Ugh.

The heat keeps him idle, oppressive in its reach and in its ferocity. There's little he can do during the day and even less than he wants to do; it means he ends up sleeping through most of the daylight hours and only comes awake in the twilight. It leaves him groggy and disheveled -- but that's not too far off from his new normal.

Because he was -- alone, now.

A singular, even with all the whispering static in his ears. Those voices don't mean as much as a physical body next to him, and his companion's absence aches like an open wound. They have never left but he seemingly has, and it's all Kazimir can do to stay together. Stay whole. A rurik is made of stronger stuff than this but his own foundation has been cracked for a long, long time.

The wind shifts, pushing more hot air through the grove of trees he lazes under, and the whispers titter in his ears. Coaxing, demanding, asking. And he -- cannot take it anymore. Shut up, he snaps, a vicious snarl curling behind his teeth, spittle splattering the midnight grass in front of him. Be quiet. He is furious, aye, but underneath it is desperation.

Please.

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Every now and then she'd wander out of the desert and come to the parts of Amaryllis she might've once called home. Truthfully, even with the recent challenge, she quite liked it at the Oasis. It was quiet, almost peaceful. And she didn't have to stick her nose in other lions' business. She spent most evenings exploring the desert, picking poisonous plants, and then bringing them back to her den to experiment with them.

It felt nice to leave the beaming sun, though, every now and again. The further away she got from the desert, the more tolerable she became of its sun. She wasn't sure how that worked, but she was glad for the respite. Nearing the Grove, she was even more content to duck beneath its trees, providing her with the shade she needed to not overheat under the summer sun.

She didn't mean to find him there. Truthfully, they seemed to meet at the most accidental of times. She watched his back as she approached, watching him speak to someone who was not present -- unless he had picked up a ghost or a small creature friend that she couldn't see. Still, she did not hesitate to approach him now. She was happy to see him.

"Who ya talking to?" she asked, seemingly coming from nowhere, bleeding from the trees. Her pinks stood out against her pale form more so than ever these days, being under the hot sun of the Oasis. It was like a permanent sunburn, but thankfully without the gross peeling. "The birds aren't going to listen to that kind of command," she teased, flicking her tail and offering a faint smirk as she stopped a few feet from him.

@Kazimir

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He could scream, and wail, and beg.

He could do all of this and more, but it all ends the same. The whispers quiet only for a moment or two before continuing on -- speaking to him, speaking to each other, speaking to the world around them. They are here and yet they also aren't; he is only a host, and a conduit, and he has no right to silence them. That doesn't mean he likes it, though. That doesn't mean he enjoys it.

That doesn't mean he doesn't want to rip and tear and quiet them forever.

( or at least a moment. One single moment, that's all he wants. And --

One single moment is all he gets. )

She emerges from behind him and he has no idea, not until the voices quiet to allow her a lull to speak into. Her voice does not startle him ( even though maybe it should have ); instead, what surprises him is that it's her. @shiva. Ruby eyes widen as his head inclines, glancing over his shoulder. She is stark in the subdued light of the grove; bright and pink, a beacon if he's ever seen one.

Hers is a familiar presence, and in the face of his yawning loneliness, she is a vision.

His smile, when it comes, is loose -- a little tight at the corners, but the relief is evident. There is no one else here. He rumbles, accent thick as he tries to dismiss her worries -- or worse, curiosity. Just the birds. Before she'd mentioned them, he hadn't even noticed the birdsong that fills the summer air. But now that he's listening for it, it's impossible to ignore. Melodies fill the air and something in his chest feels warm. Maybe that's why he continues, gruff voice relenting with a laxed tongue as thoughts tumble out.

It is good to see you.

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When he notices her, Shiva comes closer, sitting down two or three feet from him, utilizing the shade offered by a nearby tree. He looks well from what she can see, lonely, though. He is always alone when she finds him out here. She wondered where the man he mentioned before had went? She wouldn't ask because it isn't her business, but the faint curiosity lingered.

"It's good to see you, too, Kaz," she echoes with an incline of her head, a dip of her nose if you will, in greeting. "What have you been up to since we last saw each other?"

Shiva feels the coolness on her skin, the absence of the sun's warm rays, as she sits in the shade, but it's nice. It's something she isn't quite used to anymore, but it's nice.

@Kazimir

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she drifts closer and closer still, sitting just out of reach.

his great head tilts, curious — clearly putting a pause into the conversation, to best consider her question. what has he been doing? it takes him a moment or three to remember their last encounter, the actual reality of their meeting. it’s remembered with fondness, and he blinks, ruby eyes returning to hers.

healing, i think, he says, the ghost of a smile turning his lips — an expression he hasn’t worn for awhile, but one that always looks good on him. learning, too. he says with a small little nod. about himself, about the voices in his ears — and how to be alone. it was not an easy path, nor a comfortable one, but it is the one he must walk.

he is very glad for @shiva's company, and it shows.

a vy? ( and you? ) he asks, head tilting as folded ears notch forward. his full attention on her, his sole focus. how has time treated you? he hopes that this island has been merciful to her; it does not often feel as though that is the case.

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