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

"Its likely a representation of the fragmentation. Shrapnel," Red Son said as the wind brought it close.

He takes a breath and reaches through the wind to grab the shard carefully, trying to not cut himself on it.

The shard is jagged, but not quite sharp enough to cut, except for the very tip, so as long as you avoid that, you're in no danger of harm.

You are Macaque, and you're in a Mood.

Wukong has been home for all of two days, most of which you've spent convincing yourself not to follow him around like a puppy who missed his master, and he just announced that he's leaving again tomorrow. You're flummoxed to the point where you offer nothing but a terse nod. You can't help that this makes you look grumpy instead of what you really are.

But what could you possibly say? 'Stay with me, I need you here, you have enough power, I'll do anything if you don't go again'? No, absolutely not. You refuse to sound as desperate as you feel.

So you go do your own thing while Wukong talks about his near-future aspirations with one of your brothers or another. You don't especially want to hear it.

You do wonder why you're not enough for him to want to stay. You wonder if you ever will be.

At least he doesn't suddenly drop. It still hurts. He can understand that desperation. That want to be enough and not feeling like it, yet still refusing to let go of what little pride there is.

He does stare at the shard for several long beats. He wonders if Wukong ever really understood.

He lets out a soft breath and opens his bag to drop the shard inside. "More insecurity," he said. "Let's check the other ones."

MK watched Red Son. More insecurity. Okay wasn't going to touch that. They needed to keep it safe. He moved some of the sand to wrap around the sharp jagged parts and let it harden.

"There. So the scales? We're almost there," MK moved the stone toward where the scales were standing. "I'll grab this one," MK said and reached for the scales. He grabbed them.

The scales teeter when you grab them, much like the cage itself. But no matter what, they never seem to find any equilibrium. They never balance.

You are Macaque, and you're dodging agents of Heaven.

Wukong is imprisoned beneath a mountain, trapped and helpless, and you can't fix it. You know that. Hasn't stopped you from trying, from portaling into far-flung libraries out on the edge of the map, the ones that always have the answer in stories. Nothing materialized.

So eventually, you just bite the bullet and go to see him anyway. Empty-handed, or nearly so... a peach is all you can think that might be of any comfort. Perhaps just seeing you will do him some good. That's the hope. But first you have to make sure you're not seen, because who knows what will be done with you if they catch you defying Heaven again already.

You draw a breath, and listen. You hear his heart beating, you hear the echoes of his breathing on the walls of the cavern, and you can map it well enough. So you portal in beside him.

He's furious with you. Accuses you of not helping him. And what can you say? You didn't. You couldn't. Every angry word is another crack in the dam that's been breaking slowly, eroding every time he left you, ignored you, had better shit to do.

You wanted this to go differently. But that's the story of your life, isn't it?

The memory he's seen before from the outside in. It's easier to take the emotions. The way the fight exploded. The way Macaque felt as he was pushed and that dam finally burst open. The way it all went wrong. Macaque had tried but nothing could fix what happened. Everything was here now and it was unbalanced. It was all over the place, like this cage.

"Okay. I know this memory. I've seen it. In the scroll. It was his fight with Monkey King, under the mountain."

Red Son nodded. "Well, that probably explains the cage," he said. He had seen the fight before, with Wukong. The first time they really actually managed to get through a conversation all right without MK around.

"I can try the empty syringe?" He said. He had a feeling that would be Choco and Donnie related and with how MK HAS been....well, might be better he sees it.

"Alright. One syringe coming up," MK moved the rock toward the syringe now. It was an odd one. MK wasn't sure what the memory would be and would let Red Son tell him what it was.

Red Son nodded and reached down to pick up the syringe.

The needle of the syringe is rusted and looks like it's spent a long time here, exposed to the splash of salt water.

You are Macaque, and you are determined.

Wukong put together this little band of sworn brothers, but despite the name, so far they only tolerate you because you're Wukong's favorite. They are various degrees of baffled and resentful about it.

That's fine, honestly. You're used to needing to prove yourself. They're all big and flashy, which isn't the way you operate. You know your strengths, and you'll use them to show them what you can really do.

It'll take time. More with some than others. Yellowtusk respects thoughtfulness, which you have. DBK respects strength, easy enough. Peng and Azure... those are trickier. One gets off on being a bully, one is jealous. Not much to be done with that.

It's workable. You don't need their approval, you only need them to stop whispering about you in dark corners as if you can't hear them.

Shutting them up is going to be fun.

"????"

Red Son looks at the syringe in confusion. "I'm not entirely sure how this is related," he said. "Its him wanting to shut up the other sworn brothers about him being there. Determination and spite."

A pause. "A fairly accurate read on how they operate though," he said. His father included. He didn't always understand the strength of things until he saw it in action. "Next one."

He has the wind ready to support the rock and to keep a hold of MK.

MK watched the confusion. He hummed and listened. He tilted his head.

"Maaaaybe it was a give them a taste of their own medicine kinda thing? I dunno?" MK said with a shrug. Alarm clock next, I guess," MK moved the rock and felt his magical energy draining a little. But not too bad. Not yet.

"I'll take this one," He said as he reached and grabbed the clock.

When you touch the alarm clock, you are consumed by the ticking. It rings in your ears. You can feel it in your throat. The other sounds in this area fade out entirely, and all you hear is the ticking.

You feel the stress of limits. You want to overcome them, and are determined to do so, despite that they worry you. You feel them, even the ones you can beat into submission. You're willing to work hard, but what if it isn't enough? You'll have to make certain that it is enough, in the end. The alternative is always wondering what, indeed, you're actually worth.

"Maybe?" It seems the most likely explanation. That or the metaphors are getting mixed up.

"How is it?" He asked.

What was that thing Kornoe said? Same hat?

Same hat.

MK shoved the alarm clock into his bag and covered his ears with his hands. The ticking. The ticking! The rock waivered as his concentration broke. He forced it back up and the sand closed in around them. Like it was forming a dome or shell. He groaned as he felt the weight of it all.

"It's...loud. Ticking. And...feeling unworthy. Wanting to be worthy but thinking maybe you're not. ...Not a good feeling. Not at all," MK said as he shook. He focused on his breathing and pressed his head against Red Son's chest. He listened for his boyfriend's heartbeat. He could focus on that.

"I'm okay. I'm okay...just...can you grab the next one?"

Red Son kicked up the wind around them, stronger winds to help support the rock, keep it up, and his arm tightening around MK.

He puts his hand over MK's exposed ear, pressing him more to his chest. "I can grab the next one. Just focus on me, okay. Eat a candy. It'll be okay," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Just breathe, okay? Turn the rock into sand if you need to let go of your concentration, I have you."

MK nodded. The ticking was fading away but he was having a hard time concentrating. Sand would be better. He shifted the rocks into sand and held on. He moved them toward the next memory object slowly. The spoon and the rotted bowl.

"There, there. Just breathe," Red Son said, breathing deep and letting it out slowly. Keeping his own heart rate calm. "Tell me when you're ready to catch and I'll take the next memory. Don't rush. We're fine."

Breathe. In. Out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Find his center. He nodded and the sand became more firm under their feet. He moved to the spoon and bowl. He nodded.

"I'm alright. I'm good to go. It's easier to think again. Grab it."

Red Son nodded and will kiss the top of his head. "You're doing well," he murmured.

And then he'll reach out for the bowl and spoon.

You touch the bowl and spoon, and they seem barely held together. The bottom is rotted out of both of them, making them unfit for their purpose, but sharp enough to hurt someone in some parts.

You feel a sinking feeling of making an error. Getting something wrong. Miscalculating. The wind knocked out of you as you try to think past your whirling mind and recover from the blow. How could you not see this? You're supposed to be smart.

That is the problem being so smart and also having worked against an impossible problem for centuries upon centuries. Self doubt is just his bread and butter, beating himself up for failure, and then forcing himself to get up again.

There is a bit of a hiccup in the flying and the wind.

But ultimately, that feeling is just Tuesday for Red Son.

"Realization of making a mistake. Do you want me to get the next one? These may be hard for you," Red Son said. With the theme so far and all...

MK watched Red Son. He was so good at this. MK was a little in awe of it. He shook his head.

"I can get the next one. I...need to get better at this. Will you just...hold me? Through it? Maybe some of your awesomeness will rub off on me," MK said and moved them toward the face sculpture next.

When you fail at something for almost your entire life, you have to learn to get up after your mistakes or you're laying down in a sad pile for a very, very, very long time.

"I'm not sure I'd call it awesomeness at this stage, but yes, I can hold you," he said, his hold tightening on MK. Making sure he has a good hold on their flight.

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - South Door