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

"Well that tracks. We fought, over 500 years passed, and the next he knew I had new friends."

Wukong sighed, only slightly put off by the notion. It was in the past and they were moving forward. So being actually annoyed was pretty pointless. Besides, he probably would have felt the same all things being equal.

He walked over to poke at the embers on the ground, crouching to do so.

The embers are tingled purple, probably leave those alone. Might be good to tell Wash to also leave those alone!

However, you do find scattered items on the floor, as if they were disturbed by the impact:

> 3 sticks of half-burned incense
> Some drops of dried wax from a candle (they're loose, not stuck to the ground)
> A torn prayer cloth
> A broken bowl, overturned
> Some pieces of Buddha's statue

"That would be pretty rough," Wash agreed.

He'll pick up some more of those Budha statue pieces, maybe get them together.

Noting the feeling the embers give him, Wukong huffs a little. "Best to leave these embers alone. Nothing good will come from messing with them."

He turns his attention to the items, gently turning the bowl over with his tail.

The shard give Wash the following memory:

You are a six-eared macaque, and you are trying your best.

You try to join in with the other monkeys, but they run away or turn their backs or hiss as if you're going to hurt them. You look different, and they're afraid of you. You try to hide your ears with mud and fruit husks, but they can tell. They won't let you close. You don't know what you do.

You hunt down the best fruit in the area, sometimes traveling for days to find it. When you bring it back, they won't touch it. You try to break it open and show them how good it is, but they don't believe you. They won't go near any of it. You eat it alone.

You can hear danger coming from anywhere, and you try to warn them. They think you're the danger instead. They don't listen to your warnings. Sometimes some of them die because of it.

You spend all your time alone. One day, you talk to your shadow. It talks back. It's comforting.

The bowl gives Wukong the following memory:

You are Macaque, and you are listening to Donnie take the blame for your brain surgery going wrong.

You're still woozy from blood loss, covered in gross dried blood, but you jump up. You can't let him do that. He's your family, you can't sit there while he accepts blame for what was your decision, your request. Your stupid move to try and make yourself happy while telling yourself that Wukong would be happier too.

You try to comfort Donnie. It doesn't work. You can't think straight with how much blood you lost, but even if you could, you're not sure there's any way to lift this burden from him.

You've failed everyone close to you. Everyone. Because you couldn't give up on a love that never wanted you.

Also, notable, under the bowl there is a coiled up snake. For now, it just looks at Wukong, sticking its tongue out to smell who's there.

Wash studied the shard. "So...rejection. Helplessness, maybe?" He's going to go pick up the cloth.

You pick up the torn prayer cloth. You get a feeling of never being first to the ones you love. Always having to watch as they find their true happiness with another. And the feeling of being glad for them but also wondering what you lack that makes this happen, again and again. You feel a churning pit in your gut for feeling this way, because the person they hold above you deserves it more in every way, so things are as they should be. So you don't resent it exactly, it's not that, it's just lonely. But you're used to that.

"...yeah, definitely some rejection and helplessness. Resignation to a degree," he said.

Let's try that incense.

"Failure as well, since this memory was his wanting to keep Donnie from taking the blame for all of this. He feels that because he asked Donnie to do the surgery, then he's the only one responsible for the pain this mess is causing."

Smoothly, he scoops the snake into the bowl with his tail, staring hard at it as he draws the bowl closer.

When Wash touches the incense, he will get a frantic sensation of trying to make things work. Put the square peg of reality into the round emotional hole, proverbially speaking. You know that things can't ever be exactly what you want (need?) but you should take what you can get.

The snake seems to be sluggish, probably because of the ice in here. It is easily scooped into the bowl. It looks into Wukong's eyes, and you get a strong sense of jealousy, and also guilt about that jealousy. You have no right to be jealous, all considered. You should be able to take these sort of hurts better by now.

Luckily for the snake, Wukong is weiring his Journey clothes, so it's a simple matter to open his sleeve, inviting it to enter and warm itself by wrapping around his arm. He's always been protective of the people that are his...and if Macaque is his friend, still wants to be his...then that still applies to this jealous little piece of him. Because it needs warmth.

"Yeah, that tracks," Wash said. "The kid's always been a fixer."

Hm, another point for resignation. Unfortunately one he understands well. Its always hard trying to find that right piece for the emotional hole. He's gotten better, but its taken a lot of work.

He'll touch the wax. He figures Wukong is probably okay with the snake.

You are Macaque, and you are running. You have young monkeys climbing all over you, and more in your cradled arms as you run, your lungs burning from exertion and smoke.

You chance a look back. The flames are climbing the mountain, right on your heels. Heaven's holy fire, you think bitterly, come to cleanse Wukong's lands and all his subjects. As if imprisoning him wasn't bad enough.

The flames rush up to meet you, searing the end of your tail. You jump, diving through the waterfall and the seals, dropping the monkeys because you know that it won't be a pretty landing.

You cover your ears as the monkeys you couldn't save burn and scream. You hear every bit of those sounds anyway, and you feel sick. You feel useless.

More than anything, you feel guilty. And alone.

The kids scatter as you wail with impotent grief. First a scream of your own, raspy from the smoke, then quieter sobs that echo through the cavern.

Wukong would have been able to save them. Why weren't you?

Edited 2024-03-14 20:31 (UTC)

Oh fuck.

Excuse him as he drops to his knees at that because oh, that memory hits REAL FUCKING HARD.

The sound of buildings collapsing, the screams and shrieks of crumpling metal. The very distant and all too close THRUM of plasma raining down from the sky, there is rebar through her middle, telling him to box everything up and to keep going-

Wash grabs his head.

Forces himself to fucking breathe.

Edited 2024-03-14 20:53 (UTC)

When you drop to your knees, something falls from the ceiling and lands in front of you./

It's a rope that looks like it was spun out of pure gold. There's a little golden monkey logo on one end of it. It feels important, like it wants to protect you. Much like the grenade, you want to hang onto it.

"....thanks." he will pick it up and store it away.

The snake looks dubious, but then it slithers up your arm and coils around it. Not to tight to be painful, but tightly enough so it won't slip off.

The last item is the loose dried wax, and then there's the void.

Dubious is just about Macaque's middle name. The Six-Eared Dubious Macaque. Even when there was no reason to be, despite that not being as often as Wukong would like. He lets the sleeve drop and looks at the wax. If that's all that's left...

He takes a piece.

You are Macaque, and you are running. You have young monkeys climbing all over you, and more in your cradled arms as you run, your lungs burning from exertion and smoke.

You chance a look back. The flames are climbing the mountain, right on your heels. Heaven's holy fire, you think bitterly, come to cleanse Wukong's lands and all his subjects. As if imprisoning him wasn't bad enough.

The flames rush up to meet you, searing the end of your tail. You jump, diving through the waterfall and the seals, dropping the monkeys because you know that it won't be a pretty landing.

You cover your ears as the monkeys you couldn't save burn and scream. You hear every bit of those sounds anyway, and you feel sick. You feel useless.

More than anything, you feel guilty. And alone.

The kids scatter as you wail with impotent grief. First a scream of your own, raspy from the smoke, then quieter sobs that echo through the cavern.

Wukong would have been able to save them. Why weren't you?

You know what the worst part of being the Monkey King while having memory!Macaque's hearing is? The Monkey King knows every single Monkey that exists, even if their names sometimes slip past him. And those older monkey screams? He knows every single voice. But he also knows Macaque couldn't save them all. Six of them hadn't been able to take on Heaven together, so what chance did Macaque have alone?

Wukong didn't resent him, or blame him for choosing the children. He was just sad and frustrated that Macaque was put in that positon at all.

"Fucking assholes cleansing bullshit-"

He had touched the memory himself and his breathing got erratic and there is rage.

And pain.

And so much fucking sympathy.

Edited 2024-03-14 20:49 (UTC)

"Because that's what Heaven does when someone there doesn't like you. It doesn't matter if you're currently doing their bidding either."

Unfortunately, now you know just who Wukong let it go about. Those comments he made earlier...all about the people who would cause this to a bunch of helpless innocents. He sighs and places a hand on Wash's shoulder. "Take some time to breathe. We still have work to do here."

There is an actual growl. "Like the Covenant. Oh, you don't match our fucked standards of sit down and obey and maybe if you're good enough, you can join our fucked out death cult."

There is.

A lot of rage. A shaking that can be felt, even through the armor.

"They were just living their lives, but of course, of course they were easy to take out, so why not!"

He sighed angrily. "What is wrong with people who decide they can just commit a genocide like its nothing?"

"Beats me, especially because that the second of three in roughly a hundred years."

Wukong sits in front of him propping his chin on one hand. "One thing about having power is there are pretty much three kinds of people who have it: those who try to control everything, those who think they can do better, and those who don't want to be controlled. And those who want control will use whatever they can to hurt anyone who doesn't fit that, especially if they don't have enough power todo anything else."

Wash groaned and rubs at the back of his neck. "It's...I will never get those people. They can't even say they've been hurt to justify their madness," he said. Those with that much power and manipulation usually aren't near as hurt as those they hurt.

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet. "I think it's helplessness. The underlying theme."

He is also summoning Macat for pets.

Edited 2024-03-14 21:36 (UTC)

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