[ OPEN? CLOSED? ] as you die, you will understand.

[passio]

WHO: dextera + others! i’m open to anyone but please tell me by PM or at pavaal if they haven’t had at least like, one conversation.

WHAT: dextera forces himself to face all the people he bailed on after dying.

WHERE: the town!

WHEN: forward dated to late june, and probably the 1st and 2nd of july.

WARNINGS: death death death

[ for the first time, dextera wakes up from death to a sky that isn’t red. it’s all as grey as the world around him, and slowly, the memories return to him—the bogeyman, his brother, the feeling of his very soul being taken from his body. then, there’s a long expanse of nothing. now, his consciousness has returned.

he keeps out of the way at first in this sketchy body, staying private, staying safe with a friend he’s sure won’t tell—there are things he’s not ready to talk about, and faces he’s not ready to see. after a few days have passed, though, and his features reform, color returns, and his voice continues to stay just out of reach, he can finally be seen around town again.

he saw the post. he knows guren announced his death. he’s just hoping that no one will ask about it, if they see him. ]

...

[ as ever, he's silent. ]


( i'll be posting closed prompts in the comments for people who want them, otherwise... go HOG WILD. )

Comments

[passio]

[ it’s strange, that her gods don’t revive people. he supposes that his doesn’t either, but she’s (She) so wholly convinced of his individuality and consciousness that there’s no way she would let him die. even when she kills him, he returns. it’s a strange relationship, to have with the deranged deity.

he sighs. ]

They always have a purpose.

[withwisdom]

You would think they'd share it with us. Instead we wander blindly, hands out, trying to figure out what we're reaching for.

[ she turns around to face him proper now and offers the small bundle of flowers. irises, in a shade of dark purple, tied together by a colorless string. ]

But at least we're together there. It's why we must take care of each other.

[passio]

…

[ it’s a moment.

dextera takes the irises, his expression mildly stunned by the gesture, even if he could have anticipated that she was going to hand him something. the petals are a vibrant, deep purple—and knowing what he knows now, about this town, it must have been something wonderful that brought this color back.

his fingers tense around the stems, and he nods, wordless in both hand and voice. ]

[withwisdom]

[ she watches him take the flowers, silent as ever, and then a thought occurs. ]

Dextera... forgive my curiosity, but I wanted to know - are you silent by choice or not?

[passio]

…?

[ dextera looks up at her, surprised by that too, and then a frown pulls at his mouth. it’s not her. she didn’t do anything, it’s just—

he shakes his head. the answer is most definitely not by choice. ]

[withwisdom]

[ hm, she suspected as much, but confirmation helps. ]

Growing up, one of my dear friends never spoke either. His was a matter of choice, as he felt too burdened by the weight on him to open up to others. But even in silence, he had much to say. ...I think of you the same way.

[passio]

[ dextera has a voice. it’s in there, and he can make sounds—it’s just his communication that’s been taken from him, given to god in exchange for this power that he never even wanted.

he wants to return to her, and take it back. ]

…

[ he shakes his head. ]

Your friend sounds nobler than I am.

[withwisdom]

You shouldn't say that about yourself. I doubt it's true.

[ pointed and a little blunt, but self-deprecation seems to be a common trend in this town. ]

[passio]

[ zelda has so much faith in him, but she doesn’t know—she can’t know. he doesn’t want her to know. ]

If your friend is noble at all, it’s true. [ but then he pauses, straightening up a little. remembering these flowers in his hand, and the way she mourned for him. it’s… cruel, to act like that’s a waste. ] But I want to do better.

[withwisdom]

[ she pauses to consider his response, wondering what the source of this could all be? it doesn't feel right of her to pry however. some things cannot be asked of. ]

When I was growing up, an important lesson was imparted on me: the knight who protects with a sword is no more noble than the farmer who gathers hay with a pitchfork. "Nobility" does not come in a single form. It is defined by the actions and character of the person.

[ she smiles a little and touches a finger to one of the flowers she handed over to him. ]

All we can do is our best. Don't push yourself too hard, and don't lose spirit. There are too many people who care for you to do that.

[ though she doesn't know how many, she saw how people reacted on guren's post. that seems evidence enough. ]

[passio]

[ could dextera ever really consider himself noble, though? whether it’s a pitchfork or a sword in his hand, he’s the one who killed the world. he’s the one who destroyed everything, and yet…

zelda grieved for him. all these people in town grieved for him. she’s right, even if she doesn’t know the whole story. ]

…thank you.

[ that’s all he can say, honestly. he’s grateful for her words. ]

[withwisdom]

You're welcome.

[ even though it feels trite to say it, because she would do it for anyone. not out of thanks, but because it's the right thing to do. no one should be forgotten. ]

Now then, be sure to put those flowers into a vase of water. They won't last for very long, but you should keep them as decoration while you can.