his lifestyle. As he relaxed, he felt a pulsating wave of satisfaction sweep through his body. He disguised his satisfaction with a grim, stone mask – the same cold expressionless face that had roamed the darkness without remorse for years.

His back pressed softly against the hard bark of the palm tree behind him, the wide set leaves acting like an awning that cast the perfect amount of shade. He downed what was left in his canteen; feeling instantly rejuvenated as the cool water flooded his throat and cascaded into his stomach. Immediately he leaned forward and refilled the storage device before falling back against the exotic plant. From the corners of his vision he noted that the cyborg was chewing on a morsel of bread. Thinking it a wise choice, Minoshia reached into his own bag and pulled out the aging loaf of wheat. It wasn’t good food, it was hardly even satisfying, but it did the job – it helped them survive.

“You seem hesitant, nervous even.” The Dark Prince commented on the reluctance in Seventeen’s voice as he had agreed with the Konat earlier.

“About?” He turned his head towards his partner, as their eyes met the machine realized he didn’t need to ask. The child was always pointed in his questions, they always had a purpose. He was obviously referring to their prior conversation. He shrugged in response, and finished chewing his section of bread. “Change takes time, you know that Minoshia.” His words were met with nodding confirmation from the alien who sat under the second palm.

“It’s not that bad,” Minoshia tried to explain the process of blackening one’s heart, of turning to the darkness. “… It’s just a matter of embracing your emotions - and not suppressing them.” It wasn’t an easy thing to talk about; the hesitance in his voice was obvious. His words were met with a quizzical look from his counterpart, followed by yet another shrug.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Seventeen replied, his ebony hair sweeping across his darkened face as the breeze silently picked up. His countenance told a tale of confusion, what lied beneath the Konat could only guess. The mohawked warrior had returned to his small meal. His chin rested on his fist, which was in turn supported by the elbow that rested on his knee – the pose of man deep in thought. He was wracking his mind for a simple way to explain himself, in a manner that would be easier for the hybrid to grasp. A few minutes passed by as they both rested idly, the moments frozen in a sea of silence. After these moments had passed, it had become apparent that Minoshia had crossed that sea of treacherous quiet. His chin lifted off his clenched fist ever so slowly, his mouth opening as if he were ready to speak, only to close again. He performed this exercise multiple times, before he rotated his torso towards his target.

“Murder is a lot like smoking cigarettes.” Minoshia blurted out, his sentence blunt and pointed. The abruptness of his words caused Seventeen to immediately spin towards him, almost laughing as he registered what had been said. Instead his mouth simply curled into an intrigued smile, and he readied himself to listen further. “The first couple times you are hesitant, and afterwards you feel a tinge of guilt. But eventually, much like smoking cigarettes, it grows on you in its own addictive manner – it becomes a habit.”