A SINGLE OPPORTUNITY / replanting jungles

[bubblegum]

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]During Elijah's absence, the child had learnt strategy he otherwise wouldn't have come across while in The Typhoon. It was strategy that evolved under pressure, materialised from experience and loss. He would have liked to see himself as a conductor of warfare, carefully manipulating the battle from the sidelines with precision and a grasp on the intricacies. There was a complexity to it - a need to get into the head of not just the enemy but also the allies. There was no use sending a squad when a third of them were quivering in fear. Then again, time after time his rats proved to be fearless in the face of death. They were willing to give their lives up for him. After all, Elijah's blood made him the child of infested warfare. It should have come naturally to him to allow his rodents to swarm and eat alive the ones who faced him with ill intent... and yet Elijah had a hard time with sending his rats to die. He hated sacrifices. He hated the idea of letting rats die for the sake of others living. He wanted to protect them all because, although he only had a spiritual bond with Thirteen, he felt their pain all the same. It stung like a heated blade but too many instances called for Elijah to harden his emotions, pretend that he was cold and play the bad guy. While his rats didn't mind, Elijah always did. He had acted recklessly too many times now but it wasn't to say that the demidemon was going to hold back on assisting in any future raids. He was willing to do his best, even if it meant his rats were injured and killed in the process. He would simply have to strategise a way that would do minimal damage.

Gardening, his mind echoes as he looks at Goldenluxury. It was true that the trees had suffered from the eruption. Resources were hard to come by because they were surrounded by a prison of water, stretching for miles on end and essentially trapping them. Without knowing what the Captain was thinking, he also agreed that raids would be necessary. There was no use for them to hesitate and stand around, waiting for themselves to evaporate from a disappearing body mass. He wasn't looking to starve or freeze to death. Elijah presses a warm smile over his features, lifting a basket towards him and staring at the seeds. As usual, he telepathically relays instructions to his nearby rats to start digging holes so he can begin planting the seeds and covering them up. They work systematically, rodents scurrying and using their paws to claw at soil, some even grouping to get the job done faster before hopping to the next row to begin another bed for the seeds to be planted in. As they worked, always ahead of Elijah, he lifts a seed and plops it inside. Then, gently, he buries it in the soil before moving on to the next. "Correct me if I'm doing anything wrong, gratias tibi." Elijah merely grins as he adds on his Latin flair.