acatalepsy_logs | [OPEN] Well. That Didn't Go Quite As Planned

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[OPEN] Well. That Didn't Go Quite As Planned

Who: EVERYONE
Where: The Temple of Beginnings
When: Immediately After The End.
Rating: PG-13, may vary by thread
What: You fall, you pick yourself back up and you move on. Or at least, you try.

Fished Out Of Water
One minute, you are witnessing the fabric of an entire world implode as it is literally ripped apart by powers unknown. The next, that tell-tale twist somewhere beneath your sternum, before you are bodily YANKED away from Akvos, away from the ocean and the Queen and the King and the Princess.

And land back on (mostly) solid, dry ground.

Welcome back to the Temple of Beginnings. Don't worry, there's no hurry for you to get back up just yet.

Hey, Howya Doin'?
Once you do get back up, now is the time to be taking stock of the situation - yours, your friends, and even those new merfolk neighbours (who may need a hand getting their fins back into the water). There is also the missing members of the Circle to consider: people who disappeared on the journey to Akvos, and those who never made it back..

(There's also that small matter with a certain 'witchess-san' that may be a cause for concern to some more than others.)

Whatever the case, it's a lot to process right now. Take the time you have, because you don't know if it'll be enough for what you need.

[[ OOC: Here's an open post for threads reacting to the end of the Akvos world hop. Feel free to use the above prompts, and/or make your own! ]]

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[These words are what break her will, her resolve. Konoha's grief mirrors and echoes so much of what she herself feels. The warriors, the civilians, the king and queen and princess-- what happened to them is sad, but in a battle things like that happen.

The children, though? The ones she'd taught Ranka's song, the ones who'd huddled around her and Konoha for security and comfort.

It's cruel. It's too cruel, and Sheryl's knuckles are white as she squeezes Konoha, her own tears now flowing openly down her cheeks, grieving and desperate because this is cruel, and horrifically unfair, and whatever she tells herself or tells the jinba, Sheryl is furious with herself for not being able to have prevented it.]

It's not fair... it's not fair, is it? For that to happen to them-- it's not fair!

[Being strong will have to wait, apparently. Because she's joining Konoha in weeping openly. Again.]

[It’s not.

Konoha has always known the world wasn’t fair. Her own birth parents she had never known, killed by wars and use by humans before she was old enough to remember. That wasn’t fair. People died just because they caught a sickness, or wasted away for lack of food, that wasn’t fair. But she’d at least been loved by a new family, scraped together enough food to live, and time to smile.]

I just wish- I just wish we could have saved more... even just one more...

[And those children wouldn’t have that chance. Not even the slimmest chance, and it’s heartbreaking.

She can’t just let Sheryl cry like that, not like this, not together but apart, and so Konoha shifts, enfolds Sheryl under a foreleg instead of beside, pulling her into a more proper frontal embrace- though with her forelegs it probably feels a bit like two embraces, her arms hugging tight around Sheryl’s shoulders and equine legs about her hips, but-

It gives them better things to cry on. Each other.]

[Sheryl's not expecting the change in position and it catches her off guard, but aside from a moment of stiffness in her posture there's no hesitation or uncertainty. Konoha is warm, and her arms are strong, and even if it feels a little odd to have two sets of limbs around her, she's not going to complain. Not as she buries her face into Konoha's shoulder, tears hot and angry and sad and bitter flowing from the corners of her eyes.

She doesn't say anything, her fingertips pressing into Konoha's human back, the sound of her tears wet and sloppy and not at all the image of the cool, practiced idol. She grieves, and that's all she can do for the moment.

Just one more. Would that have been so hard? Such an impossible task for an omnipotent witch?

She's not sure how long they weep together. But eventually, tears cry themselves out, and she's left sniffling as the fire burns behind her.] I don't know... what I'll do if that happens again, Konoha.

I can't let it happen again. I won't. I'm not going to!

[But what can she realistically do about it?]

[Every time she thinks that she hasn’t anymore tears left... Konoha manages to find some. In spades, now, with the thought of the children in her mind. It’s different from the stories she’d heard growing up, different from the suffering she was familiar with... so abrupt, so sudden, such a violent and final clash and end that she still can’t even fully understand it.

But it’s comforting to know she’s not alone. That Sheryl grieves too, that she isn’t alone with these emotions in a sea of people too jaded or too afraid of being weak to cry.

She keeps her face buried against the other girl’s shoulder still even as her cheeks begin to dry, nodding to the words. The conviction, even if she also doesn’t know what exactly can be done by the likes of them.]

I don’t know either... So many people said I should learn to fight, that I’m strong... but I don’t-

[Swallowing, she wrestles with the guilt, with the selfishness of wanting to be protected instead of learning to fight herself. For thinking that fighting shouldn’t solve everything.]

I don’t want to use my strength like that...

[Misery loves company.

Perhaps that saying wasn't made for times like this, but it does help, in a way, to grieve together. To know that the pain isn't theirs to bear alone, even if they all feel it in different ways.

Maybe it's just that they needed a good all-out cry to dull the ache in their hearts. She's not sure.

She does, weirdly, feel better. Not much better. But better.] If you don't want to fight, nobody can make you fight. You shouldn't let anyone make you fight.

That can't be the only thing we can do, can it?

[She touches her forehead to Konoha's shoulder another time before leaning back so she can get a little more air.]

I tried to learn how to fly like Alto does. To fight like he does. ...I wasn't very good at it.

It can’t be...

[Can it... ? Not everything should... so surely not everything could be solved with violence. She wants to believe that.

Konoha pulls a hand back to grope about at her waist until she can find the pouch worn at her waist, pulling out a worn but clean cloth that she offers to Sheryl before beginning to wipe at her own face with her sleeve. ... She needed to do laundry already anyway.]

We’re not good at fighting but- Surely there’s something we can do...

[Because she’s never felt as powerless or as useless as she had the moment the rift closed. The moment it had sunk in that that entire world was lost.]

But every world is so different and I don’t even know what will do good and what won’t...

[Oh, a handkerchief. Sheryl uses the proffered square of cloth to dab the streaks of tears from her cheeks before handing it back to Konoha. She takes a breath.

The pain is still there. The sadness and grief is still there. But having wept, openly, in her friend's arms... there's a sense of release and catharsis that she hasn't had since they've come back.] Don't say that about yourself, Konoha.

[She slowly pulls herself back into a sitting position, leaning against her friend's front in a way she hopes is comfortable for the jinba.] You've got plenty of skills. You're strong, you can cook. You know how to survive in the wild and build a fire. There are plenty of things you can do that don't involve ever having to hurt someone.

[And she's just a singer.]

[Even if it wasn't comfortable physically, Konoha wouldn't say a word. She takes too much comfort from it mentally to want it to change, taking her handkerchief back to finish wiping her tears before she sort of... drapes on Sheryl a bit, unwilling to give up that physical contact just yet.]

Then you can't say those things either, Sheryl.

[And there's not a hint of falsity in her voice, nothing said just out of sympathy or kindness.]

You know how to bring people together and make them feel things... Like safe, or confidant, or calm... That's the same as me.

[She believes it. When people's bellies were full because of her food they were happy... But they were also happy listening to Sheryl's voice.]

[Honestly, she doesn't mind the contact at all. Besides the fact that Konoha is very warm and she herself is chilly after misadventures in freezing lakes, it's just nice to have that contact. It's reassuring.

She takes a breath, slowly.] I'm the last person to say that music isn't important-- that keeping people's spirits up isn't important. I've been the songstress of despair before.

But it doesn't warm someone's body or keep them from going hungry or help them live. What you do does.

But... don’t worry. You can learn if you want to do that.

[She does get it. The result is the same, happiness or comfort, but. Yeah, the physical result is different. Cooking, cleaning, planting, sewing, though... Konoha just shakes her head, trying to smile despite her yet wet eyes, squeezing a moment in encouragement.]

I’d teach you. Or, you know... We could just work together! You sing, and I’ll feed everyone who comes to listen.

[Despite the dull ache in her heart, she can't help but laugh at that. That's right, she can learn, can't she? And she can rely on others.] That'd be wonderful, wouldn't it? Dinner and a show. We could open a business, the two of us.

And just hope everyone else can chase away the bad guys or the spatial rifts that come calling.

[It's not that much different from relying on Alto and the rest of SMS to fight the Vajra, is it? She's not a soldier. She knows this.

So why does it feel so much personal here?]

If they don't have food and hope... no one can go up against bad things, or think of ways to get us out of here.

[That's what she's been telling herself, anyway. Even if she wasn't a fighter, even if she wasn't a scholar... Without people like her, like them... Those other people wouldn't have the time or energy to do what needed to be done.

She's sure of it. Even if it sometimes doesn't feel like enough. Especially now.]

So... we'll do it. Together.

[A tint of doubt in her voice, just looking for that bit of reassurance.

Together... right?]

[That's right.

Sheryl herself isn't so sure. It feels still a little frustrating to be at the mercy of having other people have to really do the work, to be out of her element.

But if she can't smile and keep someone's spirits up, who can?

Sheryl reaches for one of Konoha's hands, taking it and squeezing.]

That's right, together. You and me. And anyone else who wants to come along, I suppose.

[Exactly. Who can?

So Konoha squeezes Sheryl's hand back, mustering a better smile, the firelight glinting warm off the remnants of tears on her cheeks. But not just the tears- it also reflects a touch of hope in her eyes.]

Yeah. You, and me, and... I guess I don't mind a bit more help.

[She shifts her grip so that she can lace her fingers with Konoha's, leaning up against her friend's front.] We'll start with us. And anyone who wants to join.

They'll just have to follow our lead. We'll be in charge, okay?

[It feels as if it's been so long since she's had this. Had someone crying the same tears from the same feelings, rather than her alone feeling weak or scared against someone stronger than she. Had someone willing to hold her hand... and let her squeeze back with a grateful smile.]

A famous singer and a lumber yard foreman know how to get things done.

[They will. If they believe it...

Until then, Konoha is perfectly content to nestle a bit against Sheryl's shoulder, listening to the crackle of the lakeside bonfire.]

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[OPEN] Well. That Didn't Go Quite As Planned

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fade out here?

yyy