[ marcoh chooses to stay, even though he knows that he doesn't deserve it. the dream welcomes him nonetheless, and the night is warm and sweet. despite the breeze that kicked up earlier, the temperature is exactly perfect for a little gathering. everyone picks the flowers that they want, and the work request is fulfilled.
even though the flowers are all the same, they still share them with each other. venere tucks a flower into marcoh's shirt pocket. uruha offers him one just to fit in with everybody else. euphausia makes marcoh a bracelet to settle around his wrist. by the end of the night, he is glowing with starlight the same as everyone else. they don't notice how his old wounds open from a life that he has chosen to leave behind, as if reminders of the sins that he still carries.
there is a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. should he stay here? the choice is still his, but they all begin to head back home and when he does so with venere, she takes his hand yet again—and when she lets go, this time her palm is stained. she doesn't notice. the blood remains. as she adjusts her lovely dress, it paints streaks on the fabric.
will he continue to be here, even knowing that he will tarnish this dream? ]
[ Is that really it? Is this what it is? He sits quietly and lets them do as they please, take their happiness at his presence, laugh around him, include him at every step they can despite his little contribution, give him gifts though he's hardly done anything for them that they couldn't do themselves.
He accepts it all because he can't say no. It's nice of them, and he could never turn down their kindness regardless of what he feels. What he feels of the matter never mattered. As long as they're all happy... even if that includes him, even no matter how much he thinks it's more than he deserves.
...
He looks at his hand as he's let go of. Oddly hard and calloused, more than just everyman's work. Broken flowerpots. Dropped boxes. Bruised noses. Grasped neck -- ]
[ venere looks back at marcoh just as she's accepting a flower crown from one of their friends. when her hands brush against it to adjust it, the blood on her fingertips stands out so harshly against the soft glowing white. ]
Are you not coming?
[ the question is pointed, but the rest of the dream continues on. ]
[ venere looks at him, truly looks at him. and she speaks with an understanding that goes beyond the illusion around them. ]
If you leave, there is no coming back.
[ if you leave the dream and return to the harshness of reality, that dark and grueling world, there is no option to come back to this lie. is it better to return to what he's forgotten, instead of remaining here in the comforts of what he wants most? ]
[ It would be nice, actually. How is it that a simple question asked keeps coming back to him, over and over and over again?
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? ...It'll be okay.
The Venere here may be happy, but she's never met these people. There's another version of her, maybe waiting in the Kingdom of Rondon alone, one he abandoned when he died. She's not safe. He can't rest until she is. He'll never be forgiven, but he can't even begin to even pretend until he can at least make up for that much. ]
I have to.
[ But for her... whatever vision this is that he's realising, he hopes they remain happy. ]
at the very least, in this moment, he is choosing it. perhaps it was a bit of a precarious path there, but it is approaching. to abandon the warmth and comfort of a world in which everyone that he loves is happy, where he is appreciated, where he hasn't had to do anything against his will and only chose exactly the steps he wanted to take forward for the sake of verene's happiness—it begins to fade away
the flowers begin to lose their glow. that perfect sky turns darker and darker. everything around him begins to disappear into that darkness and everyone he loves fades out of sight, all except venere. she remains in front of him, bloodied flower crown atop her head, and a gentle smile on her expression. ]
How noble of you. Hopefully your choices will lead you to a path you don't mind walking.
Take care now, dearest older brother of mine. I do love you, in my own way.
[ this version of here, whoever she is. she will reach out to deposit the flower crown atop his head before stepping back into the shadows, until they engulf her and she fades out of sight.
for marcoh, he remains in that pitch black darkness for moments longer still, until there is the smell of smoke. fire. flames that suddenly lick at his legs and when he looks down, there is the black field of lycoris flowers. the flames rise at an alarming rate, climbing up his legs and limbs until they swallow him whole in their angry condemnation.
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-23 07:03 pm
no subject
even though the flowers are all the same, they still share them with each other. venere tucks a flower into marcoh's shirt pocket. uruha offers him one just to fit in with everybody else. euphausia makes marcoh a bracelet to settle around his wrist. by the end of the night, he is glowing with starlight the same as everyone else. they don't notice how his old wounds open from a life that he has chosen to leave behind, as if reminders of the sins that he still carries.
there is a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. should he stay here? the choice is still his, but they all begin to head back home and when he does so with venere, she takes his hand yet again—and when she lets go, this time her palm is stained. she doesn't notice. the blood remains. as she adjusts her lovely dress, it paints streaks on the fabric.
will he continue to be here, even knowing that he will tarnish this dream? ]
no subject
He accepts it all because he can't say no. It's nice of them, and he could never turn down their kindness regardless of what he feels. What he feels of the matter never mattered. As long as they're all happy... even if that includes him, even no matter how much he thinks it's more than he deserves.
...
He looks at his hand as he's let go of. Oddly hard and calloused, more than just everyman's work. Broken flowerpots. Dropped boxes. Bruised noses. Grasped neck -- ]
Venere. You'll stay with them?
no subject
Are you not coming?
[ the question is pointed, but the rest of the dream continues on. ]
Why are you hesitating?
no subject
[ Not by his own volition. He doesn't think he could ever manage to forget. ]
Stay here with them. I'll be back soon.
no subject
If you leave, there is no coming back.
[ if you leave the dream and return to the harshness of reality, that dark and grueling world, there is no option to come back to this lie. is it better to return to what he's forgotten, instead of remaining here in the comforts of what he wants most? ]
no subject
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? ...It'll be okay.
The Venere here may be happy, but she's never met these people. There's another version of her, maybe waiting in the Kingdom of Rondon alone, one he abandoned when he died. She's not safe. He can't rest until she is. He'll never be forgiven, but he can't even begin to even pretend until he can at least make up for that much. ]
I have to.
[ But for her... whatever vision this is that he's realising, he hopes they remain happy. ]
no subject
at the very least, in this moment, he is choosing it. perhaps it was a bit of a precarious path there, but it is approaching. to abandon the warmth and comfort of a world in which everyone that he loves is happy, where he is appreciated, where he hasn't had to do anything against his will and only chose exactly the steps he wanted to take forward for the sake of verene's happiness—it begins to fade away
the flowers begin to lose their glow. that perfect sky turns darker and darker. everything around him begins to disappear into that darkness and everyone he loves fades out of sight, all except venere. she remains in front of him, bloodied flower crown atop her head, and a gentle smile on her expression. ]
How noble of you. Hopefully your choices will lead you to a path you don't mind walking.
Take care now, dearest older brother of mine. I do love you, in my own way.
[ this version of here, whoever she is. she will reach out to deposit the flower crown atop his head before stepping back into the shadows, until they engulf her and she fades out of sight.
for marcoh, he remains in that pitch black darkness for moments longer still, until there is the smell of smoke. fire. flames that suddenly lick at his legs and when he looks down, there is the black field of lycoris flowers. the flames rise at an alarming rate, climbing up his legs and limbs until they swallow him whole in their angry condemnation.
back to hades with you, sinner. ]