castaside | [Heart Game] From the ashes we can build

Oh, wow! Look at all this stuff ... Sensei really has been working hard.

[ She doesn't look in the desk drawer right away, starting instead with the items on the desk. Specifically the paper, which she carefully unrolls. ]

The architectural plans are for a cathedral with delicate but strong flying buttresses, detailed archways, intricate stained glass windows.

You are the Six-Eared Macaque, shadow portaling into the home that Choco Korone shares with her datemates. Making sure to warn her in advance, because you know she is easily startled, understandably so.

She is wearing a cute eyepatch. You smile when you see her, and you mean it, but the eyepatch makes you remember things you'd rather not. It makes you worry. The pendant around her neck makes you worry. You can't remember worrying this much after someone's welfare in... centuries.

But she still wants to fight your avatar. She's such a strong girl. It makes you proud to be her teacher, and whatever else you are.

Red arrives, and he starts checking her eye, looking over her helmet. Discussing heart games, diving into someone's soul. The very idea makes your chest feel tight, but you focus on the smell of strawberries and the sound of their hearts beating and you can breathe.

While they chatter, you think of scaffolding. Of safety. Of protection. Of all the things you'd give her if you could, but it's better for her to get them for herself. For whatever reason she's willing to accept your help in this. You question your worthiness for this task, but nonetheless it is yours.

You must not fail at it.

[ It hits hard. How could it not? Even braced, knowing that a wave was coming, letting it wash through and over her —

There's no way to experience someone else's perspective on you without getting two-by-four'd in the face and heart by feelings. Fuck. Korone closes her eyes and breathes deep. Swallows. And murmurs, ]

Macchan, you are more than worthy of every ounce of faith and trust I've offered you. [ She looks at the paper, and then to the night sky. ] You're worth every stumble and worry. You're worth it all.

Thank you for being there for me, and with me.

[ She rolls it back up just as it had been, sets it down, and brushes her fingers across the ice skate. ]

There is no direct reply, but the moonlight feels a touch warmer for a long moment.

You are Macaque, and you are escorting Choco through a portal to the ice rink. There is much you want to give her today: a nice time, some exercise. Perhaps a new family member, if all goes well.

Hell, you're actually nervous about suggesting it. It's almost funny; the great Six-Eared Macaque laid low by feelings for a teenager. But that's what being a parent-figure does, or so you've read. Time will reveal the accuracy, or lack thereof, of those particular texts.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. She tugs you to the skate rental desk, works you through the process of getting ready. You're delighted to see what she can do, especially since she seems so thrilled about it. You want to share this good thing with her. You've shared some bad, and there will be more, but this is a moment for good things.

She deserves the world. She deserves far better than you can probably give. But whatever you have to offer, it's hers without needing to even ask.

And so you tell her. Cautiously, and with plenty of space for her to say 'no thanks, I'm all set for a family'. It would be understandable. But her eyes are first wide, then wet as she grabs for your other hand, her voice crumpling as she crashes into your chest, face-first.

Something inside you untwists as your arms slide around her, below her wings of course, and you press a kiss to the top of her head. It's as much an answer as either of you needs.

You hold her, and your eyes sting, and you're now nervous in a different way. A lasting, unfixable way. A constant, low hum of anxiety way, a string of thoughts about all that you lack and how you could possibly be all that she needs, all she deserves. Like the stretch of an under-used muscle, you feel that accomplished sort of sore and you know it will never fade, you will forever be fretting about her health and well-being in ways big and small and at the same time glad of it.

So that's what all those parent-writers were talking about.

[ Hey.

Hey, Macaque?

Jesus Christ Macaque put the steel chair down before you kill her holy fucking shit. ]

[ It takes a minute. She doesn't break down sobbing, not this time, but she's pretty sure the lump in her throat could be classed as a new continent, and oh, the way her eyes burn. So. Yeah. It takes a goddamn minute for her to wrestle back her composure. She sniffs. Blinks hard.

Points at her shadow like she's an Ace Attorney lawyer. ]

You. You are a menace.

[ Sniffs again. Rubs her forearm roughly across her eyes, wiping away tears that haven't quite fallen. She grabs a blank page from her sketchbook and her pencil case from inside her hammerspace bag, and get to work. It won't be a masterpiece. As good an artist as she is, there's no time for that. What it will be is evocative — a loose, colorful sketch, heavy on her blue and his inky purple, of the two of them dancing together on the ice, hand in hand, fast and flying and free.

She finishes it with a message:

"All I need is for us to be ourselves, together.
Love,
🪶子"

Both the feather and the kanji are in her signature shade of blue, and the signature, simple though it may be, took almost as long as the drawing itself. She slips it carefully underneath ice skate, lets out a shuddery breath, shakes out her hands, and moves on to touch the arcade game console. ]

But he likes this steel chair :<

The shadow smiles a violet smile and shrugs, like he has no idea how that got there. When she places the drawing under the skate, the shadow plucks the paper's shadow and tucks it away as if for safekeeping.

You are Macaque and you are inside the heart of one Choco Korone. You are at the arcade, snooping around in hopes of finding another key, perhaps, something useful, anything. You end up on a box wrapped with caution tape, distaste building in your chest at yet another invasion of privacy as you look at the post-it note attached to it.

"My feelings were my feelings for a reason, weren't they? They were real and they were mine. No matter how big and scary they were ...

... I hoped I'd be grow with them, through them, in time. Even if it took years and years and years, even if it was hard and messy and painful. I hoped I'd be able to make peace with my past on my own terms."

It takes extreme control not to crumple the thing in your shaky grip. Your own mind, full of holes and voids because you couldn't handle your feelings, contrasted with a brave young girl who wants nothing more than to be true to herself. It highlights your selfishness and cowardice with embarrassing intensity, and it fits on a fucking post-it.

You'll never blame Donnie for it, nor even admit that he has responsibility for what went wrong, that is unthinkable. The fault is your own, all of it. You're supposed to be the one he and Korone look up to, and look what you've done.

This is no time or place to break down, but you want to anyway. You want to scream until Korone hears you, tell her that she's braver than you'll ever be, that she deserves better for a teacher and friend. Donnie deserves better. Wukong and MK for damn sure deserved better than to be reduced to a nothingness where feelings used to be.

You give yourself ten seconds to be devastated and ashamed, and then you move on to the next.

[ She'd expected a lot of things.

... That wasn't one of them. For a moment, a long moment, she stares almost sightlessly down at the little miniature, her breath caught sharply, painfully, in her chest.

She sits down, and reaches for her shadow's hands. ]

The shadow reaches back, and its fingers curl around yours. You feel warm and loved and cherished, and you feel Macaque being sorry that he didn't tell you sooner, that he did this at all.

[ Being able to sense someone else's feelings like this might normally wig her the fuck out. Not this time. ]

... I want you to know something, Macchan.

[ She squeezes his hands. His, because while the shadow may be hers, it's still him. ]

And I want you to know it comes with my whole heart behind it.

[ She doesn't know how we'll he'll be able to feel her feelings, if he even can at all. Still ... Korone makes a point of lowering her walls, such as they are, and letting herself feel. ]

[ She chirps (her own, pitched lower), love

She chirps (her own, blended avian and reptilian, pitched lower), love

She chirps (his), love ]

I love you.

I love you for all the parts of yourself you've shown to me. For each and every single one of the moments we've shared so far, good and bad and everything in between. For the future.

And when we fuck up, because we're both gonna, we'll work through it. Just like we'll work through this. And I hope that one day ... one day, you'll be able to stop holding your hurts against yourself.

There is a chirp back: love. But not from the shadow, it's from the shadow-monkeys that have been hiding in the trees. First one chirp, then three, then a dozen. Little love chirps from all around. There's a swell in the cicada's humming and the little coqui songs from the frogs, and one can only imagine that they're saying the same.

The shadow nods, and smiles. They'll work through it.

[ SAPPY AS FUCK ]

I think ... maybe, if you want to - maybe we could talk about that one more? Later. After.

[ She smiles back at him, a tear finally spilling over. ]

... You really did work hard to make all this, didn't you? For us and for yourself. [ She looks back up at the desk. ] Like ... little moments in time that echo through the ages. Reminds me of quilting. And stars. Wayfinders.

[ Back to him again. ]

D'you want us to bring them along?

Maybe he likes Sappy As Fuck when it comes to his daughter.

The shadow hesitates, but nods. Not his favorite thing, talking about the ways he fucked up, but for her, he'll try it.

He gives a thumbs up to her question about taking the things, then a wobblehand. Take them, but also something else.

Thank you. [ She knows it's hard. It's hard for her. ] Honestly, it's kind of a selfish request on my part. I don't... I don't mind - that is, I'm not upset with you for seeing what you saw in my heart? But maybe talking would help us understand ourselves and each other a little better.

[ She slowly pulls away, standing back up. ]

Something else? More items, something you want us to do with them, or both? [ She gives him a chance to react and respond, her hand hovering over but not yet touching the model of her pendant. ]

Edited 2024-03-06 19:52 (UTC)

The shadow holds up two fingers; the second one, that there's something you need to do with them.

The shadow then holds out a hand, above which hovers the five items on Korone's desk in miniature. And then a foot away, another pigeon symbol, this one over a strange wobbling grey that's not quite a shadow.

The shadow plucks one of the five items from his hand seemingly at random and puts it in the strange non-shadow grey hole, and the hole closes up. The shadow gives a thumbs up sign. That's what you're supposed to do, apparently.

Those labeled weirdnesses over by the elevators aren't portals, they're holes that need to be filled with memories. It's up to you to choose which one.

Edited 2024-03-06 20:02 (UTC)

[ ... OH ... ]

One each, and it's a choice that matters. Right?

A firm nod from the shadow.

[ Excuse her while she has fifty thousand feelings about this.

It's heavy.

It's responsibility.

It's trust, and it's love.

Korone bites her lip, slowly curling and uncurling her hands. ]

… You're trusting us with this. [ She speaks half to herself. ] You chose these memories for a reason, and you're trusting us. [ To make this choice. To help him as best they possibly can. She can't help but think of the memory he showed her of her heart. Of her own complicated mess of feelings.

Of Church's heart, and Donnie's. ] ... I —

If we're doing this with your blessing —

I'll do my best for you, Macchan.

"We gotta choose? I...oh. OH. Uh...should we all talk about it? We gotta pick one, right? What does the choice do? Like, does it mean we go somewhere in his soul or we plugging holes? Like, that's a lot of freedom. Like a lot a lot of freedom!"

Excuse MK as he just stared at Korone and her shadow. He'd watched the little demonstration. They got to choose the buttons. Great. Time to go into overthinking big brain mode here.

"What does Macchan mean?" A good and easy distraction? Yes please.

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-06 21:12 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-06 21:17 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-06 22:45 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-06 23:20 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-07 00:42 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-07 00:45 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-07 00:54 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-07 00:55 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-07 01:01 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-07 03:01 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-07 07:27 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-07 17:18 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

bluediligence - 2024-03-07 17:50 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

noodleboi - 2024-03-07 17:56 (UTC) - Expand

It's heavy, and it's trust, and it's love, and it's sort of crazy. But what is opening your soul to the people you love if not all those things?

The shadow crosses his arms and grabs his opposite shoulders like he's miming giving her a hug. He trusts her, all of them, to put him back together properly.

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

MK CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BALL

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby