[ and so here you all are. you’ll end this journey the same way you started; together. as the four of you follow one another down to the bloodied waters, the rain falling and smattering over your wounds and soaking the field around you, it may take some time. but in the blood itself appears four things.
a sword. a megaphone. leaves. and a little kit. they bob and float in the water for a while, the first signs of movement you’ve seen since this morning.
and then your eyes are drawn upward, to the four people who have appeared down the road. they stand on the other side of this river, each of them facing you.
Hey, Marcoh. If you had the choice, would you rather know the truth, even if it might wreck you, or would you prefer to have the chance for peace, even if it means looking away? [ a pause. ] It'll be okay.
I want to give you something to remember now. For however long you choose to remember it. I'll remember you trying right now. I'll remember your hand in mine. [ hands held close, clasped to her chest. ] I'll remember how much you want to remember and want to be remembered.
I'll be pissed if somethin' happens to you. You know that, yeah? [ a lil tailwag. ] So, we'll both keep an eye on ourselves and make sure we get outta here.
...Your heart has always been very kind. Really, I'm the one who owes you an apology. [ a soft smile. ] With that soft and gentle heart of yours, I knew that it would hurt so terribly...
it's strange... you remember these people, but all four of them appear to have something floating behind them. unique halos, perhaps, bright and beautiful and gently bobbing against the rain. and together, the four of them seem to wait... before soon, all of them offer you a hand. ]
He doesn't realise a lot of things. It's what happens when you spend your entire life on somebody else, focused on their happiness, their safety, their future. His own wants and desires have always been secondhand on the burner, melting wax until the rope burns and snaps, a falling chandelier that'll crash and hurt anyone standing under it one day. Except he doesn't let it, because he doesn't ever want to hurt anyone, he doesn't want to destroy things, he doesn't want things to be that way. It's not rope, it's reinforced steel, hot wax like new iron, scarred over and stronger for it. He'll be the Atlas, the lion at the gates, the ring-binds that hold his notebook together, the thing that brought the boys together to begin with.
“You will live when you should not," reads the simple line on his notebook, snapped closed whenever they pulled themselves up on his too-high shoulder to get a peek into its pages, a casual eye-roll as Siffrin has to copy his homework, as Jiaoqiu tries to hide the wrinkle on his collar, as Yves grins wide and says good morning at three in the eve. As Siffrin offers him a green flower and a wooden frog, as Jiaoqiu almost offers him a smile over bandages and hot pot, as Yves hugs him with aching cries, showing him their hearts when he does not.
He's willing to die here for each and every single one of you just for you to be happy, to make amends for what he did wrong, but even he has to admit he doesn't want to die alone.
He looks at the figures across the water, head splitting in pain, shoulder aching, throat raw. Then he looks back at Yves, sprinting like he hasn't got a gunshot wound and bruises to make a peach jealous, carrying the other two under his arms looking like they've been goddamn through it. A right mess, and it's his fault.
That's okay. He'll turn around, tired, and let Yves jump into his arms here with a tired smile. He shouldn't have brought them, but maybe selfishly, he's glad he did.
'I created Cabeswater!' He wouldn't have met you if it weren't for that. 'You can be greedy!' A group hug for all of you. Thank you. ]
I'll be okay.
[ Okay? And that's a promise too. And he'll let go, because you should let him go -- trust him. ]
[ "They might be able to help, and nothing is keeping you from telling them." (You've just learned that you can start again as many times as you want and fix your mistakes. You can help them.) No matter how many times they die - when, where? - they'll be able to fix everything for their friends. The pain of seeing their loved ones suffer, at their own costs and risks, it's too much. They will dive to their death time and time again, loop after loop, because that's the life they lead.
Jiaoqiu's stern "No" comes through, the same determination they faced head to loss in another realm, to the sighing and almost reach out to tug at them for some remark or silly joke they've made behind their books. Yves' "Hey. Wait for me." so warm, soft, despite the pain he's gone through, even if his own pieces are crumbling, so ready to pick up the pieces of others around. Marcoh's strong back going, and it always feels out of reach, but then he meets their gaze and offers a gentle, "If you are ever stressed, come sit." And it's quiet, but the company is what they thrive for. The sight of them seeing Siffrin, the look of recognition and more importantly the remembrance.
Always afraid to lose. Always afraid to forget. The touch and gentle care each of them surprising them time and time again, and they crave it, they yearn for it, they need it so much they will die in a single heartbeat for them. Carving themselves open just to keep each one of them safe. And yet as each of them join, they feel that warmth at their side, the surprise but they.. give in. If they could sleep, and dream of this... that doesn't sound too bad.
There's no jolt of alarm as they're pluck up, and they're a mess, they're falling apart at the seams, their dreams spilling from them and they're so so broken but they're carried like they are weightless and the three of them join Marcoh, who meets with a smile and their heart aches. Their vision blurs, breath hitching. (You take a deep breath in, and out.) A nod, softening from their earlier desperation, even if they still want to protect them safely from anything that would cause any of them harm. They peer at the other faces, their head hurting in a blinding pain, but the softness of her hand cradling his. The promise to remember. They want to remember. Even if the Universe decides to one day to take it all away.
However, their hand grips onto Marcoh, they do trust him. Trust all of them and that's why.. at least for this instance, they go together then. Together or not at all. Into the blood they'll go, right? The smiles of friends both familiar and unfamiliar awaiting them. ]
[ it feels like they've all been together for a lifetime, really. he's never wanted charity, but the three of them - they've given him everything that he could get himself to accept. a new life, away from a father who deafened him in one ear, away from an indifferent mother who watched it happen. an apartment, a safe place to sleep, a place all their own where they could just fuck around and do nothing. he'd wanted the tomb to fix himself, so he could fix everybody else. a future, where none of them suffered.
it doesn't hurt so much, as yves carries him to marcoh. his consciousness is wavering, but it's that sweet spot. the way it feels to be carried by someone you love to your bed, careful not to wake you up. his unbroken arm comes to hold onto yves, onto siffrin, however he can.
he's left standing, as they all curl together, broken and bleeding. let me go, marcoh says.
there's something... soft. something soft and warm that cushions him as they approach the river, as he looks across. all four of these people, he desperately cares about, even if they're not here for him. uruha, making sure he can see him before tossing him a water bottle. elysia, pouting at him from where she's got her face tucked into his tail. lucas, on the beach late at night, sitting shoulder to shoulder and lamenting about the children in their care.
and basilio. sitting drunk in a kitchen, watching their chaos. standing on top of a lighthouse, tails twined together. we'll make it out, he says, and jiaoqiu hasn't cried in years and years and years, but he can feel the heat behind his eyes. it's all he can focus on, in the midst of how much his body hurts.
marcoh says he'll be okay, and that's fine. that's fine, because jiaoqiu doesn't think about how they could just let him take the whole of it. all four of them go together, or they don't go at all.
jiaoqiu barely even hesitates. he reaches and takes basilio's hand, expecting the others to do the same with their own phantoms. the river is waiting. ]
[ there is someone who yves can and cannot remember who hugs him and it feels like the world is being set back on its axis. as if all it takes is just the gentle touch of someone who loves you to be able to re-orient the entire world. when he brings jiaoqiu and siffrin both with him into marcoh's arms—and none of them are that person, no, but this is precisely that feeling. there are these figures across the way and yves loves them, trusts them, wants to see them, but there are also these people trapped in this hug and yves wonders briefly if this is the last time that the world is going to feel whole.
his whisper is muffled, but sincere: ] I love you. Please don't go too far.
[ and... without the weight of wanting to be loved in return, it finally feels selfless. to love without expectation. without fear. just love, love, love.
and it's not like yves actually believes in salvation. it's not something he thinks he deserves, after all the harm he's done in the world. there is no glorious light or awakening for him. but this? oh, this feels like all the light of heaven gifted upon him. the edges of himself blur. he is starting to lose track of where yves ends and the end begins. it takes everything to put himself back together enough to hold on to these last few moments with his friends before everything disappears.
though when he looks to the other side—and there is affection there too. uruha, so indirect but tender in his care. elysia, who cradled yves's twisted face in her hands. basilio, who feels like a kindred soul across univers. and then for a long moment, there is just a boy being offered a hand by his beloved teacher. the same way that lucas reached out to him when no one else would even spare him a glance—when the other kids would throw rocks at him and they'd only stop on the days that lucas came to teach so that they wouldn't get scolded. when from that moment, for a child who'd lost everything, lucas suddenly became the symbol of safety. yves doesn't know which life that happens in. maybe all of them. it happens again now. there is a part of him that is entirely the part of a sniffling child waiting for their guardian after school. please come get me and bring me home.
but he cannot go home without these people. he doesn't know if home exists without these people. and so one arm cradles behind jiao for support, his fingers still holding onto siffrin holding onto marcoh. and as if still seeking out every piece of warmth of family of that tenderness, his other hand finds his teacher's.
he is losing sight of himself. he is starting to leave. he should have already gone. he will walk these last steps with the people he cannot let go of. ]
[ all around you, things are falling apart. cabeswater is breaking, darkness leaking from the entrance between the trees and snaking its way through the fields. birds remain suspended in the sky, and the nearby cattle haven’t mooed for hours. the things pulled from siffrin’s dreams, roaming freely and uncertainly. the thing behind jiaoqiu’s eyes, something using his hands without his permission. yves’s wavering tether to this plane of existence. marcoh’s hope, slowly fading. each of these pieces of this world are in danger, unraveling in something else’s grip.
but you aren’t in theirs. instead, you’re in the safe hands of people you cherish, people you love, no matter how that may be. when you take their hands… it’s warm. it’s warm, and it’s safe, and nothing matters in this specific moment anymore, because you’re together and you know what you must do.
marcoh, who only sought a better life for his sister, and normalcy for both of them.
siffrin, who wished to be with their family forever, and never be forgotten.
jiaoqiu, who strived to bring peace, for his people and beyond that.
yves, who deserved to feel loved nearly half as much as he loved.
these wishes of yours may not be granted by a long-lived king. but perhaps in another time, and another place.
as your friends hold onto you (and you hold onto each other), each of them lift your hand up, catching your eyes briefly with a little nod. the intention is clear to all of you: side by side, ride or die.
let it be to kill the demon.
and soon, they bring your hand up to their lips and you feel it, and you feel them pull you across the river as you fall into their embrace.
love, love, love.
that’s all you know. that’s all you feel, and you fall quietly from their grip as all things settle again in the world.
and somewhere else, in another time, in another place, a gentle voice whispers as your last breath leaves with a sigh. ]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-02 05:10 pm
no subject
a sword. a megaphone. leaves. and a little kit. they bob and float in the water for a while, the first signs of movement you’ve seen since this morning.
and then your eyes are drawn upward, to the four people who have appeared down the road. they stand on the other side of this river, each of them facing you.
it's strange... you remember these people, but all four of them appear to have something floating behind them. unique halos, perhaps, bright and beautiful and gently bobbing against the rain. and together, the four of them seem to wait... before soon, all of them offer you a hand. ]
no subject
He doesn't realise a lot of things. It's what happens when you spend your entire life on somebody else, focused on their happiness, their safety, their future. His own wants and desires have always been secondhand on the burner, melting wax until the rope burns and snaps, a falling chandelier that'll crash and hurt anyone standing under it one day. Except he doesn't let it, because he doesn't ever want to hurt anyone, he doesn't want to destroy things, he doesn't want things to be that way. It's not rope, it's reinforced steel, hot wax like new iron, scarred over and stronger for it. He'll be the Atlas, the lion at the gates, the ring-binds that hold his notebook together, the thing that brought the boys together to begin with.
“You will live when you should not," reads the simple line on his notebook, snapped closed whenever they pulled themselves up on his too-high shoulder to get a peek into its pages, a casual eye-roll as Siffrin has to copy his homework, as Jiaoqiu tries to hide the wrinkle on his collar, as Yves grins wide and says good morning at three in the eve. As Siffrin offers him a green flower and a wooden frog, as Jiaoqiu almost offers him a smile over bandages and hot pot, as Yves hugs him with aching cries, showing him their hearts when he does not.
He's willing to die here for each and every single one of you just for you to be happy, to make amends for what he did wrong, but even he has to admit he doesn't want to die alone.
He looks at the figures across the water, head splitting in pain, shoulder aching, throat raw. Then he looks back at Yves, sprinting like he hasn't got a gunshot wound and bruises to make a peach jealous, carrying the other two under his arms looking like they've been goddamn through it. A right mess, and it's his fault.
That's okay. He'll turn around, tired, and let Yves jump into his arms here with a tired smile. He shouldn't have brought them, but maybe selfishly, he's glad he did.
'I created Cabeswater!' He wouldn't have met you if it weren't for that.
'You can be greedy!' A group hug for all of you. Thank you. ]
I'll be okay.
[ Okay? And that's a promise too. And he'll let go, because you should let him go -- trust him. ]
no subject
Jiaoqiu's stern "No" comes through, the same determination they faced head to loss in another realm, to the sighing and almost reach out to tug at them for some remark or silly joke they've made behind their books. Yves' "Hey. Wait for me." so warm, soft, despite the pain he's gone through, even if his own pieces are crumbling, so ready to pick up the pieces of others around. Marcoh's strong back going, and it always feels out of reach, but then he meets their gaze and offers a gentle, "If you are ever stressed, come sit." And it's quiet, but the company is what they thrive for. The sight of them seeing Siffrin, the look of recognition and more importantly the remembrance.
Always afraid to lose. Always afraid to forget. The touch and gentle care each of them surprising them time and time again, and they crave it, they yearn for it, they need it so much they will die in a single heartbeat for them. Carving themselves open just to keep each one of them safe. And yet as each of them join, they feel that warmth at their side, the surprise but they.. give in. If they could sleep, and dream of this... that doesn't sound too bad.
There's no jolt of alarm as they're pluck up, and they're a mess, they're falling apart at the seams, their dreams spilling from them and they're so so broken but they're carried like they are weightless and the three of them join Marcoh, who meets with a smile and their heart aches. Their vision blurs, breath hitching. (You take a deep breath in, and out.) A nod, softening from their earlier desperation, even if they still want to protect them safely from anything that would cause any of them harm. They peer at the other faces, their head hurting in a blinding pain, but the softness of her hand cradling his. The promise to remember. They want to remember. Even if the Universe decides to one day to take it all away.
However, their hand grips onto Marcoh, they do trust him. Trust all of them and that's why.. at least for this instance, they go together then. Together or not at all. Into the blood they'll go, right? The smiles of friends both familiar and unfamiliar awaiting them. ]
no subject
it doesn't hurt so much, as yves carries him to marcoh. his consciousness is wavering, but it's that sweet spot. the way it feels to be carried by someone you love to your bed, careful not to wake you up. his unbroken arm comes to hold onto yves, onto siffrin, however he can.
he's left standing, as they all curl together, broken and bleeding. let me go, marcoh says.
there's something... soft. something soft and warm that cushions him as they approach the river, as he looks across. all four of these people, he desperately cares about, even if they're not here for him. uruha, making sure he can see him before tossing him a water bottle. elysia, pouting at him from where she's got her face tucked into his tail. lucas, on the beach late at night, sitting shoulder to shoulder and lamenting about the children in their care.
and basilio. sitting drunk in a kitchen, watching their chaos. standing on top of a lighthouse, tails twined together. we'll make it out, he says, and jiaoqiu hasn't cried in years and years and years, but he can feel the heat behind his eyes. it's all he can focus on, in the midst of how much his body hurts.
marcoh says he'll be okay, and that's fine. that's fine, because jiaoqiu doesn't think about how they could just let him take the whole of it. all four of them go together, or they don't go at all.
jiaoqiu barely even hesitates. he reaches and takes basilio's hand, expecting the others to do the same with their own phantoms. the river is waiting. ]
no subject
his whisper is muffled, but sincere: ] I love you. Please don't go too far.
[ and... without the weight of wanting to be loved in return, it finally feels selfless. to love without expectation. without fear. just love, love, love.
and it's not like yves actually believes in salvation. it's not something he thinks he deserves, after all the harm he's done in the world. there is no glorious light or awakening for him. but this? oh, this feels like all the light of heaven gifted upon him. the edges of himself blur. he is starting to lose track of where yves ends and the end begins. it takes everything to put himself back together enough to hold on to these last few moments with his friends before everything disappears.
though when he looks to the other side—and there is affection there too. uruha, so indirect but tender in his care. elysia, who cradled yves's twisted face in her hands. basilio, who feels like a kindred soul across univers. and then for a long moment, there is just a boy being offered a hand by his beloved teacher. the same way that lucas reached out to him when no one else would even spare him a glance—when the other kids would throw rocks at him and they'd only stop on the days that lucas came to teach so that they wouldn't get scolded. when from that moment, for a child who'd lost everything, lucas suddenly became the symbol of safety. yves doesn't know which life that happens in. maybe all of them. it happens again now. there is a part of him that is entirely the part of a sniffling child waiting for their guardian after school. please come get me and bring me home.
but he cannot go home without these people. he doesn't know if home exists without these people. and so one arm cradles behind jiao for support, his fingers still holding onto siffrin holding onto marcoh. and as if still seeking out every piece of warmth of family of that tenderness, his other hand finds his teacher's.
he is losing sight of himself. he is starting to leave. he should have already gone. he will walk these last steps with the people he cannot let go of. ]
no subject
but you aren’t in theirs. instead, you’re in the safe hands of people you cherish, people you love, no matter how that may be. when you take their hands… it’s warm. it’s warm, and it’s safe, and nothing matters in this specific moment anymore, because you’re together and you know what you must do.
marcoh, who only sought a better life for his sister, and normalcy for both of them.
siffrin, who wished to be with their family forever, and never be forgotten.
jiaoqiu, who strived to bring peace, for his people and beyond that.
yves, who deserved to feel loved nearly half as much as he loved.
these wishes of yours may not be granted by a long-lived king. but perhaps in another time, and another place.
as your friends hold onto you (and you hold onto each other), each of them lift your hand up, catching your eyes briefly with a little nod. the intention is clear to all of you: side by side, ride or die.
let it be to kill the demon.
and soon, they bring your hand up to their lips and you feel it, and you feel them pull you across the river as you fall into their embrace.
love, love, love.
that’s all you know. that’s all you feel, and you fall quietly from their grip as all things settle again in the world.
and somewhere else, in another time, in another place, a gentle voice whispers as your last breath leaves with a sigh. ]
”Goodbye. Don’t throw it away.”