castaside | Heart Game: dreamwalker variety

Okay. Macaque knows and it's okay. Alright. He nods and will move to the desk for now. He'll touch it, tracing the purple wood with his fingers before looking to see if there are any drawers to open.

The desk itself carries no memory, but you feel a sense of being nearly frantic to have a structure in your life that won't collapse beneath its own weight, and one that you might actually not destroy (for once). It seems like that might be happening, and you feel equal parts relieved and afraid of it.

On the desk there are several items: a desk lamp, a text book on Japanese language, and a text book on psychology. In the drawer is an empty liquor bottle, a miniature ice skate, and a small, clean napkin with a red and white check pattern.

Candid resonates with that feeling of a need for structure and being terrified it might shatter. Not the same but it's similar to his own fears. Macaque's have to weigh more in his mind. After so long. He reaches out for the desk lamp first, gently touching it and seeing if he can turn it on.

The light snaps on, although it's moonlight and not incandescent light.

You are Macaque, and you're standing on a hill minutes after dusk, looking down on the ground below you which is sprinkled with flat stones that glow in the moonlight.

You turn to MK, who is sitting on a blanket beside a mostly-eaten picnic. He's still afraid to have you touch him, but it's okay. You don't need to.

You point to the stones. "We'll each take one and make it into something. It'll be something that's just ours."

MK brightens and it's like staring into the sunrise.

Candid blushes hard as he feels the memory. The time of touch aversion. He remembers that time so well. He blushes feeling that affection in the look. Part of him jealous because of course the original shines like that. He feels stupid for thinking he could somehow replace that. He's mad at MK and himself. He sighs and moves on to the tiny ice skate.

"I wonder if I'll ever shine that bright," he mumbles to himself.

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: I'd like to be your parent. 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.

Oh that is soft. So so soft. That feels like such a private memory and Candid feels his eyes watering up experiencing it. His heart is racing and he's sure if this was reality, he might pop himself from the feelings of Macaque's anxiety and his own swelling emotions feeling Macaque so nervous, so excited, and Korone just so happy. He pulls his hand away and chuckles, wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

"Okay. Yeah. Noooot ready for kids yet if that's how it feels. Oooh boy. Okay. Uuuuh. Let's try this one," Candid touches the empty liquor bottle.

The liquor bottle gives you a few memories in quick, dizzying succession:

You are Macaque, and you're drinking. Alone.

Again.

You and Wukong fell out weeks ago and you're still searching for answers or respite or whatever the fuck at the bottom of a bottle. It's pathetic. You're pissed, and that's it -- and yet, it isn't. It's confusing and frustrating.

You keep drinking until you stop feeling confused and just feel pissed.

****

You are Macaque, and you're laughing. You watch Red Son slug back another full glass of booze and he resumes bitching about life, mostly Wukong. The laughing is camaraderie that you haven't felt in a long time. A place to bitch and moan and not be judged.

It's nice. You're not ready to refer to yourselves as friends just yet, but there's no denying that whenever something happens, this is what you do and who you do it with.

****

You are Macaque, and you're slumped against a tree, drinking Saya's stolen hyperbooze. You just had an epic blowout with MK that ended in him pounding a crater into the ground and sobbing, and you just want to drink until it stops hurting.

The attempted fix for Choco's magic limiter is tomorrow. You can't be doing this. But you don't know what else to do. You never meant for this to happen.

All you want to do is fix what you broke, but you can't tell MK the truth about what Donnie did to your head. Wukong will find out if you do, and everything will be even more ruined than it already is. Somehow. It's difficult to imagine anything more ruined than it presently is, but you'd never put it past life to find a way.

****

You are Macaque, and you're up in a tree. You hear someone meandering around beneath you, tracking you, and you sigh and call out to Wash, asking what he wants. Wash climbs up into the tree and offers you a bottle, and a shoulder to cry on.

You don't really deserve one, based on how MK's heart game just went. It's your fault, all of it. You should have checked in with Candid more. You should have seen the resentment growing dangerous. You should have been able to talk him out of it. Everything could have been different if you were only better at this sort of thing.

Wash is kind. Supportive. Understanding. You don't deserve it and yet you crave it. And you know that Wash gets that, all of it.

You and Wash have been dancing around casual dates for months. This is possibly the worst time to be thinking about how ungodly attractive it is to have someone understand you this well.

Those are four whole whirlwinds all at once. Candid's head swims with the memories and emotions. There is a lot there and Candid isn't sure it's his place to unpack any of it. The resentment does spike with the memory about MK. Stupid idiot didn't help that situation at all. Though even he has to admit, MK is getting better at keeping secrets, if cutting him and Porty off from his memories is any indication.

Though that might just be a side effect of repeated soul shattering and reconstruction at this point. Still.

He is glad Macaque found people to talk to in Red Son and Wash. Time to move on now. Next he checks out the checkered piece of cloth.

Picking up the napkin is a nice, warm feeling. You feel that Macaque is starting to very much enjoy cooking for people, or with people, that it's quickly becoming his favorite way to take care of someone. He has so many people to take care of now, which is novel and wonderful. It's a way to make someone feel loved without needing to find the words.

"When the food is right, it's more than food. That's home," Candid whispers and puts it back. He looks at the other options.

"Alright. Book time," He touches the Japanese book.

When you touch the book, you hear words in a variety of languages: Mandarin, Japanese, American English, British English. Seems this book isn't to be taken too literally.

You sense Macaque wanting to learn for and about other people. You sense him opening himself up to new experiences and embracing them. You sense how much he loves this and wouldn't trade it for anything.

Candid looks down at his own shadow and just smiles.

"Could you be any more adorable if you tried?" He asks.

The shadow looks away and makes a hand motion that conveys "yeah, yeah."

There are two drawers in the desk in addition to everything on top of it.

"I won't tell anyone," Candid says and goes for the psychology book first. Then the drawers will be after.

You sense Macaque's desire to understand the ones he loves and be there for them as much as possible. He has a lot of notes in the margins. Seems he was especially interested in the chapters on depression and attachment disorders.

Candid still smiles as the feeling.

"Great. I feel called out right now," he says to the shadow and checks the drawers to see what is in them.

In the top drawer he'll find a package of pictures, some sticky notes, and a book on parenting.

In the bottom drawer is a copy of Journey to the West, a book on Dissociative Identity Disorder, a book on neurodivergence, and a Bible. All of them have little sticky tabs between the pages.

"Whoa. You have been reading a lot. Okay. Uuuuh...might as well bite this bullet," Candid touches the Journey to the West book.

Macaque hates this book. Hates it. But it's the story of the person he loves, and the people he loves, so he's reading it. Trying to get a better understanding of why Wukong cares about the person who put a crown of pain on him when he was "disobedient."

No enlightenment on that issue so far, but he's going to keep trying.

Talking to Wukong about it will end badly, he's clear on that, so he's left with the book.

Candid nods. He turns the book over in his hands and flips through the pages, checking out the sticky notes inside. He feels those feelings. Part of him is sure this book is probably not completely accurate. Still, it isn't a bad idea to try and understand.

Most of the sticky notes are screaming about how awful the great companions are. Toward the back of the book he appears to be trying harder to understand it, though still struggling to see the appeal in people that treated him so terribly.

Apparently the tabs are from more than one reading. It appears that Macaque is on his fourth reading of the text. The tabs from the latest reading are more self-deprecating, lamenting that if he hadn't fallen out with Wukong he would have been there and maybe Wukong wouldn't have had to go through this and trauma bond with these people.

None of it is positive, but it's clear that he's trying to get there.

Candid reads the notes over a few times to get the order of readings down. He doesn't say anything. Not here. Everything in these games is so specific and sensitive. He remembers that in the download class MK took. He can talk to Macaque about it outside sometime. Especially about the companions. Maybe help him understand.

And help him remember that it isn't all on him for their falling out. MK saw the memory of their fight under the mountain. It was both of them being angry and upset and disappointed. They lashed out at each other because no one else was around to help or for them to let that out at the people who deserved it.

He puts the book back and chooses the book on DID next.

You sense an urge, a need, to understand. This isn't something he has experience with in all his centuries, but two people he loves are under this umbrella, so it's time to buckle down.

He has placed a lot of notes in the margins, less in the sections about causes and more in the sections about treatment -- the parts about how to interact equally well with each alter, that is, he has left the parts about merging alters with large Xs over them, clearly having no interest.

Candid reads slowly, trying to wrap his head around some of this. It isn't too difficult. It's like himself and the other clones and MK. Kinda. Different but similar enough he has a grasp on the concept. He wonders who they are but it's okay not knowing.

Macaque is really working on these things. Connecting, understanding, helping, but not changing.

He puts the book down and picks up the Bible next.

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

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby

Re: Lobby