Quicksand RP: Origin of Species [Sparks/Anthony]
Title: “Origin of Species”
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: G
Timeline: 2014, post-demon acid trip
Summary: Sparks and Anthony discuss religion. [Sparks/Anthony]
Disclaimer: Being Human belongs to Toby Whithouse and the BBC. Quicksand RPverse belongs to shirogiku and yours truly. Quotes from: “Henry VI. Part 1” by William Shakespeare, “Charley’s Aunt” by Brandon Thomas, Genesis 3:17, 19.
A/N: In response to this, because YES.
ORIGIN OF SPECIES
“God,” says Anthony, and Sparks knows better than to hope it’s an expletive.
Anthony is playing hopscotch in front of a cage full of spider monkeys. It’s hard not to take him seriously. Reapers are not devils in the austere, religious sense; they are tricksters, shapeshifters and evil Morris dancers on a good day.
“Thou owest God a death,” Anthony quotes, and deduces: “God is stealing our job.”
“How old are you?” Sparks asks, and it’s a question without a ready-made answer.
“Old enough to have never met Him,” Anthony grins, shark-like and pleased. He looks at the monkey, and the monkey looks at him, its mouth slowly forming a long, howly “O”. “God created the living things?”
“The living things created God,” Sparks counters.
“Why?”
“The need for justification, I suppose.” He never really thought about it. He is a naturalist, a believer in science and things that make sense. God doesn’t make sense, not even when you want Him to.
Anthony leans closer to the cage. Going to the zoo was his idea.
“Read the book,” he murmurs pensively. “Liked it. Very entertaining. The living things contradict themselves. Book says man came first. Science says woman came first.” He spins around and jabs Sparks in the ribs. “Which one?”
“You tell me.”
For Anthony, it’s the chicken or the egg question.
Sparks approaches the cage. The monkey stares at him with its impenetrable Type 1 eyes. Maybe it can see him; maybe it’s just staring through him. One can never tell with animals.
A gentle tap of fingers on his shoulder makes him turn around. He ends up facing a slender dark-haired woman who bears a faint resemblance to his unpredictable companion from the other side.
“We came first,” she says.
She looks positively alien, but he can see shades of Anthony in the quizzical curve of her lips, in the way her eyes are caught between hues, in the way she wrinkles her forehead and cocks her head in a birdlike manner.
Laughter bubbles in Colin’s (suddenly dry) throat.
“You’re out of your mind.”
She shrugs, a little jerkily, uncomfortable in this form. He wants to ask how many times Anthony has worn it before, and realizes that he probably doesn’t want to know for once.
“I’m from Brazil - where the nuts come from.”
Sparks chuckles. “Whose words did you steal before humans came along?”
“Didn’t need words.” The way she pronounces it, it sounds like ‘didn’t eat words.’ She notices it too and rolls her tongue in her mouth, as if chasing the aftertaste.
The rope that rests coiled around her waist comes to life and starts pooling in her hand, forming a clew with a dent on top, a distinctly apple-like shape. She hands it to Sparks. “Cursed is the ground because of you… for dust you are and to dust you will return.” She winks at him. He brushes his fingers over the clew and it untangles around him like a nest of snakes, sucking his hand in. Anthony swings closer and kisses Sparks playfully on the lips.
“The shiny thing will not return to dust,” she says.
He chuckles. “Come on, Lady Loki. You’re scaring the monkey.”
The reaper winks. “Another theory says you come from that.”
Sparks’s lips curve into a small, tragic smile. He should very much like to know what Anthony’s bizarre ancestors look like.
July 11, 2012
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: G
Timeline: 2014, post-demon acid trip
Summary: Sparks and Anthony discuss religion. [Sparks/Anthony]
Disclaimer: Being Human belongs to Toby Whithouse and the BBC. Quicksand RPverse belongs to shirogiku and yours truly. Quotes from: “Henry VI. Part 1” by William Shakespeare, “Charley’s Aunt” by Brandon Thomas, Genesis 3:17, 19.
A/N: In response to this, because YES.
ORIGIN OF SPECIES
“God,” says Anthony, and Sparks knows better than to hope it’s an expletive.
Anthony is playing hopscotch in front of a cage full of spider monkeys. It’s hard not to take him seriously. Reapers are not devils in the austere, religious sense; they are tricksters, shapeshifters and evil Morris dancers on a good day.
“Thou owest God a death,” Anthony quotes, and deduces: “God is stealing our job.”
“How old are you?” Sparks asks, and it’s a question without a ready-made answer.
“Old enough to have never met Him,” Anthony grins, shark-like and pleased. He looks at the monkey, and the monkey looks at him, its mouth slowly forming a long, howly “O”. “God created the living things?”
“The living things created God,” Sparks counters.
“Why?”
“The need for justification, I suppose.” He never really thought about it. He is a naturalist, a believer in science and things that make sense. God doesn’t make sense, not even when you want Him to.
Anthony leans closer to the cage. Going to the zoo was his idea.
“Read the book,” he murmurs pensively. “Liked it. Very entertaining. The living things contradict themselves. Book says man came first. Science says woman came first.” He spins around and jabs Sparks in the ribs. “Which one?”
“You tell me.”
For Anthony, it’s the chicken or the egg question.
Sparks approaches the cage. The monkey stares at him with its impenetrable Type 1 eyes. Maybe it can see him; maybe it’s just staring through him. One can never tell with animals.
A gentle tap of fingers on his shoulder makes him turn around. He ends up facing a slender dark-haired woman who bears a faint resemblance to his unpredictable companion from the other side.
“We came first,” she says.
She looks positively alien, but he can see shades of Anthony in the quizzical curve of her lips, in the way her eyes are caught between hues, in the way she wrinkles her forehead and cocks her head in a birdlike manner.
Laughter bubbles in Colin’s (suddenly dry) throat.
“You’re out of your mind.”
She shrugs, a little jerkily, uncomfortable in this form. He wants to ask how many times Anthony has worn it before, and realizes that he probably doesn’t want to know for once.
“I’m from Brazil - where the nuts come from.”
Sparks chuckles. “Whose words did you steal before humans came along?”
“Didn’t need words.” The way she pronounces it, it sounds like ‘didn’t eat words.’ She notices it too and rolls her tongue in her mouth, as if chasing the aftertaste.
The rope that rests coiled around her waist comes to life and starts pooling in her hand, forming a clew with a dent on top, a distinctly apple-like shape. She hands it to Sparks. “Cursed is the ground because of you… for dust you are and to dust you will return.” She winks at him. He brushes his fingers over the clew and it untangles around him like a nest of snakes, sucking his hand in. Anthony swings closer and kisses Sparks playfully on the lips.
“The shiny thing will not return to dust,” she says.
He chuckles. “Come on, Lady Loki. You’re scaring the monkey.”
The reaper winks. “Another theory says you come from that.”
Sparks’s lips curve into a small, tragic smile. He should very much like to know what Anthony’s bizarre ancestors look like.
July 11, 2012