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Dende relaxes onto the grass. The edges tickle at his nose. He can’t help but reach out to touch the fine textures. It’s all still foreign to him; the blades here on Earth are sharper than on Namek and New Namek.
On his home planet- the violet grass is softer to the touch and pillows instead of bending and snapping.
Next to and beside him is Piccolo. He’s floating in the gentle sway of the midday breeze. He's in his pose that he adopts during his hours of meditation.
At some point Dende must have dazed off!
He exhales and rubs at his eyes. It looks like an hour has passed since he’d pestered the other Namekian to take him down from his perch and to the Earth’s surface.
Quite honestly- he was feeling rather cooped up and thought it might be nice to visit the ground for a change. After all- how can he function in his role as the Guardian of Earth if he never sees the very nature of the planet he’s tasked with protecting!
For listening to the prayers and wishes of the human race is a lot of work on his shoulders! Sometimes he needs to relax- even if for a moment.
It feels as though his companion has noticed his awakening. He watches as his white cape flaps and waves gently.
He looks rather statuesque despite his very tiny movements. A twitch here- an exhale there. He furrows his brows as if the thoughts Dende is having are being spoken out loud rather than minded.
Piccolo’s chest rises and falls with his measured breathing.
It’s a sight to behold; a warrior of his stature pictured so serene within the sloping hills and valleys where they had chosen to touch down.
Dende traces his eyes over the familiar figure of Piccolo’s form.
It’s then that the other Namekian chooses to open his eyes and meet his wandering gaze.
Dende does his best not to make a noise of being caught. Instead- he fills the awkward moment with a quick quip,
“Hi! Are- am… I bothering you?”
Piccolo averts his gaze and stares out into the distance. He gives their interaction a moment to clarify before responding with an open-toned,
“You’re not.”
The wind brushes into Dende’s face. His jaw twitches. Really, he isn’t sure why that moment felt so… toned.
Normally- things are rather light between them.
Normally?
Dende brushes his palm against the grass. His gaze traces the most minute of patterns that his eyes can discern.
No- their conversations have had a rather off pattern lately.
Dende can’t say that he really understands why.
It seems that every time he and Piccolo bump into one another on the Lookout-
That-
Dende pouts.
He sighs out audibly. Yes; they bump! It’s bumping now!
He glances at his friend.
Yes… It’s no longer ‘greeting’ or pleasantly ‘finding’. Now- with Piccolo it feels more to Dende like it’s ‘bumping’ or ‘running’ into.
They meet with some kind of charge that Piccolo only draws out of Dende.
Never on Namek or New Namek did he experience something like this.
It’s so oddly fleeting and yet dictates completely how they act around one another. It both sets him on edge and relaxes him when it inevitably leaves.
Casting him from his introspection is a flock of birds that are calling from overhead. They are moving in a pattern where one is at the very front. Dende watches them for a moment before letting his gaze return to Piccolo.
His strong face and body. Dende can’t help but think that he must be nothing more than a mere follower to a much stronger force.
Dende looks up, “Piccolo- those birds… they’re flying in a pattern of migration yes?”
Their honking and trilling is a delight to his ears. They feel so very full of life- even being heard from all the way down here. From beside him- dawns a voice that is far wiser than the one Piccolo normally speaks with,
“They are. They’re flying to their nesting grounds. The pattern- you know- it’s so that they may support one another.”
Dende’s ears perk up.
“Support one another?”
The voice Piccolo holds directs Dende’s eyes to return to the group of birds. Their silhouettes are distinct from the endless blue and deep white clouds.
“The strongest leads until they grow tired- and then one who has regained their energy takes it’s place. It repeats until they find what they’re searching for.”
With his curiosity now peaked- Dende further inquires,
“Nesting grounds?”
Piccolo smiles, his eyes crinkling a bit,
“They nest with their mate. For many species- it is a lifelong partnership.”
Dende blinks as he processes the information. He seldom sees Piccolo so open so he quietly asks,
"Piccolo, do you think they feel love?"
The other man’s ears twitch and his brow raises. He looks out into the distant greenery and takes a moment to state,
“I’m not sure if these creatures feel love.”
Piccolo looks like he's surprised; almost bordering on contemplative.
"I'm sorry- that was rather forward wasn't it?"
Piccolo doesn't give anything else away other than his normal, stoic demeanor.
"I do not understand it."
A pause. Is this Piccolo admitting to some kind of emotional vulnerability? Going off this- Dende does his best to tread lightly,
"Perhaps it's too alien for you?"
His voice is quiet and suggestively plain.
Piccolo’s eyes fall shut as he snorts. Still- his answer takes a moment to be sought out and voiced.
"It's understood by Kami's influence. However- it doesn't mean I know what it is."
It’s honest truth coming from Piccolo. He’s definitely being more open than usual.
"Oh… -You're saying you've never felt love?"
Dende does his best to not sound too prying.
Now, just prying on what- he isn’t sure. He can’t help but feel he’s overstepping boundaries.
Certainly- on Namek the topic of love is not often discussed. It is always felt that love is shared between all the children of Guru. The altruistic comradery of all the Namekians is the solid basis of their society. It is known between his brothers and himself that they provide and protect for one another.
However- with Piccolo- it feels different.
He is knowing of the fact that Piccolo is different. For… he came from a time long before Dende; around the age of cataclysm on Old Namek.
Dende finds it surprising how rare this line of conversation is. Normally- his friend is much more reserved with talking about emotional affairs. He is reserved in regards to humans, and very much in comparison to the communal ways of the Namekians.
It seems that Dende is still adjusting to Earth even after all the years here. He often looks to Piccolo for some kind of remembrance of Namek- and yet finds the task near impossible.
Despite this- Dende smiles further, "Oh surely I couldn't bear to imagine you not finding someone to care for?"
The words flow out of his mouth before he can put a stop to them.
Piccolo raises a brow, "You're joking."
Dende shakes his head earnestly- half in embarrassment and half in genuine confusion at his own question. Still- his tongue has a mind of it’s own as he prods further.
"Look at the others- see how they change within their lifetimes? You're telling me you cannot at least see that in everything?"
Piccolo suddenly looks bewildered and pinned down to say the least. He’s seen the same look on the other in battle multiple times.
Is is line of questioning really that threatening?
He casts his head to the side. He suddenly feels his cheeks heating up in a way that he’s sure he should have a description for. Is he embarrassed? What’s going on with him?
Dende wishes he knew. A physical touch may help... but- well... Piccolo is rather adverse to it unless circumstances are dire.
So- he continues with as much hesitance as he can muster,
"So you do know then?"
It must be his tone or his timing because Piccolo all but barks out,
"Yes- I see the others!"
Dende watches as Piccolo almost breaks his meditative pose. He quickly adjusts himself to become level with the winds once again.
His floating posture a bit more turbulent for a moment. His cape nearly touches the grass he’s hovering above.
Dende then whispers,
"So... what do you see?"
The other Namekian exhales noisily. Dende can't help but feel he's treading on thin ice.
He flexes his arms, twisting his neck side to side as he stretches minutely.
"You... wouldn't understand,” comes a harsh tone.
Dende laughs out loud, "I wouldn't?"
Piccolo is quick to respond as he grits his teeth, "No."
A sudden burst of energy props up Dende to stand. He mirrors Piccolo as he stretches his neck. Then- he diverts to tip his body forward first- then back- then hips from side to side. He feels his blood pumping again and finds his comfy spot laying back down on the grass. He tries his best to be gentle to not break any stems or crush any small insects.
"How can you say such a thing?"
He tries not to sound hurt.
"Say. What.”
Dende fixes his visual attention to the microcosm in front of his nose. The fresh smell of the plant life sets his mind at ease as he ponders,
"That- I don't understand you?"
Piccolo just grunts. Dende does his best not to look over. He doesn’t know why he feels such apprehension at whatever it is their conversation has turned into. Certainly- he’s never spoke like this with anyone, ever.
He can’t help but want to continue for this reason.
After a moment or two of silence,
"It... hurts."
"What does?" Dende glances up. He isn’t sure if it was his imagination of the wind.
"Hmph."
Dende tries his best not to instantly react as he just had before. The best he can subdue his reaction is to a simple,
"Oh."
Piccolo exhales again- as if the very idea of voicing his emotions is an exercise worthy of extra oxygen.
Dende returns his focus in front of him. A small, colorful beetle reveals itself from under a grass stem. It’s crawling up the stem to the very apex.
Dende wishes he could just touch him. Perhaps connect with the dormant ego of Nail at some level. Maybe he could help Piccolo to understand?
And for what reason? His own selfish desire for Piccolo to...?
He chastises himself mentally. Piccolo is his own person- even with Nail fused into his mind.
Dende feels his face heat up. He can’t stop it as he sighs out himself. It seems he himself is struggling with patience in his own mental battle.
The beetle that Dende had been observing flies off into the wind.
“All of these creatures… plants and animals… what are they saying?”
He presents the question to the very landscape itself.
He doesn’t expect an answer- but looks over when Piccolo clears his throat.
Piccolo smirks, "God knows what."
Dende can't help but laugh out loud. He rolls over onto his back. The grass crushes beneath his body. He whimpers out a sound and feels guilt pang in his chest. He wonders if he should heal it or let it be as is. The thought sits heavy; soulful.
He wasn’t like this before.
Focusing upward towards the sky- he let’s his eyes take in the deep blue day.
The sun is high above their heads. It's Dende's favorite time of day. It reminds him of Namek so very much- ...even if it's not as bright out.
Dende imagines what it must be like back on his home planet if he and Piccolo were to even visit again.
What would his village think?
What would they do under the suns of New Namek that they wouldn't here on Earth?
He tries not to berate himself for daydreaming of his life before or could-be. He’s just reminiscing- not ruminating!
He's tied down here to Earth. The people here depend on him to compartmentalize their wishes… and their desires.
He must take them all and guard them.
It's very heavy at times.
The negative thoughts weigh him down as the well wishes lift him up.
Piccolo's clothed feet hit the grass with the barest of a whisper.
Dende tilts his head sideways to meet gazes with the other.
Piccolo offers out his hand.
Dende takes it. He feels the connective spark between them. Unsaid words, desires, wants.
It can't be faked- and it can't be ignored. Simply… guarded.
He is pulled up off the ground into a stance. Piccolo doesn’t take his hand away outright. It seems something of the same effect Dende feels is also catalyzing Piccolo’s unconscious actions.
He smiles and the gesture is returned. Their fingers linger and then separate.
"Shall we find somewhere new?"
He asks Piccolo in a voice oh so gently,
Piccolo opens his mouth slowly,
"I suppose so."
He wants to reach back out.
"What then?"
The question lingers in the wild air. He reaches out just at his waist. He is shocked when the barest brush of fingertips meets his own.
“I…”
Dende does his best not to look down. Looking down means things that he’s seen humans do countless times over and over. It’s foreign and strange and he can’t help it anyway.
He’s lacing their fingers together halfway between them. He feels the calloused nature of a warrior’s lifestyle against his own soft digits.
The feeling sends a shiver up his spine.
He can’t help his actions. He’s positively charged with some bold energy now. It must be Piccolo himself lending him energy.
When he looks up- he feels his face must be going purple.
His eyes lack interest- but are entirely open.
Dende rises to his tip-toes.
He touches their foreheads together. The connection between them is psychically immediate. It’s amplified by their hand-holding.
A sense of peace washes over him as his eyelids fall shut. It’s more than he’s ever felt. Time seems to slow down and pace itself to Dende’s current actions. He feels so good as all the negative energy surges out of his body.
He gasps; eyes now open.
How could he just have burdened all of that on Piccolo?
He pulls away at once.
How could he have just done that?
Piccolo’s eyes mirror his own.
"Please-."
Dende isn’t sure who says this.
He frowns and notices that Piccolo winces, "You're…" His deep voice is betrayed by some kind of pitched insecurity.
Dende instantly interjects,
"I should have asked- I'm sorry... Piccolo!"
The other shakes his head and looks to the side.
"I..."
Dende wants to make the connection again. He very desperately wants this!
"Please?"
"Dende."
"I..."
Dende furrows his brows,
"I may continue?"
His question speaks for itself. Piccolo tilts his head away.
"Tell me now!"
Piccolo shakes his head.
"You... you're wanting this too?"
Piccolo nods and meets gazes with that glint to his eyes that never leaves.
Dende takes Piccolo's other hand. His claws are long and sharp. He intentionally pricks himself on the thick points.
"It's not hurting?"
Piccolo squeezes both his hands.
It’s him this time who brushes their temples together again; their connection physical and mental.
He thinks of the negative wishes of humans. He does he best not to sort out the good. He leaves only those for himself and feeds the rest to the Demon King.
Once again- bliss takes him.
And it most certainly is not ignorant.
For when they part and lock eyes- Piccolo has a dangerous spark in his focus that he sets onto Dende solely.
Dende gulps.
"Maybe... we ought to return?"
For whatever reason it is that forces his voice out like a plead- allows Piccolo to break more distance between them.
Piccolo huffs. He flexes his claws and furrows his brows,
"I'll accompany you."
Dende worries his jaw consciously,
He's definitely missing something here. It almost looks like Piccolo wants to spar him. He's definitely not a match for Piccolo in that regard!
The other is very strong! Strong on the level of the likes of Goku and Vegeta.
He sighs out and can't help but wonder what he's missing. He certainly feels lighter. Piccolo is hunched over a bit. He shouldn’t have attempted to...
...Do something that levels them there in an air of unspoken exchange. Is this unconscious energy that guides Dende to reach out and place a hand on Piccolo’s clothed shoulder the same one that casts it’s shadow over their interactions?
Piccolo flinches away from him.
Dende leans back at the response and murmurs in his softest tone, "Piccolo... brother- I cannot help but wonder-"
"I- am not- your brother!” Comes a voice booming if not snarling outright.
His eyes are fixed directly on Dende in a manner he doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Dende is taken aback to the point of stepping back once and letting his touch fall away.
With his nose scrunched up and his aura of darkness, comes a warning “I am long before you!"
His head shudders and he closes his eyes. His jaw flexes as he loses his ability to speak.
Dende whimpers inaudibly. He wishes he could hug Piccolo. Would that be going to far?
"You are my friend, Piccolo!"
Piccolo's eyes downcast.
Dende can’t help but find that headgear that Piccolo wears as an object of intrusion.
He swallows his fear. The sharp claws, teeth, and ears are something he recognizes. However- worn on Piccolo in the way he carries himself- they look so alien in their jagged forms that he may as well be another species.
He’s closing in on him.
The midday air ruffles the white fabric of their clothing.
Dende reaches out.
Piccolo allows him to remove his head wrap.
The weight surprises Dende and it falls to the ground with a thud-
-Crushing right onto his foot!
Dende squawks- yanking his foot out from under the heavy garment and wincing as the pain smarts all the way up to his leg.
Piccolo’s hands are around him- touching at his shoulders- then at his upper torso.
Dende meets his eyes and finds genuine worry. The feeling of pain vanishes for a moment before slowly ebbing back into his consciousness.
He crinkles the corners of his eyes and winces, “Ou-ch…”
Piccolo frowns as his hands grip into the fabric of Dende’s garmet.
They both stare at one another for a moment longer.
His arms wrap around Piccolo’s shoulders.
He finds hands suddenly showing their strength as they grip his torso. The hands slide lower minutely. Danger flashes across Piccolo’s eyes.
Dende doesn’t move.
He’s being picked up slowly. Eyes focusing on his own for permission.
Dende lets himself be placed into Piccolo’s lap. The other floats them into a hover above the ground. His hands are firm against the larger man’s chest.
He suddenly feels all too small.
He sat himself in Piccolo's lap! He could feel the other wind up as tight as a coil beneath him. They're both holding their breath until-
Dende takes the chance to wind his antenna against Piccolo's. He thinks of something gentle.
He brings him to Namek in his memories. The swaying cool breeze contrasted by the brilliant, ever-present sunlight above them. The fresh scent of Ajisa trees in bloom greets their senses. The sound of ocean waves and laughing villagers wakes them up.
Dende’s hand reaches to the top of his reminiscing. The strongest Namekian warrior who saved his people and the entire galaxy. His love of the people he was both a part of- and apart from.
Under his palm- the cool skinned cheek is weathered but still young. Has anyone else touched Piccolo this way? His other hand fists into the white fabric of Piccolo’s cape. He shifts his weight foward.
It surprises him when Piccolo’s hand reaches out to mirror his own. His thumb is strong but feather-light as he touches Dende’s chin- tipping it up.
Piccolo smiles closed-mouth; cheeks high. It's the most carefree smile Dende wonders that he's ever seen the other wearing.
Dende can't help but giggle.
Whatever this is- it’s as serene and unblemished as the untouched meadow they’ve found.
They share this connection until the sun begins to lower itself on this foreign planet that Dende now calls home. Twilight will always remain something of an enigma to him. Here with Piccolo- he looks forward to the moment of uncertainty.
Strong arms circle around his waist. He is being drawn in- somewhere never yet explored.
And- somewhere, deep and forgotten in Piccolo's own mind- in a place where he no longer remembers his own name- Dende finds memories of Namek that are not his own.
