[ She sits down carefully in the dirt next to him, leaned up against the tree's trunk. It's funny; she's already starting to get a sense of him, she thinks, despite the halting and tangential nature of their conversation.
She can't help but smile a little. ]
I'm okay. It's... changes. [ She briefly considers leaving it at that. ] The Fog... She has to get all the nanites out of me, I guess.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - (What are nanintes? Are we supposed to know? We do not know nanites.)
“I’m from Revachol. Also Earth, but we call it Elysium sometimes…as a term of endearment. I’ve heard of Japan. That’s the Earth with France and…Ital? Where they speak Italian.”
He points at his mouth. He’s perked up. The Earth so many people are from interests Harry. A world undivided by Pale. It sounds like it should be a world without borders too.
“Apparently I’m speaking France language. But we don’t have France. To me I’m speaking Suresne. From Sur-la-Clef. Your name sounds Seolite to me, but I don’t know anything about it.”
“Oh, uh. Physics. Natural phenomenon. My planet wasn’t even round, not exactly…”
He trails off. The excitement that animated his features is leaving quickly.
“I wanted to die doing something useful for the Fog. Because I want to hurt the Fourth for hurting me. For…”
COMPOSURE - (Your voice breaks. Your jaw creaks.)
AUTHORITY - (For the love of god!)
“Making me be the only one left.”
He stands up abruptly and steps back a few feet, putting distance between them. He’s digging in his pockets for a green handkerchief. He holds it against his burnt cheek and breathes heavily.
“I did it for the Fog. You and Reira were just there. I'm crazy.”
[ She watches him stand, and move away from her. An odd ache clutches at her heart.
She stands slowly, carefully, using the tree as balance again.
How deeply understandable is it to her, to lose, to grieve? How much does a part of her know what it means, to feel indebted to the Fog, even grateful to Her, for bringing her back?
So he wasn't there to save herself and Reira. That makes a lot more sense. It explains why he was ready to go.
A massive explosion, and suddenly one of her friends was gone. But it's not the one in the square she's thinking of. It's one from back home. One that, even if her stage insisted otherwise, she still wishes she could have stopped in some way. ]
Maybe we all are, a little bit... [ Her eyes are watering, and she quickly rubs them away. ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Whoever it is you're missing... [ She hesitates. Well, she has no context. There's only so much she can do. She shrugs helplessly. ]
I just... thank you for telling me, it-- thank you, Bois-san.
Harry turns and muffles his scarred face into the arm of his jacket. It’s a loud and ragged sob.
HALF LIGHT - (You didn’t save them. You still watched them die. Your brain and eyes manipulated their mirrors so you'd see how their small bodies would fall and break on the pavement. You didn’t save anyone.)
VISUAL CALCULUS - (Pre-mortem forensic crime scene reconstructions. You see them everyday. A car swerves out of the path of a young man. He walks away but you still see him there, in the road.)
INLAND EMPIRE - (You can still see her skull cracked from the trajectory of the swing. Blood in her hair.)
With a swear he smacks himself hard in the face and walks away quickly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes he’s slav squatting, perching if you will
“Are you sick? You should stay off your feet. Where are you from?”
no subject
She can't help but smile a little. ]
I'm okay. It's... changes. [ She briefly considers leaving it at that. ] The Fog... She has to get all the nanites out of me, I guess.
I'm from Japan, on Earth. What about you?
no subject
“I’m from Revachol. Also Earth, but we call it Elysium sometimes…as a term of endearment. I’ve heard of Japan. That’s the Earth with France and…Ital? Where they speak Italian.”
He points at his mouth. He’s perked up. The Earth so many people are from interests Harry. A world undivided by Pale. It sounds like it should be a world without borders too.
“Apparently I’m speaking France language. But we don’t have France. To me I’m speaking Suresne. From Sur-la-Clef. Your name sounds Seolite to me, but I don’t know anything about it.”
no subject
[ Well now she's interested. This person's from a whole new world where things are different. She leans forward, curious. ]
What's it like? Do you know... how it's different, from Earth?
no subject
He trails off. The excitement that animated his features is leaving quickly.
“I wanted to die doing something useful for the Fog. Because I want to hurt the Fourth for hurting me. For…”
COMPOSURE - (Your voice breaks. Your jaw creaks.)
AUTHORITY - (For the love of god!)
“Making me be the only one left.”
He stands up abruptly and steps back a few feet, putting distance between them. He’s digging in his pockets for a green handkerchief. He holds it against his burnt cheek and breathes heavily.
“I did it for the Fog. You and Reira were just there. I'm crazy.”
no subject
She stands slowly, carefully, using the tree as balance again.
How deeply understandable is it to her, to lose, to grieve? How much does a part of her know what it means, to feel indebted to the Fog, even grateful to Her, for bringing her back?
So he wasn't there to save herself and Reira. That makes a lot more sense. It explains why he was ready to go.
A massive explosion, and suddenly one of her friends was gone. But it's not the one in the square she's thinking of. It's one from back home. One that, even if her stage insisted otherwise, she still wishes she could have stopped in some way. ]
Maybe we all are, a little bit... [ Her eyes are watering, and she quickly rubs them away. ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Whoever it is you're missing... [ She hesitates. Well, she has no context. There's only so much she can do. She shrugs helplessly. ]
I just... thank you for telling me, it-- thank you, Bois-san.
cw: intrusive thoughts, child death, mental illness,
HALF LIGHT - (You didn’t save them. You still watched them die. Your brain and eyes manipulated their mirrors so you'd see how their small bodies would fall and break on the pavement. You didn’t save anyone.)
VISUAL CALCULUS - (Pre-mortem forensic crime scene reconstructions. You see them everyday. A car swerves out of the path of a young man. He walks away but you still see him there, in the road.)
INLAND EMPIRE - (You can still see her skull cracked from the trajectory of the swing. Blood in her hair.)
With a swear he smacks himself hard in the face and walks away quickly.