featherduster | ( sheep ) ic inbox

[ They tip their head towards him in acknowledgement, but keep focussed on their task quietly. After a few minutes, when they are done with their first knife/stone combo, they pause. ]

Minuet . . .

[ He pauses whatever contemplation is eating at him currently, glancing questioningly at them ]

Can you . . . look at my threads? I . . . wish to . . . try something.

[ when he checks, they'll still look mostly like they always have. Many to Bluebell and Lily, a few to Rose, and Daffodil, and the Weeds clubhouse. Some to the world itself: the forest where they hunt, the NPCs they worry about, the patch of red geraniums that they've still been visiting when they think he won't notice. ]

[ He frowns a little at the request, but turns on the string vision ]

... It looks mostly the same as before.

[ They close their eyes and concentrate. It's almost tangible, the shifting of their mind, the movement of those briars that protects their inner world. One by one, the strings begin to shimmer and fade. First those to other teams, then to the physical places they've tended. It takes a little longer to let go of their tethers to Bluebell, to Harmony, Fantasia, Crescendo. Longer and harder than that is letting go of the thread that leads towards Rubato's room. Until finally, finally, there is just the thread reaching from their heart to his. The wind picks up, cool and crisp, as that line fades as well. ]

[ When their eyes open, and they look back at him, the moonlight reveals their cheeks now wet with tears. ]

Edited 2024-06-11 02:28 (UTC)

[ For a second, it almost looks like someone shot him in the gut. Kinda feels like it, too. ]

Mute?

[ Yeah. Yeah this is a new and incredibly awful feeling. ]

I . . . know my wish.

[ Every trial of his life so far was just training for keeping his composure now. For Mute's sake. ]

Your brother?

I can't- . . . I can't fix him. I know that now. What I did to him can't . . . be undone. But I can give . . . him a chance to grow, heal. To . . . love and be loved before he . . . does something that can't be undone.

If you could . . . if you could have . . .

[ sniffs ]

If I could have...?

Given Cain . . . that chance.

[ Oop. There's the second gunshot ]

... Mmm.

But it doesn't have to be that way, for him. And you.

Edited 2024-06-11 02:58 (UTC)

It doesn't.

I . . . wish . . . that he finds friends. That he finds good people who . . . love him, and are w-worthy of his love, the way Bl- . . . the . . . the way Blue- . . .

[ their mouth twist as their throat closes up ]

[ Moves the assembled weaponry out of the way so he can pull them into a hug ]

[ They've gotten better at crying, after a few good chances to practice. They don't panic and choke, just hold tightly to his coat as they let the waves of their grief crash around and through them. ]

Bluebell . . . Bluebell . . . Minuet . . .!

[ Quiet, holding onto them tight ]

It's okay.

[ too snotty for words, just nods ]

Will you promise me something, though?

[ peers up at him ]

If you know your brother will be taken care of -- then let yourself chase your own happiness. Even if it takes time, or you don't know what that looks like yet. Don't forget that you deserve it too.

[ they chew on their reply a long moment. It had been part of their calculus, in finding the necessity of this wish: untangle their life from Nemo’s. Untangle their future from their past, their goodness from their transgression. It would be easy to tell Minuet that this had already been their plan.

But instead they reach up and put a hand on each of his cheeks, knowing that their skin is once more mammalian-warm because of what he has given them. ]

Will you?

[ mutually assured self-actualization ]

[ gets him every time

He huffs out a watery chuckle ]

Brat.

[ But isn't it the same for him? Sitting out here with blonde hair and no scars ]

. . . I will.

[ Their smile is a watery echo of his. How long has it been since they sat together on this same roof, and they saw that cracked-open smile of his and couldn’t begin to parse what it meant? They know now. They know.

Brown feather sprout from the backs of their hands: not a request, just another reflexive mimicry. (As if it is either of their abominable forms could take credit for what is between them, and not the lovely shape of their hearts.) They just want him to understand how much they love him. How much he has changed them. That these short days have been the happiest of their life. ]

Then . . . me too. I promise too.

[ He does laugh this time, ruffling their hair. One last time, for the road. ]

I love you. Remember that too.

Re: Night 85, late

arrowace - 2024-06-16 01:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Night 85, late

featherduster - 2024-06-16 01:41 (UTC) - Expand