Gardener wasted no time in beginning his scheme. In a single motion, he took into his hands three threads, snatched from the possible futures Watcher had clarified to him, and used one to bind the upkeep of this realm to the ontological idea of the Watcher, whether or not he was within range to make use of it. With the second, he bound himself as the key to the bridge, solidifying a situation where the bridge would slowly bleed a constant amount of energy off of the Watcher until the Gardener was defeated, or relented. A constant itch, an parasite that could not be easily excised, a distraction, and a hindrance. A constant gnawing at the surface, to provide an obstacle whenever the Watcher tries to move. A broad, constant oppression.
Finally, the Gardener ignited his aura, a jade green flame that enveloped him. Many individuals would sense a familiarity with the Gammu AI, but the thing that the Gardener borrowed his power from was older and more complex. A different animal, and the same beast.
By igniting his aura, he lit a beacon for the Watcher to see from any distance. A constant reminder of the predator aiming for his life. With these antics, the Gardener sought to give the illusion that it was he, himself, that was syphoning energy, but in reality, the bridge was independent of either of them. With his traps set, he responded to what the Watcher had said.
"GuaranteeingmyvictoryisexactlywhyI'mhere,see..." His tone was light and mocking at first, dripping with the nonchalant façade of an arrogance most pure. "All I need do is measure which is more broken: Your mind. . ."
His last sentiment was delivered with a cold malevolence. The Gardener couldn't lie directly, it would break his grasp on his own power, so he took this moment to clarify his murderous intent.
"...Oryourfather'sspirit."
As time pressed forward, as futures were solidified into realities, and as the Watcher's presence faded from the room, the Gardener cycled his energy internally, ensuring the seven nodes that regulated his energy were in shape. It was an action akin to flexing and stretching each of his muscles before some great undertaking. He felt nothing but raw anticipation in this moment. He had very little worry for the severing of the connection: so long as the Gardener still lived, the reality thread would pull a constant drain of energy from the Watcher in an attempt to re-establish the connection, no matter how futile it was.
This was it. The beginning of one of the most beautiful struggles for ideals that would ever grace Human or Nomad history. The world was suddenly so beautiful, everything had a place and everything was in it's place. Like the pieces of a puzzle suddenly aligning, like the finest display of clockwork being viewed from an angle where every gear was visible, so did the Gardener see the myriad of futures he'd stolen from others.
Another jade thread was being pieced together, much slower than any other. Piece by miniscule piece, it was formed. A vague projection of the future was easy to interpret, and difficult to structure.
A wish for Harbinger to decide when, granted, oh Parasite mine.
