The roses sway as you release them, but do not answer. You can recognize them fully now, though: Wild Rose, Key of Something Different.
Caring about "difference" at all, though... that's the sort of thing you can only feel if your difference matters; if it is part of the story of you finding your place in the world.
And isn't that something precious? Realizing that having a place you belong is something you could want? Something you could have, if only you reached for it?
But the flowers cannot answer. They simply grow.
There's a sharp crack of breaking glass overhead, and you see another branch of briars overflow out the window.
[He hesitates - hesitates longer - glances toward the kitchen, where everyone has disappeared. Then he reaches out to take hold of the roses again, and uses one of his miraculous scars, to share a memory]
[He's standing over a bed with Hellfire in it. She's pale and drawn, exhausted and in pain. He's just gotten her settled, and though his face was mostly unreadable at the time the memory took place, the emotions that come with it lap at the edges like waves on a shoreline: concern, and a horrible twisting helplessness, and the need to lessen her pain. It is softer than he has ever let on, way down deep, though he's gruff, and awkward, and his bedside manner leaves something to be desired]
[In the memory, Lumen reaches out scarred hands and presses them to Hellfire's face, the touch incongruously gentle despite spiked leather wristbands and just-try-and-fuck-with-me combat boots. For once, his scars are good for something - are good for her, and she's worth keeping safe]
[He settles down on the edge of the mattress, careful - shifts, so that he can stay beside her, ruined skin pressed to ruined skin. He'll stay as long as she needs him - all day, if he has to]
scars reveal history | scars are proof of survival | scars stay with you | scars come from wounds
You reach within yourself, and Scars are there, and you perform a Miracle. You feel her in it, as you do—Hellfire, and the world as she sees it. A fragile place, idea far more than substance, but so beautiful.
The place on your skin where the scar had been is fertile soil, and the flowers sprout rapidly: thin stems that grow lush as the burst from your skin and twine around your hand or arm or leg. They bloom quickly too: minature purple aconite and pink and white lotus.
Around you, you feel the memory soak into the Heart of this place like warm summer rain.
It is love, and a bond with all the fragile strength of a dragonfly's wing: so delicate, that with it you could almost fly.
As the moment ends, you look around you, and realize that there is new growth at your feet: great tall aconite and lotus plants, growing around you in a lush ring.
I was trying to get rid of the roses, not plant more shit in here.
[To say nothing of the fact that he now has plants? Blooming?? From his skin???]
[He scrubs a hand through his hair - steps out of the ring of flowers and away from the growth on the wall, opting to leave the gardening feelings to someone who knows what the fuck they're doing]
[Instead, he heads over to the plushes on the couch, to examine them more closely]
Their otherwise sudden appearance notwithstanding, there's something deeply natural about both the aconite and the lotus you've apparently grown: like the lotuses in the stream, before, they have the feeling of having been here for years.
You brush against the lotus as you leave, and you feel it: you are powerful, and transcendent; your presence shapes the world (and isn't all of Familia BAD END thus?).
You brush against the aconite, too: rage that stays with you; pain that defines you—that gives meaning.
...But yeah! There sure are some plushes on the couch. You can easily identify them as some of Sashay's vast collection.
Holding it in your hands fills you with a kind of giddiness: your very own familia, but soft and yam-shaped! Truly, your eyes have been opened to an entirely new form of joy.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: CHANCEL BAD END=DEAD END
You can recognize them fully now, though: Wild Rose, Key of Something Different.
Caring about "difference" at all, though... that's the sort of thing you can only feel if your difference matters; if it is part of the story of you finding your place in the world.
Re: CHANCEL BAD END=DEAD END
It's bullshit, thinking you don't belong. Even if you're not sure of your place anywhere else, you have a place here.
Re: CHANCEL BAD END=DEAD END
But the flowers cannot answer. They simply grow.
There's a sharp crack of breaking glass overhead, and you see another branch of briars overflow out the window.
Re: CHANCEL BAD END=DEAD END
It's already there.
[He hesitates - hesitates longer - glances toward the kitchen, where everyone has disappeared. Then he reaches out to take hold of the roses again, and uses one of his miraculous scars, to share a memory]
[He's standing over a bed with Hellfire in it. She's pale and drawn, exhausted and in pain. He's just gotten her settled, and though his face was mostly unreadable at the time the memory took place, the emotions that come with it lap at the edges like waves on a shoreline: concern, and a horrible twisting helplessness, and the need to lessen her pain. It is softer than he has ever let on, way down deep, though he's gruff, and awkward, and his bedside manner leaves something to be desired]
[In the memory, Lumen reaches out scarred hands and presses them to Hellfire's face, the touch incongruously gentle despite spiked leather wristbands and just-try-and-fuck-with-me combat boots. For once, his scars are good for something - are good for her, and she's worth keeping safe]
[He settles down on the edge of the mattress, careful - shifts, so that he can stay beside her, ruined skin pressed to ruined skin. He'll stay as long as she needs him - all day, if he has to]
1/2 (cw: plant horror)
You reach within yourself, and Scars are there, and you perform a Miracle. You feel her in it, as you do—Hellfire, and the world as she sees it. A fragile place, idea far more than substance, but so beautiful.
The place on your skin where the scar had been is fertile soil, and the flowers sprout rapidly: thin stems that grow lush as the burst from your skin and twine around your hand or arm or leg. They bloom quickly too: minature purple aconite and pink and white lotus.
2/2
It is love, and a bond with all the fragile strength of a dragonfly's wing: so delicate, that with it you could almost fly.
As the moment ends, you look around you, and realize that there is new growth at your feet: great tall aconite and lotus plants, growing around you in a lush ring.
no subject
I was trying to get rid of the roses, not plant more shit in here.
[To say nothing of the fact that he now has plants? Blooming?? From his skin???]
[He scrubs a hand through his hair - steps out of the ring of flowers and away from the growth on the wall, opting to leave the gardening
feelingsto someone who knows what the fuck they're doing][Instead, he heads over to the plushes on the couch, to examine them more closely]
no subject
You brush against the lotus as you leave, and you feel it: you are powerful, and transcendent; your presence shapes the world (and isn't all of Familia BAD END thus?).
You brush against the aconite, too: rage that stays with you; pain that defines you—that gives meaning.
...But yeah! There sure are some plushes on the couch. You can easily identify them as some of Sashay's vast collection.
no subject
[...oh]
[Maybe it takes him a little longer than initially expected, to leave the circle of growth he's created, if it comes with those kinds of feelings]
[But he does make his way to the couch eventually, covering over the stutter of hesitation as best he can]
[He prods at one of the plushes, uncertain - his own, if it's there]
no subject
Holding it in your hands fills you with a kind of giddiness: your very own familia, but soft and yam-shaped! Truly, your eyes have been opened to an entirely new form of joy.
no subject
[He sets it back down again, gentle - heads toward the bedroom hall]
no subject
You head for the bedroom hallway, and actually there are a surprising number of extra rooms.