![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
MARCH EVENT LOG
At midnight on March 1st, a rolling lightning storm hits Yogen. Thunder crackles, and strikes of Anvil Crawler lighting can be seen lighting up the sky; anyone paying attention to the courtyard may see the explosive strike of lightning hitting the wisteria tree. Petals scatter throughout the air and are carried off in every direction by the wind...
As the month goes on the school will start to look even more barren. As the month goes on, several students start to disappear, with rumors spreading here and there about students disappearing after entering the forest. Those rumors twist and warp, and within just a few days there are rumors of a witch in the forest. But it's not a witch, nor a ghost, or anything else, but a dream, and those who enter will find themselves reminded of such by a soothing voice, the voice of a person they're familiar with, speaking gently in their ears:
"You are dreaming... They have always led and will always lead you here... Remind yourself, this is a dream..."
The world shifts subtly. There are gravestones marking the pathway now, and before long the forest is replaced by a completely new scene. A voice reminds you once more that this is a dream, and that you have always been here. You have always been led to this place. But where is this place? It's the world of a player character. It's nothing more than a snapshot in time. It might be one that they wish to escape, or perhaps a warm memory of a time that they wish to return to, but it is always an important memory to the character.
Whichever it is, the only way is to move forward. As characters move through the memory, characters will soon notice a snake and holly tattoo that spreads over their body will be. It starts small, a clump on one's back, but will spread across all parts of a character's body. It will reach the neck and face last, killing them upon reaching the eyes. As the curse spreads, they will notice changes in the dream including hallucinations, hearing lullabies, and shades that pursue them. They will also notice increased exhaustion and lethargy.
Upon reaching the end of the memory, they will find a glowing ball of light representative of a lost student's soul. Finding the soul will lead to both characters awakening at the edge of the forest, and the character who had been dreaming will be covered with the tattoo for a brief moment before it disappears.
Those who entered the dream may hear that same voice from before that tugs at their mind as the dream fades away:
"Remind yourself, this is a dream, and soon you will awaken. But you are here, as you always have been, and as you always will be... Soon, you will wonder where you were, and each moment after, will bring you here..."
The world shifts subtly. There are gravestones marking the pathway now, and before long the forest is replaced by a completely new scene. A voice reminds you once more that this is a dream, and that you have always been here. You have always been led to this place. But where is this place? It's the world of a player character. It's nothing more than a snapshot in time. It might be one that they wish to escape, or perhaps a warm memory of a time that they wish to return to, but it is always an important memory to the character.
Whichever it is, the only way is to move forward. As characters move through the memory, characters will soon notice a snake and holly tattoo that spreads over their body will be. It starts small, a clump on one's back, but will spread across all parts of a character's body. It will reach the neck and face last, killing them upon reaching the eyes. As the curse spreads, they will notice changes in the dream including hallucinations, hearing lullabies, and shades that pursue them. They will also notice increased exhaustion and lethargy.
Upon reaching the end of the memory, they will find a glowing ball of light representative of a lost student's soul. Finding the soul will lead to both characters awakening at the edge of the forest, and the character who had been dreaming will be covered with the tattoo for a brief moment before it disappears.
Those who entered the dream may hear that same voice from before that tugs at their mind as the dream fades away:
✽ Dreams may be whoelsale memories, or they may be more akin to dreamscapes based on a person's memories or mental state.
✽ The holly pattern represents the pain of love and aches of the heart, while the snake represents the yearning for the dead that consume a person.
✽ The tattoos will be blue or red.
✽ Characters may be drawn into the forest more than once, or require multiple memories to be gone through before reappearing. In those cases, the character who had gone through the initial memory will simply wake up in the forest alone.
✽ Characters who hear the voice upon leaving the dream will be more susceptible to entering and being lost in the forest.
✽ Anyone who is not rescued by the end of the month will be found at the edge of the forest. The tattoo will cover their body and stop just short of their eyes. It will disappear within an hour, but they will be exhausted for the rest of the day.
✽ The holly pattern represents the pain of love and aches of the heart, while the snake represents the yearning for the dead that consume a person.
✽ The tattoos will be blue or red.
✽ Characters may be drawn into the forest more than once, or require multiple memories to be gone through before reappearing. In those cases, the character who had gone through the initial memory will simply wake up in the forest alone.
✽ Characters who hear the voice upon leaving the dream will be more susceptible to entering and being lost in the forest.
✽ Anyone who is not rescued by the end of the month will be found at the edge of the forest. The tattoo will cover their body and stop just short of their eyes. It will disappear within an hour, but they will be exhausted for the rest of the day.
no subject
...
...
that could be because komaeda's that close to death, that his breathing is so slow, it's like he should be dead by now.
he doesn't choose a path, yet, and instead he looks for a tree close by to use, something he can climb to see what's beyond all the paths in order to make his decision. if he does so, is there anything that stands out? )
no subject
As he looks over the forest surrounding him, he'll see... mostly just trees, but at the end of the flower path he'll just barely make out the roof of a large mansion, to the left is a raging fire marked with a thick column of smoke, and to the right is a barren cliffside with a glowing ruin built into it.
And if he turns around, he'll see that behind him is one of those floating cubes hovering at just the right altitude for a mysterious masked man to stare at him. The man is seated in a comfortable chair, upsidedown, and holding a tea cup despite the fact that his mask obviously wouldn't allow him to drink it.]
Peeking ahead, are you? Some would call that cheating.
no subject
...
sitting properly on a branch allows him to weigh his options, but he finds himself staring up at the sky. there's no sun to burn his eyes, unless that dark orb with the ring represents it. he's seen something like this before with noah, and then the make-up of the clouds? blocks? remnants of material appear puts him in the mind of dynamo. it's easy to connect what he has to this, but his choices ever more difficult.
noticing the mansion reminds him of home, but as large as it was, the strong loneliness was suffocating. he wonders if that's the case too, but this is a dream, so maybe it could be a sweet one. the fire feels more comfortable because of how familiar it is, watching his own world go up into smoke by his efforts, the bodies that were burned by the fire, turned to ash, and mixed in with toxic air—
it's almost like window shopping, but he has someome talking to him now. komaeda turns his head to look over, examining who the voice belongs to even though he can't tell if it's truly from him. the mask makes it hard, but harder for him to drink whatever he has.
he lifts a hand, waving it towards the other so that he doesn't seem rude. )
You're watching over me... so do you find it cheating?
( some, but not all which leaves room for this person not to think that way. )
No one said up wasn't an option.
no subject
There are always more paths than the ones you can see, but does seeing them make any difference? You still won't know what each of them mean until you go there yourself. So, what is it you're looking for? Something familiar? Something easy?
[he lifts the cup to his "mouth", and... is there even anything in that cup?? maybe it doesn't matter. this is a dream, after all. at least he seems to be enjoying himself.]
no subject
( it's because he chose this, and then he appeared, and if komaeda had chosen a path, he doubts he would have come into contact with this eccentric person.
this is a dream, he shouldn't be surprised. )
And how are you familiar with him?
( what does he have to do with add, he even squints to see if there's any resemblance between him, and this person. he tries to stare into the one vacant eye of his, wondering why it doesn't glow as much as the other. )
It would be nice if we can properly understand one another.
no subject
[not "how does this man know Add?" but "how does Add know this man?"... but there's a feeling that he wouldn't answer even if Komaeda did correct his phrasing. he's just that kind of annoying, evasive person that Add dislikes.
as for any resemblance... well, it's hard to say with the mask on, but he doesn't look especially like Add. no relation, not by blood, but perhaps by the dark and endless void that they both seem to associate with. a "coworker", perhaps?]
And what will you do once you understand him? Are you sure he wants to be understood? Some memories are better left forgotten, you know. Once you know the truth, it's not so easy to put it back the way it was.
no subject
( what if add doesn't want to be understood, what if he's better off the way he is. komaeda thinks on it, looking down toward the ground as he places his hands into his lap. )
Meeting you was already a breach in some memories are best off forgotten, there's nothing in the way now.
( with a smile, he looks back up, there's a bit of cat in the hat energy, but cat in the mask, he's so mysterious and unique. he's an observer that watches over the paths, and a figment of add's imagination. )
There's no reason to hide behind lies, because then everything about the relationship will lose value. That's not the sort of life I want with him.
no subject
[there's no judgment, despite his words—he's an observer, and an imaginary one at that. who is he to tell Komaeda what to do?]
It's up to you to find the truth you seek, but since you went out of your way to speak with me... it'd be boring if I just sent you on your way after all that.
[the man snaps his fingers and the space next to Komaeda ripples, distorts, until a blue slab appears floating in the air, just close enough for him to touch.]
A memory that Add wants to forget. Choose it, if you'd like.
[will he choose the secret fifth option, or go back to the start?]
no subject
( with that said, komaeda glances around, and even looks down towards the ground as if this is the final chance he has to back out. he's searching for add personally, if he appeared now, and stayed his hand, then he'll do so. this person is a figment of add's thoughts and imagination, but his mind would close that option, that secret fifth path.
it's funny, though, it almost sounds lonely, perhaps this man is part of add's mindscape.
...
... )
What's your name?
( he'll reach out to the piece, but his fingers hover as if waiting to know who he is before he touches it. )
no subject
[he takes another "sip" of his "tea"... considers the other question, seems to decide on fuck it and shrugs.]
Glave, Administrator of Henir's Time and Space. Feel free to say hello if you're ever in Elrios. I'm always looking for new young and eager helpers!
[that might be a joke, Komaeda would get snapped in half like 2 seconds in to the first boss... he's not that kind of jrpg protag please]
no subject
glave... glave... he'll remember it. whatever he's willing to show komaeda, he'll take it, if it's to properly understand add's wishes to help, to kill, and to destroy himself then, he will. komaeda will hurt just to hurt with him.
his eyes glance towards glave, and that skeptical look of his changes into a smile. )
Then please watch over me, Observer Glave.
( he'll think about the offer, it isn't terrifying, and while he could grill this man... if he truly does watch over this realm of dreams, komaeda will see him again. so he leans forward, touching the fragment that's been placed before him. )
cw: hope u like uhhhh blood, teeth/eye gore, slight emeto, idk its all downhill from here
The slab is smooth and cold, and at first nothing happens... then, once five seconds exactly have passed, there's an echoing crack before the slab shatters apart, scattering in every direction, a blinding flash erupting forth. The world melts into inky darkness as the light fades, the trees and smoke and buildings gone, nothing but an endless dark that drags him down, down, and sharp fragments that cut and sting as they pass, like falling through a rain of glass...
And then there are voices—screams, crying, begging, why are you doing this, what did I do? why, why, why, until the crying turns to laughter, broken and erratic, louder and louder with each shard that slices past. blame and anger and fear and despair, cuts that bore into his very soul until it feels like he'll come apart, blood rising up from his throat that burns like acid and it feels so wrong, wrong, like his teeth will fall out, like his eyes will melt out of his skull, like there's a gnawing hole in his chest where his heart should be and nothing can put it back together
he falls, and when his feet impact the final fragment he's blinded once more by a brilliant flash, white petals fluttering up to meet him as his battered body hits the ground.
he's alive, no matter how much he might wish he was dead. it hurts to move. the white flowers are stained with blood, and the sky is a clear blue, clouds softly passing overhead... an idyllic scene, in stark contrast with his arrival.
Once he regains the strength to stand, he'll see that he's on a small hill covered in flowers... and the scenery rolls on endlessly around him, turning to white at the edges, like a picture that's already begun to fade. But at the top of the hill he can spy two figures sitting under a tree, the sounds of soft laughter and conversation carried down gently by the wind.]
YES THIS WAS MADE FOR ME!! FOR MEEE
he doesn't know add like he should, all he knows is that they're too close for comfort in their actions... close enough to think that maybe he could if he tried. yet, no matter where he searches, no matter how many times he tries to recall hope, that impending despair looms high above them, and crashed down like a wave of water; drowning him, suffocating. trying to find his hands to dig into something doesn't help, because nails only press into the palm of his hand, and if he keeps going maybe he'll bleed, maybe he'll feel something better than this.
the screams, the begging, negative emotions that break into shambles or scraps of what could be positive, those bits and pieces of laughter bring him no warmth. it makes him cold, the heat of sadness stings at the edge of his mind, clouding his senses, and his eyes can't even look at anything properly— it's like he sees nothing, as if his eyes were removed, crushed, twisted out, made into mush as his vision feels to fade, and the insides spiral over and over, an uncomfortable feeling of despair evident in one eye, and hope slow, but faint in its movement there, but... it's leaving, it feels as if it never existed before.
he had forgotten what it felt like to be in this position, he had gave up on feeling pain, or being hurt... he's made himself numb to it, but the shard cut, and cut, and cut, and cut, it whittles him down until he wonders if he's still connected properly. his heart doesn't feel here, but his head feels as if it's been thrown to the side, crushed underneath someone's foot... it doesn't exist. at the end, his body feels exhausted, his skin feels removed from the muscle, because even the cool, gentle breeze from the wind hurts.
his eyes remain dysfunctional, things like hope and despair aren't two sides of the same coin, but despair spins faster than hope. it's a feeling he hates, one that he despises, and he finds that he doesn't want to move, and instead the moment he parts open his mouth— he lurches forward, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth, a thick substance of brown and red mixed leaves from his mouth. his throat burns, it hurts to breathe, and he doesn't think he can talk; perhaps he's lost his voice. his bones, everything that comes from it, he can only think rapidly of why add feels this, is this how he feels all at one moment— where is his hope, what keeps him going, why does despair seep through every orifice of his body.
what is that leftover fear, that anger, the pain... it weighs him down, and it's agonizing, but he can't remain here is what he tells himself. he thinks about add and how he moves, despite this pain that continues to cut until he's tired looking at his own waste, he tries to lift his head, but even that feels like it's ready to fall off. that it's barely hanging by a thread. pushing himself up causes his legs to shake, it's nothing more than a dream, but it feels so real... add's reality, his feelings, an inner pain that he doesn't show up front... it all pushes inside.
one step the pins and needles under his foot jab through, piercing his bone, muscles, flesh all the way to the other side. he wants to pause, his hands coming up to his face, rubbing at his eyes in a poor attempt to fix his eyes, but his mind confirms it as despair is the primary source that runs through, but there's hope, just a little that he can see through one eye. whatever sits on that hill, if he can keep going without falling over...
he'll make his way, he'll cover the one eye mixed with despair... he won't ruin what a pure, breathtaking sight may lie before him. he'll watch with the eye that spins with a murky, faint green, that hope he sees, then it should be fine. he'll look at it because as long as he doesn't view it with despair... it won't be as bad...? )
cw: we're also doing child murder, probably,
It's not quite hope, but it's something. Once you hit the bottom, the only way left to go is up.
The hill is steep, and it's a difficult climb... slowly, slowly, he crawls towards the top, towards the person on that hill that's most important to him. Flowers shudder and shed their petals as he passes them, shaken down to their stems at the slightest touch, and the path of blood he leaves behind him makes it all look grotesque, ruined... he's something that doesn't belong here, not in this idyllic scene, an ugly blemish on a beautiful painting of happiness. And as he gets closer to the top, to the shady tree overlooking the field around them, he can see and hear them more clearly...
He sees a woman with white hair and her young son, relaxing and laughing together in the shade, reading a book together, talking about flowers or radios or nothing at all. Does the topic matter? Does the conversation matter? It doesn't, and that's why it does, why it's the only thing that matters, because it's something so simple and innocent and pointless that it's easily taken for granted. Something warm and comforting, the familiar presence of a loved one existing and nothing more.
It's a sight that wrenches at his chest, claws at what remains of his shattered heart. At this moment, more than anything, he wants to be there. He wants to be with them. He wants to be held, to hear those soft words in his ear, to fall asleep and know the world will still be like this.
but he can't. there's no room for him in this picture, he's too tall, too damaged. he doesn't belong, he can't, it's all wrong, wrong wrong wrong
he can't, and even at rock bottom there's no relief, there's no "up", only the endless misery of knowing he'll never fit. knowing that he wasted everything he had to reach a place that doesn't want him, will never want him, why would it when someone else has taken up his place?
Innocence is vulnerability, unsuspecting of dangers left unseen. The boy's neck looks small and weak. At this moment, more than anything, he wants to tear it all apart.]
cw: thots abt child murder
it's heavier with every step, he wants to forget how to breathe, but if he does that... he'll die, and so he moves. something tells him to keep moving, it's all he has, the string he holds onto. he realizes if he lets this thread go, then all will be lost... that's not hope, isn't hope something you always hold onto no matter what? motivation, desire, a dream one feels as if they can't ever achieve... it's not desperation, it's not all that's left, and if you let it go you'll lose yourself. it shouldn't be that way, but it whittles away at his logic, it makes him feel sick. he finds that he's fallen, his hands digging into the dirt of the ground, but he pushes himself up.
dirt under his nails, blood, and whatever pieces of nature dirty his hands, but it's fine, there's no such thing as wrong, or bad, when if it's done in the name of hope— then it's good, it's precious. i hope to meet you. it's been that long since he's seen him, since he's spoken to him, but those words don't leave past his lips. it's ragged, shaky breaths, it's the pain and groans that slip through gritted teeth.
he feels... victorious? no... satisfied? no... happy? ...complete? he feels something once he makes it to the top, he feels emotions that he's never given to himself. it frightens him at most because he doesn't know where such strong feelings came from, because when they do, when they appear— something bad happens. he shouldn't be here, he really shouldn't be here, but he has to remain here because there's something he wants— their attention, their love, their contact, he wants the simple things. he wants to laugh, doze off, and talk about meaningless things too; he's never had that opportunity as a child himself.
there's this brief moment in time where he feels his hands go up, and placed on top of his head, because there's so kind mother to pat his own. instead, there's just himself that tells him to look down, to fall to his knees, to not look. if he doesn't see them, it doesn't matter, but he knows they're there. he can hear them, and komaeda shuts his eyes tightly as he tries to force himself not to think about it. there's the feeling of nails digging into his scalp, and there's an image in his mind of his hands tightly around a child's neck.
...
but he's too weak, that's his saving grace— he doesn't have the strength to do so, so that feeling can leave him alone. it can be brushed off, he wins, he won't destroy something so pure. he won't be the reason why a scene so serene will shatter because of his actions, he won't touch it, and break it. not because of the fact he can't give back lost lives, they become stepping stones, they make you stronger, but because this was never meant for him.
it would have been the easiest escape, if it was that simple.
...
...
...
the need to sink those same sharp pieces of glass into the sight burns him, even the tips of his hands tingle. it's just a dream, so it should be fine, there's no morality in a dream; but everything around him will come to ruin. the scene will become splattered in red, and so will his hands, but he has to make good on his promise of tearing them apart. he can't stop his body from moving even though it hurts, he can't resist the need to slip one hand into his pocket in search for his prosthetic attachment; he just needs time to twist it on, but that's enough time to stop himself. even as he checks, it's not there, and there's some relief, he won... or so he thinks when he looks at his hands.
one covered in dirt, blood and vomit, and the other spotless, because that prosthetic hand is now replaced with a familiar piece— sharp blades that can cut and tear, rip out organs, strew them them along the limbs of the tree they sit under. all it'll take is slitting their throat, breaking their bones, removing their eyes... so they can't see the despair, the pain, and fear in his own. it's a stillness as he decides against it, but his body hurts, it makes him stand properly, and he takes a step forward.
maybe they'll run first when they see him, maybe... if he takes slow steps, maybe... maybe... )
cw: pounds fists on the table CHILD MURDER CHILD MURDER
He can give up here... but he chooses to keep going. He didn't come all this way just to give up, did he?
The pair remain oblivious, too long for him to hope they'll simply run and escape. Rather... it's the boy that notices him first, wide red eyes looking up at the strange monster, a startled expression laced with the barest hint of childlike concern.]
Mister... are you okay? You're walking funny...
[the woman remains, unmoving, silent. he's already disturbed this picture, this tranquil scene, and the cracks are starting to spread... just being here is enough to ruin it all, but that's not enough. this dream won't be satisfied until it's broken apart completely.]
PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HOW I NEEDED 3 DAYS TO GET MY MIND RIGHT FOR THIS
it truly is horrible when a person can't stop themselves from destroying something precious, even if they don't want to. child-like curiosity is so innocent, he finds, and there's this stone lodged in his stomach that doesn't move. it rests there, making him uncomfortable, and it only disappears when he raises his arm up because the movement can bring about so many outcomes. it's when he tries to deny the action that he feels heavier, sicker, the stone passes left... his guilt, the pain unmovable, and feels nothing more than dead weight as he finds himself pushing the child down onto the ground with a hand around his neck.
those eyes... familiar, but such innocence he would never compare to add, he thinks he likes the add that he knows despite all the consequences. this one is just a faded image of the old.
..his grip in his organic hand isn't strong, but he wonders if the child is afraid, what type of face is he making. it's horrible to think of, but he's unable to remove his grip at this point. he doesn't even want to turn his head to see if the woman watches them, onlooking. as if they're just part of the scenery that her eyes can't turn from.
she can watch her child suffer right before her eyes, but... )
no subject
the woman says nothing, does nothing, and if he looks over at her he'll see now that she's not making a face at all—blurred, distorted, wiped away like a chalk drawing. she says something in a soft voice but it's too quiet to hear, words lost to the wind like flower petals blown carelessly away.
the boy keeps struggling, but he's getting weaker, weaker... longer gaps between each sob, hands falling limply to his sides. tears stream down his face that's lost its colour, all but the bright red eyes that stare into his own, silently begging, pleading for mercy, the last signs of life getting weaker, fading...
it's disgusting. it's abhorrent. is something like this worth understanding? taking away a life, destroying something so innocent and fragile out of jealousy, spite, anger, desperation... how could that person be anything but a monster, a devil?
the boy stares into his eyes, time is running out... but despite everything, despite being pushed to this extreme by thoughts and feelings not his own, it's still a choice. he can stop, try something else, leave this world damaged but intact... or he can keep going, keep walking down that hopeless path, knowing that he had that chance to spare them, to do better, and chose not to.
will he choose to give them hope, or will he bask in their despair?]
the way i told everyone to leave me alone so i could make my choice
life is not good, or kind, and hope to komaeda has never been strictly pure. to have hope... one has to suffer losses, one has to feel a certain pain that they can come back from it. if they never have an horrible instance in their life, they'll never truly cherish what they have now. it's why komaeda can stare at this child, sickly green eyes attached to a bright red, and he's aware that if this was add from before— the one who stood there and argued with him about what sort of actions amami have suffered; it wouldn't be this easy. if he's going to destroy himself, it'd be by his own hands, and if anyone can hurt him... it would be the people around him.
komaeda included.
his hand wraps tighter around the youth's neck, even as they squirm under him. )
Do you know what hope is...? It's a beautiful thing.
( but this must be so terrifying, the worst of the worst, this feeling that drives him and motivates him to act. komaeda would kill anything and anyone for hope, that's why he doesn't feel any consequence from the nature of his actions. he doubts the child can hear him over their own choked sobs— it's a memory that add doesn't want anyone to know, it's been locked away for a reason solely because of what...? he must have lost it before, he must have seen it crumble... maybe just once he could free him from that loop of sadness, but he why let him live a lie? being able to carry the weight of loss is tough, not everyone can do it due to it dragging them down until they're unable to move anymore.
komaeda's old enough to carry this like every other actions— everything he's done so far as been to motivate, to help push their survival. )
It's like a dream, just like this... ( just like a dream... a dream that can become possible, that's why he says it's like one because due to add's efforts. ) Your actions will bring about something so serene... you won't let anyone else take it from you again, you have to embody hope... make that dream a reality.
( like this beautiful concept that komaeda is breaking with his own hands. add can protect it, he can keep it away for no one else to meddle in... especially trash like komaeda who has came, and dirtied it, and if he lets the other live with just a scrap of survival... what did he learn? you have to see it through, just like how this dream has urged them, make no mistakes, never hesitate. even if komaeda isn't one to kill, he's never truly murdered, because he can't stand those sort of people... but a death for hope, a death that can become a stepping stone to form something greater. )
If we meet again... I'd do anything to encourage your hope... I'll go along with you, understand you...
( he hopes, but he can say anything to this child, but hope comes with experience. all he can think of is that they'll see it through together, because komaeda's sanity always slips when it comes to hope. validating himself, his actions, wanting them to reflect on this child for the long term— there's no need to be afraid, this is the real world, and komaeda will open their eyes to it.
since this is a child, there's not much that needs to be done, but what he's angling for is snapping their neck— loud and audible.
because...
because... )
...Take advantage of this to strengthen your mind, body and soul... how funny, when all of this is a dream... no matter the losses...
( mumble, mumble... ) Never give up because the moment you do... hope was never an option...
1/2
a face frozen in terror as his muscles cease to function, staring endlessly into an empty sky. the boy falls limp. silence. stillness.
... it's over. he can't change his mind, now.]
2/2
but it's no tornado, as he should already know. the culprit is standing just across the room, staring at a handful of petals as they slip through his fingers and slowly twirl to the ground... his clothing is different, and his hair is either too short or too long depending on what's expected, but it's undeniably still Add.
he doesn't look up, but after a long silence... Add sighs, frowning slightly. he looks tired.]
You still don't get it, do you...? All of that, and you still believe in your "hope".
no subject
that's why when faced with add, he doesn't turn away from him. he didn't want to speak with him this way. )
I know... it wasn't mine to tamper with.
( yet, if it was doing that would let him engage with add in some way, then he chose his path, because it's him he wants to help... his hands curl, nails pressing into his hand. there's nothing in between his grasp now... it's a relief. )
...
( he could have done crueler... he could have tormented that child, maybe that hope even more hopeful by gouging out the eyes, ripping away the tongue, slitting open the throat... but he gave a quick death in his rambling, one that was fitting... because he didn't want to see him suffer something long term.
komaeda leans forward, fingers brushing against one of the cracked pots, and he simply picks up a piece. )
What do you believe in?
( hope can be anything, and komaeda can believe in it... but he'll let his perspective go just this one. )
Because yes... after all that, I still believe in you.
no subject
[an act, a retelling... because this is still a memory, twisted and broken as it is. he played his part the way it was intended, chose the path of despair like Add did so many years before... but it's still not the same, an actor reading the right lines but with all the wrong intonation. he can read the script front to back, but the meaning lies deeper than just in the words and directions, the actors and parts.
... but he followed the script. he tried. that much, at least, can be said.]
On this day... I lost everything. It was only because of her efforts that I survived, but I had nothing left to live for. Everything that was left, even the things that weren't mine to give... I threw it all away, just for one more chance to save her. To fix everything.
I threw away my future, betting on an impossible dream... but dreams are only special because they don't always come true. If there are infinite timelines, and infinite possibilities, then some of those timelines must end in failure. That is the undeniable truth of the universe.
"Hope" belongs with other people. Failures like me can only strip it away. That is the truth I believe in.
no subject
this is a dream, right? it's add's subconscious, because he doubts the other would tell him anything like this now, not after... what transpired not too long ago. he listens, stares at the broken piece of pot, and the flowers scattered all around.
komaeda understands why things are different from the— having someone like that, him to have a mother that loves him, who he would do anything for. there was nothing like that in his youth, no one to call his own, and so by his own delusions had he projected his love on a certain group that lived better lives. )
Destroying everything when you don't believe you deserve it, because you hate yourself... it's easy to say these things.
( for komaeda who acts the way he do so people will dislike him, to keep them safe he has to act the villain— ranger always called it being a lightening rod for those to place their feelings so they can move on. in a way, add is like that too, and it's why he plays the role that he does, but he's been learning to peel that away into something better. )
...Is that what you want: are you willingly making this timeline end in failure?
( it doesn't sound like him, because that would mean giving up because it's the easiest road obtainable. but that's not something impossible, and if he's placing his chips into the impossible then... an easy end isn't the road he's chosen.
...there's a sigh from komaeda's mouth.
it can't be. )
Because... it seems she believed in something greater for you.
no subject
An impossible dream can never come true. Believing in something impossible doesn't change that impossibility... the path I chose was always a dead end. There was never anything greater for me.
[wanting to achieve something but failing again and again, and yet still getting right back up, trying again, failing again... he saw the dead end, and instead of turning back he plowed on through the thorns, believing his sacrifices would be worth it. but there was never another side beyond the thorns, no hidden path to take, and the deeper he tread the more scars he collected, the more lost and entangled he became... until soon he'd lost sight of the path behind him. what other choice did he have but to keep moving, keep believing, keep trying the impossible?
he kept trying, never gave up... and that was why he ended up like this. broken, angry, resentful, afraid... lonely.]
If my dream can't come true... why should I be the only one to suffer? All I know is how to take away happiness. If that's all my talents are good for, isn't it better to embrace it?
Believing in something, wanting something... it only makes it more painful when you're met with disappointment. If I tear it apart, I can make a difference. I can change the future... even if it's not the one I wanted, at least my efforts will have meant something.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
hi...
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
ENDING E: In search of my mother's garden, I found my own.