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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 2:19:38 GMT -5
Zuko watched Juuzou try to retreat, his breath coming hard as he recovered from the force of the blow. His jaw set and he moved to follow Juuzou – moved to make his final move. And then there was a knife flying and Zuko raised a sword to block it as he’d done the others, but… they were too close. There was too much force. The knife glanced off his sword, and for the second time in his life, the left side of Zuko’s face exploded in pain. He screamed, pain etching its way through him as he staggered back, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. He could see Juuzou through his other eye, but… but he didn’t know if it would be enough. If he could beat him. And he could still hear Ronan’s scream, echoing in his ears, telling them both to stop… Ronan had been attacking too… so why did he want them to stop? None of it made sense. None of it… he heaved in a sharp breath, collapsing against the wall and managing to pry a shield up from it. He hated Juuzou. He wanted him dead. But there was nothing left in him that could get up and fight anymore. Nothing that could overcome the pure emptiness, the pain that threatened to consume him. How fitting, he thought, that he’d been blinded by hatred he didn’t understand when he’d been face to face with the best people in the world. “You killed them,” he managed in a hoarse voice, positioning the shield carefully in front of him. “Some of the only decent people left in this world, and… and they’re gone.” He couldn’t think about Sal. He couldn’t think about any of them, but especially not Sal. Tears threatened to spill, though they burned against the open cut that only mattered to accentuate the scar that was already there. “Why did Ronan tell us to stop?” His voice was soft, desperate. He needed to know. Needed to know what he had missed. How had this happened? It was Juuzou’s fault, but… beyond that… why?
Hunter stumbled back, his entire body tensed. He hadn’t killed Juuzou. He didn’t have another weapon. He was just… tired. He fell to a seated position beside Kenma. No… beside Kenma’s body. Well… he didn’t care for Kenma any more than he had a couple moments ago, so either Kenma wasn’t actually dead or he really was as terrible as Hunter’s mind was making him out to be. It didn’t matter. Juuzou wouldn’t even fight him. He couldn’t get a hit in. He didn’t want to give up, but… he breathed out, laying back and letting his eyes focus on the ceiling. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He wanted to prove he was better than the others, but… maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was where he died. Maybe he would give up his life as easily as Kenma had. And Hunter hadn’t even meant to kill him…
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 2:34:00 GMT -5
Juuzou turned as Zuko screamed, his eyes widening as knife connected at last. Fierce satisfaction filled him at the sound, satisfaction and something else. He wanted to hurt Zuko, he did, he was glad he had managed to make him back off again, but… He looked down at his leg. It looked bad...he couldn’t run anymore. Not that Zuko seemed inclined to chase him again after being half blinded. He didn’t want the fight to stop. He didn’t want to face the death surrounding him, the blood, the bodies...he didn’t want his family to be dead. And yet, he was the one who had killed all of them. All but two, now. And Zuko would soon die, too. He watched the other boy collapse against the wall, eyes narrowing at the shield. He turned a knife over and over in his hand...he wanted to end this, fast, and then...and then what? Home was lying in a puddle of its own blood. Again. “Don’t talk about them,” he managed after a moment, and even his high voice had managed to get higher. “Don’t talk about them.” He remembered what he’d felt when he’d first walked in. The anger had made him feel weak, then. It had actually made him stronger in the end, but now...now it had only one person left to aim at, and he was behind a shield. “To distract us,” he answered after a moment, his voice unsteady. “He didn’t want to die.” But he did die. Just like Newt, and Nico, and Sal, and Noah. Dead….dead dead dead.
Kenma could feel someone next to him. It had to be Hunter. Everyone else was busy. He needed to stay quiet. He needed to be careful. Hunter was going to kill him if he didn’t keep pretending to be dead. But then again…he hadn’t killed him before, had he? Why not? None of this made any sense. No one was going to survive it. Not him, anyway. Because…because of all the people who deserved to make it, it wasn’t him. It should have been Hinata, really. But it couldn’t be Hinata, so maybe it would have to be Hunter. He shifted as quietly as he could and got the knife free, then pressed the hilt into Hunter’s hand. Someone would come for them, whoever survived the fight. They’d know they were still alive, probably. Someone needed to end it, and Kenma… He wasn’t sure he had it in him. Selfish. Very selfish, making Hunter do the hard part. But maybe Hunter would get to live long enough to hate him for it.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 2:45:30 GMT -5
How long could they stay there? One of them was likely to bleed out – maybe both. He didn’t know how bad his eye was, and he had seen how deep the leg injury had been… and if Zuko stayed hidden, then they would waste away for as long as it took to lose consciousness. As long as it took to join the others in death. Zuko hesitated. His friends… his family… and he’d failed to protect them. And he’d pushed Newt to the side when he’d saved his life, he’d left him there to die instead of seeing what he could do to prevent the blood loss. Juuzou’s fault. Juuzou’s knives. But… Zuko’s fault, too. For not helping. For not knowing. Something was weird. “You killed them.” He said again, though it was unclear if he was just repeating himself or if he was trying to tell Juuzou he had every right to talk about them. He tried to crack his eye open, but all he saw was black, slightly tinted red. If Juuzou blinded him for good… well, it didn’t’ matter. The likelihood of him dying here was high, even if he did manage to take Juuzou down first. “No,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “That’s… that not it. If he didn’t want to die he would have said it before you stabbed him. Why… why did he say it when there wasn’t any hope for him?” He just felt… hollow. Hollow and cowardly, hiding behind his shield when he could very easily finish Juuzou off. He hated him enough to do it. He knew Juuzou deserved to die… but he had already failed Iroh enough times. His hatred… he wouldn’t let it make him do it again.
Hunter wasn’t ready to give up. He just… didn’t see a way out. Part of him wanted to like Kenma again. Part of him wanted the awful, pounding anger to stop when people died. He would take mourning over this sickening hatred. It was fun, sometimes, being a ‘bad boy.’ This wasn’t that. This was hard and unforgiving and not like anything Hunter had ever experienced before. He had killed zombies. He had stolen from people before. He had done things he regretted, but… but he had never killed anyone. Until Kenma. Guilt rose in his throat and he let his eyes close for a moment. Hunter started at the feeling of something cold pressed against his palm, slick and hard, and… he opened one eye, surprise filling it as he realized it was Kenma’s hand pressing something into his. Kenma… alive. Hunter, armed again. What… what was the plan? He could plunge the knife into Kenma’s heart, but… but what was the point? Kenma hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Did they just… wait for Juuzou to come for them? Unease boiling in his stomach, Hunter forced himself to still, his eyes closing just enough that he could see the outline of movement through his lashes.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 2:57:59 GMT -5
Juuzou hesitated, but Zuko didn’t seem inclined to come back out. And he didn’t have Juuzou’s skill with throwing knives. He couldn’t hurt Juuzou without coming closer and he couldn’t do that without getting up. They were, for the moment, stuck. He sat down and inspected his wound, taking in the amount of blood he’d already lost. Not good...he was beginning to feel it, too, he was getting lightheaded and confused. Not that confusion was new here, He closed his eyes as Zuko repeated the fact he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. Because it was true. He had killed them. One by one, he had killed his family. He’d hated them, wanted them dead, been convinced they deserved it...how could he have been so wrong? Why did he remember who they were only once they were dead? He used one of his knives to cut a strip of fabric form his pant leg, then tied it around his leg, trying to make a makeshift tourniquet. He was in danger of bleeding out, he knew, and he couldn’t afford that. What would happen if he died? He’d become a zombie, he knew. Maybe he’d bite someone if no one stopped him… “I...I don’t know,” he admitted finally voice small. He didn’t know. He didn’t...didn’t understand why they were all dead. He bit his lip, hard, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt, trying to… Tears escaped his eyes and slipped down his face. Even his hatred for Zuko couldn’t drown out the pain he felt anymore. He curled his knees to his chest and began to sob.
Kenma kept breathing. He didn’t know how much longer the two of them could make it, but at least they were safe as long as Juuzou and Zuko were fighting. They wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off each other for long enough to do anything about them. Maybe Hunter would be able to defeat the winner. Maybe he’d get to go home. Kenma…Kenma didn’t think he would. And so what? Who was he close with? Everyone there, they had someone closer. He wasn’t trying to be dramatic about it, it was just true. He didn’t want to die, but if he could save Hunter…it would be worth it. He still hated him. But he hated hating him even more.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 3:11:56 GMT -5
Zuko peeked out from behind the shield for just a moment, his heart shuddering at the sight of them all lying there, completely lifeless. But… not lifeless for long, if the virus had spread out here. Wherever they were. He knew what his father was planning. And his father knew a little bit of what Hades was doing. Nico had known that better than Zuko ever would, though. He breathed out, then forced himself to a standing position, almost falling again the moment he stood. Perhaps he had lost more blood than he thought… but he had seen what Ronan had tried to do for Noah. Zuko hadn’t been able to save his family, but… he could prevent them from hurting others. He could make sure their bodies weren’t used. He made sure to keep the shield firmly in place, covering anything life threatening that Juuzou could hit. His legs were exposed as he walked, but if Juuzou hit him… at this point, it just meant that he would get to go home. That he would see his family again. He grabbed one of his swords and left the other behind, doing his best to use the one as a cane as he trudged his way towards Ronan, the nearest of the bodies. This wasn’t going to be easy. Zuko thought he would much rather do anything other than this. A final goodbye. Zuko murmured a few words, a combination of the languages he had learned from the others, and a soft blessing he had heard his uncle use when Lu Ten had died in the first wave. And then the blade came down and he moved on.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 3:26:11 GMT -5
Juuzou watched as Zuko stood. He tensed, preparing for an attack...but it didn’t come. Zuko wasn’t attacking him. He was...oh. Pain flooded Juuzou. Pain and anger, struggling against each other. He was still crying, he couldn’t seem to stop once he’d started, but hatred bubbled up inside him again the moment Zuko called attention to himself. He moved fast, throwing a knife at Zuko’s leg, getting to his feet and wiping his face on his sleeve. He didn’t speak, didn’t think he could get the words out this time, just limped towards the other boy, his last knife clutched in his hand. His family was dead. All of them. Zuko didn’t count...he was a traitor, and Juuzou was avenging them all by killing him. He shoved the rest away, shoved the fast that he was the killer our of his brain, or at least into a dark corner where he wouldn’t have to look at it. He didn’t care that Zuko was helping. He didn’t deserve to be near the bodies. Didn’t deserve the right to stop them from coming back. That was Juuzou’s job. Juuzou’s family. Not Zuko’s. Zuko...he didn’t deserve to be listened to, to be heard, to be spared. He couldn’t figure out quite how, but Juuzou knew that this was his fault. Somehow, this was Zuko’s fault and killing him would ease the aching pain of loss.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 3:37:16 GMT -5
Zuko stumbled, but he didn’t care. The knife flew true. He knew that was a risk. He knew it just made him more likely to die here.. but he owed it to his friends. He owed it to them that they would never have to be zombies. That… as hurt as they were now… they couldn’t spread on a worse hurt to others. The knife now sticking out of his calf did little to deter him. He took a deep breath, moving to Noah. It seemed fitting, to do them in that order… he closed his eyes, his hand raising up as he repeated what he had said to Ronan, with a few changes here and there… and let the blade fall. It was brutal, terrible work. But he wasn’t able to kill Juuzou, and Juuzou’s hatred of him wasn’t going to stop him from doing what was right. From helping the people he loved in the last way he possibly could. Zuko limped forward another few paces. Sal. No… no, he owed it to Sal the most, possibly, but he didn’t… he didn’t want to do any more damage to him. He didn’t… the thought made him sick, the realization of what he was doing… he was protecting them, but that didn’t stop the tears from coming. He would keep going until he died. But he didn’t think… he didn’t think he could do that to Sal. Which meant Nico… his body was so much smaller than anyone else’s would have been, except Juuzou’s… Zuko couldn’t help but wish the two of them had switched places. That it was Juuzou preparing to rot in the middle of an unfamiliar room and Nico trying to kill him. Zuko shook the thought away. He didn’t want to die, but if he died doing one last thing for his friends… then there was little he would change. He wasn’t going to stop, even with a knife in his leg. Even with Juuzou drawing ever closer. Nico, done. He would come back to Sal.. he had to do Newt first… and Newt hadn’t died near a wall. There was no cover. But what kind of friend would Zuko be if he valued his own life above saving his friend’s? He stepped out into the center of the room, bracing himself for the worst. It was for Newt. That was what he had to tell himself.
One death after another. More pain and regret pouring into him by the second. Juuzou. It was Juuzou’s fault. Hunter should have been protecting them… there were only four of them left… Kenma. Spook. Juuzou. Hunter. Resentment flared in Hunter, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He just had to lay there, knife in hand, waiting for Juuzou to notice them. Slowly, Hunter shifted to gently brush his knife hand against Kenma’s. If only to make sure he was still alive. If only to remind himself that he wasn’t just stabbing Juuzou for himself. He couldn’t kill Kenma. He had tried, and he had failed. If he killed Juuzou… could the two of them go back together? They wouldn’t talk to each other again. Both of them would probably leave the group… there was nothing holding them there anymore. But at least they’d both still be alive.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 4:00:46 GMT -5
Juuzou watched, eyes narrowed as Zuko kept moving. He should have fallen. He was supposed to fall. Juuzou didn’t stop following him. He didn’t stop moving, even though the blood from his leg was staining the floor now. Zuko, taking care of them, one at a time. Zuko, ignoring him, not dying...he deserved to die. He had to die. He fingered the knife, knowing he needed to save it for when he had a clear shot. Tears still escaped his eyes and ran down his face, but he ignored them. They didn’t matter. All that was left was Zuko’s death. And then there would be nothing more. He didn’t speak, just followed as Zuko skipped Sal and moved onto Nico. He hesitated, then stabbed down, stopping Sal himself. He didn’t know why Zuko hadn’t, but he couldn’t...he couldn’t let anyone come back. Not Sal, not anyone. Then his eyes caught on two more bodies. Wylan and Spook...his eyes narrowed, focusing on them, hatred flaring to life inside him. Wylan was still breathing. He acted before he could change his mind and stabbed down, aiming right for the heart. Wylan, dead. It didn’t matter. The important thing was ending this, and there was no going back. Some part of him felt like it was the past all over again, his old family. He’d killed them, too. Was he destined to kill everyone he met? Hunter. He still hated Hunter and Kenma. Why was it so hard to just end it? Why did it have to take so long? He tore the knife from Wylan’s chest and moved, stabbing down at Kenma, who was closest to Nico’s body and probably the one who had the knife. He was so tired…. And then Zuko stepped away from the wall. And Juuzou moved behind him. He didn’t hesitate. He threw the dagger, pouring every drop of hatred he felt into the simple movement.
Spook was lying still, trying hard to be as invisible as he sometimes felt. It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, he knew. He was used to being silent and unseen. He held onto Wylan’s hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive. It felt like a lifeline, like even if he did hate him...he also loved and trusted him. It was hard to feel both at once, but he did it anyway, somehow.
Kenma felt the hand brush his. Hunter was alive. Kenma was alive. He breathed out. A little bit more, just…a little bit longer, and he’d make it out. And then he gasped and his eyes flew open, meeting Juuzou’s red ones. Blood dribbled from his lips and down his chin, and for a second he struggled, but it was his heart. And then he was gone.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 11:27:41 GMT -5
They were going to make it. Juuzou and Zuko had stopped fighting, it seemed, and though Wylan didn't know exactly what was going on... they were going to make it. He had to believe that. Without drawing attention to himself, Wylan squeezed Spook's hand, trying to reassure him. He heard footsteps coming closer, but they looked dead. They looked dead, so there would be no reason for Juuzou or Zuko to attack. Maybe they would question why they still hated the two boys nobody had seen die. Maybe they would believe that Spook and Wylan really were traitors. But as long as they were dead, there was no reason to attack. Right...? A muted cry escaped Wylan as the knife plunged into his chest, blue eyes snapping open as he tried to process what was happening. He saw Juuzou, standing above him, and then... gone. Confusion and betrayal flicked across his expression, but there was nothing he had time to do. His breath stopped and his eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, his hand going limp in Spook's.
Zuko turned, rage sparking in his expression as Juuzou stopped Sal. But he didn’t attack. He knew it was the right thing to do… knew that it would give Sal a reprieve from a fate Zuko knew he would have hated. And he turned back to Newt, muttering something under his breath – a thank you. He wasn’t looking at Juuzou. He wasn’t sure he cared anymore, and the shield couldn’t cover all of him. He almost staggered as Wylan's death added to the grief in his mind, but he stayed standing. He would have seen Juuzou if his left eye could see. He would have dodged, and maybe their fight would have begun again until one of them bled out. But he didn’t see. His blade was angled down, ready to take care of Newt when the force hit him. He didn’t know what it was, at first. It didn’t even hurt, not really. He tried to look back down, tried to save Newt, but his body seemed to realize the severity of the injury even if his brain didn’t. He didn’t know how he’d ended up on the floor. That was… oh. His hands were shaking, his breath hard and uneven. He felt… numb. He tried to get up again, but it was as though his body wasn’t listening to him… as though… he slumped forward, hands awkwardly pulling at the knife. He didn’t have the strength left to pull it free. His heart stopped pumping shortly after, his good eye glazing over, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
“No!” Hunter screamed, hearing Kenma’s breath seize beside him. Kenma had… Kenma had trusted him! He had believed in Hunter enough to give him the knife. Enough to believe he’d have the strength to kill their attacker… why did Juuzou have to be so quiet when he walked? Anger flooding him with more ferocity than it had before, Hunter stabbed forward with the knife, just trying to get a strike in. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to survive this. He didn’t want to have to start over. He didn’t want to remember the warmth of Kenma’s hand, then the sharp movement he’d made as he’d been stabbed. Hunter had been supposed to protect him! Just one strike. One good strike against Juuzou. That was all it would take.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 12:22:35 GMT -5
Juuzou moved away from Sal, leaving the body as it was. It wasn’t like it actually mattered...he was under no illusion that Sal cared one way or the other, now. It was just...for Juuzou himself, maybe. So he didn’t have to watch his friend hurt more people. So he didn’t hurt more people by extension. Spook rose up to meet him and he reacted instinctively, knife at the ready and stabbing forward. He felt it, like he felt every loss before now, but he didn’t make a sound. It was all happening so fast, now. The last ones were desperate. Desperate and stupid. They thought they could stop him? None of them could stop him. Dead. They were all dead and dead and dead and he had killed them. Just like he’d always been supposed to. Hunter moved, attacking. He was angry. It didn’t matter to Juuzou. He felt the knife stab deep into his shoulder, but he didn’t react to it. He just stabbed forward, aiming for Hunter’s heart. It was as good a place to end a life as any. He didn’t have time for this anymore. He just wanted this part to be over. He didn’t even know why he threw the last knife. He didn’t know why he killed Zuko, watched the body fall without moving to help. Not that he could have stopped it. Zuko was dead the moment the knife left Juuzou’s fingers. The penalty of being good at what he did, maybe, was that he was too good. Then Zuko stopped moving. And the last of the hate bled from Juuzou’s mind, leaving his body limp and shaky. He turned, slowly, taking them all in...dead. They were all dead. He had just killed them all. For what? What had happened...they’d been friends when they walked in. They’d been family...Zuko had called Juuzou over, smiling at him as they walked in side by side. Now he lay on the ground with a knife in his back, unmoving, and Juuzou couldn’t understand why. He stopped turning, collapsing to the floor and curling his limbs in close, trying to disappear. Everything in him hurt, like his very existence was in pain, his soul hurt...he gasped for breath, giving a low whimper as he failed to fade out of existence. Tears broke free and coursed down his face, and he collapsed the rest of the way, giving into the sobs.
They were so close. They were so close to making it, and Spook was starting to actually hope they would. He was trying to believe in Wylan. He was trying so hard to believe Wylan was right, that they could get out of this alive, and he was starting to really believe it when it happened. The cry hit Spook’s ears and he flinched, panic stabbing deep in his chest as he tried to understand what was happening without opening his eyes. Then Wylan’s hand went limp. And Spook felt the hatred shatter, replaced by pure pain. “No mourners, no funerals,” he breathed, and his eyes snapped open, his hand squeezing Wylan’s limp one before letting go. He lunged at Juuzou, trying to knock him down and pin him, trying… He gasped as the knife pierced him, and fell to his knees, then his side. He didn’t have time. He didn’t have time to feel more than a stab of regret. Then he closed his eyes, fingers still reaching for Wylan’s hand.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 15:17:36 GMT -5
-- Nico blinked, finding himself back outside Kelsier’s makeshift tent. His sword was back in its sheath, but for the first time Nico was fairly certain he didn’t want it anywhere near him. Sal was dead because Nico had been armed. Even if it was a daydream… he didn’t know. He wasn’t going to take that chance. He breathed out, quickly unhooking the sheath from his belt and leaving it on the ground. He didn’t want to be alone now, and… and he wasn’t ready to find out if Sal and Noah were really dead. It felt so real… it could have been a hallucination or a daydream, or… something. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but his mind did have a bad habit of stretching itself in directions Nico wasn’t sure he wanted to go. He sat down without waiting for Kelsier to acknowledge him. He couldn’t bring himself to care what sort of state Kelsier was in… he just needed his dad.
The sun was warm against Newt’s skin. Which was admittedly odd, because he was fairly certain you got colder when you died… but he felt alive, he felt whole… and he was wearing a shirt. Was this the afterlife? He hesitated for a long moment, trying to take everything in. Only to realize that Sweets had gotten a few steps ahead of him. Sweets… so that either meant that Sweets was dead too, or the whole thing had been a hallucination. And Sweets had been just fine the last time he saw him, unless he’d been taken someplace odd, too? He raised a palm to his temple, brow furrowing as he attempted to sort through the thoughts. They didn’t make much more sense than they had when he’d been ready to watch his friends kill each other.
Zuko’s kick missed completely. It knocked him off balance, the momentum carrying him too far – to be fair, he hadn’t expected any momentum at all. What… it was bright outside. Outside… he lifted his gaze, frowning at the sky – and the fact that he could only see half of it. No… he looked around, gaze catching on L… no. He sank to his knees, trying to process. All of them… all of them, dead… and yet he was back here, practicing with L like he had been just over an hour before. It didn’t make sense, the two couldn’t be true, but L was here and Zuko couldn’t see. He felt his breath starting to quicken, but he quickly forced himself to think about his breath. He didn’t… he didn’t understand. And if he had to mourn his friends… his family…
Noah blinked his eyes open, the clouds resolving themselves in his vision. Ah. Clouds… those were much nicer than what he assumed was just a nightmare. Ronan would never call him a coward for real… and Juuzou wouldn’t hurt him. So it was just a bad dream. And as far as bad dreams went… it was a breath of fresh air. He was tired of dreaming of Whelk. He couldn’t change what Whelk thought of him. But if he ever thought Ronan might consider him a coward… he was right by camp to ask. Although he didn’t feel particularly well rested, Noah wasn’t too worried. The dream would fade away eventually if he laid there long enough.
Wylan took in a breath, eyes widening at the sudden feeling of his hand no longer holding Spook's. He felt his heart race for a few moments before his mind caught up with the rest of him. He was outside, and there was no blood, no wall of weapons, just the campsite and a field spreading out beside them. And Spook... where was Spook? His head spun frantically until he located his friend, a soft smile spreading across his face in spite of the circumstances. Just a daydream, then. Or a nightmare? It didn't seem likely he had gone to sleep. It took all of Wylan's self restraint to avoid reaching for Spook's hand. It was enough that he was alive.
Hinata hit the ground, eyes widening as Rue appeared back in front of him. The excitement had bled from his features, leaving only… confusion. He didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was had happened between him throwing himself into the air and his feet landing solidly back on the ground. Was that even possible? It could have been a daydream… Hinata was guilty of having those more often than he cared to admit. “Oh uh… what was I saying?” he asked, trying to shake off the horror that was still clinging to him. He had never had a daydream that was a nightmare before… but what happened wasn’t possible, so… so it was better to just face what was in front of him. Rue. And whatever story he had been telling. He couldn’t remember which one.
Hunter froze in his tracks. It was… bright out. His heart was still beating. There was no knife in his hand, just the comfortable heft of his staff. Which… he wasn’t sure he wanted to carry around anymore. It had been used to hurt Kenma, and that hadn’t been his intention… well, it had been his intention at the time, but he didn’t actually want to hurt Kenma. “The hell?” he muttered, lifting a hand to his forehead as though that would make it clear what was wrong with his head. That hadn’t just happened. He hadn’t hit Kenma with his staff, because he was holding onto it, and there was no blood. His clothes didn’t have blood on them, either, which meant… t hadn’t happened. It had just been a weird dream or a hallucination or something. Still… he turned back towards camp, searching out the place he was used to Kenma hanging out when he wanted time alone. He doubted the other boy would welcome the interruption, but at the moment Hunter didn’t care.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 8, 2021 22:34:19 GMT -5
Ronan stumbled, catching himself and slowing to a halt. What was… He turned, looking around camp. No one was staring at him, shock on their faces. “The hell…” he muttered, catching his breath even though he didn’t actually need to anymore. He wasn’t bleeding out...he wasn’t hurt at all, actually. He was used to vivid nightmares. But if they were going ro start happening when he was awake? He was pretty sure those would be categorized as hallucinations. He didn’t want to think about that. He really didn’t want to think about that.
Sal blinked. Sitting on a log, book in hand...just like he had been before. Like nothing had even happened. He let out a sharp breath, trying to collect his thoughts. A nightmare. Just...just a nightmare. A bad one, but they were all bad. Not usually quite that real, and it wasn’t fading the way it was supposed to, but what else could it be? It wasn’t like it could actually have happened. And here he was. He must have dozed off. That was all. Just a nightmare. It didn’t make his heart stop racing. He didn’t want to read anymore. He didn’t think he knew what he wanted to do. He just...sat there, staring at nothing and trying to convince himself it was just a nightmare. It would fade.
Juuzou stopped dead, his cheerful humming breaking off into a gasp. And just like that, the room faded away and he was left with nothing but the gentle sound of birds and wind rustling leaves. He looked down at his hands, but there was no sign of the blood that had stained them moments earlier. He touched his cheek. Nothing there, either. Whatever had just happened...he felt grief boil up inside him. He’d killed them. All of them but Sal, he’d killed them. One by one. How could he have done that? How could he...how… He turned, looking back the way he had come. But they were either dead or alive, and he couldn’t change that. So he just sat down where he was and curled into a ball, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could.
Varian was crouching on his rock again, pencil and notebook in hand, like he’d never left. He went still, his mad scribbles trailing off into a line that meant nothing. He wanted to get up, but he didn’t quite dare...he wanted to move but everything in him felt frozen. He was back. And he was alive. Which meant...the others. The others might be okay, too. He sat up suddenly, notebook falling from his lap and bouncing off the ground, falling open to a random page he ignored. He dropped the pencil too, bouncing it his feet and staring around, searching for...someone. Any of the people he had just gone through hell with. They had to be okay...they had to. This was an incredible scientific breakthrough, he knew. And if they were okay...no, he scolded himself, he needed to check that first. If they weren’t okay, he didn’t know what he would do.
Spook gasped, his entire body going stiff as his surroundings shifted abruptly back to what they’d been before. Open air, clouds high above them, the campsite...and Wylan. Wylan. Spook stared around frantically until he caught sight of him, his eyes widening a little as he did. He was there...how…? It wasn’t real. None of it. Spook forced a small smile in return and let out a small sigh, waiting for the...whatever that had been...to fade away. “What were you saying…? I think I got distracted,” he murmured. He was tempted to take Wylan’s hand, but he resisted the urge, moving a little closer to catch up instead.
Sweets paused as he realized Newt was no longer at his side, frowning a little. He turned, blinking as he noted that the boy had stopped. “What’s up?” He asked, turning to face Newt the rest of the way. He was good at reading people - duh, he was a psychologist - ex-psychologist - that still made him sad - the point was, he could read people. And Newt looked...confused. And upset. A more serious expression settled over Sweet’s face. “Newt?” He said quietly, searching his expression for some sort of answer.
L tilted his head as the kick went wide. He didn’t even need to block that...which was decidedly unlike Zuko. He didn’t think he’d ever met someone as skilled as Zuko was, though he didn’t know the full extent of everyone’s talent, so he couldn’t be sure. Still...that was unusual. His eyes widened as Zuko sank down, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. He looked...he looked upset. Not just a little, either, he looked very upset. “Zuko, what’s wrong?” He asked, coming a little closer, their lesson forgotten. He had no idea what could have happened in the last few seconds that could elicit this reaction…
Kelsier looked up, surprised as he saw Nico approach. He usually hesitated these days...he usually gave Kelsier that searching look that he knew he needed, but hated anyway. The look that reminded him of a broken promise. But he didn’t get that look now. Nico just approached and sat down like things were normal like…*he* was normal. He didn’t think he even needed to know Nico well to tell that something had upset him. “Hey,” he said softly, sitting up. He was okay, for now. Odd, that he could always tell when he was okay, but not when he wasn’t. You’d think he could just use that to tell when he wasn’t himself, but that wasn’t how it worked, it seemed, He gave Nico his full attention. No need to worry for the moment. He could at least be a dad for a little while.
Rue wasn’t trying to ignore Hinata. She really wasn’t. His stories were…well, they were always told with a lot of enthusiasm. She could use as much of that as she could get, and she was the last person who would try and take that away from him. It was way too easy to forget to smile nowadays. Hinata…Hinata had the gift of caring about everything, even now. But these plants weren’t going to collect themselves, and Hinata wasn’t actually helping. So she wasn’t paying as close attention as she could have been. She glanced up as he stopped talking, brushing some of the dirt from her hands and meeting his eyes. Oh…right. “Everything okay?” She asked, watching him. She had no idea what he’d been saying, but she probably could avoid admitting that, right?
Kenma started, almost falling off his perch in the corner. What…what had…? He was back. In the same place he’d been before. How…what…? He didn’t really dream that much. Definitely not that vividly. But there was no way…right? He settled in again. Trying to think. His head felt wrong, but that was probably more nerves than anything more. Because…because Hunter hadn’t hit him. Hunter wouldn’t have hit him. And everyone…dead. All dead. That wasn’t possible, right? He looked at his hands. No blood. They’d been covered in it a second ago. What the hell…
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 8, 2021 23:54:11 GMT -5
The dream wasn’t fading. Noah made a face, forcing himself onto his elbows. He wasn’t terribly far from camp – he could see the outline of some of their makeshift dwellings from here. Maybe… maybe he would feel better if he got to see some of his friends. He stood up, feeling his legs shake a little bit. Maybe the nightmare had hit him a little harder than he’d thought. He wanted to see Ronan. He wanted to hold his best friend’s hand again, because his heart was pounding as he remembered all too well the things Dream Ronan had said. The things that Ronan would never actually say. He picked his way back towards camp, breaking into a run when he recognized Ronan, looking at least a little bit bothered. Hopefully it wasn’t by anything serious.
Orpheus had decided to go for a walk. It was a nice day for it, and it seemed everyone had sort of melted into whatever tasks made them happy. He saw Rue in a tree and Will looking up at her, saying something – perhaps planning something? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to bother them. Normally he would have petitioned L to go on a walk with him and leave his work for just a few moments, but… L was busy doing something else, and Orpheus wasn’t going to take him away from that. It made him happy how well everyone seemed to integrate into one group. Even Kelsier, though he could tell some days were harder for him than others. Orpheus knew the feeling. Maybe not exactly, but… grief did funny things to the brain. He didn’t expect to run into anyone as he was walking. His plucked lightly at his guitar as he moved forward, both to keep away any zombies and to add some ambiance to the day. Besides, the birds liked the music.
Kaladin started as Varian stood up suddenly. He hadn't been directly looking at the boy, just gathering herbs nearby to bring back to Combeferre so they could replenish their supply. It never hurt to be prepared in the case of an emergency, and emergencies were a little bit too prevalent now. He knew Varian was a little bit... bouncy. He moved erratically sometimes when he had an idea, and it was hard to predict exactly what he was going to do. A little bit like Tien, actually. Maybe that was why Kaladin had been drawn to him. But when Varian got excited... he couldn't recall a time he had dropped the notebook and the pencil. "Is everything alright?" he called, picking up his sword and approaching Varian carefully.
Wylan looked back, his words failing him as he looked at Spook. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t just tell Spook that he had daydreamed them all killing each other, that the thought left a sick, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. No, that wouldn’t go over very well at all. He took a deep breath, instead trying to come up with something to say that would sound… normal. He didn’t feel very up to normal. “I think I did, too,” he said after a long moment, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we were talking about…” he trailed off, trying to remember. It just… felt so trivial, even if what he had just experienced was all some sort of weird daydream.
Newt frowned, brow creasing as his hand went back down to his side. “I…” how did he even describe what had just happened? Sweets was going to think he was crazy. He took a moment to feel for a heartbeat – which was, he realized later, very stupid. Who knew whether or not ghosts had heartbeats? It was entirely possible they did. But… somehow, Newt didn’t think he was dead, which made the entire thing so much more confusing. “Can a hallucination be over and done with in a matter of seconds?” he asked after a moment, searching Sweets’ expression.
Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the world around him make sense. Trying to figure out what had happened, because… because it was like no time had passed at all, but he had concrete proof that he’d just seen every last one of his family die. How could he explain that? It wasn’t a hallucination; hallucinations didn’t blind you in one eye. He opened his eyes again, hoping that maybe it was his imagination. Maybe he had just fallen in to deep to a thought and his brain was playing tricks on him. But when he opened, his left eye was still just as useless as it had been moments before. He couldn’t afford to seem weak, or… or bothered… even if he trusted L. But he couldn’t quite get his expression to cooperate. “Nothing,” he said after a long moment, forcing himself back up to his feet. “Let’s just… keep practicing, I think… I think I aimed too high that time.”
A tiny bit of the tension bled out of Nico’s shoulders as he heard Kelsier’s voice, soft and more certain than it usually was. So he was himself, which was only a small relief when there was a voice in the back of Nico’s mind that told him that maybe Kelsier had been right the whole time. Maybe he had led Kelsier astray when he had tried to convince him that this was the truth. He didn’t know, and that bothered him more than anything else. “Hey,” he said softly, unsure how to broach the subject. He was tired, it… it had probably just been a dream. He knew how real dreams could get, but his hands were still shaking… he could still remember the look in Sal’s eyes as he died, the words they had spat at each other. And he remembered clinging to his body, begging him to come back, even when there was no Sal left to listen. His dreams were vivid, but that… that must have been a new record.
Hinata had meant to help. He had just… gotten excited when he had seen a crow, cause… well… he missed Karasuno. He missed being a crow. He missed flying. And he’d started telling a story, even though he was supposed to be helping, and now not only was he not helping, but he also couldn’t finish his story. He took a moment, then sank down to his knees to help gather the plants. “Yeah, fine,” Hinata replied with a wide smile. He must have zoned out for a minute there. Maybe he needed more sleep? He had never really gotten enough sleep… his mother used to say he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t sleep more, but he couldn’t sleep and get enough practice in. Besides, he slept. Just… not enough. Maybe it was catching up with him? He’d ask Kenma what he thought later. “I just got distracted, I think.”
There, exactly where Hunter had expected him. He supposed that was the good thing about staying somewhere long enough that people could develop a routine. It meant it was a lot easier to find people. Hunter liked knowing where people were. Even though they were his friends, he still felt safer when he was able to have a general idea of where people were. That way if someone stabbed him in the back, he’d at least know which way the knife had come from, and who had been in that general area. He didn’t think that was going to happen, but… it was hard not to be cautious. He approached, lingering just within Kenma’s siteline. If Kenma didn’t want to see him, that was fine. He’d go. It was just a stupid dream, anyway.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 9, 2021 1:30:20 GMT -5
Juuzou heard the music after a couple of minutes, and he slowly raised his head, listening to it. It was soothing...of course it was. It was unmistakably Orpheus’. And it made it that much harder to keep the emotions at bay. Not that Juuzou was particularly skilled at that anyway...he didn’t tend to hide his emotions form anyone. They weren’t weapons, they were just feelings. Tears slipped free and he sniffled, wiping them away on the back of his hand. He couldn’t stop remembering it...how it had felt to kill them. He knew he was deadly, it was stupid to think otherwise, but to his family? Was he a danger to them? He wasn’t used to wondering. Not knowing. He didn’t come out just yet. Orpheus might just walk by…did Juuzou want to talk about it? He knew it was insane to believe it had happened, but...he did. He couldn’t help it. It had been so real.
Ronan didn’t want to think about this anymore. He hadn’t even been thinking about I that long, and here he was, trying hard to out it out of his mind. He was going or walk away when he saw Noah running towards him. Noah. Relief flooded Ronan as soon as he saw him...he couldn’t help it. Even if he did know it hadn’t been real, he didn’t care. Noah was alive and that was all that mattered. He broke into a grin as the other boy approached, and raised a hand, greeting him. He didn’t know why Nico was coming, he didn’t know...he knew enough. He knew he cared about Nico and he was still struggling to get over the nightmare, if that was what it was. And what else could it be?
Varian turned to look as Kaladin called to him, his expression hard to read. He felt conflicted...he hated what had just happened. And he was terrified for his friends. But the excitement he’d felt at the beginning wasn’t completely gone, either. Just...muted under the pain he felt. “Yes...no…I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out,” he called back, and hesitated, staring around again. He had been so lost in thought, he hadn’t been paying attention to where people were going. He let a moment pass before he headed for Kaladin. “I didn’t...sort of happen to disappear for a while, did I?” He asked, trying to say it quickly so it sounded less insane. It didn’t work. He wasn’t as upset as he might have been...he was almost sure everyone was okay. He just needed to be completely sure. “Oh, and have you seen Ronan, Zuko, Sal, Newt, Noah, Nico, Wylan, Spook, or Juuzou recently?”
Spook met Wylan’s eyes and tried to smile, even though he really didn’t feel much like smiling at the moment. He wasn’t going to mention it...how could he...but it wasn’t fading the way it was supposed to. It wasn’t disappearing to the back of his mind, Ike dreams often did when you woke up. “I don’t remember,” he said a little shyly, hugging one arm with his other one, awkwardly, trying to sound as calm as he’d felt before. Had it only been moments…? He didn’t know how that was possible. He hated this. And he didn’t have any clue that Wylan might know how he felt.
Sweets blinked, surprised by the question. “Yeah, they can last a few seconds,” he answered, frowning a little. “Newt...did you see something?” He searched the boy’s face, trying to read him. Trying to tell what he was thinking. “You did, didn’t you?” He added quietly after a moment. He could tell, or he thought he could. “What is it? What did you see?” He wasn’t intending to pry, but he was interested. And worried. But it was probably just something easily explained. Something that lasted only a couple seconds couldn’t have been that bad. Right?
L narrowed his eyes, not buying the excuse for a moment, though he wasn’t going to push it. Zuko wasn’t obligated to tell L anything. Then the detective caught sight of Zuko’s eye. Which had definitely not been like that before. It was...it was scarred. There was no way Zuko could see out of it, “What happened to your eye?” He asked, eyes narrowed. He didn’t understand, he had just been working with Zuko, he’d have noticed...right? No, definitely. He was a detective, he noticed these things, which meant...it had happened in the last few seconds. Which wasn’t possible either. It was a scar, not a wound, and nothing had happened. There was no satisfactory explanation.
Kelsier watched Nico carefully. He was worried...something was on Nico’s mind, he could tell. But he didn’t want to pry, especially when he wasn’t completely sure where they stood. After everything he’d done...he just didn’t know. He’d put Nico through a lot, after all. But that wasn’t important now. What mattered was that Nico had come to him, and he looked like he needed to talk. “You have something on your mind,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. He could tell it was serious, too, he knew Nico well enough to know that much. “You don’t have to tell me, but...you can.”
Rue watched a moment longer, unsure whether she should believe him. He seemed okay…but he didn’t usually get distracted in the middle of stories like that. It took a lot to make him stop. And he’d just been getting to the good part, if his volume had been any indication. She sat back a little as he crouched again, wiping the sweat from her forward with her arm. “Okay. You remember which plants we need, right?” She asked, shifting forward to begin picking them again. She didn’t mind his stories, she really didn’t. She just zoned out sometimes. She couldn’t bring herself to care about sports all that much.
Kenma couldn’t tell what had happened. None of it made any sense. It couldn’t have happened, but…it had to have happened, right? He couldn’t have imagined that. Not all of it. Unless…he was starting to hallucinate. We’re hallucinations a sign of infection? He thought he remembered something about that. Could he be infected somehow? He’d need to do something about it if he was. Ask for help, or just leave. It didn’t see entirely fair to make them all deal with it. Not if it was just him. He looked up, noticing Hunter’s approach. Hunter…he was alive, then. Relief flooded him, but his expression didn’t shift as he scooted over, silently making some room if Hunter wanted to join him.
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 9, 2021 2:08:38 GMT -5
Orpheus’ music broke off at the sound of something nearby. Sniffling? It was quiet, but you didn’t survive if you didn’t train yourself to pick up on even the smallest of sounds. Zombies could be surprisingly quiet if you weren’t listening for them. He had never heard a zombie sniffle before, though. That… that was a very human thing, and it worried him. There was plenty to cry about, with the world as it was. As much as Orpheus wished he could fix it… he knew there was only so much he could do. But if he could help whoever was upset… it took him a few moments to find the small huddle of a boy just off to the side of where he was looking. What surprised Orpheus more than anything was that he recognized him. His first instinct was to wonder whether Juuzou spent all of his walks like this, whether he just put on a cheery façade when there were others around. Somehow… somehow he doubted it. Juuzou didn’t seem the type to hide his emotions away. Orpheus very carefully took a seat a few feet away. If Juuzou wanted him… he was there.
Noah didn’t know what had happened after he died. There was no reason to think it mattered, though – it was just a dream. Just a dream that was going to fade sooner rather than later, hopefully. He rubbed at his cheek, unaware of the pale scar stretching across his throat. Unaware that whatever it was that was upsetting Ronan was the same thing that wouldn’t leave his own mind. He kept running forward, wrapping Ronan in a hug that was far fiercer than most of his hugs. He was usually soft, gentle… hesitant. This hug, however, this hug was desperate. Ronan had always been best at bringing out the fiercer sides of Noah, but this was different. This was every fiber of Noah’s body screaming that he was grateful to have Ronan back. Grateful that he didn’t need to be scared of his best friend. That Ronan, despite what the dream seemed to imply, was nothing like Whelk. Nothing.
"Disappear?" Kaladin repeated, brow furrowing. He wasn't sure he understood. It wasn't abnormal for Varian's thoughts to be disjointed, and maybe he had been trying to think about some crazy invention that might've worked if the world hadn't broken, but... that was a little bit odd, even for him. "You were here the whole time," he replied after a moment, pursing his lips. "If you weren't, I would be... a little less calm." He didn't say it out loud, but if Varian had disappeared, Kaladin was certain he would have lost it. He hadn't managed to protect Tien. If he couldn't protect Varian or the others either... he was one of the best fighters there was. There was a reason he had found this group, he knew there was. They had given him hope back, and he was doing everything he could to repay the favor. "I saw some of them when I left camp," Kaladin added after a moment, brow furrowing. Sometimes, he figured, it was probably best not to question Varian. "Juuzou was on a walk, but the rest are probably still near camp. Except maybe Zuko?" It wasn't his job to keep track of where everyone was, even though he tried to. As long as they stayed nearby...
“Maybe… we can find something new to talk about?” Wylan asked, managing to sound at least a little bit more cheerful than he felt. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to navigate this. Part of him just wanted to excuse himself and go to bed, sleep it off, but he didn’t want to be alone. And he was fairly certain he was going to have nightmares about whatever the nightmare was that he had just lived through. He met Spook’s eyes, relishing the fact that he knew he loved him. He knew they were family. And he wasn’t going to trade that for the world. He closed his eyes for just a moment, trying to chase away the feeling of wrestling the bomb away from Spook. He felt in his pocket, fingers dusting over the supplies that were still there and still intact. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t.
Newt frowned, staring at the ground as he awkwardly scratched at his forearm. How did he say this without sounding insane? Sweets was his friend, and though he did have his habit of psychoanalyzing people, Newt didn’t want him to think that he had actually lost his mind. Then again… what he had seen, or… what he thought he had seen… people who still had all their wits about them didn’t see things like that. If Sweets was worried, he would have every right to be. “Yeah, I… it felt like a lot longer than a few seconds, but it can’t have been. I guess… you know the group I came here with? The other six who helped me after I lost you? We… I thought we all appeared somewhere different, and… and…” his brow creased. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, trying to suck in a breath. “Sorry, just… I saw them die. Noah, Sal… Nico… and I tried to save Ronan and Zuko, but I failed. I…” he trailed off again, searching Sweets’ expression. “If I hadn’t been walking with you I would’ve thought it was a nightmare.” He hesitated for a long time, then forced himself to meet Sweets’ eyes. “Am I losing my mind?”
Zuko let his hand reach up to probe the new scar. It seemed to stretch about an inch on either side of the eye, and probably across it, too. Well… at least L could see it. At least he wasn’t just making up blindness to explain whatever weird daydream he’d had. Which meant… which meant the others might still be dead. He cursed softly under his breath, searching L’s expression for a long moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he couldn’t even pretend he knew what to do. It wasn’t possible. Then again… zombies hadn’t been possible when he was little, so maybe the definition of possible changed. “There was a fight,” he said instead, forcing his gaze away from L. “I… I need to see if the others are okay.” There was a rare note of vulnerability in Zuko’s tone. He trusted L – not that he had ever told him that before – but the fear in his tone likely would have shown true even if he didn’t trust him. “I don’t know if I have an explanation for you, I… the scar wasn’t there before, was it? I mean… not the burn one. The other one.” He needed to be sure.
There was no question in Nico’s mind about where they stood. Kelsier had hurt him, but it wasn’t his fault. Actually… if the blame could be placed anywhere, it was on Nico. If he had just run away sooner, if he had just… made it so Kelsier didn’t care enough to follow… Nico counted himself lucky that Kelsier chose to still associate him. Chose to call him his son… even if most of that had been while thinking that Nico was actually Hades… point was, as long as Kelsier was Kelsier… Nico would go to him. Even if he wasn’t sure he had the words. “I… had a dream,” he managed softly, not daring to specify that he didn’t actually think he had been asleep. He was still trying to convince himself he might have just dozed off. It was a lie, but that was beside the point. “I… it felt real. Really real.”
“Uh… the green ones?” Hinata asked, pulling out something that was most likely a weed and most definitely not the plants they were looking for. He gave a sheepish smile as he looked at what Rue had collected and flung his weed as far away as he could. He looked at the plants she had pulled and began to gather some of those instead. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been paying attention, it was just… his mind liked thinking about other things when he was supposed to be giving people all of his focus. It wasn’t that he didn’t think this was important. If he could get his mind to behave, he would have. “How much of it do we need? You’ve… already got a lot. I didn’t help. I can… I can make it up by helping now, though!”
Hunter didn’t quite smile as Kenma noticed him, but it wasn’t as though he was actively trying not to smile. He was just… letting his features do whatever they wanted. Which usually meant he looked disgruntled, annoyed, and exhausted, all at once. It was, usually, a pretty good reflection of how he felt, so he wasn’t going to complain. It was a solid reflection. Now, though, he hoped Kenma knew that he was actually pleased to be here. If anyone knew not to judge based on facial expression, it was Kenma. It was impossible to tell when he was enjoying himself and when he wasn’t. Hunter slid just a little bit closer, taking a seat beside Kenma. Would he have to explain why he was here? What had compelled him to come over here, when he had never been before?
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 9, 2021 2:55:10 GMT -5
Juuzou could feel Orpheus joining him. He heard it, but he felt it, too, the sense of another human near him, watching him. He couldn’t have stopped the tears even if he’d been trying to, and he wasn’t trying, because why should he? If he was right, then almost everyone he loved was dead and it was all his fault. He wasn’t prone to tears. The world had ended and his reaction had been...well, after he’d escaped, his reaction had been simply to repurpose himself. He didn’t feel that strongly about the world. He missed specific things, but the general how the world used to be? No. He didn’t find himself missing that, not like some of the others seemed to. And it wouldn’t have made him cry, not like this. He looked up finally, his eyes red from crying. He’d been crying before he came back here, too. He didn’t know if that counted. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, not caring that Orpheus had no way of knowing why he was saying that. It wasn’t at all like him, after all. “I think I...I think I hate being mad.”
Ronan saw the scar for just a moment before Noah crashed into him, and he hugged his friend back just as fiercely, ignoring the shock he felt at seeing it. No...no, that wasn’t possible. That would mean… But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. His mind was playing tricks on him, trying to make sense of a nightmare that didn’t make sense at all. So he held in and tried hard to push the memory away. Of Noah dying. Of the moments before that happened, the things Ronan had said...he didn’t mean them. He didn’t believe them at all, it had been a nightmare and he hadn’t been himself. He wanted to say he was glad Noah was alive. He wanted to apologize, even, unheard of as that was. But it was just a stupid dream. And he didn’t want to make Noah listen to it, not when he had his own nightmares to contend with.
Varian didn’t know what Kaladin was thinking. He wasn’t considering how it might have felt to watch him vanish. He was just thinking about what had just happened. And he was certain something had happened, even if he wasn’t sure what. Teleportation was all well and good, but they were talking time travel and bringing people back from the dead now. Which...not that Varian was willing to discount that as a possibility. Maybe someone had figured it out...maybe the secret was the same for all three. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Checking on his friends, that was the priority even if he was pretty sure they were okay. He was okay, after all. “Right, okay thanks,” he said, turning on his heel to go look for them. If someone could bring you back from the dead...would that work on zombies, too? Which meant… “A cure,” he mumbled. Someone might have a cure.
Spook gave a small nod, moving forward to rejoin Wylan, since he’d fallen a couple paces behind him. He didn’t know that he felt like talking about nothing anymore, after what had just happened. Or...not happened. He still didn’t believe it was real, it didn’t make any sense...no. No, he wasn’t even going to imagine it was real because it wasn’t possible. But he still didn’t quite feel up to making conversation just then. He looked at Wylan for a very long moment, expression softening a little. He was okay. He was actually okay, and even in Spook’s worst nightmare, he’d come through for him. It probably didn’t mean anything, but the thought warmed him anyway. “Do you have anything you want to talk about?” He asked quietly. His brain wasn’t working well enough to think of a topic himself.
Sweets listened, face growing more serious as Newt spoke. He was upset...of course he was. He had just watched people he cared for and most likely worried about die. He hesitated, unsure how to reply to that. It wasn’t at all what he had expected, after all, it wasn’t the simple thing he had assumed it would be. What was it, then? “No, you’re not losing your mind,” he said after a minute, frowning. “I don’t want to scare you, but we should probably get Sherlock to look at you. If it was a hallucination, they can be a symptom of much bigger problems, like…” He glanced af Newt, remembering where he was. “I mean. I’m sure it’s not a big deal or anything, you probably just need sleep, but...yeah, maybe seeing Sherlock wouldn’t be so bad?” Score: Sweets (0) Freaking Newt out (1). “Do you want to talk about it?” He added a moment later. “I mean...as a friend. Not a psychologist. Even if I can’t promise not to be psychologist-y a little sometimes.”
L blinked, startled to hear Zuko’s tone. A fight? When? In the last few second? He didn’t understand. He hated not understanding. He searched the Zuko’s expression, trying to understand. Zuko knew something, he had to...he had to know more than L did. And the detective wanted to just tell him they weren’t going anywhere until he understood what had happened, understood how this new scar had happened, why Zuko was suddenly half blind. But he breathed out, and nodded a little. That could wait until after they knew no one was hurt. Even if he couldn’t understand what had happened in the last few seconds to tell Zuko someone was in danger...or more than one person. “Was Orpheus hurt in the fight?” He asked suddenly, voice sharp. A fight he didn’t know about? Involving the others? The curiosity fell away, replaced by fear for the people he was closest to. He needed to know, before anything else. He hesitated, then shook his head a little. “No, it wasn’t there before. I’d have seen it.” He didn’t know what that meant, but it was the truth.
Kelsier listened, quietly watching Nico. “A dream?” He repeated quietly, and gave a small nod. Nico had had nightmares since the day they’d met, after all. It wasn’t knew to Kelsier to think he’d had one now. And it explained why he was upset enough not to make sure it was his dad he was visiting, and not a weapon. “A nightmare,” he corrected after a moment. He knew it was, he could tell. “Do you want do tell me about it?” He hated that Nico had them. Of course he did. But he didn’t hate that he was the person Nico went to afterwards. After everything...maybe Nico was right, maybe things had a chance of being okay.
Rue glanced at him, trying to tell whether he was joking. It sounded sort of like a joke, but with Hinata it was hard to be sure, sometimes. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” she replied, glancing at the plants she’d already gathered. “We have about enough now, I guess. We don’t want to take too much at a time. We should probably start heading back.” They weren’t very far from camp at least. Well within the boundary. She glanced at Hinata, then stood up and picked the bag up too. “Are you ready to head back?”
Kenma knew that a lot could happen behind a face. His expressions didn’t tend to be connected to what he was feeling very much…he always looked slightly bored. Sort of expressionless, actually. He didn’t mind Hunter not really reacting to him. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to come closer, but… Well. He might have had some idea, to be fair. But he wasn’t sure he really liked it. It just seemed like a pretty big coincidence if not. He didn’t say anything. He just looked down again, thinking. If Hunter was still alive…did that mean the others had made it? Or had Hunter just survived, like Kenma had hoped? Were the others…?
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 9, 2021 3:32:13 GMT -5
Other than the boys Juuzou had joined the group with, Orpheus thought he knew Juuzou best. He’d spent a significant amount of time talking to him, after all, and though he would never be as close with Juuzou as they boys he had arrived with, he knew enough to know that this wasn’t very characteristic of Juuzou. Tears were a common phenomenon, but Orpheus didn’t think he had ever seen Juuzou shed any. It had always seemed odd to him – odd, but impressive – that Juuzou had managed to stay cheerful in spite of everything that was happening. He didn’t think that was an act. Nobody could maintain an act for that long in front of that many people. Even L struggled sometimes, it seemed, keeping up the mask he must have worn when he needed to solve cases. “Hey,” Orpheus murmured, not daring to scoot any closer unless Juuzou approached first, “You have nothing you need to apologize for, okay? But… if you need to talk…” he shrugged a little bit, gesturing to himself. He would be there. He didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was couldn’t be that bad.
Noah held onto Ronan for just a few moments too long, half worried that Ronan would push him away and make some comment about how he was being sappy… he pulled back eventually, not wanting to cause Ronan any worry. He was by far the more physically affectionate between them, but long desperate hugs like that… those were foreign even to him. And he didn’t want Ronan reading into it, didn’t want to have to explain his nightmare. Explaining it might mean that Ronan thought Noah thought him capable of saying the sort of things he had said. Which… was confusing logic, but… Noah didn’t think Ronan thought those things. Actually, he thought Ronan was a pretty bad liar, and he wouldn’t lie to Noah about his fear. Maybe he wasn’t as brave as Ronan. Maybe he was the least brave here. But he was trying, and Ronan had always encouraged that, even when he was little and the scariest things he had ever faced were the bullies on the playground. He managed a smile as he pulled back, trying to hide that his hands were shaking. “Hi,” he said, voice hoarse, trying to come up with some reason to keep talking to Ronan. He didn’t want to be alone.
It didn't feel like a very good idea to just... let Varian walk off on his own. Not that Kaladin didn't trust him, and he was heading towards camp, but there was very obviously something that was bothering him, and there was enough going on at camp that sending Varian into the middle of it rambling about disappearing, or rambling about a cure didn't seem like a great idea. He knew there were already two people working on a cure - which was, honestly, amusing to him, as both seemed entirely unwilling to work together. If they were just willing to combine forces he was certain that finding a cure would be more likely, but Sherlock and L were hard to convince of anything. Both of them got on his nerves at times, but he didn't say anything. "Varian!" he called, falling into step behind him. "Why don't you tell me what happened? If you think you might know something about a cure, it might have someone to bounce thoughts off of first, right? Just so everyone knows exactly what you're talking about."
Wylan hesitated for a moment or two, the gears in his brain whirring as he tried to think of something – anything to say. His brain wasn’t working any better, it seemed. Then again… after where his mind had drifted, could anyone truly blame him? He thought he’d have to go talk to Sweets soon, though he had mostly avoided doing that. He didn’t really want to be psychoanalyzed, but perhaps daydreaming about your family killing each other warranted a little bit of psychoanalysis.
“Maybe we can just… walk in silence for a bit?” Wylan suggested, voice tight. Then, in a moment of either stupidity or bravery, he reached for Spook’s hand. If the other boy asked… he could just pretend that he missed his family, or something. He didn’t have to tell him what he thought he had imagined… the explosive pieces in his pocket were proof enough that what he thought might have happened hadn’t happened at all. He held one of the pieces in his fist, unintentionally squeezing it hard enough to draw blood. It shocked him back to reality, at least, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of the dream.
Newt stared at Sweets for a long moment, then gave a tiny nod. It was good to hear that he probably wasn’t losing his mind. Probably. He seemed to think it more likely than Sweets did. Unless… was hallucination a symptom of turning? If it was, wouldn’t Sweets have stated it outright? He swallowed the thought. He hadn’t been bitten. There was no way he was a zombie. “Bigger problems… like what?” Newt prompted, eyes narrowed. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear, but if something bad was happening to him… he needed to know. He needed to know what the possibilities were, because… the truth was, he didn’t think any of them could be worse than what he had just hallucinated. It still felt so real… the pain was gone, but he kept looking down and expecting to see blood staining the entire left side of his shirt. Did he want to talk about it…? He closed his eyes, then looked at Sweets. “We… thought we had been taken by another group, or something. We tried to explore to get out and… and we went through this door and…” his brow creased, and Newt did his best not to let his voice crack. This time, his best wasn’t good enough. “I’ve never felt anger or… or hatred like that. And it didn’t make sense, because I wanted to watch them all die, but whenever one of them did, it was like… it was like I remembered why I cared about them. I tried to tell Ronan, but…” he bit his lip, the moment replaying itself in his head. Ronan, stabbed and torn to the side, a shield against an attack Zuko wasn’t going to even attempt to withdraw from. They both could have died. They both… probably did.
There was something about L’s immediate concern for Orpheus that caused Zuko’s brow to raise. He knew they had travelled together for a while before they had joined the group… or created the group? It was hard to tell… but the fact that L had only asked about him… he shook away the thought. Whatever was going on there was none of his business, and there was more to worry about than just who L was most worried about. “No,” he said after a long moment, swallowing back the quaver in his voice. “He wasn’t there. I… I hurt Juuzou, pretty badly. And…” he squeezed his eyes shut, pacing a little bit as he tried to process the rest of it. “The rest died. Ronan, Newt, Nico, Noah, and… and Sal…” he wasn’t able to hide the intensity of his voice as he said the final name. “I need to make sure they’re… they’re okay.” He didn’t see how they could be, but he didn’t know how his own scar had healed up. Maybe… maybe they were okay too. He wasn’t used to being so uncertain. He didn’t like it. Life, for Zuko, was setting a goal and seeing it through as doggedly as possible, no matter how impossible it seemed. Not even knowing if most of his family was alive… there was no room for that in Zuko’s world. “Can we check on them? Please…?” He hated the note of desperation at the end, but he couldn’t undo it now.
Nico gave a small nod as Kelsier corrected him. A nightmare. There was no other word for it, except it hadn’t happened at night. Except he still wasn’t sure he had been asleep. “I was with… with my friends. You know who I mean, I think…” he trailed off, realizing that probably wasn’t the best way to start the explanation. There was so much more to it than that, and who he was with wasn’t really the important part. “You were right, in my dream,” he said after a long moment, risking a nervous glance in Kelsier’s direction. “That none of this is real. You were right, they… they weren’t real. They couldn’t be real.” He needed it to be a dream. He needed to believe he hadn’t just… teleported. Because that sounded an awful lot like Hades getting sick of the wait and wanting to mess with his mind a little bit quicker. “It… it felt so real…”
Hinata wasn’t joking, but… it didn’t really seem to matter. He had gathered a decent amount of the plant, though not nearly as much as Rue had. There was still plenty left for if they needed to come back to get more, and it would probably propagate a bit on its own, so… he looked up, giving a small nod and practically bouncing back to his feet. It was… harder to stay cheery when his mind kept drifting back to his daydream. He hadn’t liked seeing his friends like that. He hadn’t liked the feeling of hating them. Maybe he was just hungry. Didn’t people get cranky when they were hungry? “Can I carry some?” Hinata asked, doing his best to distract himself while also proving to Rue that he was present and helpful.
Hunter didn’t think any of it had actually happened. How could it have? He remembered dying. He remembered Kenma dying, and Kenma was right in front of him, very much alive. He did his best to shake the thought off. It had just been a bad… dream? Daydream? He wasn’t the type that usually had his head in the clouds. He liked being more in control than that. So much of his life was out of control that… that having control over his own thoughts seemed important. Still… he couldn’t get the feeling of Kenma’s blood out of his head. He had almost killed him. He could have killed him, if he’d let himself. But Kenma had trusted him with the knife, and he’d let him die instead of doing anything to save him… he hadn’t heard Juuzou coming. It wasn’t his fault, right? He pushed that thought away, too. It was his fault. Or it would have been, if it was real.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 9, 2021 13:47:08 GMT -5
Juuzou couldn’t seem to stop crying. Not that he was actually trying...why should he? Crying seemed like an appropriate response to what had just happened. Especially because it was all his fault, all of it...he had killed them all. He was sure he would have killed Sal too, if Nico hadn’t gotten there first. Noah. Sal. Nico. Newt. Ronan. Zuko. All dead. And Juuzou, left without even a wound to remember them by, unharmed by his actions. The tears came faster, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away this time, just let them fall. “No, you don’t understand. They’re all dead, and it’s my fault,” he managed to get the words out between the sobs, eyes searching Orpheus’ gentle ones almost desperately. “I killed them all. I...I killed them. I killed them all…” He wasn’t making sense, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t imagine bring himself to care when his family was all dead, and they’re blood had stained his hands not moments before. The whole situation made no sense, but it had happened. He was sure of it. He was sure it was much too real to have been a dream.
Ronan didn’t push Noah away. He couldn’t have. Not after what he’d just been through. He just held him, barely daring believe he was actually alive, even though he knew it was only a stupid nightmare and couldn’t be real. Until Noah backed off, anyway. And Ronan’s eyes landed on the scar that couldn’t be there. Wasn’t supposed to be there. He stared at it, eyes wide. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t want to admit it was really there, how could he? What was he supposed to say? Somehow ‘hey, did you just have a really specific nightmare where I yelled at you and then you cut your throat cut?’ Didn’t seem like a good plan. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, nerd,” he said after a pause. “You okay? I, uh...think you have something on your neck.” A dumb strategy. But maybe Noah couldn’t feel it, maybe Ronan had finally cracked and it was just another hallucination. Yeah. That made him feel so much better about this.
Varian looked up, then nodded a little without stopping. He didn’t need to stop walking to talk, did he? “I don’t know about a cure, but I think someone might,” he began, talking fast to keep up with his thoughts, or try to. “I disappeared and was somewhere else, right? And the people I asked about were there too, it was a living room with no windows. So we started exploring and we found a hall with endless doors, or...a lot of doors, way more than a normal person needs...not that I’m judging, it was just. A lot of doors. Anyway…” He broke off, unsure whether he wanted to continue. The bright look in his eye faded a little at the thought. He could still remember the hate pumping through his body. “So...we went through one,” he continued, voice a little more subdued. “And it was like...we all hated each other all of a sudden, and there were weapons, and everyone started trying to kill each other, and..they did it. I didn’t kill anyone, but I tried to. It was awful.” He forced himself past it as best he could. “I died. But now I’m not dead, and you didn’t see me go anywhere, so...teleportation, raising the dead, and time travel. Right?”
Spook wasn’t paying as much attention as he probably should have been, all things considered. He was trying to get his own thoughts under control, trying not to get completely swept under by the memories that were still as fresh as an open wound in his mind. He knew he probably should see Sweets, but he didn’t plan to. He didn’t want his mind being probed, his every word judged, conclusions jumped to...it felt a little too similar to what he felt like people did anyway. He blinked, surprise filling his eyes as he felt Wylan take his hand, but he didn’t pull away and he didn’t ask why. It felt nice...he wasn’t going to question it, not when it might make Wylan pull his hand back. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed quietly, searching Wylan’s eyes. For the first time, he noticed that the other boy looked stressed, too. Had either of them been upset a moment ago? He didn’t think so, but it was hard to remember what had actually happened a moment ago and what had been the...thing that he didn’t have an explanation for. He squeezed Wylan’s hand very lightly, hoping that that was the right thing to do.
Sweets knew he needed to tell Newt what it could mean. It didn’t mean he had to like it. “Brian tumors can cause hallucinations at times,” he said finally, trying to keep his voice steady. “And...late onset schizophrenia is a thing too. It can come on very suddenly, with no warning, but more commonly it has warning signs beforehand. Does your family have a history of schizophrenia?” He was worried. For him, that meant going full psychologist for the time being, trying to identify the problem before it got bigger. He paused, listening to Newt talk, his expression shifting a little as he did. “All that in the last couple of seconds?” He asked gently. It sounded...well. He wasn’t totally sure what it sounded like. Just that it didn’t sound good, “that does sound like a hallucination to me...or, not just one. Hallucinations don’t usually mess with time that way…” he frowned, thinking. “It sounds like...a dream. Maybe you blacked out for a second. Have you been sleeping okay?”
L didn’t intend to only ask about Orpheus...he was just the first person that jumped into his brain. It wasn’t too important now, anyway, Orpheus was okay and relief slipped through him for a moment before he got his brain back to the task at hand. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said after a moment, shaking his head,. “You didn’t go anywhere. I was right here, and you were fine and then you stumbled and missed me and that scar appeared. I don’t understand...this shouldn’t be possible.” But it had happened, and denying reality wouldn’t help anyone at all. He could tell Zuko was upset about it enough already. And he, too, wanted to make sure the others were okay. “Yes, I know approximately where everyone is, or was when we started,” he said, nodding a little. “Who do you want to check on first?” He needed to see this through. Even if he didn’t know exactly what ‘this’ was.
Kelsier listened quietly, tensing just a little at the words, “I see,” he murmured, and he didn’t look away. It didn’t shock him...he knew his own doubt would, of course, cause doubt for Nico too. How could they not? He was supposed to be a dad, unbreakable, something Nico could believe in, and look where they were. He was the one who had to reassure Kelsier. He was the one taking care of them both. It made Kelsier sad and angry all at once, not with Nico but with Hades. He shifted, leaning forward a little. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice soft and sincere. “I know why you dreamt that. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t take it away, but he could own up to it. “Just a dream. Just a vivid dream,” he said quietly. “Hell, you had enough of those before all this. I can’t imagine they’ve gotten better.”
Rue glanced at Hinata, unsure whether she should ask what was wrong again. He seemed a little bit off, but she wasn’t positive she wasn’t just imagining it, and he’d been fine a moment ago. If he wanted to talk, he would, right? She wouldn’t be helping by trying to make him. And they really did need to get these plants back. She handed some over for Hinata to carry, breathing out lightly. “Yeah. Thanks. We just need to bring these back to camp. And then I guess we’re done for the day.”
Kenma wished he had his games. He really wished he could just get out of his head for a while. Immerse himself in something else. He missed it, a lot…he really did. Instead he had to figure out how to cope with this on his own. He couldn’t avoid it. He could talk to Hunter, probably, but what good would that do? If it had happened, it had happened. They’d have to talk about it eventually, but Kenma thought he needed a minute first, and maybe Hunter did, too. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to die. Had Hunter survived afterwards? Had the knife been enough? He didn’t know. He glanced sideways at the other boy, searching his face, but it didn’t tell him anything more then what he already knew.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 9, 2021 15:13:16 GMT -5
Orpheus searched Juuzou’s expression, his own shifting into something between concern and confusion. He didn’t know who Juuzou was talking about, but he had seen Ronan and a few of the others just minutes before, so it couldn’t have been anyone in their group. Juuzou had never spoken much of his family before, so Orpheus figured he might have been referring to some of them? He frowned, considering. Would it make it worse to ask? Then again… he couldn’t understand or help if he didn’t know what Juuzou was talking about. Very lightly, Orpheus began to pluck a tune on his guitar, hoping that it might help Juuzou to breathe if there was a rhythm to breathe to. He kept it slow and steady, hoping it was enough to help, even a little bit. “You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to,” Orpheus murmured, hazel eyes catching on red. “But whoever’s dead…” he breathed out, wanting to find a way to say what he meant delicately, but he didn’t know if that was even possible. “We’ll figure it out, alright. But you can tell me what happened, if you want.” He knew Juuzou was capable of killing. He had seen him do it when they were being attacked, but… not to anyone he would feel guilty about.
Noah stared at Ronan for a long moment before fear crossed his expression and a hand moved towards his neck. A raised bump, spanning across the front of his throat. Oh… his hand was trembling when he pulled it away, and he thought he felt his legs threaten to give out. He managed to stay standing, eyes searching Ronan’s like he might be able to explain. It wasn’t that he expected Ronan to have all the answers, just that… when he didn’t, he tended to be certain about things anyway. And sometimes all Noah needed was to share in that certainty. Because he couldn’t have a scar, it was just a dream. Dreams didn’t leave scars, they just… didn’t. He breathed out, letting his hand fall back to his side. Maybe… maybe he was wrong about what it was. Maybe he had gotten something smeared on his neck? Without realizing it? He knew how flimsy of an excuse that was. Yet… “Yeah, I’m… okay,” he replied, but he never had been a very good liar. It wasn’t… exactly a lie. He was physically fine, except for the scar he had no explanation for. “I guess…” he frowned. He had no idea what to say about the scar. “It’s… probably from how I was sitting?”
Kaladin listened carefully, paling a bit as he heard Varian's description. It sounded like a dream. Actually, it sounded like exactly the sort of dream a mind like Varian's would concoct, except for the part about having to hurt people. Varian was far too gentle for that, even if he didn't seem that way at first. Or... perhaps gentle was the wrong word. He wasn't particularly gentle, but he did care about people, and Kaladin couldn't imagine him killing anyone. Or even wanting to kill anyone, for that matter. "Teleportation, time travel, and raising the dead," he repeated, brow raising. "Varian, you might have just fallen asleep temporarily. You can sleep without realizing it, when you haven't gotten enough sleep." He didn't want to share how he learned that from experience. "All I'm saying is that technology was a distant dream before things went wrong. There were people trying to figure it out, but nobody came even close. Without the backing of a scientific community, without people there to sell and supply machines and tools... I think it seems a little bit more likely that you just dreamed it." Kaladin didn't mean to shut Varian down, but he didn't want him to build himself a tower of hope and fling himself off it, only to realize there was no trampoline to catch him at the bottom. Kaladin knew what that was like, and he wanted to spare anyone he could that same fate. "I'm not saying it's not possible. I'm just saying that there are more likely possibilities."
Not talking wasn’t really something Wylan was used to. Oh, he could make himself small, invisible when he had to, but that was a very rare occurrence. He was used to being underestimated, but he wasn’t particularly used to being quiet except when ordered to. And he hadn’t been ordered to in a very long time. But now… there was something on his mind that he couldn’t share with Spook, and that hurt. They had grown close, since finding each other. Wylan didn’t like the feeling of keeping secrets from him, even when that secret was just a dream. Even though he had tried to keep the truth about himself secret for a long time.= So he just kept walking, hand in hand with Spook like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t as though it was the first time they had held hands. It might have been the first time they had done it when there wasn’t mortal danger at risk, but it wasn’t the first time. Wylan let his eyes close for just a moment, then tried to force a smile as he moved forward. It wasn’t as convincing as he would have liked it. “This is gonna sound really random,” Wylan murmured after a moment, free hand nervously running through his hair, “but I need you to know I wouldn’t hurt you. Intentionally, I mean. Ever. I wouldn’t do it, ever.”
“Right. Brain tumor… schizophrenia… nothing to worry about.” Newt’s voice was harder than he meant it to be, but it wasn’t directed at Sweets. Just… things were hard enough as it was without having to think about what, exactly, might be going wrong with him. Like the apocalypse wasn’t enough, they had to add on potentially serious health concerns, too. He could see why Sweets was worried. “I don’t… remember my family well enough to know,” he replied a few moments later, looking away. “I…” he hadn’t talked about his family much, and Sweets had respected that. His birth family didn’t matter much when he had a new family surrounding him, but… it was odd, realizing that he hadn’t actually thought about them in what felt like forever. He had gotten so used to not knowing. “I mean… I remember being taken, and I remember that I had a sister, but I don’t know my medical history or anything. I don’t think so, though.” “I’ve been sleeping fine, I guess,” Newt replied, hoping it was just that. “It’s not bloody easy to get a good night’s sleep with everything as it is.” Maybe it was all finally catching up with him. It was easier to believe he was sleep deprived than dying.
“I know,” Zuko replied, a little bit harshly. He took a step back a moment later, feeling the scar one more time before looking back up at L. “I just… it’s not possible, but it happened, okay?” It was frightening, not knowing how it had happened. Not even really knowing what had happened, because he had only been gone for an instant. A fight couldn’t have happened in that time, yet Zuko had proof that it had. It felt, almost, like reality was folding in on himself. Frightening. From the look on L’s face, the former detective seemed to agree. It was odd, Zuko thought rather distantly, that he hadn’t understood L at all when they had first met. That he hadn’t been able to read his expressions. He still couldn’t – not very easily at least – but he was getting a little bit better. “Sal.” The name was out before Zuko could stop it, but hopefully L wouldn’t read too much into it. He wanted to check on Sal because… well, because it would make more sense to check on Newt first, as he’d been the one who seemed to realize something was wrong, but… but he was most worried about Sal. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, the words uncharacteristic of him. He was trying. He was trying not only to be the man his uncle had been trying to raise him to be, but also trying to make up for snapping. L didn’t deserve that, he was just… trying to help.
“I don’t think it was your fault…” Nico replied softly. He didn’t know… he doubted he would have thought the others were fake if it weren’t for Kelsier believing it so strongly, but… he couldn’t blame his nightmares on Kelsier. Not when Kelsier had fought so hard to save him from them. “I just mean… don’t apologize.” His voice was small as he said it, and he curled his knees closer to his body. Kelsier had enough to be guilty about, he didn’t need to add Nico’s bad dreams to the list. “Sal… Sal tried to tell me it was real. Before everything went wrong. It was like… it was like there was something in everyone’s heads, in the dream. And there’s only one person I know who can mess with people like that.” He bit his lip, looking away from Kelsier and twisting his ring around and around his finger. “I killed Sal. I… I’ve never killed anyone directly, even in dreams, it… it felt so real, and I can’t stop seeing his face, or… or the way the others looked at me…”
Hinata gave a small nod at that. Done for the day. That sounded nice. They could do something fun afterwards, maybe! He flashed a grin at Rue, though it wasn’t quite as bright as his normal smiles were. For some reason, he didn’t know if he’d really be able to keep a conversation going at the moment. It was stupid, he thought, that he was being impacted by something that hadn’t even happened. Still… “I’ve been talking a lot,” he noted, which was unusually self-aware for him. “I heard you humming last time we went to get stuff! I liked it when you hummed. You can… do it now, if you want.”
Hunter had believed in magic for a very long time. He had thought there was a way to do the impossible, but… it wasn’t’ true. There were just zombies, and that was the closest to magic there was. He didn’t want any part in creating zombies, so he didn’t want any part in magic. For him to believe that what they had just gone through was real, he would have to admit that it was something like magic. That maybe he had been wrong. That there was a way for people to teleport, and that there was a way to bring people back to life… he wished there were books he could read about it, but it wasn’t as though they were anywhere near a library. He’d already exhausted Combeferre and Sherlock’s small stashes of books. “I never had friends,” Hunter said bluntly, not quite looking up at Kenma. He let his leg swing underneath him for a few moments, the words soaking up the silence. “But… now that I do… I’m glad you’re one of them.” His voice was tight as he said it – he wasn’t used to being that genuine about his feelings, but it felt warranted now.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 9, 2021 17:39:24 GMT -5
The music helped a bit. It didn’t come close to making him feel okay again, but it did help him breathe, and it did help the emotions fit in his heart better. This wasn’t at all like him, he was vaguely aware of that, but he didn’t care. It hurt so much, the loss...he couldn’t stop thinking about them all, dead on the floor from knives he’d thrown. And not accidental deaths, either. He had intended to hit them. He had wanted them to die. The rage he’d felt was distant now, inconsequential to the fact that he was responsible. He couldn’t stop seeing the blood on his skin, his hands covered in it. “I was just walking,” he said after a moment, wiping his face on his hand and looking at Orpheus, his expression intense and sad and scared all at once. “And then suddenly I was somewhere else, in a room. And...and Zuko and Ronan and Newt and Sal and Noah and Nico were there, too. We thought maybe we’d been taken by a stupid enemy group who didn’t separate us, so we went exploring and went through another door, and…” He sniffed again, the sobs threatening to smother him once again. “And something really bad happened. Everyone was angry and I was angry, too, and I didn’t like them anymore and...and I killed them all. They tried to stop me but I did it anyway. They’re all dead. They’re all dead now.”
Ronan didn’t flinch as Noah touched the scar, though he wanted to. He wanted to turn and run away and not deal with this. No...no, he didn’t want that at all. He wanted to demand to know where the hell Noah had gotten a scar like that. He wanted answers, right now. Noah didn’t have them, Ronan knew that, but...surely someone had to. From some people, Ronan might have believed this was a joke, somehow, just a sick joke being played on him, though he didn’t understand how it could be. And he didn’t believe Noah would do that to him. There was just no good explanation and Ronan hated it. He wanted to lie and say it was nothing, just how Noah had been sitting. He wanted to just laugh it off as a weird, unexplainable coincidence. But he knew he couldn’t really do that. Instead, he tugged his shirt up and looked at his side. A new, unexplained scar, right where Juuzou had stabbed him. He stared at it for a long moment before he let his shirt fall again and looked at Noah. “Sh(oops).” The word was more of a descriptor than an exclamation. “This is gonna sound crazy...but you didn’t have a nightmare a few minutes ago, did you?”
Varian hadn’t actually considered that he might have fallen asleep. It had been so real, and he hadn’t been asleep when he’d come back...he didn’t think he had. He would know if he’d fallen asleep, right? “No, see I was writing, and then I was still writing when I came back,” he pointed out. “If I fell asleep, wouldn’t I have stopped writing?” He glanced at Kaladin, searching his face for...well. He didn’t know what. Maybe he was just checking to see what Kaladin thought. He deflated just a little. But he didn’t stop walking. “It was so real, it had to have happened,” he added in a smaller voice. “Kaladin...if someone has a way to raise the dead, that’s basically a cure. I know we have two people trying to make a cure already, but what if they didn’t have to? I know it was real, I was there...and when we find the others, I’m sure they’ll back me up, okay? Just trust me on this.” He was so sure. He was so sure he was right, and though he was still a bit shaky from it, he was confident the rest of them were okay too. They’d back him up. They’d tell Kaladin what had happened.
Spook was very good at not talking. He was quiet and why by nature, he’d gained his name from how skittish he was. It was just...many things were terrifying. He didn’t mean to be quite as shy as he was, but...it was hard not to. It was hard to be brave. And now, when he could remember the feeling of Wylan’s hand going limp in his? When he could remember how it felt to try and kill him? Now he felt like silence might be the best solution there was. He didn’t let go of Wylan’s hand as they walked, and he didn’t break the silence. He felt like there was something missing, but he didn’t know for sure and he didn’t quite dare ask...he didn’t want to mess up the walk anymore than it already was. It was nice out, he noted, the weather was almost perfect, a light breeze tossing their hair back. He glanced at Wylan, surprised as he spoke, and even more surprised by what he said. He felt something in him soften a little at the words, and he gave a tiny nod, shoving the memories away as best he could. “I know,” he said softly, watching him closely. “I trust you. And I wouldn’t hurt you, either...no matter what.”
Sweets winced a little, though he knew he deserved that. He hadn’t explained it very well...at all. “Those are possibilities, yeah, but they shouldn’t be the first conclusion we jump to when it’s just as likely that you’re just a little sleep deprived,” he said after a moment. “Just like when the internet was a thing, you don’t google your symptoms and take the worst possible diagnosis from the results, or...people did, but they shouldn’t.” He listened, giving a small nod. He didn’t like having to ask, but he did need to know. If Newt’s family had a history of schizophrenia, this was going to be a lot more concerning of an issue. But Newt couldn’t really be expected to know. Without that information...maybe a check-up was in order. Just to be safe. “I don’t think you’re probably in immediate danger, if this is the first symptom you’ve had,” he added. “I still recommend you get checked, but that’s more of a precaution than anything else.”
L nodded a little distractedly, not quite noticing the anger, whether it was directed at him or not. He was trying to think of an answer that fit all the facts, and he was coming up empty handed. Nothing, he could think of nothing to explain this. The facts were that Zuko hadn’t had his scar a moment ago, and now he did, and he was claiming he’d had a fight he couldn’t have had, and the only explanation for that was that he had had a fight in the last few minutes somehow. Which wasn’t a possibility. His head was hurting a little. The only possible solution was that he was actually unconscious and this was a dream. Or that he was hallucinating. He didn’t know which was more likely. Well...if this was a dream, he supposed there was no harm in following it through. He didn’t like doing nothing, anyway. “Alright, come on, then,” he said, turning to go. He knew where Sal had been when they’d started...he might still be there. It only took a couple minutes to make it to where Sal was sitting, staring up at the sky, his expression blank. The book was still in his hands but he wasn’t paying it any attention, now. His bright blue hair was tied in his usual pigtails, untouched by the blood that had stained it not long ago, though he didn’t know that. L backed off a little, giving them space.
Kelsier nodded a little, looking away. He was sorry whether he said it or not, but he didn’t mention that. It wasn’t relevant just now. He wanted to come closer and hold Nico, but he didn’t know if that was okay, so he didn’t. He did give Nico his undivided attention, though, his eyes steady as he watched him. “Sounds like a bad one,” he murmured after Nico had stopped speaking. He knew it didn’t begin to cover it, he knew it couldn’t, but he said it anyway. “Maybe if you talk to the others? Would that help?” He continued, eyes searching Nico’s face. “When I’m...not me...it helps to find the people who believe in this. Who believe it’s real as strongly as I believe it’s not. Maybe if you talk to them, they can help the dream fade a little faster.”
Rue watched Hinata for a long moment, trying to decide whether he was okay. He seemed slightly subdued all of a sudden. She wasn’t sure why, or whether she could help, but she did get the sense something was wrong. “Are you…okay?” She asked finally, eyeing him. “You seem a little bit off. You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m pretty good at listening if you want to…” She didn’t want to push him, but she was pretty sure there really was something wrong. Somehow. She didn’t know why it had happened so fast.
Kenma had never believed in magic. He had never seen any reason to. He hadn’t believed in much, really…not at first. It was hard to believe in things. It was a lot easier to just go wherever life took you and deal with things as they came. But this has happened. Hadn’t it? He didn’t know what other options there were. And Hunter was acting strangely, too. Why would he feel the need to come over here if it hadn’t been real? He hesitated as Hunter spoke, glancing at him. His eyes widened a little as the other boy continued…friends. Hunter wasn’t generally the most open with his feelings. It suited Kenma just fine, most of the time. But he couldn’t help staring at Hunter for a long moment, trying to process the warmth he felt at the words. Finally he gave a small nod, looking down again. “I’m…glad, too.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 10, 2021 2:57:22 GMT -5
Orpheus wasn’t sure he could make it entirely okay. It seemed like Juuzou was dealing with a lot, and though music could certainly go a long way… it couldn’t fix grief. Orpheus knew that better than most. Music hadn’t saved Eurydice, even if it had helped save plenty of people after her. Sometimes he wondered if it even mattered if Eurydice wasn’t there to share it with. And then he looked around at the people he was with – he looked at L, and he knew there was a reason to keep moving forward. To keep playing, even when guilt about Eurydice threatened to drown him. But his situation wasn’t comparable with Juuzou’s. He was the reason Eurydice was gone, but there was a difference between that and her actively dying at his hands. To his grief addled mind there hadn’t been, but… he didn’t have to feel her blood on his fingers. All he had to do was carry the weight of her soul. “I just saw Ronan a few moments ago,” Orpheus murmured softly, holding Juuzou’s gaze. “And you had already left when I walked by him, so there’s no way you could have hurt him. And… you know, I think I might’ve seen Sal on my way out, too.” He hoped that was reassuring enough. “I think you might’ve just had a bad dream.” He reached over, very gently taking Juuzou’s hand. “How about this… you and I walk back to camp and double check that everyone’s okay. Maybe I can make you some hot chocolate or something until the bad feelings go away…?” It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Juuzou, just that it wasn’t possible for him to killed all of them within the past few minutes. And it seemed unlikely that Juuzou would kill them under any circumstances.
Noah’s eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked at Ronan, trying to read his expression. Trying to tell what was wrong, because there was something wrong. And it had to do with the scar across his neck, the feeling of a knife hard against it and then the feeling of nothing at all. It had to do with the words Ronan had thrown at him, the words that had hurt more than Juuzou’s knife ever could. Because if Ronan was looking at the mark on his neck – the scar… he wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He knew what it was. As much as he wanted to pretend it had just been the way he was sitting, he knew it wasn’t. That might make it red, but it wouldn’t cause a raised bump. And he distinctly felt the bump. And then Ronan lifted his shirt a little bit and Noah understood. Well… as much as he could understand. Noah’s death had been quick. With an injury like that… if Ronan had died, it had been slow and painful. Noah had lost consciousness almost instantly. Ronan must have spent agonizing minutes waiting for death. It was… safe to say that it wasn’t a dream. That what he had gone through he had really, actually gone through. He hated that thought. Hated to think how little he had trusted his family. Hated that Juuzou had killed him, hated most of all that some part of Ronan may have believed what he said. Noah gave a slow nod, searching Ronan’s expression. “I… did.” He lifted a hand back up to his neck. “I’m… sorry I was a coward.”
Kaladin wanted to trust Varian. He wanted to believe that there was a cure, that what Varian experienced really was some strange combination of technologies that didn't exist before. That he had no reason to believe existed now. But... if he believed that either Sherlock or L were going to be able to find a cure, why shouldn't he believe that there already was one? "Microsleeps," he said instead, frowning a little bit. "I don't know how likely it is, as I don't know how often you've been sleeping, but you don't realize you've fallen asleep, and they usually only last from a couple of seconds to a minute. It's possible that's what you experienced." That didn't, however, meant that Varian was entirely wrong. It just meant that they couldn't leap to the conclusion that there was a cure. They couldn't ask L and Sherlock to stop looking for one. "If you're right, Varian, then we can't just race after them," he said after a moment, though he knew if Varian was right that was exactly what he would want to do. "They're dangerous, if they have all of that technology at their disposal. We have to have some sort of plan." Kaladin hated plans, but he needed to be a good influence. He was fine taking those risks, but he couldn't let Varian spearhead them. He wouldn't let Varian be responsible for someone getting hurt.
Wylan knew Spook was used to being quiet. More often than not he talked enough for the two of them, even though he didn’t like spending time with people as much as some of the others did. Spook didn’t count as people, but not in the same way most people would have meant that. Spook didn’t count as people not because he was invisible, but because he was easy to be around. Easy to spend time with. It wasn’t as easy now as it usually was. There was something hanging between them, and even though Wylan knew it was just a stupid daydream, that didn’t stop it from stinging. He remembered what it was like to wrestle Spook for the bomb. He remembered being ready to blow them all away. He hated that feeling, the knowledge deep in his chest that he could kill his family, if he needed to. If, for some cursed reason, he ever wanted to. “I know,” Wylan echoed, squeezing Spook’s hand lightly. In his dream… in his dream, Spook could have hurt him. He had trusted him instead. Somehow, that mattered more to him than the fact that Juuzou had killed him. He didn’t think that Juuzou would ever intentionally kill him, he didn’t think that part of the daydream was realistic, but Spook trusting him despite hate… well, Wylan desperately wanted that to be true. “We should go find something nice to bring back. See if we can surprise the others.”
“But they’re possible,” Newt replied, looking straight at Sweets. That was all he needed to know. He wasn’t going to lose his head about it (not yet, at least), but if he was fully informed, then he could process it a little bit better. Prepare for the worst, in case it was more than sleep deprivation. Whatever it was… he hoped it stopped at hallucinations. What he was afraid of more than anything else was forgetting. He had already forgotten so much… it was Hades’ fault, he knew. Supposedly he had consented, but… he had been a child. He still was a child, technically speaking. He didn’t want to lose any more of himself. Perhaps that was what scared him most about the possibility of being bitten. His friends… his friends from before… they didn’t need to worry about that. “Did people really do that?” he asked, tilting his head. “It seems… stupid. Like they were probably getting themselves worried about something when they had no reason to be worried.” He frowned a little bit. He didn’t think anybody even had the technology to check him for anything like that, but he didn’t say it out loud. He knew, as well as Sweets did, that sometimes people just died of things that used to be treatable. It was how the world worked now, whether they liked it or not.
Zuko didn’t know that L thought it was a dream, but if he had… well, he wouldn’t have had an argument against it. He couldn’t prove that it was real, only that he felt it was. He knew why Nico had said the things he had to Sal. Zuko hadn’t been paying the two of them much attention at the time, but the room had been small. There had been plenty to overhear. Things he couldn’t have helped hearing, even if he’d actively been trying not to listen. Of course Nico had questioned whether any of them were real, especially with the anger flooding his head like it had everyone else’s. For years, anger had been Zuko’s defining emotion. It had pushed him forward, kept him going when nothing else was strong enough. He had fueled it, thrived on it, did everything he could to stoke the flames to keep it from ever burning out. He had been so convinced that the moment the anger died, he was going to die with it. And then he had met Sal, and suddenly there was something that could encourage him to keep going that wasn’t anger at the world, anger at Nico, anger at himself for not stopping the world from ending… there had been hope. A chance to build his own future, just like Iroh had tried to tell him. Perhahps he had needed to see for himself. Perhaps he had needed his time away from everything, even Iroh. Needed that moment with Sal, staring at Nico and deciding that he didn’t want to bring him to his father. Seeing Sal now… it almost felt like seeing a different person. He wasn’t sitting how Sal normally sat, the expression on his face wasn’t the least bit optimistic. It almost didn’t matter. It was far outweighed by the utter relief of seeing Sal alive again. Hesitantly, Zuko bridged the gap between them, only stopping once he was within earshot. He cleared his throat, gesturing towards the other side of the log. “Uh… may I?”
There was nothing Nico wanted more than to be held by Kelsier, but he didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t know where they stood, because they had never gotten to have that conversation. He had left when he did because… because he thought he would save Kelsier from pain. He had thought that Kelsier would find out who he was, and that he wouldn’t follow. Who would follow the boy who had wrecked the Earth? Who would follow the boy that had destroyed humanity? Kelsier, apparently. “It was bad,” he murmured, eyes glazing over a bit. Bad was the understatement of the year. It was hard, he knew now, so hard to tell the boundary between reality and something else. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he added after a long moment. He knew talking to the others might help, but he didn’t think he was ready, yet. “Maybe in a few hours.” He shifted, lifting his dark gaze to meet Kelsier’s. “Can I stay here for a bit?” His voice was tiny and uncertain, like he was half confident that Kel would turn him out.
Hinata tilted his head, somewhat surprised that Rue had been able to pick up on his change in mood. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was incredibly intuitive, though, and Hinata had never been good at hiding his feelings. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. “I just had a weird daydream,” he replied after a moment, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just… stressed, probably. Like we all are. I was serious about the humming by the way. You’re really good at music.” He wasn’t meaning to deflect, but he wanted to let her know that the offer had been serious.
Hunter didn’t think of himself as particularly close with anyone in the group. He hadn’t allowed himself to be close with any of them for the longest time, but… it had snuck up on him without him realizing it. These people… they were his friends. They were people he cared about, and though he never actually had the words to tell them that, he was grateful they were in his life. He wasn’t as outgoing as a lot of them, and though he cared more obviously than Kenma did, he always felt a little bit like an outsider. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. He tended to isolate himself. He tended to see himself as something ‘other,’ because what else was he supposed to be? He’d spent his entire childhood being ‘other.’ “I think everyone else… Hinata especially… says it more than me. But it’s true,” he added. He didn’t think Kenma had disbelieved him, but he wanted to clarify. Just in case.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 10, 2021 13:58:37 GMT -5
Juuzou looked at his hand as Orpheus took it, then up at his face, searching it. Was he right? Could it have just been a dream? He thought...he thought maybe it could have been, though he didn’t know how he’d fallen asleep while walking. But Orpheus looked so serious, and gentle, and Juuzou wanted to believe him. Believe that he hadn’t hurt anyone after all. “Okay,” he murmured, getting to his feet, Orpheus’ hand still clutched in his own. If he was right, then everyone was fine...he Juuzou needed that to be true. He couldn’t lose his family. He couldn’t...he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that it was his fault if he had. His knives, his hands that had done it. No. He needed Orpheus to be right. So he let himself believe it. “Just a dream, he repeated, letting the music soothe him. If that was all it was, he could let it go. Dreams were not his fault. Dreams didn’t impact reality. Dreams were only dreams, even when they were terrible, terrible dreams. He managed a tiny smile, wiping his tears away with his free hand. He felt a little better already, knowing it probably wasn’t real.
Ronan may have spent agonizing minutes before death, waiting for it, but he would do it all over again if he had to, to avoid losing Noah. That pain...that indescribable pain of loss...he would do anything to avoid that. Anything at all. Remembering had hurt. Losing Noah had been agony. He stared at him, not looking away even when he spoke. He didn’t flinch. He just stood there, processing those words It had been real. The awful nightmare he wanted to forget had been real. And Noah was apologizing for it. He moved without thinking, pulling Noah into another hug, this one even fiercer than the last. It was Ronan’s turn to be desperate. Ronan’s turn to hold on like his life depended on it. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered furiously after a moment, not letting go. “Don’t you dare apologize, Noah Czerny. You were dead. You were dead in that stupid nightmare. I watched you die..” He took a moment, breathing. He was honest, if nothing else. He didn’t tell lies. But he didn’t bare his soul either. Brutal, misplaced honesty and sarcastic asides were what he lived and breathed, not this...not this. But he’d almost lost Noah today. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. Not in a sarcastic, backhanded way. He really, actually meant it. “You’re not a coward. You’ve never been a coward once in your whole life. So don’t f(oops)ing apologize.”
Varian looked down. He didn’t want to think Kaladin was right...well, he did, a little, because then his friends wouldn’t have been hurt, but the technology that existed if it had really happened…he couldn’t ignore the excitement at the thought. The fact that, not only did a real cure exist, but so did time travel and teleportation...he needed to know how it was done. He needed to understand the science behind it. “But it felt so real…” he murmured...looking at the ground and they walked. Like it or not, Kaladin did have a point. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamt of something as amazing as this. Or even the first time he’d believed it was real for a little while afterwards. “Look...yeah, maybe. I admit it, it does sound like a dream, but...hypothetically speaking, if it wasn’t...Kal, I could save my dad.” He looked up, expression earnest. Kaladin had to understand. He had to understand how much this meant to Varian, outside of just the exciting scientific part. “Okay, yeah, no racing. Got it,” he added, nodding vigorously. Kaladin hadn’t said anything about sprinting. Or dashing.
Spook hated whatever was making this less easy. He couldn’t blame the daydream, because it had only happened to him and Wylan didn’t know about it, but he could tell there was something there...something that was picking at the gentle ease between them. He wanted to chase it off. The daydream had been bad enough, forcing him to see his family killing each other, forcing him to actually try and hurt Wylan...the thought was like twisting a dagger in his heart, because he knew, he knew he would never hurt him. Never. He wouldn’t hurt any of them, but the fact that the one he’d gone after had been Wylan hurt most of all. And yet...they’d made it. Or they hadn’t, not in the dream, and Wylan’s hand going limp in his would haunt him for a long, long time, but they were standing here now and the hatred was gone like it had never been there at all. And they had chosen trust. They had felt hate...and chosen each other. Spook couldn’t help feeling a glow of warmth in him at that thought, in spite of everything else. And couldn’t help feeling that even in his worst nightmare, he could trust Wylan, and even better, Wylan could trust him. He nodded distractedly, squeezing the other boy’s hand back, just a little. He was right, they could still make something out of this. Something good. “I know a place,” he murmured, shoving the dream away for what he hoped was the last time. “I found it wandering around. It’s a little...farther from camp than I was supposed to be…” he blushed a little at the confession, but hurried on. “They’re just wildflowers, but...they count as nice, I think.”
Sweets hesitated. But he knew he couldn’t lie to Newt. Newt deserved the truth, even if it wasn’t pretty. “They’re possible,” he said finally, looking away. “But they were possible before, too, Newt. It’s just...a little more pressing now, that’s all. Not a big deal just yet.” Consent wasn’t consent when you was a child. Sweets would never stop trying to convince Newt of that. It hadn’t been consent, not really. There should have been an adult there to help, to stop him from making that choice. He had deserved an adult there to protect him from Hades. Sweets wished he had been there. He could have done something. He could have at least stood between Newt and Hades and said he was the legal guardian and he refused to give his consent. Would it have been enough? He didn’t know...he didn’t know enough about Hades to know that. “Sometimes. I did it once or twice before I became the person people are supposed to ask,” he admitted ruefully, offering a small smile. “Thought I was dying a couple times. There’s cyanide in apple seeds and I was convinced I was poisoned when I found out. Stuff like that.”
Sal hadn’t moved since he’d gotten back. He hadn’t budged from his log, the book still rested open to the page he’d been reading...fairy tales, original ones. He looked at the sky, watching the clouds above him, no longer interested in the fate of Hansel and Gretel. He knew he should probably move...he knew he should get up and go back to camp, but he didn’t want to. The dream had been so real. He was used to vivid nightmares, they were far from uncommon, but still...this one had hit him pretty hard, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face anyone else just yet. It was that odd feeling of not wanting to be alone but not being sure how to face anyone else. He hated it...this wasn’t the first time he had experienced it by far. He didn’t give up, he kept an optimistic face to things, but sometimes it all felt too heavy. Just...so wrong. And not just when he had a migraine, sometimes it was unrelated to anything he was experiencing, it was just the way the world was. He knew there were plenty of reasons to feel that way. He knew he wasn’t the only one he felt like their soul just wasn’t quite aligned with their body sometimes. He’d talked about it with Zuko, a little, but he hadn’t quite talked about how deeply he felt like everything was just wrong, sometimes. The bad feeling. The deep sense that no matter what he did or said, it was the wrong choice…it was easy to isolate yourself when you felt that way, he knew too well. But loneliness cut deep, too. And then Zuko was there, and Sal looked over, torn from his musings. Zuko...how had he known? Did he know, or was he just coming to say hi? Either way, a grateful look flashed in Sal’s remaining blue eye, and he nodded, scooting over to make room on the comfortable part of the log. He saw L, in the background, out of earshot, though he didn’t know why he was there if he hadn’t planned to - His thoughts interrupted themselves abruptly, and he paused, searching Zuko’s face. “Your eye…” he murmured, worry chasing away his own thoughts in an instant. Forget his vague feeling of wrongness. Zuko had a scar over his eye, and Sal didn’t know how it could have gotten there and healed over already.
Kelsier nodded a little. Nico was more familiar with nightmares than he was, but then...he had been convinced that was all this was, a nightmare. He wasn’t going to make Nico leave. He didn’t want him to leave, truthfully, though he wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to. Still...he offered a tiny smile as Nico spoke. He hated that the nightmare had happened, but he was glad he could help, even just a little bit. That was all he wanted to do, really. Help. Make up for what he’d done. He had followed Nico, and he would do it again, if he had to. Maybe he’d be more careful not to get caught, more careful not to let Hades break him, but the following him part? Yeah, he’d do that again as many times as it took. He regretted only that he’d failed to protect him as well as he had needed to. He didn’t regret his actions for a moment, not when they’d helped. “Yeah, you can stay here as long as you want. You don’t have to ask me that,” he replied quietly, and hesitated, then shifted, raising his remaining arm. If he wanted to be held...if he didn’t want to be held, he could just ignore it. But the offer, impulsive though it was, was there.
Rue watched him closely, trying to figure out how to reply to that. He said he was fine, so…he probably was. She didn’t see what else could have happened. He’d been fine a second ago. “Right. Okay,” she replied, giving a small shrug. “Well…if you wanna talk about it, I can listen.” She hesitated at the mention of her humming. It was true that she liked to hum, sometimes, but she hadn’t really expected it to be something anyone else noticed. Especially Hinata, who usually seemed to be very distracted by everything else in general. “Thanks,” she said after a moment. “Music is really important to me.”
Kenma hadn’t ever been that open. He didn’t tend to speak his mind that much…he thought things, but they tended to stay in his head. He offered insight when he had to, and he answered people when they talked to him, but he didn’t tend to initiate it. Hunter didn’t seem the type to initiate very often either. He was more of a loner than a lot of the others were. Still…he was here now. He was trying to deal with this. Kenma wasn’t sure if he thought it was real or he was just trying to cope with what had just happened, but either way, he was here and Kenma wasn’t going to just ignore him. He looked up, meeting Hunter’s gaze for a long moment before he gave a small sigh. “Did you survive it?” He asked finally, his voice very quiet. “Did it work?”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 11, 2021 21:35:46 GMT -5
Orpheus gave Juuzou a small smile, hoping the words – and the music – were enough to help. He couldn’t undo the dream for Juuzou. He wasn’t even sure if Juuzou would want him to if he could. What he could do was make reality just a little bit more palatable, to bring Juuzou back to it and remind him that even if reality wasn’t always kind, it did tend to be kinder than the nightmares a person’s mind tended to concoct. In the real world, anything could happen. Hope was possible, because the future couldn’t be predicted. In the real world, if you were kind to someone, they had a chance of being kind to you. In dreams… it was almost like your own mind had hit the self-destruct button. Kindness begot cruelty. Your worst fears were picked at and laid bare until reality took you gently in its arms and soothed you when you woke. “Just a dream,” Orpheus confirmed, glancing down at their hands. It made playing harder, but he wasn’t going to let go if he was helping to ground Juuzou even a little bit. He tilted his head in the direction of camp, squeezing the boy’s hand before he turned his head and began walking towards it. Hopefully Juuzou would feel better when he saw his friends – and Orpheus had no doubt that they were still alive. It just wasn’t possible for Juuzou to have killed them within the last few minutes without anybody noticing.
Noah gave a soft gasp, letting Ronan pull him close, letting his own arms fold around Ronan’s like he was a life raft and they were in the middle of the ocean. He had been holding onto Ronan metaphorically for a very long time, but it was rare that he got to hang on literally. It just… made everything feel more real. Including the memory of backing away from Ronan. Hearing Ronan spitting words at him that he would never say. Feeling himself bump into Juuzou, a sharp feeling of cold, and then nothingness. He remembered being afraid, because anger for him… well, he didn’t feel it often. And when he did, it was often at Whelk. And when he thought of Whelk? Most of what he remembered was the fear. The closest thing Noah Czerny had to an enemy was Barrington Whelk, so it was no wonder that fear came back in a dream where he’d been forced to see his best friends as his mortal enemies. “Okay,” he whispered, nodding a little bit. He wanted to apologize. Wanted to make sure Ronan knew he was sorry for making him suffer. Noah bit his lip, barely refraining from blurting out the truth right then and there. That he thought he was going to die when he found Ronan. That he stayed with him anyway. That he felt okay, but every night he went to sleep he was terrified that he wouldn’t wake up as himself. But Ronan didn’t need that now. He didn’t need to grieve Noah before he was even gone. “I got lucky,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against Ronan’s shoulder. “I didn’t have to watch you get hurt.” Coward, a voice hissed inside him, and he knew it was right. He would rather make Ronan suffer that loss than experience it himself.
Kaladin watched Varian, a grim expression coming onto his features. He knew what a cure meant. He knew that time travel and teleportation could do a lot of good. But it could also do a lot of bad, if it got in the right hands. If it had been used to bring Varian and his friends somewhere where they killed each other… he was tempted to believe it was already in the wrong hands, and the best solution would be to just snuff out the people who had it and let the technology rot. They may have to contend with it again another time, but they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else getting hurt in the meantime. “I know,” he murmured, shaking his head just a little bit. “It would be pretty miraculous if it was real – and I know why you want it to be real. I could bring Tien back if that was the case, but… we have to be careful. If you’re right, Varian, then someone is already using this sort of technology to hurt people. If someone had already made it and we caught their attention somehow… then how is it that we don’t know a single person that’s been cured? We’ve run into a lot of strangers. Doesn’t it seem a bit unlikely that nobody else knows about it? All I’m saying is that… if it’s real… whoever has it isn’t likely to give it up.” Perhaps Kaladin’s worldview was just cynical. But cynical helped people. And if cynical saved Varian’s life… then he was just going to stand by it even stronger. “If it’s real,” he sighed, hand on the hilt of his sword, “I’ll help you.”
Wylan didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to think about the desperate moment where Spook had shoved the explosive at him because he was the one who knew how to use it. Because using it would kill him, but it would kill the others, too. He frowned, glancing down at his hand as he realized he was squeezing the parts tightly enough that they’d cut into his hand. He would need to get that bandaged before it could get infected, but he wasn’t too worried about it. It was a reminder that the real world was here, not the situation he had concocted in his head where Spook would try to kill him, even for a moment. “Oh,” he murmured, considering that and then shrugging softly. It worried him that Spook had gone further out than they were supposed to have been, but… he trusted Spook to take care of himself, and he had returned safe. That was enough for Wylan. Besides, they had made the rules themselves, so if Spook broke one, it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like rules were binding or anything, they were just there for safety. Wylan had broken enough rules on his own to judge Spook for breaking one. “No such thing as ‘just’ wildflowers,” Wylan replied, not letting go of Spook’s hand. “It should be safe if we’re together. And I want to see some flowers… I think everyone back at camp would probably enjoy it, too.” He looked ahead, trying to erase the dream from his mind. Just a dream. He was here, with Spook, and they were going to go get flowers to brighten everyone else’s day, and maybe when they got to camp he could offer a music night. They’d done it before, him playing flute while Orpheus and Sal joined in on the guitar… there was even the night that Sherlock had managed to find a violin. Did he still have that? Wylan hoped he did. Yes… that would get rid of the dream.
Newt frowned a little bit, searching Sweets’ expression. He knew it was possible. He knew that there had always been the chance of something going wrong, but it was still somehow more frightening to watch it actively happen to him. To not know, and to know that, if the world were normal, he would be able to go to a hospital and at least have a small chance of getting whatever it was fixed. But that wasn’t how this world worked, and as good as Combeferre and Kaladin were… neither had graduated med school. Kaladin had never actually gone to med school. And Sherlock was an option, but he was… not a doctor. Surprisingly effective, but decidedly not a doctor. Newt thought sometimes that he was just as likely to chop you up as bandage your wounds, at least if he could get a scientific discovery out of it. “I don’t get why people would do that,” Newt frowned, immediately snapping out of his thoughts. “Doesn’t that just… get really stressful?” He understood the impulse, though… thinking that you knew what was wrong with you was preferable to not knowing anything at all. “I guess… less stressful than getting sick now is, I bet.”
Zuko didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make this better, he just knew that his heart felt like it had come back to life, seeing Sal sitting there, his breath and the expression on his face marking him as alive. Zuko had died. He was here, now. He knew it was likely that the others had all come back, too, but he felt like he could breathe again, actually seeing it. Logically, he would go check on the others, too, make sure they were all alive, but… but he found he didn’t mind putting that off for a few minutes if it meant he got to spend a little bit of time with Sal. To make sure he was okay… he hadn’t seen how he died, he’d just seen the blood. He should have been looking. He should have been looking after him. Secretly, though… he was grateful that he hadn’t been closer to Sal. If it had been him right next to him, would Sal have died at his hands? It seemed likely, and it wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He already had Varian’s life on his conscience. Varian… Zuko supposed he should find him and apologize, but he hadn’t made sure Sal was okay. Really okay. He didn’t look okay. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, turning his face a little bit so Sal wouldn’t see the eye. “Are you alright?” he asked after a moment, the almost-sharpness of his voice an indicator of how much he cared. If he had the scar across his eye, did that mean that Sal actually died? It was… hard to tell what happened. He didn’t want to just ask in case it had only happened to him, but… if it had happened for all of them, he wanted to try to be there for Sal. Sal had been there for him countless times, and he had only been able to return the favor a handful. Zuko stared off in the distance for a long moment. At least the fact that other people kept mentioning it meant that he probably wasn’t losing his mind. The scar hadn’t been there before. They were quite the pair, the two of them. He glanced over at Sal, eye skating over the damage Sal bore. The proof that he was stronger than anyone else Zuko had ever met.
Nico didn’t know what he wanted. Well… he did. He wanted to go back in time and yelled at himself to just kill the men who were following him, to not run away, to make sure that Kelsier never got near Hades. He wanted to undo all of this, make it so it was just the two of them travelling again, make it so he didn’t have to be afraid of Kelsier ever again. Part of him didn’t even care if it meant he would never have met the other boys he considered family. That was the part of him that told him they weren’t real. You couldn’t lose something if you never had it to begin with. Nico glanced at Kelsier for a very long moment, then bridged the distance between the two of them, his head resting on Kelsier’s chest so he could feel his arm close around him. It was safe. He told himself it was safe, even if he didn’t know… even if part of him doubted that Kelsier even wanted him there. Even if he doubted that Kelsier even wanted him as a son. Was that part of what Kelsier had thought was real for so long? Was he going to realize now that he was recovering that Nico wasn’t worth it? He pushed the thought away, curling in tighter. “I’m scared of talking to any of the others,” he admitted after a moment, voice muffled. “I’m scared of what it means if the dream was right.” He would never admit fears like that to anyone else. He had kept them locked deep inside for as long as Kelsier was gone. Or… sometimes… he’d come to tell Kelsier his fears anyway, knowing it might aggravate him into attacking. Because he had been afraid he’d never get Kelsier back, and if he attacked? That was punishment enough for causing Kelsier this fate.
Hinata may have been easily distracted, but he paid good attention to the people around him. He could figure things out about people, though perhaps not as quickly as Kenma could. He was just… good at noticing things about people and connecting with them on the things they had in common. Hinata may not have listened to a lot of music before the apocalypse, but he could tell it was something that Rue liked. He could be interested in it, for her. She’d spent hours listening to his volleyball stories over the past few weeks, anyway. He probably owed her a few hours of just listening to her talk about what she wanted to talk about. Then again, Rue didn’t seem the type who wanted to ramble for hours. “You can tell,” he said after a moment, his smile growing more genuine. “In a different way from Orpheus. He doesn’t do anything without music, but… but you look happy when you hum. I like seeing what makes people happy.”
Hunter wasn’t sure he was capable of initiating friendly, open conversation. He was trying now, but… he wasn’t very good at it. It was sort of awkward, and he wasn’t confident and open enough to pull through it and make it a worthwhile experience. Not like some of the others could. He wasn’t a positive, happy person most of the time. He was astounded by the people who managed to stay that way after everything. He hadn’t even been that way before the world had turned to crap. “What?” Hunter asked, eyes snapping up to meet Kenma’s. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t let himself believe that any of it had been real, but… his brow furrowed and he looked away sharply, hand curling into a fist in his lap. “No. It didn’t work. Doesn’t matter, either. I was supposed to protect you with it, too. I didn’t even hear him coming…”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 12, 2021 21:17:56 GMT -5
The nightmare still wasn’t fading, but that was easily explained by how much Juuzou was thinking about it. He wasn’t going to forget this, he knew. If he’d wanted to forget it, he shouldn’t have let himself dwell on it in the first place. If he’d wanted to let it fade, he shouldn’t have let himself remember it in excruciating detail. But he had let himself and he had remembered, and now he would have to deal with it. He believed Orpheus that it was just a dream. He believed that he hadn’t killed them, and the relief that he felt at that was indescribable. He wanted nothing more than to drink hot chocolate and curl up with people who were alive and not angry with him, who he had never and would never hurt in any way. He followed Orpheus, his breath coming in quieter and gentler now. He hadn’t killed them. He hadn’t killed anyone, not for a while now. And though he had no qualms about killing to protect his family, it was a relief not to have to. He preferred to draw and go for walks and hang out with his family. For a boy who had lived surrounded by violence, causing it himself for ad long as he could remember...he was a peaceful person, by nature. Maybe that was what drew him to Orpheus, the most peaceful person he’d ever met. Maybe he liked seeing proof that it wasn’t wrong to prefer peace over violence, after all.
Ronan hated what he’d said in that room. Hated what he’d spat at Noah, when he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve those insults. And it wasn’t like Ronan was against insults in general, either. He spat them at people often enough, when they deserved them, but Noah? He was so careful not to even let his own aggressive personality cause harm, usually. Or...careful was the wrong word, but he tried, he tried so hard not to let his tongue burn his friend. Even his jokes were muted, because his jokes were harsh and sharp and even cruel, sometimes, though he didn’t mean them that way (usually). He knew Noah. He knew how to be himself without hurting him. Usually. He didn’t know the truth about the smudge on Noah’s cheek. He didn’t know what had happened, had never asked, because...because he didn’t even know there was anything to ask about. He didn’t know about Whelk...if he had...if he had, he might have gone after him. Might have left to track him down and give him a smudge, too. See if he lasted nearly as long as Noah had so far. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t thinking about the smudge, of Whelk, or anything but the dream that wasn’t a dream at all. Because he’d hurt Noah, really hurt him, and he felt as guilty as if he’d killed him himself. Juuzou...that meant Juuzou had killed him. Anger burned in his chest for a moment, but guilt won out before long. He could be angry later. Or not at all, since being angry meant he had to accept he was to blame for what he’d said. Then again...maybe he was to blame. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have to watch anyone get hurt,” he muttered, leaning back just enough to see Noah’s face. “And I’m fine. Dying sucked but it wasn’t really a big deal. I feel worse for the people who killed.”
Varian didn’t consider for even a moment that the technology might be better off destroyed. He he was a scientist, an inventor, a chemist...he didn’t destroy things he built them. And if something was actually built already? He needed to see it, understand how it worked. He wanted to find the person or people responsible for this and talk to them, ask them questions and have it explained in detail. That was what he wanted right now, more then anything. Destroying it...that was out of the question. At the mention of Tien, his face grew a little more serious, and he nodded. He wasn’t the only one who had lost someone...he was lucky not to have lost far more people. The way things were now, you lost people. He didn’t know anyone who hadn’t lost at least one person. “Maybe they don’t have to give it up. We don’t know that they meant to hurt anyone,” he pointed out finally, voice small. He knew from personal experience just how easy it was to hurt someone on accident, especially when inventing things. How many explosions had he accidentally caused with his experiments? How many times had his dad told him to stop being so careless? But it wasn’t carelessness, it was just...an occupational hazard. He gave Kaladin a warm smile as he agreed. “Thanks, Kal,” he said, and he meant it. “When we get to the others, I know they’ll back me up, and then we can figure out how to start looking for the people who built it, and talk to them about maybe tweaking the settings a little.”
Spook was doing his absolute best to get rid of the feeling of the dream in his head. He was fighting it, trying his hardest not to think about it, but...it wasn’t really working. He couldn’t help remembering the hatred in Wylan’s eyes. He he tried to only think about the fact that there had been trust, too, but it was hard to forget. It was hard to pick and choose what memories to keep, when trying to forget only made it that much harder. He wouldn’t hurt Wylan. He couldn’t ever hurt Wylan. He didn’t think he would be capable of such a thing. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he’d broken rules. Or...no, that wasn’t true. But he wasn’t thinking about that as much as he was the daydream. He hadn’t intended to break the rules when he’d left camp, he’d just...needed a moment. A moment that couldn’t be interrupted. And he couldn’t have that unless he was far away from everyone. He hadn’t planned to mention it to anyone, but Wylan was the exception. He could show Wylan without feeling like he was losing anything...he was actually gaining something, sharing this. He gave a small, soft smile as Wylan agreed. If they could get flowers, maybe that would help. If he could just chase the daydream away...then things would be alright, again. He’d be worried, of course. He always was. But...he’d feel a lot better if he could stop picturing himself stalking towards Wylan, death in his heart, He glanced down as the other boy did, following his gaze. His eyes caught on red, just a little bit, on his hand, and he paused, eyes instantly alert. “Wylan, your hand,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to meet the other boy’s. Worry glowed in them, bright and clear.
Sweets wished more than anything that he could bring Newt to a hospital and get him checked out. He wished he could have some tests done and, if there really was a concern, get it checked out and helped before it was a bigger problem. But,that wasn’t an option now. That was in the past, and the best Sweets could offer was hope and a visit to one of the two resident semi doctors or Sherlock, who was not even close to a doctor and mostly bragged about his vast intellect rather than did anything useful. None of which had any equipment. He’d never missed the way things had been before more than he did now. “Yeah, but not knowing was more stressful. And doctor visits were expensive, not to mention time consuming. I totally get he appeal, but no yeah you’re right, it isn’t smart. Wasn’t smart, anyway. At least you can’t freak yourself out with that, right?” A small comfort, but Sweets offered it anyway. It wasn’t like he could assure Newt that everything was fine. Even if he thought it probably was fine. “I guess so, yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. “Getting sick or hurt now is a lot more complicated, and that brings a lot of stress...which makes people sick. It’s a vicious cycle.”
Zuko cared so much. Sal knew he did, he saw it in every movement he made. And he had no idea how Zuko had known to come find him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d known about the nightmare, but he was grateful all the same. He didn’t yet know to be worried about Noah, or anyone else. He’d been the second person to die, he hadn’t seen the injury to Zuko’s eye happen. And how could it possibly have been real? It had been vivid, yes, it had felt extremely real, but actually real? That just didn’t make sense. So Sal didn’t even consider that it might be. He put his book down, closing it without bothering to mark the page. He’d been reading it mostly to get away from reality for a bit, and the dream had certainly accomplished that. Besides...he knew the ending, and he wasn’t really eager to actually read it, even if the kids did technically escape. They’d become killers first. He had enough of children being forced to kill in self defense to last several lifetimes already. He still felt like he’d just been killed. It was an uncomfortably helpless feeling, especially when Nico had been the one who’d done it. Nico...he was Sal’s friend. It was just another reason he couldn’t even consider it being real. Nico would never hurt him, never say those words to him. Unless he really did think everything was a hallucination, the way Kelsier did, but...no. No, he was overthinking this. The dream had shaken him, that was all. He needed to just shake it off the way he always did. He watched Zuko turn away a little, hiding the scar over his eye. Sal understand that urge well enough...he wished he had something to wear over his face sometimes. Even if he was getting better, slowly but surely, about believing the people who told him the scars didn’t make him hard to look at. He smiled a little, something warm blossoming inside him at the concern in Zuko’s voice. So he did know. Somehow. “I don’t know how you knew, but...yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered, meeting Zuko’s right eye with his left one. Both heavily scarred, and now both half blind...they made an interesting pair. They might even have one whole face, between the two of them. His expression turned a shade more serious a moment later. He couldn’t just not worry when Zuko had a scar he hadn’t had an hour ago. He almost pushed it, but he didn’t, not yet. Zuko didn’t have to explain if he didn’t want to.
Things hadn’t turned out the way Kelsier had planned. Not even close. He had never thought he would come to this, never thought he would question reality, never ever thought he would be the one to hurt his son. But he had, and he couldn’t even guarantee he wouldn’t again. The worst part...the worst part was that he couldn’t move on from the past. That he couldn’t beg Nico for forgiveness, couldn’t swear on his life never to hurt him again. The worst part was when he felt it coming and he couldn’t warn anyone. When he was between there and gone and he didn’t know what he would wake up to find next. Yes...losing himself was terrifying. And if it was bad for him, he could only imagine how bad it was for Nico. Watching him turn into an enemy, seeing him become a danger to everyone around him, how much did that hurt? He held Nico as the boy approached, held him as gently as possible. He could warn him if it stopped being safe, he told himself. Nico was close enough, he could warn him the second he felt it coming. Even just a passing doubt, a thought that wasn’t his, and he would tell Nico to get back and post a guard on him. He hadn’t ever managed to do it before, but he swore he would find a way this time, if he had to. “It was just a dream, okay?” He answered gently, not letting go. Nico could escape easily if he wanted to, but Kelsier needed him to feel held, in that moment. “But I understand why you’re scared. There’s no rush. You can hang out with me as long as you want to, they’ll be there when you’re ready.”
Rue wasn’t very good at talking about herself. She wasn’t very good at talking in general, actually. She didn’t mind it, though. She was actually touched that Hinata wanted to hear about what she was thinking, or listen to her talk to things that mattered to her. It made her feel a little bit more guilty for zoning out in the middle of his story. She’d have to work on not letting that happen again. Even if she didn’t really care about sports. She cared about Hinata, and that was enough. “I guess…music is probably my favorite thing,” she admitted, glancing up at him. “Not quite like Orpheus. But it is. And…I’m glad that it’s still around.” She offered a tiny smile. “Even the birds sing. They haven’t changed that much. I guess it doesn’t really affect them.”
Kenma could tell right away that he’d been right. Hunter remembered it. Because it had happened. Because they’d both been there, really been there. He almost reached up to touch his head where the blow had connected, but he didn’t. It didn’t matter now, because they were back, and Hunter wasn’t going to try again now. He wasn’t going to do anything. “Oh,” he said quietly, looking down again. So it had been for nothing. He hadn’t been able to save anyone. The words rang through his head again. I hate that about you. I hate that about you. You don’t even care. You’re not anyone’s friend. “That wasn’t why I gave it to you,” he added a moment later, studying the ground. “Just…do you know that.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 13, 2021 3:20:42 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t know all of Juuzou’s history, but he knew what the world was like. He knew you would be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t had to kill. Orpheus… hadn’t. He hadn’t even killed zombies, though it had almost cost him his life several times. He hadn’t known how to fight in the slightest before L had started teaching him how. It was, frankly, a miracle he was still alive. That wasn’t the point. The point was, Juuzou was good enough at fighting that Orpheus knew he must have had a history of bloodshed. But he couldn’t hold that against him, even if he wanted to. What someone did in the past, what they had to do to protect themselves and their family, or even just what they thought they had to do… it wasn’t nearly as black and white as it had been before the world had turned itself upside down. And Juuzou deserved a chance at peace. They had walked relatively far away from camp – it woulnd’t take more than a few minutes to get back, but… there was a little bit of space to talk, if Juuzou wanted. Orpheus purposefully kept quiet, wanting Juuzou to know that the air was clear and open for him if he wanted to speak. And if he didn’t, Orpheus wasn’t going to pressure him. He wasn’t really expecting Juuzou to say more about his dream, but if there was anything else the boy wanted to bring up… he would listen. “L found a couple of hot chocolate packs the other day that weren’t plundered yet. I think he might have tried to eat one without putting it in water, but there should be one left for you.” It was, perhaps, a bit warm for hot chocolate, but as far as Orpheus was concerned, hot chocolate could be – and should be – consumed year round.
Noah was familiar with Ronan’s sharp tongue, though it had rarely, if ever, been aimed at him. Maybe jokingly a few times, when Noah had done stupid things and Ronan had been encouraging him, but… not like in the dream. In the dream, the words had been pure rancor and vitriol. Then again, it seemed that the whole room could have been summed at that way. Noah didn’t get angry, but even he had felt it. He had felt it, and he was probably the least dangerous in their group. If it had impacted him that way… then he couldn’t imagine how it had impacted the others. The ones who knew how to fight and defend themselves and had never been hesitant to do so even when they weren’t angry. Noah flinched as he imagined fights between some of them lasting for minutes that seemed to drag on like hours. Hew as grateful that both he and Ronan had come back, then. It meant that the others were probably okay, too. Even if it was a dream. It had to be a dream, even if they had the scars. Maybe… he shook his head of the thought. He didn’t know anything about technology, and he didn’t want to presume. Noah rubbed at the smudge on his cheek, gaze searching Ronan’s as he leaned back. He didn’t want to pull away, but he also wanted to see Ronan. So many people called him hard, and though Noah couldn’t say they were entirely wrong, it was just because Ronan was very picky about his friends. Noah figured he could probably learn from Ronan in that respect. He hadn’t been picky enough. “Who killed?” Noah asked in a tiny voice, gaze locking on the scar that was now covered up by Ronan’s shirt. They had all made promises. It was frightening that something as simple as anger could shatter those. “Who killed you?” he added after a moment, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. Even if they couldn’t really be blamed… Noah had a feeling he was going to experience anger again very soon. It wouldn’t last, but it would be there. And maybe it wouldn’t even be towards whoever had killed Ronan. Maybe it would be towards whoever put them in that situation in the first place.
Kaladin knew what a major discovery time travel and teleportation could be. He knew that there was a lot they could do with that, things that would be easier if they had that kind of technology at their disposal. But in his mind, it was better that nobody have it than one person have it and be able to use it to hurt other people. Of course… he was just arrogant enough to believe that he could probably fight his way into having the technology for himself, if it came to it. The issue was that there was no way Varian would just let Kaladin go alone to collect it. He would want to talk to whoever developed it, try to figure out for himself how it worked, try to convince them to use it for good… Varian was a good kid, but a little bit too idealistic. Good. He was a kid, he deserved the chance to be idealistic. “No, we don’t,” Kaladin admitted after a long moment, biting back a comment about how putting people in a room and letting them hurt each other was harmful, and they probably could have put a stop to that before it got to the level Varian had described… they didn’t even know the technology was real. Kaladin wasn’t going to get his hopes up until Varian had incontrovertible proof. A warmth built in Kaladin’s chest at the nickname. It was enough to earn anyone else a brand-new stab wound, but for Varian… it just reminded Kaladin of home. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Varian was home, but he was the closest Kaladin had to family now. And he was going to move heaven and Earth to protect him, even if it meant he had to actually try to be rational and make good decisions. Who knew that pretending to be a good role model could actually maybe make you one… “I’m sure you’re right,” he added after a moment, ruffling Varian’s hair as he turned to make his way back towards camp. If Varian was right… then they were going to need a plan. And Kaladin was already starting to puzzle one out.
Spook was probably the most private person Wylan had ever met. They were both quiet, compared to most, but Wylan was more willing to break out of his shell than Spook was. He didn’t blame the other boy at all, it just… well, it meant he understood how much it must have meant to Spook to have a place that was just his own, where nobody else could reach him. He understood what it meant that Spook was actually willing to share that place with him. Maybe it was because he knew Wylan wouldn’t tell anyone, and he wouldn’t interrupt him there when he didn’t want to be interrupted. Maybe it was because he trusted Wylan, because the one thing that daydream had gotten right was that they trusted each other implicitly. That was what came of them spending so much time together, what came of them knowing each other better than anyone else did. Wylan trusted everyone who had been in that room, but he found it easier to trust Spook than the rest. Not that he was going to mention that now. “Hm?” He glanced over at Spook, tilting his head a little at the worry in his friend’s voice. It took him a moment to realize what he was talking about. The hand. Right. “It’s…” he hesitated, unable to bring himself to lie to Spook, at least about this. “I was stressed about something and I didn’t realize I…” he pulled out the explosive tools from his pocket, tapping lightly on the sharp corner. “I gripped it a bit too hard, I guess.” He blushed a little bit, hoping that Spook wouldn’t pursue his answer too much. If he asked… Wylan wouldn’t lie to him about the daydream. He just didn’t want to mention it, because it had come out of nowhere. And the last thing he wanted was for Spook to believe he didn’t trust him. “It’ll be okay,” he said after a moment, well aware how lame the answer sounded. “I’ll have Kaladin or Combeferre bandage it when we get back with flowers. It probably doesn’t even need that much.”
Perhaps the best thing about not remembering the way things were before was that there wasn’t a whole lot that Newt was capable of missing. He could miss things in theory. He could hear about concerts and movie theatres and he could be inside old venues, but he didn’t remember ever going to a concert or seeing a movie. He didn’t remember what it was like to come home and flip on the television or log onto the internet… was that even the right terminology? He just… didn’t remember much. The only things he really could miss were his parents. His sister. He remembered them sometimes, in dreams, but they always felt so far away… he didn’t’ know if they were still alive. He would never know. He shook the thought away, forcing a small smile as he looked over at Sweets. “I’m sure I’m fine. And honestly, I’ll probably be even more fine when I see my friends again. I think… getting close to people just means that you’re more afraid of what’s going to happen to them if you can’t protect them, right?” Perhaps there hadn’t been as big an emphasis on protection before the world had gone sour. “We’ll bounce back eventually. Maybe not all of us, but… humanity. And when we do they bloody well better get rid of that part of the internet. It sounds useless.” He cracked a smile, doing his best to make light of the situation. Humor wasn’t his strong suit, but he couldn’t think of much else now. And it seemed to be working, at least to distract him from what he had seen. Or… what he thought he had seen.
Zuko had always cared too much. It had been one of his father’s main criticisms of him, that he was too sensitive, that he put too much effort on other people instead of ambition, that he was never going to be as good as Azula. Azula, who would have been nice and at home in the room that had forced them to all kill each other. Would she have been able to take down Juuzou? Zuko shook the thought away. He had managed to avoid thinking about Azula for a very long time, and he didn’t have words for how grateful it made him feel to have a family that had never met Azula at all. Who hadn’t been influenced by her condescending Zuzus and the fact that she was better than him in every way that had mattered when they were children. Zuko, the boy whose only ‘good deed’ in the eyes of his father was letting him bring about the end of the world. It had been an accident, all of it. The betraying Nico. He had once assumed that his father’s attack on Hades’ factory had been an accident as well, but… he didn’t know anymore. He was fairly certain that Ozai had intended to attack, he just… didn’t know if he had suspected what the outcome would be. He had certainly been quick to take advantage of it. Zuko felt his hand ball into a fist, and he forced himself to relax, turning to get a better look at Sal. He didn’t want to think about his birth family when the family he had chosen was right there in front of him. Zuko had never considered that Sal might want to hide his face. The thought had never occurred to Zuko about his own, either. There wasn’t really the option to hide it, unless he managed to cover his whole face, and though he had done that for a time when he tried to help people without his family knowing… having things over his face was uncomfortable. And if people didn’t want to associate with him on the basis of his scar, he didn’t want them in his life anyway. And Sal… he knew, objectively, that his friend’s face wasn’t ‘normal.’ He had been through a lot, and it was a story that was written in a way that was more obvious than most. But it proved how strong Sal was. It proved that he could withstand so much more than other people could… no, Zuko couldn’t imagine Sal wanting to cover that up. Zuko could read everything wonderful about Sal in those scars, though he would have died before saying that out loud. “I… had a feeling,” Zuko replied after a long moment, his tone betraying just a note of awkwardness. “This… is going to sound crazy, but… did you experience something that shouldn’t have been possible?”
Nico wanted nothing more than to believe it was just a dream. But dreams usually went away after a while, and this one was just… refusing to fade. Which felt rather cruel of it. Then again, nightmares had a way of clinging long after they had faded from view. Nico tensed, half ready to get up and fight if one decided to appear now, while he was still awake. But nightmares – and doubts – weren’t things you could fight with a sword. Perhaps that was why Nico hated them both so much. Being held by Kelsier, pressed close enough that he could feel Kelsier’s heartbeats, felt safe. He knew it wasn’t, not really. He knew that Kelsier could slip at any minute, succumb to the unreality Hades had woven for him (or perhaps that he had unintentionally woven for himself), but Nico found he trusted him. That, and he didn’t want to move. He wanted to be held, wanted to be reassured, wanted… wanted to forget that the dream had ever happened. Forget that there might be a reason to doubt… Nico’s hand moved up to his chest, one hand pressed lightly to his heart. He could feel it beating. In the dream, it had stopped. If it had started again, that was a good sign, right? His hand slipped underneath his shirt, wanting to better feel the heartbeat and the warmth of his own chest to ground himself. To remind himself that he was alive, and he couldn’t be alive unless it was a dream or a hallucination of some sort. Unless Hades was there, messing with his head… he grit his teeth against the thought. His fingers brushed over something. Something that shouldn’t have been there, something that froze Nico almost entirely. No. No… it wasn’t possible. Nico took a sharp breath in, blinking like he could reset reality. He couldn’t. There, over his heart and scattered near it… were three scars. Three, knife-point shaped scars that hadn’t been there before. Nico was fairly certain he would have noticed.
Hinata knew that not everyone cared about volleyball the way he did. That was fine with him. Everyone had their own interests, and if it didn’t include volleyball… well, that was fine. The only thing that mattered to Hinata was that he believed everyone should have something they cared about as much as he cared about volleyball. He couldn’t imagine not having something he was passionate about to that degree. “I’m glad it’s still around, too,” Hinata noted, though he himself didn’t care too much about music. It made Rue happy, and it made Orpheus happy, and that was all that really mattered. Hinata couldn’t have his passion with the world how it was, but as long as other people were guaranteed what they cared about… “I talk about volleyball all the time. And… and sometimes I can even get Kenma to throw tosses for me. And sometimes other people play with us, even though they’re not as good as my team used to be. But… the point is, I’m glad you have something you’re passionate about still. You should share it with people more.”
Hunter looked away, knowing full well that Kenma remembered the way he had tried to kill him. The words he had spat at him. Words he had meant then, but words he didn’t truly believe. Kenma cared, it just… wasn’t in the same way as everyone else. And it had taken Hunter a while to see the way Kenma cared. He could see it now, though. He had been able to see it in the way Kenma pressed the knife into his hand. “I know,” he said after a long moment, pulling his knees close to his chest. “I… I didn’t get it, at first. I’m not sure I do now. But I was right next to you, I should’ve heard him coming. I should’ve at least been able to try to save you.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 13, 2021 22:59:31 GMT -5
Juuzou hadn’t discussed his past much, he knew. He hadn’t talked about his other family, the things he’d seen and done as long as he could remember being alive. He’d killed more people than he could name. Zombies, too, of course, but...real, breathing people. He didn’t exactly feel bad, not the way he knew some people would, but he didn’t like the thought of killing anyone else. He was built for violence, he killed effortlessly, he knew how far he could push a body before the most important part shattered, but he was not only built for that. The hands that had brought so much pain and death were the ones that now made art in the mud, built stick houses, found bugs and worms, searched for food for his family...they were stained with more blood than most, even now. But they were not only stained with blood. “Too bad,” he said, a little sadly as he walked hand in hand with Orpheus. It was grounding him, reminding him that he was here and not there. “You could have had some, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had hot chocolate. Or other chocolate, either. I know it’s real, though.” He hadn’t had a normal childhood. Candy was foreign to him, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. He liked the little bit he’d managed to find, and the little bit more he’d had while he was here. But never chocolate. “Sometimes I wish I was bad at killing.” He wasn’t sure what had sparked the comment, but it was there, now. Out in the open. He didn’t try to take it back. “Like you. You don’t kill anything.” He knew it was a selfish wish, and he didn’t mean it, not really. He wouldn’t even have admitted it to anyone else, most likely. But there was a part of him that did mean it. Maybe what he really meant was that he wished the world wasn’t the sort that meant killing was how you showed you cared.
Ronan was sharp, and dangerous, and deadly, and he looked the part. Even if he wasn’t quite as tall and broad shouldered as some...well, snakes didn’t have shoulders at all and people still tended to avoid those. And he was the human equivalent of a snake, at times. Not to Noah. Not to his best friend. He was protective, and fierce, but cruel to the people he loved? His family? Ronan Lynch had no space in his heart for casual friends, only family members, the people he would die for. There was no pleasant acquaintances, no one he barely knew but counted among his friends. Perhaps that was why he fought so hard for the people he did love. And he did love Noah, fiercely and unrestrainedly loved him. Which was why Noah’s death had hit him much, much harder than his own. Not that it mattered, when the same person had killed them both. He knew dreams. He knew dreams better than most, and this? This wasn’t a nightmare. Nightmares didn’t leave scars, and this one had left two so far, though he suspected it had left far more. Did they all have scars from their deaths? Most of them would be hard to tell on sight. Ronan wouldn’t have known about his for a while if he hadn’t checked specifically, and who would think to do that after a dream? He looked at Noah for a moment, eyes sharp and serious. “Zuko killed Varian,” he said finally, voice low. “Nico killed Sal. Juuzou killed everyone else.” He didn’t specify himself. He didn’t have to. He counted in everyone else and they both knew it. “Doesn’t matter. I tried to kill Zuko and Juuzou,” he added, voice quiet. “Would have if I could. It was just dumb luck, who happened to get a hit in.” He didn’t let go of Noah, not yet, even if he did lean back enough to scan his face. It was, perhaps, rare for him, not assigning blame. But the truth was...he didn’t want to believe he’d said those words to Noah. And he couldn’t blame anyone without accepting that he had.
The chance to use that technology, to understand how it worked...it was a scientific wonder, something only dreamt of, something he himself had poured hours of time and concentration into trying to figure out. He probably knew a lot more about than most people, consequently. He had a lot of experience behind him, even if they were all failures. He knew what didn’t work well enough. It was what did that continued to evade him. But maybe not for much longer. If he was right about what had happened (he was) then he had just come a whole lot closer to if than he’d imagined he would for years, if ever. Maybe someone had cracked it, somehow. If they had...if they had, he wanted to talk to them. He wanted to understand, did Kaladin realize how incredible this was? He was being cautious, Varian couldn’t blame him for that, but he knew he was right. He knew the others would back him up. And when they did, he’d be the first person to volunteer to try to find whoever had made it possible. He had nearly forgotten he’d actually been killed. And he wasn’t the only one. It was possible the others were a lot more upset than he was...but he just couldn’t stay upset when something as exciting as this had happened. He would die all over again if it meant getting to talk to this person, or people. Getting to have it explained to him. He didn’t know about the nickname. He’d just used it because it sounded good, and Kaladin had never told him to stop, so he hadn’t. He was a firm believer in assuming nothing was wrong unless expressly told otherwise, and Kaladin hadn’t seemed to mind it, so here they were. “I know I’m right,” he answered brightly, smiling a little as Kaladin ruffled his hair, even if he did duck away just a little. He had a reputation as a very important scientist, after all, he needed to keep up appearances and - “Butterfly!” He stopped dead, watching the tiny creature flutter off the flower he had accidentally just disturbed. He didn’t move for a long moment, his experience open and cheerful as he looked at it. “Ah, nature. You’d really think I’d be sick of it by now, but you just can’t get enough butterflies in your life, can you?” He shook his head and turned back towards camp. They were getting closer, now. He thought he could see people milling about just outside it.
Spook surprised himself a little with how readily he was willing to allow Wylan into his space. It wasn’t...the safest hideout, being further then he was supposed to go, but it was a good place to disappear to, when he chose. The fact that he was more than okay with sharing it...he didn’t know whether that was something Wylan had picked up on, but he hoped he had. He found it very hard to believe Wylan had no idea what it meant to him. They knew each other so well by now, it was very hard to believe that they could possibly have gone through what they had. And yet, he couldn’t shake it off. He couldn’t seem to forget the pain of fighting for the explosives. What he’d tried to do...no, he couldn’t think about that. He wouldn’t even imagine it. He trusted Wylan, trusted him completely, and he wouldn’t let a stupid daydream come close to convincing him otherwise. He hesitated, frowning a little as Wylan spoke, his eyes still latched onto the red. He didn’t like it - any injuries were bad news - and he was worried about what had stressed Wylan out so much he’d accidentally cut his hand, but he didn’t want to push...he didn’t want to just assume that it was anything he wanted to talk about, when he might not want to bring it up right now. Or ever. Which was perfectly fine, Spook was just...worried. “Hey...listen, you can talk to me if you want to. You know that, right?” He murmured, meeting Wylan’s eyes and squeezing his hand a little. He wasn’t going to press, and he wasn’t going to stop walking, but he needed him to know he was there. Especially after what he’d just been through...imagined. After what he’d just imagined, it hadn’t really happened. No matter how realistic it seemed.
Sweets missed how things used to be. He missed being obsessed with tv shows, and pizza, and having friends over. He missed the stupid things, the parts of his life he’d taken for granted. And his job and friends, of course. He missed doing things, going places, being a psychologist. He missed going to work, seeing his friends, meeting them for lunch, watching their relationships grow and change...yes, he missed the world, I’m a way Newt couldn’t. It was a blessing and curse all in one. He wouldn’t forget, even if he could. He wouldn’t lose those memories. But it did hurt, when he realized he would never be a real psychologist again, never meet Agent Booth or Doctor Brennan for lunch, never babysit for them...life was very different now. And he knew it wasn’t healthy to live in the past. Then again, doctors did make the worst patients. He nodded, shaking the thoughts off as best he could, as Newt spoke. “Exactly. Nothing serious,” he agreed, smiling a little at him. “Just let me know if it happens again, okay? Seeing your friends will probably do a lot of good.” He snorted a little at the last bit. “I can’t believe you want to shut down medical websites,” he joked back, shaking his head. “But yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. As a doctor, I can’t advocate for internet diagnoses. But as me, yeah, I see the appeal, and it isn’t totally bad. Sometimes people are right. Just not very often.”
Sal had never met Azula, and he didn’t want to. Zuko was his own person, completely separate from his sister. And if they’d been on good terms, then yes, of course Sal would have been interested in meeting her, but they weren’t and he didn’t see the need to bring it up. Zuko’s birth family wasn’t good, at all. Okay, maybe his mom had been alright, and his uncle was incredible if Zuko’s descriptions were any indication, but his father and sister seemed better left un-met. Sal didn’t know if he wished they were dead, exactly, but if their zombies were found...would he really feel that much regret? No. Especially not for Ozai. Ozai had hurt Zuko, badly, and he didn’t have his age to blame for it. If they ever ran into him, Sal would stand by Zuko, whatever he needed. He’d imagined the confrontation a few times now...imagined what he would say. Sometimes he thought it would be better not to say anything. Just...to be there. He wouldn’t want to talk to Ozai, he would want to make sure Zuko was okay, at any cost. But if Ozai hurt Zuko in any way? If he said one wrong word, tried to fight, killed him...Sal didn’t like conflict. He was a peacemaker by nature. But that was one situation where he didn’t doubt he would make sure Ozai never hurt anyone else, ever again. But it wasn’t likely to happen. It was a big world. They wouldn’t likely ever see Ozai, or Azula. Did Sal really want to hide his face? He thought he did, sometimes, but his family...his family was enough to make him wonder. They saw him for who he was. They saw his face and they didn’t flinch, they didn’t look at him like a monster, didn’t judge him for it. He was shy about his face, uncertain, he didn’t like the idea of being scary, but...maybe he didn’t need to cover it after all. Maybe the people who had given him the prosthetic in the first place had been wrong, or unhelpful. Maybe losing it wasn’t so bad. He blinked, watching Zuko for a moment. Hesitating, because he wasn’t sure the dream counted. It was perfectly possible to have a nightmare, even an extremely vivid one. But...if he meant...no, that wasn’t… “I had a nightmare,” he offered hesitantly after a moment. “Bad one. I guess that counts as experiencing something that isn’t possible, technically? But nothing else, no. Why, are...are you okay?”
It had to be a dream. It had to, because the alternative? It was too painful to consider. He couldn’t let himself believe that, he couldn’t let himself think for even a moment that they were still trapped, he had spent so long fighting to believe they were free, for Nico. No, they weren’t still trapped. They couldn’t be trapped, he trusted himself...and Nico...too much to let that be considered. Besides, Hades wouldn’t be nearly so careless. He would be more careful if he were still in control, he knew how dangerous the two of them were, especially together. No...Hades would separate them. Divide and conquer, that was his strategy, and it had been a good one, clearly. But now? This was Nico, Kelsier had no doubt about that, for the time being. He would again, but not now. So this was real. And they were free. He felt Nico stiffen and released him instantly, afraid he’d held him too tight or done something wrong, maybe. Had he held him too long? Had he said the wrong thing? He wished he knew where they stood now. He wished he could know what he should do, how far was too far. But he didn’t. So he would err on the side of caution, until he did. “Hey,” he said gently, pulling back to give him space. “Hey...look at me.” This dream must have really freaked him out, he thought, searching Nico’s frozen expression. “You can talk to me, if you want. Tell me what’s happening, because you’ve had bad dreams before. They’re never fun, but…” He shook his head a little. “They don’t usually spook you this much. Did something else happen?” It was all he could think of. Maybe someone else had said something, or...or there was a part of the dream he hadn’t mentioned. Or maybe he had just been an especially bad one. Kelsier wanted to be there for him, somehow, but he didn’t think he knew how this time. He didn’t know how much he was wanted this time.
Rue hesitated. Hinata was right, she knew. He couldn’t have the volleyball games he seemed to miss so much. He couldn’t ever become a professional at it. She may not have understood the appeal personally, but she knew it had been important to him, and probably still was, as much as it could be. And yet…he was still able to be cheerful and talk about it like there was any chance he’d ever be able to do it again. She didn’t understand how he did it. “I don’t know,” she replied softly, glancing back at the plants she was carrying. “I’m glad you get to talk about volleyball, I really am. But I don’t really know how to talk about music, I guess. I don’t know how to share it. I’ve never really had anyone to try and share it with before this group.”
It was easy to assume Kenma didn’t care. He seemed apathetic, most of the time. He didn’t act like he felt things as deeply as the others, he didn’t rush into things with his heart exposed. Not like the rest of them did. It also meant he could see where Hunter was going wrong, though. Of course he couldn’t have saved Kenma. The knife had been for him to save himself, anyway. It wasn’t fair for him to blame himself for a death that he hadn’t had anything to do with. “Then I’m sorry, too,” he said after a moment, looking up at Hunter again, his gaze steady. “I should have been able to save you, too.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 14, 2021 2:15:51 GMT -5
Orpheus knew he had gotten lucky. Or… maybe not lucky, but… he didn’t have to walk around with blood on his hands. Other than Eurydice. It was like he couldn’t forget about Eurydice. He didn’t want to forget about Eurydice, but sometimes… sometimes he wished the crushing guilt would subside. Sometimes he wished he could fully believe that he was going to find her again, that somehow, against all odds, things were going to be alright. This moment wasn’t about him, though. It was about making sure Juuzou was okay. Juuzou… well, Juuzou was very human, in Orpheus’ eyes. He had things he didn’t talk about, things in his past that he wanted to leave behind, like everyone else. Desires that he didn’t mention, that he stifled because they were impossible or silly… but he tried to do good. Orpheus saw him sometimes when he thought nobody else was looking. He saw him when he came back with food but ducked down to flip a pillbug back onto its legs so it could scuttle home. He’d first met him when he was outside doing his best to save worms that strayed just a little too far away from the grass when it rained. Juuzou might have blood on his hands, but he was also one of the most gentle people Orpheus had ever met. Once, he might have thought that the two were mutually exclusive, but the world no longer ran by the same rules. And, Orpheus figured, he likely was wrong to begin with, even when the world had been normal. “Well… maybe you could spare me a sip. Or I could persuade L to give me some. Either way… I’ve had hot chocolate before, so I won’t feel too bad if there’s not any left.” Orpheus gave a small smile, glancing over at Juuzou as they kept walking. And then he fell silent, Juuzou’s words hitting him. He was silent for a long moment, letting Juuzou’s words settle before speaking. “Being good or bad at it isn’t what matters, I think,” Orpheus managed after a moment, squeezing Juuzou’s hand. “I think it’s about whether you choose to do it, and if you do… why. I don’t know everything you’ve gone through, but… I know that you’re kind and gentle, and I’ve never seen you hurt anyone unless your family was in danger. I think you don’t cause harm for fun, and… in the end, that matters more than whether or not you’re actually able to. Maybe it even matters more.”
Noah flinched just a little bit as Ronan elaborated a bit on what had happened. It was difficult to imagine them all fighting each other, difficult to imagine them killing. What was it that had hit them so hard that they felt the need to hurt each other? It wouldn’t change how he thought of Nico or Zuko or even Juuzou, but… it would change how they interacted, at least for a while. Noah didn’t think you could kill someone, even temporarily, without there being some fall out from it. He didn’t want his family to fight. He didn’t want to impact them at all… maybe he would start wearing a scarf. Maybe if he did that, then only he and Ronan would know that it was real, and none of the others would find their scars for a very long time. And maybe when that happened, they could laugh it off, because it had been so long ago and they’d survived so much together between then and… Noah frowned, pulling close enough to Ronan that he could feel his heartbeat. Noah’s own had stabled out. It had been unpredictable for a while, when his body had been fighting the disease it still carried, but… but it was even now. Human. It was hard to believe that it had stopped, even for a moment. “It doesn’t count,” Noah decided softly, though he knew he had little say in it. He hadn’t been alive for most of the fighting. “None of it counts. Because wanted to kill everyone, too, and that’s… that’s not like me. So whatever happened, it didn’t count. It wasn’t real.” He didn’t care that they had the scars to prove that it had happened. What he was advocating for wasn’t’ really denial, because denial meant refusing to accept something that you had a part in. And maybe some people had killed wherever they’d been, but it wasn’t them. Not really, at least. “Still,” he managed softly, pulling back again to see Ronan’s face, “I’m glad you didn’t kill anyone.” He knew how hard Ronan would take that. The people he loved, dead. Not only that, but the people he loved, dead at his own hand. Noah was fairly certain that something like that would kill Ronan.
Kaladin knew what a breakthrough it would be if Varian actually managed to find people with that kind of technology. He knew how many people they could save. They could save everyone with time travel. And yet… would he sacrifice everything he had gained just to get back what he had lost? Looking at Varian, he wasn’t sure. But if they could bring everything back to normal, it wasn’t about him, not really. It was about Varian having his dad back again. It was about Ronan and Noah finding their friends, Orpheus never having lost the woman he loved. It was about Kelsier being fully himself again, with no scars from what he had gone through. It was about getting Tien back and getting to hold him and knowing that Tien had never hurt anyone, even unintentionally. What would Varian do, if he had that sort of technology? Would he go back to cure his father and leave it at that, or would he take the next logical leap and try to isolate the incident that had caused this all in the first place? Would he try to stop it from happening, save everyone who had gotten hurt…? There was plenty of time to worry about that later. He didn’t even know for sure that the technology existed, and if it did, he doubted that getting access to it would be as simple, or safe, as Varian seemed to think. Kaladin had never been cautious before, but it wasn’t just his life on the line this time. Like it or not, Kaladin loved the kid, and he would die before he let anything happen to him. He wasn’t going to fail Varian, not like he had failed Tien. Even if Varian hated him for protecting him… well, Kaladin had already faced that. He would do it again, if he had to. He didn’t have to worry about that for now, though. He gave a tiny smile as Varian ducked away, knowing full well that Varian didn’t mind. If he had, he would have said something. “Oh,” he whispered, eyes catching on the delicate creature. It was odd, how the world could still be beautiful now, even after so much had gone wrong. He watched it for a long moment, then looked up as Varian began to make his way back towards camp. He lingered just a moment longer until the butterfly flit away, probably bringing a moment of peace into some stranger’s life. “Varian,” Kaladin warned when they were just a few meters away, “If what you experienced was real, don’t forget that the others might be hurt. They may not be as excited as you are.”
Wylan was used to Spook disappearing, sometimes. He was used to the other boy needing his own space, but he had never followed him and he had never once even asked where he got off to. In fact, when people did ask, he was always ready with another topic of conversation, because it really wasn’t anyone else’s business where Spook went when he needed time alone. Wylan had certainly never expected to find himself invited to that safe space. It wasn’t his to be part of, until Spook had invited him. Wylan knew he still wouldn’t just… go there without Spook’s permission – Spook probably knew that, too. He probably knew Wylan was safe to tell for a number of reasons – and Wylan was going to do his very best to be worthy of that trust. He had been, in the nightmare. Daydream? Daymare? He didn’t know what to call it, only that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. He had trusted Spook in the end, he had believed in him as they had lain there hand in hand… but it hadn’t paid off. He almost reached to touch the area Juuzou had stabbed, but he refrained. He didn’t want to think about it, and he really didn’t want Spook to worry. Spook already seemed worried enough. “I know,” Wylan whispered, glancing back down at their hands. “The same goes for you, always. This time… it was just a weird bad dream. Nothing to worry about, really.” Now if only he could convince his mind of that, too. He was overthinking it, analyzing every decision he made, every last thing he could have done to make it better… would more of them be alive if he had listened to Newt and Varian at first? Would they have been able to convince Juuzou… he was squeezing Spook’s hand harder than he meant to be. He loosened his grip, his entire face coloring tomato-red as he blushed.
Newt wished he knew what the world had been like, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere by complaining that he didn’t know. The world was how it was, and it was the only world Newt knew. Longing for something that he couldn’t have, for something he’d probably had once but couldn’t remember… it wasn’t worth it. He was only nine when the world had ended, and he knew that a lot could change in seven years. He wasn’t the same person now as he had been when he was nine, and it wasn’t just because of the memory wipe. It was because he had learned things about the way the world worked, he had grown up and developed his own understanding of things. An understanding that would have been sorely out of place if the world were normal, but…he supposed that was just how things were now. If he was just a bit more used to it than some of the others… wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? Newt glanced at Sweets, understanding crossing his expression. He knew his opinion didn’t matter much, but Sweets was a real psychologist in his eyes, still. Even if there were no more degrees being handed out for psychology, even if there were no more institutions to hire him. If Sweets wanted to keep calling himself a shrink, Newt wasn’t going to say anything. Besides, he was surrounded by people who probably needed one. “Probably. I’ll… tell you if I have another hallucination.”
Zuko didn’t know that Sal had given his family any thought at all. Of course… he knew that nobody spent very much time around him without hearing him mention Iroh at least once, but Azula and Ozai… he didn’t tend to talk about them. They were a part of his past that he did his absolute best to hide, because… well, because it hurt. But Sal had known him when he still wanted to idolize Ozai. When he had excused everything that had been done to him, and all because he had wanted to go home. Before he knew how much Ozai had done to cause the situation the world found itself in. Sal had stood through him through all of that. Through realizing that his father had done bad things, to realizing that he didn’t need to appease his father to go home. Home wasn’t with his father and Azula anyway, it was with Sal. And later, it was with the group they had joined. He never thought he would end up finding a brother in the boy he had been ordered to bring back home. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Sal knew more about the bad part of Zuko’s family than almost anyone else in the world. The others all knew the basics. He still remembered sitting around the fire one night, none of them wanting to go to sleep, and story after story came out. That was… that was the first time Zuko had really been able to make peace with the fact that he wasn’t ever going home. And it was alright, because it wasn’t home anymore. When Zuko looked at Sal, he didn’t see someone to be afraid of. He had never seen Sal with the prosthetic, but if he had the option to wear one… Zuko would have told him just to do whatever made him comfortable. If he felt better hiding his face, then Zuko wasn’t going to stop him. Although… it would be much more difficult to imagine kissing him if he couldn’t see his lips. Which was not a thought he had just had, because it wasn’t helpful in any way, shape or form. “A nightmare,” he repeated, shoving off the thought as quickly as he could. What thought? There hadn’t been any thought. “Right.” He didn’t know if Sal’s ‘nightmare’ was the same thing he had experienced, and he didn’t think he could just… ask. “Scars take a really long time to heal,” he said instead, lifting a finger to lightly trace the one that had appeared over his eye. “But I didn’t have this a few minutes ago. I don’t… I don’t know if I’m okay. I don’t think I’m losing my mind, but I don’t…” he frowned, hating the uncertainty in his voice. He wasn’t the sort who let people knew when he was doubting things. Sal, it seemed, was the exception.
Nico tensed even more at the feeling of Kelsier moving away. Having him there had been grounding, had been a relief, had been… had been everything he’d been missing for the time when Kelsier hadn’t been himself. And now, while the world was falling apart, Nico felt he needed Kelsier more than ever. Because what he was feeling couldn’t be possible, if the world they were in was real. He had been here the whole time. It would have been easier to chalk up to a dream, except for the scars. Three of them, a tiny triangle over his heart. He didn’t… was that a hallucination, too? Or were the scars real? Had Hades hurt him and then needed some way to cover it up, or was he merely trying to make Nico think he had been hurt and betrayed by the people he thought were his family? They… they couldn’t be his family. They weren’t real. They weren’t real, or else he wouldn’t have those scars. Slowly, he managed to force his eyes to meet Kelsier’s, managed to turn his head just enough to see him. Though he had always been pale… he was paler now, his skin almost white as a sheet. “Dreams don’t leave scars,” he managed in a choked voice, pulling his shirt over his head so Kelsier could see them, red against his too-pale skin. Healed enough that he hadn’t felt them, but not quite yet faded to that familiar almost-white. “How… how can I have scars form Juuzou’s knives if they were never thrown at me? But… but I was here the whole time, you can’t just… teleport places…” his breath was coming in hard, his eyes wide and wild. He had fought so hard for so long not to even consider what Kelsier had believed. But now… now there wasn’t another explanation. Nico was vaguely aware that his whole body was shaking, but he was also aaware that there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had believed a lie for… for who knew how long? And worse, he had almost convinced Kelsier that the lie was true. He couldn’t… he could’ve gotten them both trapped here. Forever.
“I get it,” Hinata replied after a moment, though he hadn’t had the experience himself. It made sense to him, at least. He couldn’t imagine not having anyone to talk about volleyball with, but if he hadn’t spoken about it with anyone in a long time, he might not have known how without being annoying. He knew he tended to be annoying about it sometimes, but he trusted the people he was with now to tell him. If they did, he couldn’t guarantee that he would shut up entirely, but he would at least try not to annoy them so much with it. Maybe he would talk about it more with other people and make an effort to focus on the interests of the person he had been talking about it too much with. “You also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna. I just… know I would be really sad if I didn’t get to talk about volleyball, and you clearly like music as much as I like playing, so… so I wanted you to know it was okay. If you wanted to.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hunter returned, crossing his arms. He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t going attempt to take it back. He meant it. Kenma hadn’t been responsible for his death in the slightest. Kenma hadn’t been the one with the knife. He hadn’t had anything to defend himself with. He’d trusted that duty to Hunter, even if he hadn’t actually expected Hunter to save him. “You didn’t have any weapons. I know… I know you weren’t expecting me to stab Juuzou before he killed you, but I still should have been aware enough of where he was to do it. I mean… if I hadn’t…” he hunched his shoulders, rolling his eyes and setting them firmly on the ground once more. “You would’ve tried to do it yourself, if I hadn’t wandered over.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 14, 2021 16:54:02 GMT -5
Life before the apocalypse...it was a foreign thing to Juuzou. He knew it had happened, but his memories of it were vague. He knew people had had lives before, lives untouched by zombies and death. Now, that wasn’t possible anymore. Now they were all just doing their best, trying to deal with what they’d been given. No one had been dealt an easy hand anymore, even if they had once. You learned to survive, or you died. That was all there was to it. Maybe he hadn’t talked much about his past, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it didn’t matter, really, his past, when he had his future. What he’d been through didn’t define him. What he did, did. And he was doing his best. He tried. He really, really tried. The dream made him feel like it might not be enough. But he did try, he really did do his best. And maybe, if Orpheus could see that, it would be okay. Maybe the dream would fade, maybe he’d go get hot chocolate and see his friends and everything would be alright. He’d been hurt, after all, and he wasn’t hurt now. It seemed likely, far more likely, that Orpheus was right and he’d just gotten caught up in the dream. It would be fine. Everything would be fine, he just had to calm his nerves. It would be okay. “I can share,” he said seriously, as if that was the most serious thing they were talking about. It was, probably. The dream didn’t count, it was just a dream, nothing more. He had stopped crying, now, and he swung their hands as he walked, even if he was significantly shorter than Orpheus was. He still liked the feeling of movement. Hopefully Orpheus wouldn’t mind it. He fell silent a moment later, listening. “Maybe…” he murmured uncertainly, glancing at Orpheus and blinking slowly. “I still wish I wasn’t. Then I wouldn’t have to choose. But I wouldn’t be able to save people, either. So I guess it’s okay that I am good at it.” He sighed lightly. “I guess I’d rather be good at killing than let them die. Even if it means bad dreams.”
Seeing it first hand hadn’t made it any easier or believe, though at the time, Ronan had felt it, too. He had tried so hard to hurt the others, done his absolute best...he’d gotten lucky enough not to succeed, but still. He’d clearly done his own share of harm, mostly to Noah. If Juuzou hadn’t done it, would he have? He didn’t want to even think about that, no...that was too awful to consider. The thought of anyone in that room dead at his hand made him feel sick, the thought that he might have done it, probably would have...he wanted to find whoever was responsible and end them. He wanted to fight something, but he didn’t have anything to fight, he hated feeling helpless to protect...hated being the danger he would protect against. But, no, it wasn’t their fault. It was the damn place they’d ended up that had done it. It had poisoned them all, poisoned their feelings until they couldn’t recognize each other anymore. His fists clenched. He It didn’t even occur to him that they might be able to hide it. He couldn’t hide that...or he could, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Noah could hide his scar, and Ronan’s was already hidden but the others...they would figure it out on their own, probably already had. All they needed was to mention the dream. And Ronan knew a couple of them who would, even unprompted. No, hiding it was out of the question. They’d just need to work through it. Somehow. He needed to see the others. Needed to see if they were okay, because even if he and Noah was, that wasn’t a guarantee by any means. He looked away a little as Noah continued, and nodded. It wasn’t like Noah at all. It was...it was like Ronan. It was like Zuko, and Juuzou. Maybe even Nico...not Noah. Not Newt. Not Sal. Not Varian. And they’d all felt it, even if Newt and Varian had figured it out, tried to stop them at the end. They’d failed, he thought bitterly, to stop any of it, unless Zuko and Juuzou had decided to kiss and make up after Ronan had died. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, shrugging. His tone suggested he meant the opposite.
Varian wasn’t thinking about what he would lose, only what he stood to gain. He, and everyone else. Everyone, everyone they had lost...returned. He imagined them all being together, imagined introducing Kaladin to his dad, showing him the family he’d gained...imagined seeing Orpheus and the woman he’d loved returned to each other...imagined seeing Hades defeated as they all stormed the place...they could stop the whole apocalypse that way. Of course, there was the slight problem of never having met any of these people if the apocalypse hadn’t happened. And the fact that the time machine itself might not have ever been created without the apocalypse...that was why he would need to ask the creators how they’d dealt with changes to the past so far. That was also why he wasn’t willing to just take the technology and run. For one, if he’d made it, he would make a self destruct command so if the wrong people got it, he could shut it down. And also he knew from experience that not listening to the inventor about their own inventions never ended well. So he wasn’t on board with not talking. Oh he had ideas about getting it, and he didn’t think it would be as hard as Kaladin seemed to think. They’d reached out, after all. Maybe they’d reach out again! It was what he would do, assuming it had been intentional reaching out and not a glitch. He didn’t know what Kaladin was thinking. Didn’t know he was planning to protect him, because he didn’t yet see anything to be protected from. Sure, it hadn’t been great, but the technology itself was enough to make it worth it, right? He looked back as Kaladin spoke, blinking a little. He caught sight of the butterfly fluttering away, and he watched it for a long moment before looking back at the older survivor. “They’ve all lost people, too,” he answered after a moment, a small frown coming over his face. “It wasn’t exactly fun, but they’ll see what it means, right? They have to see what it means.” He looked back at camp. “Don’t worry,” he added, voice quieter. “They’ll understand. You did, and you weren’t even there. They’ll be excited. I know they will.” He nodded a little, determined, and kept moving. They’d be as excited as he was, he knew they would. If it meant getting everything they’d lost back? Everything? How could they not be as thrilled as he was?
It was the trust that Wylan had given him, the trust not only that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but that he could take care of himself, that he deserved his privacy, that he could make his own decisions...it was a combination of all of that that made Spook want to share this. He wasn’t being forced. He wasn’t being pressured. Wylan hadn’t even asked, Spook had just,,,decided, on his own. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he really did trust Wylan. Or maybe he just...felt like it, for no other reason than that he could, if he wanted to, share this. He took a breath as he walked, trying not to think about what he’d just imagined. For the number of times he’d told himself that now, he was beginning to think it wasn’t going to happen, but he needed to hope, didn’t he? He needed to keep trying. He was worried. Of course he was. He couldn’t help worrying about the people he cared about...he was not dancing around the word loved, he did love Wylan...and right now, in particular, it seemed his friend needed him. He was going to try his best to be there. He glanced at Wylan again, hazel searching blue. A bad dream? Had he been worried about that before the one Spook had had? He shook it off. It wasn’t a big deal, this wasn’t about him, it was about Wylan being so stressed that he’d accidentally cut his hand open. He didn’t make a sound as Wylan squeezed, harder than he had before. He just looked at him, narrow face softening a little, and squeezed back, though not nearly as hard. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly. They were getting closer to the place, but he wasn’t going to mention that, not when Wylan was upset.
Sweets knew he needed to accept that the world he’d known was gone now. He needed to accept that it wasn’t coming back, no matter how much he wanted it to. That world...it was one they all needed to grieve, alone with the people left behind. It was a loss. And any loss was tied to grief, even if it wasn’t a death. Which was why he let himself feel changed by it. He had been changed, they all had, by the way the world changed around them. It wasn’t a bad thing, it just was, and he knew how important it was not to fight it. Just to let it happen. He nodded a little, offering a small smile. “If it was even a hallucination. Microsleeps are a thing too,” he corrected. “If it was a hallucination, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Stress is high now, and it does a real number on the brain. So don’t freak out just yet, okay?” He couldn’t help it if he sounded like a psychologist. He was one, employed or not. He didn’t think he’d ever stop being one. It went a lot deeper than just...what his current job title was. Everyone’s job title was “alive” now, anyway. “But, yeah. Let me know. If we need to, we can go looking for some abandoned supplies. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.”
Sal hoped to meet Iroh someday. He thought he’d like him, really, and he wanted to thank him for all he’d done for Zuko. He didn’t know if it was even possible to meet him, though. He didn’t know where the Zuko would ever see him again either, which hurt. He knew it had to hurt Zuko, too, knowing just how uncertain things were. How big the world was, how hard it was to find people. Sal...he didn’t have anyone else to find. His father, his step mom, his step brother...his other friends...all dead. It was simpler in a way, simpler than knowing they might be out there but not knowing anything for sure. Simpler than wondering. He wasn’t sure it was simpler in a good way, though. Would he take a chance rather than closure? Sometimes...sometimes he thought he would. If only because then he stood the chance of meeting them again. But he had a family again, here. A family that was together, a family that wasn’t going to be torn apart, not of Sal had anything to say about it. Sal remembered that night, too. The night every story had come, every tale of pain that had led them all to the same place. It seemed that tragedy really did bring about joy, in the end. Not that he thought it was something okay, or even worth it, when he could have had everything without the pain, but...he was getting distracted. It was true that he wanted to hide his face, sometimes, but it was getting fewer and farther between. Zuko, especially, made him want to be seen, sometimes. His smile, though he still thought was probably hard to look at, seemed to make the other boy smile more, too, and he liked Zuko’s smile. There was nothing better than saying something and seeing it come out, as shy as its owner. Shy. A word maybe not a lot of people would apply to Zuko, but true, nonetheless. He just didn’t show it the way a lot of people did. He watched Zuko turn, looking at the scar, his eye widening a little. He knew the other boy was right. Scars like that...they didn’t just appear. He knew a lot about scars, and he knew they didn’t just heal overnight, and you tended to remember getting them. And if Zuko was right...which he was, Sal would have noticed...his hand moved to his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath his fingertips. It had taken seconds to die when it had been pierced. He hesitated, frowning as he felt something else, just under his shirt...a bump? That hadn’t been there before…. He tugged his shirt up, looking down at - oh. “I don’t think you’re losing your mind,” he said quietly. “Unless we both are. In my nightmare, I got stabbed in the heart, and…” he moved his fingers away, letting Zuko see the scar.
Kelsier was uncertain, nervous, unsure how close Nico wanted him. He didn’t like the feeling of not knowing, not knowing what he was allowed to do. If it were up to him, he’d hold Nico close and not let go until the pain subsided, but was that okay now? Did Nico even want him now? He’d come to him, but...maybe that was just habit, nothing more. He didn’t understand, really. He didn’t know what had spooked Nico...or he did, but he didn’t know how serious it was. He felt a stab of guilt. It was his fault, his delusions that made this so hard. The fact that the dream had hit Nico so hard...that was on Kelsier. And he couldn’t fix it, he didn’t know how to fix it, when he was still not quite himself all the time. He was getting better, slowly, but he still had a long, long way to go. And then Nico lifted his shirt, and Kel froze. Three scars...knife points. They had been thrown from behind, clearly. Nico had been killed from the back, not even facing his attacker...and the marks were here, clear as day, and very real. What possible explanation could that have? Accept the one he didn’t want to consider, the one that couldn’t be, because...because if it was...then they were still trapped. Hades had gotten to them both. Almost convinced them they were free only to tear it away at the last moment, yes...that sounded like Hades. That sounded exactly like Hades. No, no he didn’t want to just accept that. He pulled Nico close again, forgetting that he was dangerous, forgetting that Nico might not want him anymore. “Doesn’t mean we aren’t free,” he murmured, holding him. He only had one arm, but it was as protective a hug as he’d ever given. “Doesn’t mean we’re still trapped. I don’t believe that...I won’t stop fighting that. He’s broken me for too long to just go back to believing what he wants me to believe. And I won’t lose you that easily, I won’t let go, I won’t…” it hurt. It hurt so badly, his brain calmly informing him that he was still trapped, that he’d failed Nico. Failed to save him. He knew it was right, of course, even if they’d escaped, Nico had been the one to rescue him, not the other way around. But that didn’t make the pain subside. “Hey, Nico, look at me, okay? Look at me. We are not trapped. We escaped. We escaped, okay? I promise.”
Rue hadn’t expected Hinata to try and get to know her. She knew it wasn’t quite fair of her to think that, but she had, anyway. She just wasn’t used fo beef very seen. The boys all had each other, and she liked Will, she really did, but…she was quiet. And it wasn’t anyone else’s job to get her to talk, so most of the time, she just didn’t. It suited her just fine. She tended to observe. And being small and quiet did have its perks, now and then, when she could see the little human moments they all still had. She knew things. Things no one had told her. Things she probably wasn’t supposed to know, but things that were obvious, if you knew where to look. The point was, she was used to being behind the camera. She wasn’t sure she had a lot to contribute herself, “Thanks,” she said after a moment, giving a tiny nod. “I…appreciate it. But I do like hearing about your volleyball. Even if I don’t understand all the technical stuff.”
Kenma glanced up, surprised by the words. He was used to people being blunt with him, of course. His team had been very blunt, and there was a good portion of their group that didn’t mince words either. It was more that he’d expected it to go the other way. Hunter had said things back there things he probably wouldn’t have said otherwise, but even so, did that mean he didn’t think them? He looked down at his hands again. There was no trace of blood on them anymore, but it hasn’t been long. Had it been Nico’s blood alone, or had some of it been Noah’s? What about Hinata’s? “Three,” he said finally, his voice soft. He wasn’t good at this. He had to hope Hunter would be willing to hear him out.
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Apr 16, 2021 3:10:23 GMT -5
Orpheus was old enough to remember what life had been like before the apocalypse. He had been a teenager, he had friends, he had people he loved and cared about… he had gotten stranded in the United States, though, back when it had been called the United States. He wondered how much some of the younger members of their group really remembered. At some point… well, the apocalypse was all you knew. All you remembered. Orpheus remembered having other dreams, he remembered wanting to put his music out into the world, wanted to be heard… there were very few people left to hear him now, but he still found satisfaction in sharing his music with the people he loved. That was the sort of past that he had spoken about most with people his age. People older, who had managed to have lives and careers before the world had fallen apart. It was different, Orpheus had come to realize, when it came to children. People who were scarcely older than Orpheus himself had been when everything had gone wrong. He didn’t ask about their pasts, and there were few of them that spoke of it willingly. If Juuzou wanted to keep it to himself, that was fine with Orpheus. Nobody’s pasts could define them. Even before everyone was forced into having a history of loss and death… people could change. Orpheus had always firmly believed that you couldn’t define someone by what they had done, just what they were doing now. What they believed in, what they were trying to bring to the world. Juuzou was doing his best to bring good to the world, and Orpheus could tell. Whatever he was hiding in his past didn’t matter unless Juuzou wanted it to. “I’m sorry you have bad dreams,” Orpheus murmured softly, glancing at the ground. He didn’t mention that it would be difficult to find anyone who didn’t experience bad dreams. “But I think it’s probably a good thing that you’re able to defend yourself and the people you care about. Maybe… maybe you can think about it as being good at protecting the people you care about rather than being good at killing? I just mean… the same skill can be known as many different things.”
Noah wasn’t entirely certain how to deal with what had happened. It would have been so much easier if they could all just pretend that it hadn’t happened at all, but… maybe hiding it wasn’t the best way to deal with it. Maybe Noah needed to look right at Juuzou and say “Hi, I know you killed me, but it wasn’t really your fault, so we’re fine now. It’s not like the last time someone I thought was a friend tried to kill me.” No, he couldn’t just say that. It was different… was Noah the only one who had been betrayed by someone he thought was his best friend before? Was he the only one who knew the room was not only possible, but very, very real? His hand moved automatically up to his cheek. It wasn’t so much that he thought any of his family would willingly kill him, it was just… when you trusted someone with your life and they threw it away like it was nothing, it was hard to trust anyone else with the same… freedom. He trusted Ronan. He trusted Juuzou. He trusted Varian and Newt and Nico and Zuko and Sal. But it wasn’t as easy as it had been when he trusted Whelk. There was always that ‘what if’ lurking in the back of his mind. It was probably easier, he thought, that he hadn’t seen most of it. That he didn’t know what exactly had happened, only that it had given his friends scars that they didn’t deserve. And even if Juuzou had probably escaped without any, what sort of emotional scars might it leave? They were all alive, but Noah knew too well that alive didn’t necessarily mean ‘okay.’ And… ‘they were all alive’ was an assumption. He figured they all were because he and Ronan were, but that wasn’t necessarily true. “There’s Juuzou,” he murmured softly, pulling back enough to see away from their little camp. He was still mostly hugging Ronan, though – he didn’t know when he would be ready to let go, but that was probably going to have to be up to Ronan. It was a relief to see him alive. A relief to know that more than he and Ronan had made it out unscathed.
Varian was idealistic. Kaladin couldn’t blame him for that, couldn’t hold it against him. Actually… he could be happy about it. He could be grateful that a world like this hadn’t crushed Varian, hadn’t made him lose hope or belief that there might be some good to look forward to. It was hard, to be optimistic now. In the old world… in the old world, optimism was easy. If nothing bad had ever happened to you, you could just keep on believing that nothing ever would. It wasn’t like that here. There wasn’t a single person in the entire world who hadn’t experienced misfortune, and Kaladin firmly believed that the children experienced the worst of it. Oh, they were resilient, and they would bounce back just fine, but… they had never even gotten a chance at normal life. That was all adults talked about sometimes, Kaladin thought. What life had been like. He was scarcely older than Ronan and Noah were, he was younger even than Orpheus, but… he had gotten a taste of life. He didn’t know if that was more cruel than constantly being reminded of something you had never gotten the chance to have. Perhaps this all had just been hard on everyone. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Kaladin didn’t want to ruin Varian’s idealism. He didn’t want to take that away from him, not when everything else had been taken already. Not when he was the reason that Varian’s father couldn’t come back any way other than time travel. But… but people were unkind. They did things for themselves, and sometimes they helped people out. What that technology had done to Varian and his friends… that didn’t count as helping out. As far as Kaladin was concerned, it was an attack. It was a bunch of power-drunk people using their new technology to hurt people. No… not even. They were using it to hurt children. If Kaladin ever found them, he would have some choice words. Or maybe not even words. He would have a sword, and by the end of their… conversation… the people who had done this might not even have heads. “I think part of why I understand is because I wasn’t there,” Kaladin replied mildly, following about a step behind Varian so he could protect hm if anything attacked from behind. It wasn’t likely, but it was something Kaladin had gotten in the habit of doing. He had already lost Varian once, he wasn’t going to risk it happening again. “I don’t have any complicated emotions all tied up in it. Maybe they’ll be excited eventually, but I think they may need a little bit longer to recover from it than you did. Just a thought.” Kaladin didn’t know if he was right – he figured Sweets would probably know better than him, but… he was trying. Even if advice wasn’t really his strong suit.
You couldn’t survive very long in their situation without being able to take care of yourself. Wylan had struggled at first, thrust out into a world he had been told was cruel unless you knew exactly how to manipulate it. It had proven itself to be cruel, but not in the way Wylan had expected. He had been on his own for long enough when he had run into Spook, and though he hadn’t trusted him… he had to admit that he looked up to him. He was capable, world wise in a way Wylan could only hope to be. And he had helped Wylan figure out his place after the Crows had left him behind. They hadn’t meant to… they had thought him dead, and you can’t go back for the dead. That was the number one rule… a rule he was surprised his new crew – no, his family – had never mentioned. Spook’s soft way of squeezing Wylan’s hand brought a hint of a smile to his face, and though he was aware they were getting beyond where they were supposed to be, Wylan found he wasn’t really paying attention. He would rather pay attention to Spook, even if he didn’t’ have a clue whether he wanted to talk about it or not. He couldn’t exactly tell Spook he’d had a weird dream where they’d almost betrayed each other but hadn’t, quite… right? He didn’t’ want Spook to think he doubted him, because he really didn’t. “I don’t know,” he managed after a long moment, looking at the ground. “I don’t want to stress you out, too, because it was just a subconscious thing, you know? And I know someone like Sweets would read into it, but it’s really just a dream. It’s not something I think could ever actually happen.”
“Right,” Newt replied, obviously a little bit distracted. “Can you even dream when you microsleep?” He didn’t know if Sweets would know that. He was a psychologist, not a… was there even a name for sleep doctors? Were there even such things as sleep doctors? Newt pushed the question away, relegating it to the back of his mind. It didn’t really matter now how things were named before. If there had been doctors that studied sleep, they didn’t exist within their little group. It was odd, how a profession ceased to exist when there was nobody in a certain group that could practice it. In the old days… well, Newt knew well enough that their little group was very well equipped to solve a crime or help someone with a medical emergency, but they wouldn’t be very good at much else. He wasn’t sure exactly what Kelsier had done before, but he doubted it was a very useful skill now. “I’ll do my best to keep my head,” he said after a moment, trying to give Sweets a smile. He wondered if it had been easier, before, to tell someone that you didn’t know exactly what was wrong with them. But… what was easy or not before didn’t really matter now, so Newt pushed the thought away. “I think I got lucky,” he said abruptly, stopping to meet Sweets’ gaze. “In bumping into you. I don’t know if I’ve said that before.”
Zuko was grateful that he didn’t know if Iroh was alive. It meant he could imagine he was. It was… impossible to imagine Iroh dying. It was impossible to imagine him as a zombie. Iroh had always been so full of life… he thought if anyone could make a zombie human again, it was his uncle. But Zuko also knew that the world didn’t work like that. As wonderful as Iroh was, he wasn’t magic. He couldn’t do the impossible. So if he had turned… or if he had died… Zuko would never know. It was a painful thought. Azula would probably know. She and Ozai had kept an eye on Iroh. Zuko felt lucky that they hadn’t decided to keep an eye on him as well. Otherwise they almost certainly wouldn’t approve of how close he had gotten with a group of “common” people. It was odd, he thought, that his father thought he was still looking for Nico. He was never meant to find him, of course. Ozai probably thought that Hades had killed him or something. But… it was funny to think that he had technically done exactly as his father had asked. He had found Nico, and he would die before leaving him behind. Just as he would die before leaving any of his new family behind. Zuko wished sometimes that he could have met Sal’s family. That he could thank them for bringing someone so wonderful into the world. But… Sal hadn’t been as lucky as Zuko had been. His family… it was gone. Zuko wished sometimes that he could make some sort of deal with the universe to get Sal’s family back for him, but… that wasn’t possible, so he didn’t dwell on it for very long. If he couldn’t get Sal’s family back for him, he was just going to have to do his best to be part of Sal’s new family. Hopefully one that wouldn’t end quite as tragically. They were all pretty fierce. Even given what they had just gone through… he doubted it would be easy to get at any of them. If anyone so much as tried… they’d have seven angry and relentless others to get through first. But Zuko knew he was letting his mind wander to get away from facing the reality of the situation. It hadn’t been a dream. It would’ve been easier if it was, but Zuko hadn’t fallen asleep. He’d been sparring with L, and then he’d had a scar. He remembered getting it, even if what he remembered wasn’t physically possible in the amount of time it had taken. “Oh.” His voice was quiet, but still a little bit sharp. Well, at least they weren’t going insane. Or if they were, it was all three of them together. Imagining L going insane was as difficult as imagining Iroh as a zombie. Zuko’s hand moved forward and his fingertips dusted across the scar, his brow furrowing and expression darkening. Nico had done that. He knew that wasn’t fair. Nico didn’t have Sal’s blood on his hands anymore than Zuko himself had Varian’s. Because Varian had to be as alright as Sal was… right? Guilt shuddered through him, but he did his best to push it away. “I saw it,” he murmured softly, his hadn falling down to his side. “I saw Nico stab you.”
Nico vaguely felt himself trembling. He didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was that if they were still trapped – and that seemed to be the only logical explanation – it was his fault. If he had just run away that first night, it would have been fine. Nico might have still ended up here – that felt inevitable at this point – but Kelsier would have been free. Maybe he would have ended up meeting someone else to take in. Someone else to call him dad like they had a right to… Nico knew he didn’t. He felt tears burning at his eyes, but he did his best to push them away. He had been so certain that he was right and Kelsier was wrong, so certain that they had escaped. He remembered escaping. But if Hades could create all of this, then faking a few memories would be no big deal to him. Easy. Nico made a soft sound, almost a whimper, as Kelsier pulled him close again, but he didn’t fight it. He just curled a little bit closer, letting himself be safe with the one part of the entire world that felt right. He needed Kelsier. He didn’t deserve him, but he needed him. That was why he had fought so hard to get him back. All he had managed to do was lie to him for… for how long now? Was time even a reliable way to tell how long he had been trapped? He felt a couple of tears escape, warm on his cheeks. “What does it mean then,” he asked, clutching at the scars like they could give him some kind of answers. “Scars don’t just… just appear like that. I thought it was a dream, but I wasn’t asleep, and… and… and my father would… he wouldn’t hesitate to pit a bunch of people against each other and watch them kill each other for fun. Even better if seven of the people aren’t even real…” he was breathing hard, the words coming out in almost-gasps. Eventually, Nico lifted his gaze to meet Kelsier’s. He didn’t know what he would find there. For months he had been a stranger, or an enemy. At least… in Kelsier’s eyes. In Nico’s he was always Kelsier. He was always the man Nico had started to think of as ‘dad,’ though he didn’t know if that was alright anymore. He didn’t say anything similar now. He didn’t want to lose Kelsier. That was the one thing he was certain of. “Promise?” Nico echoed, shaking just a little bit harder. “I promised you that, but… but I was wrong. I was wrong about all of this…”
“In your defense,” Hinata allowed, a smile breaking across his face, “It’s probably not super easy to understand the technical stuff when it’s presented to you in terms of ‘BOOM’ and ‘WHOOSH’ and ‘kaPLOW’ and things like that. I mean… part of it is just that I don’t know all the technical terms in English. But most of it is that I used to talk about volleyball like that in Japanese, too. I guess I still do, when I talk to Kenma about it,” he gave a quiet laugh at that, trying to hide the way his expression stiffened just a little bit. He had heard Kenma try to stop him from going into the room, in his daydream. Had Kenma known what wasa going to happen, or was he just being cautious? Even if it was a daydream, Hinata felt the need to check if Kenma was okay. It was a good thing they were heading back towards camp… Hinata had never really been able to understand what other people meant when they needed to check that a dream wasn’t real. He knew, now.
Hunter knew what he had said. He would probably regret it for a while. He had said terrible things in the past, things he had meant, and other things he hadn’t meant. He had probably made people feel pretty bad before he’d truly come to understand what the world was like. But… he hadn’t said anything like that to the boys he’d come to see as family. He hadn’t even thought anything that cruel. There were times he wondered if Kenma cared, sure, but… he had never once thought of it as a bad thing. If anything, he’d considered Kenma a little bit more practical than the rest of them. He had a feeling that Kenma cared a lot more than he let on, though. If he didn’t care, he woudn’t still be with them. “Three?” Hunter echoed, pulled from his thoughts by the word. It hadn’t been what he had expected. “Three what?”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 16, 2021 20:03:05 GMT -5
Juuzou was fairly sure he counted as one of the younger members. Not the youngest, of course, but younger than the majority of the group was. Still...he didn’t long for the time they all seemed to miss so much. They talked about it an awful lot, but he hadn’t ever known a place without killing. Or, if he had. He didn’t remember it. A place where he didn’t have to fight to protect himself and everyone else, a place where he was safe, where he could watch tv (whatever that actually was) and eat snacks that he hadn’t scrounged up and divided evenly...no, he didn’t long for something he didn’t remember. He didn’t wish for a life he’d never lived. He was, for the most part, happy. Maybe not completely, but they had to admit that the apocalypse hadn’t invented death. People had died before the zombies became a problem. Bad things had always happened. Juuzou didn’t believe in letting them make him miserable, and he never had. Even when things had been much worse. “It’s okay. I don’t always have bad dreams,” he said, shaking his head a little. “Just sometimes. And not usually as bad as that one. It’s no big deal.” He considered that for a long moment, head tilted thoughtfully. “I think it’s really both, he said finally. “Because I’m good at killing, and good at protecting, but they aren’t always the same. I was very good at killing in my dream. And I know that wasn’t the part that didn’t make sense.” He fell silent. A moment later he brightened up and pointed. “Look! Ronan and Noah!” He exclaimed, quickening his pace a little. “They’re okay! It really was just a dream!” Even though he’d believed Orpheus, the relief he felt at knowing it was really a dream felt like a breath of fresh air.
Pretending it hadn’t happened would certainly have its perks. They wouldn’t have to talk about it, being the main one. And maybe, just maybe, they could convince themselves it hadn’t really happened at all, maybe Noah’s scar could be passed off as something they just hadn’t noticed. It was stupid, and Ronan wanted it. He wanted to forget it. But he wouldn’t let himself. He’d tried to kill them, as hard as he could, no holding back. He’d failed, but that was only a small consolation. He could easily have succeeded, if he’d been slightly less lucky. He watched Noah as he rubbed the smudge on his cheek, the way he did when he was nervous or upset, generally, though he did it absentmindedly sometimes, too. He didn’t know just how possible the room felt to Noah, because he didn’t know what had happened. But, truthfully...it wasn’t possible. There was no world where Ronan Lynch betrayed Noah Czerny. No matter what else had happened, no matter who else had in the past, Ronan never would. He didn’t say if, because he didn’t know. But he felt it. Ronan wouldn’t describe the room in detail. He was hardly a sensitive person by nature, but even he could tell Noah didn’t need that. He’d been upset enough to know who had killed. And though Ronan didn’t actually know whether Zuko had killed Juuzou or the other way around...well. He supposed that was something he’d find out soon enough. He turned, eyes narrowing just a little at the sight of Juuzou, unscathed. Juuzou and Orpheus, approaching camp. He moved a little closer to Noah, not quite letting go of him yet...for all his words, he felt a stab of anger towards the boy approaching. He’d killed Noah. How was Ronan supposed or just let that go? He’d never been good at letting anything go before, and Noah was alive, and Ronan knew it wasn’t Juuzou’s fault, not really, but a part of him didn’t care. He wanted to step in front of Noah and yell at Juuzou to go away. He could have. But he didn’t. He knew Noah wouldn’t thank him for it.
Instead of crushing Varian, the world had made him even more determined to find ways to help. He knew he couldn’t do as much fighting as some of the others, but he could help I’m so many other ways. He may have been fourteen, but he didn’t see why that meant it couldn’t look for a cure, too. He was, he thought, probably the best suited for the job. L was smart, sure, and Sherlock probably was too, but were they chemists? Nope. That was Varian. He’d been doing this since before it was necessary to the human race’s survival. He thought that should give him some credit, at least. They’d all been through a lot, not just him. He’d lost his dad, but Kaladin had lost his little brother, and that was partly Varian’s fault. He still couldn’t quite believe Kaladin could forgive him for that, when there might be a cure, someday. When Tien could maybe have come back, good as new. Varian felt guilt rise uncomfortably in his stomach, as it always did at the thought of what he’d done. He’d been angry, fine, but he’d hurt Tien. Maybe...maybe there was a reason other than his dad that he wanted a time machine. Maybe he wanted to undo his mistakes, too. Maybe he was idealistic. Maybe he wanted things to be true, so he believed they could be. It was how he had discovered things, how he didn’t give up, because if you believed there was something to find, you would keep looking until you found it. There was a reason he had made it as far as he had. Still...maybe Kaladin did have a point about the people. Varian didn’t want to assume they’d meant any harm, but he couldn’t just assume they hadn’t, either. Even if he wanted to believe the best of them. Probably because he wanted people to believe the best of him, too. He hoped they could just meet and talk things over. Varian didn’t answer right away. He tried to consider that, he really did, but he was having a hard time grasping how anyone could be anything but overjoyed at the thought of a cure, not to mention actual time travel. And teleportation was pretty okay too, even if that came second to the other two. “Yeah yeah, don’t worry,” he replied, though his tone was distracted and it was hard to tell if he’d really gotten all that. If giving advice wasn’t Kaladin’s strong suit, taking it really wasn’t Varian’s. He jogged ahead a little, speeding up to make it to camp faster. He couldn’t help it, he was too excited, this was huge.
When Spook had first met Wylan, he’d seen someone who didn’t quite see the world, the same way he did. Or, maybe someone who hadn’t experienced the same side of it. Someone who wasn’t used to living alone and fending completely for himself, even if he was far from helpless, even then. To be fair, Spook hadn’t exactly been the best at it, either. He hadn’t known how to fight, he’d only known how to run and hide, which had been enough but no more. They’d helped each other. Spook hadn’t felt like he’d belonged, before. He hadn’t really known how to feel that way, how to really, actually feel like he had a place in the world, until he’d met Wylan. They were getting close now. Spook recognized the place, and he could see the flowers beginning to spring up, though they weren’t quite as impressive as the ones he’d found at the place itself. He walked quietly for a long moment, his attention focused mostly on Wylan, though he was watching his surroundings, too. “I get that,” he murmured after a moment, glancing at Wylan. He considered mentioning what had just happened to him, but...he didn’t want to detract from Wylan at all. “I don’t know about psychology. Seems a little hard to parse out,” he admitted softly. “It makes a lot of sense when Sweets talks, but I can never figure it out on my own...the point is, I won’t read into it, if you do want to talk about it. I’m here.”
Sweets considered the question for a long moment, keeping up with Newt as he did. “I don’t know a lot about it,” he admitted, sounding a little bit like he wished he did. “But I don’t see why not. I mean, if you really are just overtired, and you fell asleep for a second, then having a dream doesn’t seem improbable.” He hoped he wasn’t giving Newt false hope, but he had to them didn’t he? He had to try to give what he could, and hope was something he could give. Besides, he wasn’t making any promises. Newt knew he couldn’t promise it wasn’t more serious, and he hadn’t asked him to. He was just making sure Newt didn’t leap to the wrong conclusion before there was enough evidence. That thought brought a tiny smile to his face. Dr. Brennan seemed to have worn off on him a little...here he was, warning people about leaping to conclusions before there were facts. He shook his head a little. He missed everyone, of course, but Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan especially. He’d been closest with them, after all. He blinked, torn from his thoughts by Newt’s comment, and he paused, eyes wide as he looked at the boy. “Yeah,” he said quietly after a moment, and he managed to smile back, though he didn’t think he could express what those words meant. Especially when he’d caught himself thinking about the past again...he needed to remember what he had now. He’d managed to meet Newt, for one thing. And that wasn’t something he would be willing to just...give up. “I guess we both got pretty lucky,” he finished the thought a little quieter. “Thanks Newt. That means a lot to me.”
Sal knew more about Zuko’s family than most outsiders did, though he wasn’t sure whether that was because he had just happened to meet him first, or because of something else. He was glad that Zuko had trusted him enough to tell him, even if it was just because he had met him when he was still trying to go home. Or...back to where he had once called home. Did he think of it as home anymore? Sal found he hoped he had found a home here instead, though he couldn’t actually blame him if he still thought of back there as home, too. It had been, for most of his life. It was an extraordinarily difficult thing, changing where you called home, though they’d all had to try their best to do it, now. Zuko had had to do it in a different, much harder way. He’d not only had to let go of his physical home, but his mental and emotional one, too. There was a reason the saying home is where the heart is existed...Zuko had been forced to decide whose destiny he wanted to fulfill. And he had been forced to lose a home when he did it. Sal was proud of Zuko for the decision he’d made. He’d chosen his own path, in spite of what Ozai had tried to do through him. And here he was. Was he happy? Sal hoped he was. Then again, what sort of question was that? Happy wasn’t a state of being. No one was just...happy. People felt all sorts of things. Still, Sal hoped that Zuko was generally happy with the way things had turned out. He deserved to be happy, to have good things happen to him. Even if he didn’t know it. They had all become a family, though...somehow, Sal found himself seeing Zuko a little differently than the others. It wasn’t better or worse, but it was different. He shook his head a little before that thought could get any further. That was decidedly not something relevant right now. Something had happened and Zuko was half blind, that was what mattered. He didn’t move as Zuko touched the scar, and he reached out, impulsively letting his fingers barely brush over Zuko’s. He wanted to know who had done it, he found, even if he couldn’t blame them for it. Even if he had felt the effects of the room too. He still wanted to know. He let his hand fall. “I know,” he breathed. “It...it wasn’t his fault. I don’t know what happened after that but...Zuko, who did this to you? I know it shouldn’t matter, but…” He shook his head a little. “Who killed you?” He whispered. If they weren’t insane, then someone had actually killed Zuko...Sal didn’t feel genuinely angry often, but he felt a flicker of it now. He let it fade. He knew it wasn’t their fault, whoever had done it, even if the thought of it hurt like a physical wound. He breathed out, letting his shirt cover the scar again. The evidence that they’d just experienced a real life nightmare. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it,” he murmured, looking away. “What other nightmares we’ve been in that might be real. It’s not possible, but neither is this. What if it’s just never left a scar before?”
There was no one else Kelsier would want to take in. No one who could replace Nico. No matter what had happened, no matter what, Kelsier would always have wanted Nico to stay. Would he have followed after that first night? Would he have followed before he really knew him? He couldn’t say for sure, but he thought he would have. He thought he would always have tracked him down, given the chance. Even newp fr he knew how much Nico deserved someone who loved him enough to follow. Nico had the most right anyone could have to call Kelsier ‘dad’. He knew he should consider that Nico was right, that he’d been right all this time. That this was all fake, like they were both still trapped. But the truth was that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to even imagine that. He couldn’t...he couldn’t let that be true. He didn’t want to give up. But he didn’t know which option was giving up, and what wasn’t. He hoped this was okay. He would let Nico go, if he wanted to, he wouldn’t hold him if he pulled away, but if he didn’t...then that meant this was okay, right? If he let Kelsier hold him, if he didn’t back off...did that mean they were okay, somehow? Could it mean that? He was overthinking it, he knew. Or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he was holding Nico, and he thought maybe it was going to be okay. And it hurt. It hurt that he was managing to feel that way when Nico was hurting like this. He looked at the scars again, his expression serious. “I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly after a moment, hating that more than he had words for. “I don’t know what it means. But just because something explains something, doesn’t mean it’s true. And I won’t accept that we’re trapped. For one thing, would Hades let us see each other like this? He separated us for a reason. Why would he just let us back together now?” He held Nico’s gaze. He needed to help, and he didn’t know how. This was what it had been like for Nico, then. Except much, much worse, because Kelsier had decided Nico was the enemy, and he hadn’t trusted him. He hadn’t even talked to him, except to spit insults. No, this wasn’t what Nico had gone through. It never would be, he hoped. “Am i real, then?” He asked gently. “Nico? Am I real?” He needed to know how convinced Nico was, and that was the best place to start, he knew. He needed Nico to say yes. That was all.
Rue gave a small, unexpected laugh at that. Hinata had a point. She didn’t really think he’d ever gone into much of the technical stuff…he was more into the exciting parts. The stuff that made the game feel as intense as he said it did. She didn’t think she’d have liked it, much. She’d always been more inclined to do things that didn’t call that much attention to her, things like singing when she was alone, and watching the birds, and watching other things, too. Even if it was a little bit lonely sometimes, it was…comfortable. He still looked a little bit…off. She couldn’t tell for sure if she was right, or if she was just in her own head too much, but whatever the daydream was, it must have been rough for him to keep thinking about it, “You know…” she said quietly after a moment, unsure how helpful she was actually being. “Sometimes my brain makes me think about scary stuff, even when I’m feeling okay otherwise. I don’t know if your daydream was scary, but if it was…it’s okay. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
Kenma was probably one of the more practical boys in their group. He didn’t rush into things head first…even when there was a lot riding on it. Even when someone was in danger, he didn’t tend to react by being reckless, as the others seemed to. And it was true that he didn’t feel all that strongly about most things…he wasn’t a very passionate person. He didn’t think it was in his nature. It didn’t mean he didn’t care, though. “Three,” he repeated, glancing up to meet Hunter’s eyes, his gaze steady. “I don’t think anyone else saw, but…Juuzou threw three knives at Nico. When I got there, I used one to threaten you, but that one spun away when I fell. Then I gave the second one to you. But there were three, Hunter. I could have taken the third one for myself. I could have been armed, too.”
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