Better not to. It's less of a concern here, but I'm used to being overly-cautious about it. No one from my world can know. It just takes one of them showing up here for everything to get out. You know how this place is.
I think "showing" would work, but that's a bit. Traumatic?
Just because you can take it doesn't mean you should. We're both missing the same person right now. I feel like adding more to your plate isn't going to make you feel better.
[for someone experienced with frequently jumping into other people's minds, he's exceedingly clumsy with this. sharing, of his own volition, isn't something he's used to, and so what comes out is more like tripping and spilling a bunch of drinks onto the floor, messy chaos with occasional bits of shattered glass:
you're a young woman with no weapon in hand but with power in your fingertips that stills feels overwhelming to you; with a push of mana you create a connection to the earth around you and trees sprout up and up and up, taking your nearby fellow Hunters up and away from a swarm of incoming beasts. "Yoomi!" you hear someone yell your name in warning and turn to see Lethe running for you right before the monster he's trying to catch up to bites out your throat—
you're a middle aged man with a sword you wield like it's an extension of yourself and a mana shield that you've never had break. you know both of these things are not enough to stop the massive werewolf boss monster that is bearing down on you, but behind you half of your party is severely injured and you're out of health potions and this is the best you can do until your mana runs out and your shield breaks. you yell at all of them to get back and regroup, and it sounds like begging in your voice. you don't want to die like this. you don't want any of them to die like this either. Lethe is there next to you even though you just told him to get back, damn it, this kid never listens, and that's the last thing you can think before your shield shatters and the monster runs both of you through—
you're small and scrawny and you're being dragged deep, deep, deep underwater by disgusting barbed tentacles, and you already know that it's too late, you know that even if you get out of its grip the poison will finish you and you can't swim to the surface before you run out of air, but you're scared and you don't want to die you don't want to die you don't want to die so you struggle and struggle harder when you see the dim shapes of your party swimming down to get you and you have a brief moment to hope that they'll save you before water fills your lungs and your vision goes dark—
you're tall and strong and taunting someone beaten and bloody lying on the ground, going on about how it's a shame he couldn't be more useful like his big-shot little brother. you call him weak and you mean it; you know he believes it. the spear in your hand and the closed dungeon gate behind you is all you need to feel over-confident that he has nowhere to run. he should know better than to trust others in a world like this, so he only has himself to blame for the situation he's gotten himself into. you wonder if you should take your time killing him, have a little fun with it. you casually drive your spear into his leg and he swallows a scream. well, that wasn't as satisfying as you wanted it to be. you pull the spear out and contemplate where to stick it next, and you only have a second to wonder at the fierce look in his eyes before Lethe pulls a knife out of his inventory and stabs you in the throat. the first hit doesn't kill you, but the three that follow finish the job—
you're lying on the concrete right next to the dungeon gate with no idea how you got out; everyone must have defeated the boss monster, right? but the only other person you see with you is Lethe, poor Lethe, who is crying and giving you chest compressions (do you need chest compressions? maybe you do. everything feels a little cold. you're not really sure how you're still alive.) and telling you that the paramedics are almost here and to not die. nothing hurts, which is a bad sign. it's a little hard to talk, but you tell him he did a good job; none of this was his fault; thank him for bringing you out of that cold, miserable dungeon. you tell him that it's almost Christmas and he should make up with his brother before he misses another birthday. he cries and cries and cries, ugly and choking and sobbing, and promises he will if you'll stay alive—
(you don't stay alive)
the memories pour in, dozens upon dozens upon dozens of last moments. they are almost all sudden and violent and unexpected; Lethe is there for each one, desperately trying to save a life or too far out of reach for it to matter. there are exactly six in which he is the one dealing the finishing blow. after the first few they blur together in a jumble of pain and surprise, and though they're all from very different people, the sudden jolt of death is ever an equalizer. none of these memories are Lethe's, but he has them and in that way they are still his, with all of the aching pain and guilt and grief he heaps on top of them. each one comes with a scar carved deep into his heart, a promise to himself that it won't happen again. he won't lose anyone else. he can't take it if this happens again—
you're in a massive cavern that stretches farther than the eye can see, only faintly illuminated by flickering torchlight and pale, glowing moss. in the distance you can hear the rumblings of a large, angry creature searching for prey, but the knowledge that it's there becomes fainter as your world narrows to just this. you're collapsed in your older brother's arms, your body so slashed up that it feels like only sheer willpower is keeping your organs inside of you. you're not worried about that, though. you can ignore the stench of blood, you can deal with the slow creep of poison that's flooded your system and is snuffing out your life. your brother is safe. you love him more than anything in this universe, and he's alive. he's safe. you smile and can't stop smiling.
you let out one quiet exhale of breath, and then no more. you feel the poison stop your heart.
"...Did you die?" you hear Lethe ask, and there's a bitterness in his voice that you know is all your fault. "Are you making things harder for me until the very end?"
(you love him, you love him, you love him, it doesn't matter if he hates you, he is your whole world, and even after your heart stops beating you love him)—
your baby brother is dead in your arms and his memories are flooding into your mind and every single fight you've had in the last eight years burns. in this moment you hate that you love him so, so much. it would have been so much easier if you had hated each other. it would have been so much easier if neither of you had cared. you are going to die here with him, but you are going to kill the damn dragon that killed your little brother first.
(you don't die.)
you stop at the top of the stairs when you see Charon's body laying outside of his bedroom door, his heart neatly exploded. there's an old, familiar feeling that you haven't felt in months, a choking desperation that you should have found a way to stop this even though there was nothing you could have done. fear resistance activates and dampens the panic response that you can feel coming. another scar is carved into your heart, a lie you tell yourself that this won't happen again. you carry Chronos out of the room as Styx carries Charon and tell yourself that you haven't lost anyone, they're going to be fine, they're coming back. and that much is true; it makes it easier.
you listen to Ananke dying next to you and know there's nothing you can do. you can't even see him through the thorns and vines and pain and surprise choking both of you, and it takes all of your concentration to keep up the illusion you've created so that no one has to watch you die. you know that it will be a while before you can both come back to life again and that's the worst part. it hurts and you want to scream but that would be so, so much worse for everyone else, you know what it's like to be left alive when everyone else dies. it hurts, but it's only temporary. they'll bring you back and you won't have to dig another scar into your heart because everyone is still here even if they're wrung out and hurt.
you see the shepherd's staff in Ananke's hand and your body knows what it means faster than your mind can put it together, because your heart drops to the floor—
Lethe pulls back, then, just as clumsily cutting off the connection and looking faintly apologetic]
[ A few raindrops hit Lethe's face, arms, chest. That's weird for a desert, isn't it? They land on the sun-parched earth and absorb into the grit immediately.
Well -- maybe it's because Minuet is just silently crying. ]
[ Standing in the middle of his psyche, Lethe can easily tell the half-crazed determination from earlier is for this specifically: getting Charon back. ]
Yeah. We'll drop him in your pillow pit and force him to relax for an entire week while he gets handed books and food.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: Day 32, during babies
Sometimes it helps, when words clearly aren't working.
If you hate me and don't want to tell me anything, that's not a problem. I just want to know you're letting yourself rely on someone. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
[a flash of a memory, I like you too much to tell you half of my secrets, drifts on a breeze]
I don't know if it's something I can...talk about.
Re: Day 32, during babies
Can't, or better not to?
I'm not judging, only wondering. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
I think "showing" would work, but that's a bit. Traumatic?
Re: Day 32, during babies
But if it's me you're worried about, I'll be fine. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
Re: Day 32, during babies
I'm more sturdy than I probably look. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
Re: Day 32, during babies
Re: Day 32, during babies
takes a deep breath and lets it all out]
Tell me how you share memories in here.
Re: Day 32, during babies
Re: Day 32, during babies
you're a young woman with no weapon in hand but with power in your fingertips that stills feels overwhelming to you; with a push of mana you create a connection to the earth around you and trees sprout up and up and up, taking your nearby fellow Hunters up and away from a swarm of incoming beasts. "Yoomi!" you hear someone yell your name in warning and turn to see Lethe running for you right before the monster he's trying to catch up to bites out your throat—
you're a middle aged man with a sword you wield like it's an extension of yourself and a mana shield that you've never had break. you know both of these things are not enough to stop the massive werewolf boss monster that is bearing down on you, but behind you half of your party is severely injured and you're out of health potions and this is the best you can do until your mana runs out and your shield breaks. you yell at all of them to get back and regroup, and it sounds like begging in your voice. you don't want to die like this. you don't want any of them to die like this either. Lethe is there next to you even though you just told him to get back, damn it, this kid never listens, and that's the last thing you can think before your shield shatters and the monster runs both of you through—
you're small and scrawny and you're being dragged deep, deep, deep underwater by disgusting barbed tentacles, and you already know that it's too late, you know that even if you get out of its grip the poison will finish you and you can't swim to the surface before you run out of air, but you're scared and you don't want to die you don't want to die you don't want to die so you struggle and struggle harder when you see the dim shapes of your party swimming down to get you and you have a brief moment to hope that they'll save you before water fills your lungs and your vision goes dark—
you're tall and strong and taunting someone beaten and bloody lying on the ground, going on about how it's a shame he couldn't be more useful like his big-shot little brother. you call him weak and you mean it; you know he believes it. the spear in your hand and the closed dungeon gate behind you is all you need to feel over-confident that he has nowhere to run. he should know better than to trust others in a world like this, so he only has himself to blame for the situation he's gotten himself into. you wonder if you should take your time killing him, have a little fun with it. you casually drive your spear into his leg and he swallows a scream. well, that wasn't as satisfying as you wanted it to be. you pull the spear out and contemplate where to stick it next, and you only have a second to wonder at the fierce look in his eyes before Lethe pulls a knife out of his inventory and stabs you in the throat. the first hit doesn't kill you, but the three that follow finish the job—
you're lying on the concrete right next to the dungeon gate with no idea how you got out; everyone must have defeated the boss monster, right? but the only other person you see with you is Lethe, poor Lethe, who is crying and giving you chest compressions (do you need chest compressions? maybe you do. everything feels a little cold. you're not really sure how you're still alive.) and telling you that the paramedics are almost here and to not die. nothing hurts, which is a bad sign. it's a little hard to talk, but you tell him he did a good job; none of this was his fault; thank him for bringing you out of that cold, miserable dungeon. you tell him that it's almost Christmas and he should make up with his brother before he misses another birthday. he cries and cries and cries, ugly and choking and sobbing, and promises he will if you'll stay alive—
(you don't stay alive)
the memories pour in, dozens upon dozens upon dozens of last moments. they are almost all sudden and violent and unexpected; Lethe is there for each one, desperately trying to save a life or too far out of reach for it to matter. there are exactly six in which he is the one dealing the finishing blow. after the first few they blur together in a jumble of pain and surprise, and though they're all from very different people, the sudden jolt of death is ever an equalizer. none of these memories are Lethe's, but he has them and in that way they are still his, with all of the aching pain and guilt and grief he heaps on top of them. each one comes with a scar carved deep into his heart, a promise to himself that it won't happen again. he won't lose anyone else. he can't take it if this happens again—
you're in a massive cavern that stretches farther than the eye can see, only faintly illuminated by flickering torchlight and pale, glowing moss. in the distance you can hear the rumblings of a large, angry creature searching for prey, but the knowledge that it's there becomes fainter as your world narrows to just this. you're collapsed in your older brother's arms, your body so slashed up that it feels like only sheer willpower is keeping your organs inside of you. you're not worried about that, though. you can ignore the stench of blood, you can deal with the slow creep of poison that's flooded your system and is snuffing out your life. your brother is safe. you love him more than anything in this universe, and he's alive. he's safe. you smile and can't stop smiling.
you let out one quiet exhale of breath, and then no more. you feel the poison stop your heart.
"...Did you die?" you hear Lethe ask, and there's a bitterness in his voice that you know is all your fault. "Are you making things harder for me until the very end?"
(you love him, you love him, you love him, it doesn't matter if he hates you, he is your whole world, and even after your heart stops beating you love him)—
your baby brother is dead in your arms and his memories are flooding into your mind and every single fight you've had in the last eight years burns. in this moment you hate that you love him so, so much. it would have been so much easier if you had hated each other. it would have been so much easier if neither of you had cared. you are going to die here with him, but you are going to kill the damn dragon that killed your little brother first.
(you don't die.)
you stop at the top of the stairs when you see Charon's body laying outside of his bedroom door, his heart neatly exploded. there's an old, familiar feeling that you haven't felt in months, a choking desperation that you should have found a way to stop this even though there was nothing you could have done. fear resistance activates and dampens the panic response that you can feel coming. another scar is carved into your heart, a lie you tell yourself that this won't happen again. you carry Chronos out of the room as Styx carries Charon and tell yourself that you haven't lost anyone, they're going to be fine, they're coming back. and that much is true; it makes it easier.
you listen to Ananke dying next to you and know there's nothing you can do. you can't even see him through the thorns and vines and pain and surprise choking both of you, and it takes all of your concentration to keep up the illusion you've created so that no one has to watch you die. you know that it will be a while before you can both come back to life again and that's the worst part. it hurts and you want to scream but that would be so, so much worse for everyone else, you know what it's like to be left alive when everyone else dies. it hurts, but it's only temporary. they'll bring you back and you won't have to dig another scar into your heart because everyone is still here even if they're wrung out and hurt.
you see the shepherd's staff in Ananke's hand and your body knows what it means faster than your mind can put it together, because your heart drops to the floor—
Lethe pulls back, then, just as clumsily cutting off the connection and looking faintly apologetic]
Re: Day 32, during babies
Well -- maybe it's because Minuet is just silently crying. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
--?! Don't do that!
Re: Day 32, during babies
Sorry.
[ Said with just plain old voice this time. ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
It's okay.
Re: Day 32, during babies
But yes okay good that's fine. ]
I understand.
Re: Day 32, during babies
That sucks for both of us, huh.
Re: Day 32, during babies
[ It comes out still a little watery, but also wry ]
. . . I'm not sure I can afford to lose him, either.
[ He used to be so good at losing things. A seasoned expert. And in one month it all fell the fuck apart, what HAPPENED ]
Re: Day 32, during babies
We'll get him back.
[it is a simple statement of fact that needs no further elaboration. they will.]
Re: Day 32, during babies
Yeah. We'll drop him in your pillow pit and force him to relax for an entire week while he gets handed books and food.
Re: Day 32, during babies
I bet he'll hate it after the first day. We'll have to keep putting people in there to keep him occupied or he'll start sending out cubecalls.
Re: Day 32, during babies
That's okay. After all, who do you think's gonna do the pampering?
Re: Day 32, during babies
very seriously:]
You, Perci, and Styx.
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