[PRP] Indifference taken far (Mushkeli and Nemanja'janan)

[Ameh]

Large, black wings took the enormous black force up into the air and towards the haven all gods could always call a home.

It was here where he could find silence and comfort in being alone. Not many wandered through here, as it was not possible for many to do so. And the only ones who did... simply were committed to things elsewhere. He was never one to feel attached to anything, though he could say there was some small familial connection with his mother. But that was it. And Nalini... He would refuse to face her now.

It was times like these when he withdrew to this realm to reflect and extinguish what potential hindrances of feelings he could have. Absent of the earthly annoyances and distractions, he could actually be at peace.

His hulking form came to rest upon a rather low and dark cloud, and there he sat and began brooding. His invisible fog cleared, acknowledging that it would be rare for any intruders or passersby to see him anyways. And if any of his children were up here... They would know well to leave him alone. Even Takadamu knew that he did not wish to be found, and thus left the ways of navigation alone when dealing with the father. Regardless, his guard was down, and if anyone cared to wander through, they would come upon very undesired company.  

[Uta]

Unfortunately for the ebony coated god, there was one wandering soul edging closer, and closer to where he sat. The thick grey and white clouds that surrounded the haven obscured Nemanja's vision. But even if he had noticed Mushkeli, it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing mattered in the grand scheme of things, and such was the way of the world. The cold of the air, the clouds beneath his feet, the mountains face, breathing, eating, thinking, living. It all added up to nothing.

Step by painfully slow step, Nemanja came in to view. His massive wings were tangled and molten, a wreck. The feathers hadn't been cleaned in what looked to be months, and were practically rendered useless in flight. His thick mane was also matted with grime and dirt, tangled thoroughly due to neglect. Ebony eyes stared lifelessly out at the world before him, and it was with that emotionless gaze that he caught sight of the other god.

Mushkeli wasn't far before him, practically wrapped in a matching cloud. If the god of apathy had decided to continue moving, he would have run smack in to him. . . but for now, there was no reason to continue moving. He didn't much care if he stayed or went, and so the train-wreck of a lion flopped most ungracefully on to the cloud nearby. He stared at Mushkeli, but he made no greeting, no acknowledgment. His entire being screamed indifference. In fact, now that he was flopped down in a mess of black and white fur, one might even think he was dead or cursed to stone. Breath by breath, he lay there.

Strange how even existence seemed like too much effort for Nemanja. In a skewed sense, it really was.