Those gentle arms holding her, helping her...she doesn't feel like she deserves them. She's failed them. She's failed all of them and now they'll never know, they'll never see....
She stands there just breathing. She does not cry. Why is she not crying? The pressure is there, so hard it is a wonder her head does not split in two. She wants to scream, she wants to heave, she wants to shout. But she is not crying.
Ah.
She cannot.
She needs to fix this. No, no, no, this is not right. Things cannot stay like this. Even if she's failed so terribly, it's her responsibility to put it right. It's the least she can do, what she's supposed to do--
And if things do stay like this? If your effort goes nowhere? Where will your grand speeches and hopes be then, little thing? When it's all over, and you've failed, and it was all for nothing - what will you do then?
The bitter fury feels like claws digging into Lily's skin, deeper and deeper, as though aiming to crush her heart. The little light in her hands goes frantic at the pressure, darting here and there blindly as though it can do something to protect her.
"I won't know until I've tried. Until I've given everything I have and then given more." That's right, that's right, she'll toil until she's hollowed out because if she can't undo it, she'll start over, because she has to. She doesn't get to stop. That's not her job.
She hisses in pain, but she weathers it.
"Vivi..." she smiles through the agony. "Vivi, it's okay." Does she mean his despair, or the light in her hands? Does it really matter?
She needs to know everything, how deeply this goes. How can she claim to understand him otherwise? But still she'll keep going.
"I told you this before: everything works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it's not the end. If I come to a point where my efforts are dust on the wind, then I'll chase down every speck and build on them. Start over."
But there is nothing to return to, nothing to start over, nothing--
The anger... drains away, shatters, a mere shell over deep, terrible grief and despair. Nothing, nothing left, nowhere to go, no new future to build - only the sorrow and bone-deep weariness.
If we cannot return, let us rest. Let us sleep, and never dream. Let us fade away, remnants of an all too distant past, unfit for the world anymore.
"I am sorry, but I think...I want to be selfish." For once, Kyanite says in her head. "I do not want to let you go."
Promises aren't a kindness, so she won't make any she cannot keep.
"No." She shakes her head. Have some conviction. Be honest.
Want something.
"I really, really do not, so don't ask me to. Memories are legacies, they are fragile, but powerful and important and we should keep them close to our hearts, but I don't want you to be just that. I want you here with me. I want to laugh with you and cry with you and see your smile and hold and kiss every one of your fingers and listen to your bad jokes." She rubs her hands over her eyes, and they brim with tears.
"I want you to rest your head in my lap when your sorrows are too much to bear, to be your pieces when you think parts of you are missing until you can find them again. I want to make love and be one with you when you're ready for that again and to count the stars after we're done." She cries now, earnestly.
"I want to see that face you make when you get into trouble, I want to be with you when you're get into it, to hear you debate intelligently, to hear you debate the dumbest, most dangerous, yet endearing things like--like why you should lick frozen poles, actually! Why would they make them so lickable if you shouldn't do that! Or why you should eat litres of ice cream at once and if at the end of brainfreeze there is some kind of enlightenment and you should absolutely keep doing that thing or something! I don't--I don't know, anything--" She gets louder and louder, almost hyperventilating and laughing and yet still so very clear before she is harsh and defiant.
"So Don't ASK ME TO LET YOU GO WHEN YOU'RE STILL HERE WITH ME!"
She's crying and it's not really pretty this time, it's ugly and honest and snotty and she wipes away her tears after enough time.
"I can't promise to bring and your beautiful world back. Your wonderful, wonderful people, your splendid culture, and everything you love. I am here to learn what that's like for you, but this is not my pain, in the end. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that they're gone, that you're gone, and that you're hurting so much for it."
"I'm just asking...please...I want to try something, anything, because I don't want to...be without you. Whatever it takes."
The bleak landscape around her shivers, shudders as Lily speaks, as she begins to cry. Confusion and panic fill the air - no, no, no, this is wrong, it's wrong for her to cry. However great his own despair, however deep his sorrow, he can't hurt her, he never wanted to, he can't, he can't--
There is a silent plea, her name called without words, and a brief moment where everything goes dark.
And that darkness becomes...
...that peculiar blackness of vision you get when you instinctively shut your eyes after stepping out in bright sunlight. Blink once, twice, and the blurry landscape becomes clearer.
A bright summer day indeed, the skies almost painfully blue, the sun filling the air with heat. You're standing on the side of a small hill, the grass waving lazily in the faint breeze. Not too far ahead, the land becomes an outcrop of white rock overlooking the sea that merges with the sky. A few trees here and there; cicadas are singing, and so are the birds chasing each other far above.
There seem to be paths trodden through the fields and hills, the earth stamped down enough that they must be walked often. In the far distance, there's shapes of buildings - a settlement? But it might be too far to reach on foot.
And here, there is love. There is warmth. The gentle breeze feels like an affectionate touch combing through Lily's hair, stroking her cheek to wipe her tears away, and perhaps there is a wordless apology in its soft whisper. For hurting her so, for not coming for her sooner.
The branches of a nearby tree hang heavy with apples - not the heaven kind, but the kind that grows and ripens under generous sun and gentle rains. The grass is soft underfoot, and the wheat of the fields bows gently to the wind, and you know that while the harvest is more bountiful some years, more scarce the others, it always comes. None need to go hungry here, none need to freeze in the snow when the winter comes, and one's genuine effort is always enough to live and find happiness. Not a perfect paradise, perhaps, but a kinder world.
Lily with her firefly husband and her AoE? husband? looks about the place, continuing to dry her eyes until she's satisfied. She feels the love and the warmth and his presence and relaxes into it, lets herself feel him all around her.
This looks better, feels better, but... "I didn't...I don't want you to think you aren't allowed to feel what you were feeling for my sake, though..."
She continues walking towards the settlement. Maybe he's there--wait. Let's get an apple first. It seems rude not to take one. (Or four. She takes four. Listen.) When he's gone to all the trouble of manifesting them in this space.
The apples look extremely tasty! Apple (HQ), as a scythe wielder Lily automatically gets all the botanist skills. And, conveniently enough, there's soon a bridge over a small stream - a good place to wash the apples, though it's highly unlikely she'd get any kind of poisoning from them here.
There is a sense of peace here. Not a refusal of his pain, but a desire to be in a better place. What would either of them find in that dead desert anymore? Much like the world turns, a time comes for both grief and joy. And within the heart, time and space become one another easily.
And if Lily stops by the stream, there's something glittering among the pebbles near the edge of the water.
She does stop by the stream! She will wash the apples more because she wants the cool taste of water on her tongue while she bites into them than any kind of worry that they're not fit for consumption.
Unless the poison is a metaphor.
She won't think too deeply about it, though.
Also there's WATER! She must stop by i--oh hey what's that?
She does stop by the stream! She will wash the apples more because she wants the cool taste of water on her tongue while she bites into them than any kind of worry that they're not fit for consumption.
Unless the poison is a metaphor.
She won't think too deeply about it, though.
Also there's WATER! She must stop by i--oh hey what's that?
The crystal glimmers softly in Lily's hand. There's a soft gust of wind that brings with it a feeling of gratitude and a promise of another meeting... and the summery landscape dissipates.
Lily will find herself back in the Macarenses Angle; the darkness to the right is now lifted, revealing more of the background city instead. On the left, the fire remains. The tower in the center stands half-broken into pieces that float as though in zero gravity, the moon in the sky replaced with a black hole and a crack running across the sky... but one of the tower doors is slightly open now! Maybe it's possible to go in?
There is another change: as you hold the crystal, something seems to happen to your vision. Faint silvery lines seem to overlay it - no, it looks like everything around you has a new dimension to it, as though lit by inner fire. Perhaps if you could see the movement of the wind and the flow of static electricity, that is what it would look like, streams of feeble colour and light flowing through everything.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The rains have ceased and we are blessed with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it.
Those gentle arms holding her, helping her...she doesn't feel like she deserves them. She's failed them. She's failed all of them and now they'll never know, they'll never see....
She stands there just breathing. She does not cry. Why is she not crying? The pressure is there, so hard it is a wonder her head does not split in two. She wants to scream, she wants to heave, she wants to shout. But she is not crying.
Ah.
She cannot.
She needs to fix this. No, no, no, this is not right. Things cannot stay like this. Even if she's failed so terribly, it's her responsibility to put it right. It's the least she can do, what she's supposed to do--
YOU ARE STILL VERY RUDE TO ME
The bitter fury feels like claws digging into Lily's skin, deeper and deeper, as though aiming to crush her heart. The little light in her hands goes frantic at the pressure, darting here and there blindly as though it can do something to protect her.
I AM STILL LAUGHING FOREVER
She hisses in pain, but she weathers it.
"Vivi..." she smiles through the agony. "Vivi, it's okay." Does she mean his despair, or the light in her hands? Does it really matter?
She needs to know everything, how deeply this goes. How can she claim to understand him otherwise? But still she'll keep going.
"I told you this before: everything works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it's not the end. If I come to a point where my efforts are dust on the wind, then I'll chase down every speck and build on them. Start over."
youre mean!!! and lily is gay!!!
The anger... drains away, shatters, a mere shell over deep, terrible grief and despair. Nothing, nothing left, nowhere to go, no new future to build - only the sorrow and bone-deep weariness.
If we cannot return, let us rest. Let us sleep, and never dream. Let us fade away, remnants of an all too distant past, unfit for the world anymore.
no subject
Promises aren't a kindness, so she won't make any she cannot keep.
"No." She shakes her head. Have some conviction. Be honest.
Want something.
"I really, really do not, so don't ask me to. Memories are legacies, they are fragile, but powerful and important and we should keep them close to our hearts, but I don't want you to be just that. I want you here with me. I want to laugh with you and cry with you and see your smile and hold and kiss every one of your fingers and listen to your bad jokes." She rubs her hands over her eyes, and they brim with tears.
"I want you to rest your head in my lap when your sorrows are too much to bear, to be your pieces when you think parts of you are missing until you can find them again. I want to make love and be one with you when you're ready for that again and to count the stars after we're done." She cries now, earnestly.
"I want to see that face you make when you get into trouble, I want to be with you when you're get into it, to hear you debate intelligently, to hear you debate the dumbest, most dangerous, yet endearing things like--like why you should lick frozen poles, actually! Why would they make them so lickable if you shouldn't do that! Or why you should eat litres of ice cream at once and if at the end of brainfreeze there is some kind of enlightenment and you should absolutely keep doing that thing or something! I don't--I don't know, anything--" She gets louder and louder, almost hyperventilating and laughing and yet still so very clear before she is harsh and defiant.
"So Don't ASK ME TO LET YOU GO WHEN YOU'RE STILL HERE WITH ME!"
i'm nice and also 2/2
"I can't promise to bring and your beautiful world back. Your wonderful, wonderful people, your splendid culture, and everything you love. I am here to learn what that's like for you, but this is not my pain, in the end. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that they're gone, that you're gone, and that you're hurting so much for it."
"I'm just asking...please...I want to try something, anything, because I don't want to...be without you. Whatever it takes."
I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING!!!!!!!
There is a silent plea, her name called without words, and a brief moment where everything goes dark.
And that darkness becomes...
...that peculiar blackness of vision you get when you instinctively shut your eyes after stepping out in bright sunlight. Blink once, twice, and the blurry landscape becomes clearer.
A bright summer day indeed, the skies almost painfully blue, the sun filling the air with heat. You're standing on the side of a small hill, the grass waving lazily in the faint breeze. Not too far ahead, the land becomes an outcrop of white rock overlooking the sea that merges with the sky. A few trees here and there; cicadas are singing, and so are the birds chasing each other far above.
There seem to be paths trodden through the fields and hills, the earth stamped down enough that they must be walked often. In the far distance, there's shapes of buildings - a settlement? But it might be too far to reach on foot.
And here, there is love. There is warmth. The gentle breeze feels like an affectionate touch combing through Lily's hair, stroking her cheek to wipe her tears away, and perhaps there is a wordless apology in its soft whisper. For hurting her so, for not coming for her sooner.
The branches of a nearby tree hang heavy with apples - not the heaven kind, but the kind that grows and ripens under generous sun and gentle rains. The grass is soft underfoot, and the wheat of the fields bows gently to the wind, and you know that while the harvest is more bountiful some years, more scarce the others, it always comes. None need to go hungry here, none need to freeze in the snow when the winter comes, and one's genuine effort is always enough to live and find happiness. Not a perfect paradise, perhaps, but a kinder world.
YOU ARE DEFINITELY CRYING
This looks better, feels better, but... "I didn't...I don't want you to think you aren't allowed to feel what you were feeling for my sake, though..."
She continues walking towards the settlement. Maybe he's there--wait. Let's get an apple first. It seems rude not to take one. (Or four. She takes four. Listen.) When he's gone to all the trouble of manifesting them in this space.
"But this is beautiful."
i am NOT and you can't prove anything
There is a sense of peace here. Not a refusal of his pain, but a desire to be in a better place. What would either of them find in that dead desert anymore? Much like the world turns, a time comes for both grief and joy. And within the heart, time and space become one another easily.
And if Lily stops by the stream, there's something glittering among the pebbles near the edge of the water.
https://i.gyazo.com/adbf4fa5d0d6d5fd8d35659771ab812b.png
(Anonymous) 2021-06-10 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)Unless the poison is a metaphor.
She won't think too deeply about it, though.
Also there's WATER! She must stop by i--oh hey what's that?
https://i.gyazo.com/adbf4fa5d0d6d5fd8d35659771ab812b.png
Unless the poison is a metaphor.
She won't think too deeply about it, though.
Also there's WATER! She must stop by i--oh hey what's that?
WOW THAT WAS UNRELATED to that particular tag
And the glittery thing is... a crystal! But without any kind of etchings and in Levity's position colour. What could this BE?
mmmmhhmmmm u tell urself that
....
And licking it.
RUDE.
But it's... well! It's a crystal. It's not really flavoured with anything. Unfortunately or fortunately, depends on your point of view.
i'm nice
no subject
Lily will find herself back in the Macarenses Angle; the darkness to the right is now lifted, revealing more of the background city instead. On the left, the fire remains. The tower in the center stands half-broken into pieces that float as though in zero gravity, the moon in the sky replaced with a black hole and a crack running across the sky... but one of the tower doors is slightly open now! Maybe it's possible to go in?
There is another change: as you hold the crystal, something seems to happen to your vision. Faint silvery lines seem to overlay it - no, it looks like everything around you has a new dimension to it, as though lit by inner fire. Perhaps if you could see the movement of the wind and the flow of static electricity, that is what it would look like, streams of feeble colour and light flowing through everything.
You acquire AETHERSIGHT!
no subject
no subject