[Blue already knows. he felt it. he still feels it. it's...
cold. emptiness pierces like a dagger, just as it's always done when Mu die. the snuffing of a beloved spark of life...even here...every time, it's still so cold.
while Blue lingers in the remains of severed and stretched-out cords, grief in solitude is the only response, thrumming and radiating out of the house like a fog and settling into stay just like the many, many roses sprung up in droves on its exterior. stems and thorns of his own wind around his heart, piercing and pulling at reason, choking and twisting it into bleaker forms that little beads of hope can barely pierce through. where they do, the light is skewed. everything is skewed.
why...have all this power...and not manage to take care of the ones he loves? why make bonds...that are broken the second foot is set out the door...? out there is the problem, isn't it? in here, though...
the lion will eventually join Flynn on the shore, eyes a dingy red with black sclera. it won't move, won't leave until Flynn does, and even when that does happen, he won't be allowing any path but the one back to the house - back home.]
[ A day later—when the numbness has settled in, when the camp is clean and there is only Flynn and Repede and the lion and the waves—Blue gets a picture.
In it, Flynn isn't smiling. He doesn't look happy, but he is alive, and he's leaning against the lion, the frame taken up mostly by mane and Flynn's tired, pale face.
It's just a little token that he's here, that Blue's care for him is noted. That eventually they will come home. ]
[it's not enough. he can't...protect Flynn when he's out there. why won't he come home? waiting for Yuri...will he really come?
it's cold. even with that promise emblazoned on his wrist...the only pulse he feels is his own: the bond that holds truth even unto death can't take the place of the company who sealed it. after all, what good is a conviction if one isn't present to be beholden to it?
Blue takes up residence in Flynn and Yuri's bed for that time while sending his mind out to meet him as a lurid, ragged specter to stand as a second sentry over Flynn. severed bonds trail off of him, while those affixed to Flynn...those remain true, feeding the spiraling consciousness at the source.]
How long do we wait? I don't remember...how long we waited for you. Did we wait? You were...brought to the house. You weren't lost.
[ He shouldn't be surprised, should he? To see the shape of Blue beside him like a ragged ghost. He's just as tied to Yuri as Flynn is, just as locked into this bond, missing a link. It really does feel like a limb is gone, like there should be digits and bone and sinew where there is none.
Flynn shifts closer to the specter of his friend, wishing he could reach up and take Blue's hand. ]
A few days, but... my body was there. Yuri's is... I couldn't recover him.
[the wish doesn't go unheard...nor unheeded. the ghost drifts closer, resting the figment of his hand atop Flynn's head in a paternal, affectionate fashion.
...it just comes with a clearer sense of the ichorous emotion being goaded on by Blue's tainted blood. guilt and despair and longing and desperation swirl and shimmer like oil, but the roiling is quelled substantially just by connecting at all.]
[ Ordinarily, perhaps, Flynn would notice. He knows that those things don't feel like himself, but he's so lost in his own matching emotions, guilt like a stone sitting heavy in his belly, that all he does is turn his head silently into Blue's hand, his breath shuddering from him. ]
I don't. I wish I did. I don't... even know that he will come back, Blue.
[ For a moment, Flynn is tempted. He wants to curl into the safety and warmth of their home, lean on Blue with the weight of all his guilt and his sadness, the worry blotting everything else into smallness.
But the beach is a mess, and the waves wash still up onto the shore and don't bring Yuri with them.
[ He hasn't, and Flynn can't really argue with it. He's been a mess here out on the shore, cleaning up after the remains of the battle, compiling the reports they'll all need to debrief on how things went, trying to stand up under the guilt and the loss and the loneliness.
[Blue's eyes can't see ahead of him - only whatever is in Flynn's vision - but his head lifts and seems to focus in the endless dark ahead. there are no minds out to sea...none close enough to perceive, anyway. none with Yuri's scent.]
You'll...lay here and die. And...no one will find him.
There is so much longing in Blue's words, so much fear that ricochets right into Flynn's bones and stays there, echoing. He's known that fear. Being alone is the most terrifying thing, and for a moment, he can see it, Blue withering to nothing in their little house, Flynn a crystallizing form on the beach, and darkness.
He falters. For a bare moment, comes back to himself with his ears ringing and then looks up at Blue, emotion choking at him. ]
[at Flynn's back, the lion rumbles out a strained sound - as though his ribs were being squeezed. perhaps they are. perhaps it's the corruption thickening in Blue's blood that pains him, or perhaps it's the awareness the omen has, seeing Flynn cling fast despite the darkness.
omens know better than their people, after all: they're born if this place, just as much as they are of those souls. even if the lion could speak of it, Blue will not listen. he can't. not right now.
Blue's gaze is still far, far away, but the frightful notion Flynn's own mind conjures up is very palpable, and he can quickly believe in it.]
Will we both...crumble? Until we fall into the sea.
[ Flynn says, with the first little spark of hope in his voice since Yuri fell: a little fire against the darkness, and the beach coming back into view. ]
We won't crumble. No matter what happens. Even if Yuri doesn't come back, we'll keep trying to make the world better. I made a promise.
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cold. emptiness pierces like a dagger, just as it's always done when Mu die. the snuffing of a beloved spark of life...even here...every time, it's still so cold.
while Blue lingers in the remains of severed and stretched-out cords, grief in solitude is the only response, thrumming and radiating out of the house like a fog and settling into stay just like the many, many roses sprung up in droves on its exterior. stems and thorns of his own wind around his heart, piercing and pulling at reason, choking and twisting it into bleaker forms that little beads of hope can barely pierce through. where they do, the light is skewed. everything is skewed.
why...have all this power...and not manage to take care of the ones he loves? why make bonds...that are broken the second foot is set out the door...? out there is the problem, isn't it? in here, though...
the lion will eventually join Flynn on the shore, eyes a dingy red with black sclera. it won't move, won't leave until Flynn does, and even when that does happen, he won't be allowing any path but the one back to the house - back home.]
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In it, Flynn isn't smiling. He doesn't look happy, but he is alive, and he's leaning against the lion, the frame taken up mostly by mane and Flynn's tired, pale face.
It's just a little token that he's here, that Blue's care for him is noted. That eventually they will come home. ]
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it's cold. even with that promise emblazoned on his wrist...the only pulse he feels is his own: the bond that holds truth even unto death can't take the place of the company who sealed it. after all, what good is a conviction if one isn't present to be beholden to it?
Blue takes up residence in Flynn and Yuri's bed for that time while sending his mind out to meet him as a lurid, ragged specter to stand as a second sentry over Flynn. severed bonds trail off of him, while those affixed to Flynn...those remain true, feeding the spiraling consciousness at the source.]
How long do we wait? I don't remember...how long we waited for you. Did we wait? You were...brought to the house. You weren't lost.
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Flynn shifts closer to the specter of his friend, wishing he could reach up and take Blue's hand. ]
A few days, but... my body was there. Yuri's is... I couldn't recover him.
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...it just comes with a clearer sense of the ichorous emotion being goaded on by Blue's tainted blood. guilt and despair and longing and desperation swirl and shimmer like oil, but the roiling is quelled substantially just by connecting at all.]
How long, then? Do you know?
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I don't. I wish I did. I don't... even know that he will come back, Blue.
I don't know what to do without him.
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[there's no physical pressure to exude, but there's still a sense of it - a squeeze to the psyche when Blue sends that thought to him.]
Come home...before you're lost, too. Please.
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But the beach is a mess, and the waves wash still up onto the shore and don't bring Yuri with them.
Flynn hesitates, but shakes his head. ]
I have to wait for him. Try to find him.
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Blue can't really speak for himself in this case, either, but his focus isn't entirely on himself...save for the need to not be so alone.]
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He shakes his head. ]
That is the burden I have to bear, then.
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[Blue's eyes can't see ahead of him - only whatever is in Flynn's vision - but his head lifts and seems to focus in the endless dark ahead. there are no minds out to sea...none close enough to perceive, anyway. none with Yuri's scent.]
You'll...lay here and die. And...no one will find him.
And I'll be alone.
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There is so much longing in Blue's words, so much fear that ricochets right into Flynn's bones and stays there, echoing. He's known that fear. Being alone is the most terrifying thing, and for a moment, he can see it, Blue withering to nothing in their little house, Flynn a crystallizing form on the beach, and darkness.
He falters. For a bare moment, comes back to himself with his ears ringing and then looks up at Blue, emotion choking at him. ]
I won't. I won't leave you.
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omens know better than their people, after all: they're born if this place, just as much as they are of those souls. even if the lion could speak of it, Blue will not listen. he can't. not right now.
Blue's gaze is still far, far away, but the frightful notion Flynn's own mind conjures up is very palpable, and he can quickly believe in it.]
Will we both...crumble? Until we fall into the sea.
Is that...where he's waiting? [Yuri.]
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[ Flynn says, with the first little spark of hope in his voice since Yuri fell: a little fire against the darkness, and the beach coming back into view. ]
We won't crumble. No matter what happens. Even if Yuri doesn't come back, we'll keep trying to make the world better. I made a promise.