[ hello kumon. you ever just get trapped in a room with someone on your way out of somewhere with memory bubbles? kinda sucks.
vax just looks at it, for a long minute, and closes his eyes. ]
...Might as well get this over with.
[ he reaches out and gently touches the bubble to imbue it with blue.
today you're wearing a set of armor, and the world is finally nearing somewhere close to calm. you find yourself standing in a castle, speaking with a man who you know very, very well. gilmore - who is gilmore, and not a rakshasa, this time, is one of the smartest people you know. you get his attention to the armor, tell him he knows everything - he flushes and says otherwise - and asks him to take a look at it.
It came from a god, you say.
gilmore takes it seriously. he looks you up and down (and you can feel that, gilmore!), but his eyes flash with a bit of magic as he does.
"There's certainly some dark, divine energy about it. And this... tell you what."
he looks you up and down, one more time. "Follow me.
and you do. (you shouldn't, probably: a creature disguised as gilmore tried to kill you barely two days ago.) gilmore seems cognizant of this; he laughs and says "It's really me, this time!" and you laugh, and join him without a second thought.
he takes you outside, up, up. past the ramparts of the beautiful castle of whitestone, all the way to the sheer edge. the castle is built into the sheer drop of a mountaintop, and the view is breathtaking, as the cold wind whips around the two of you.
gilmore looks you in the eyes, when you look down at the great fall, and then back at him.
you watch him, you consider - your friendship, your lives together, and everything that you've been through, rakshasha included. and you say, softly - ]
I do.
[ and gilmore smiles. you look to the drop
and he pushes you off the side of the building.
you fall. barely a second. one, two.
and then there's a fwoosh noise as a pair of massive, black wings sprout from your armor. dark as night, the feathers of ravens; spare ones flutter off the air as the wind catches underneath you, and you go from the fall of death to soaring over the forests of whitestone.
and the joy is effusive as it runs through you. you can't help yourself; mischievous, delighted, you do a loop and fly straight up the side of the tower, and like a bird of prey, snatch gilmore off of the roof and straight to the sky. he squawks and throws his arms around your shoulders, and you shout - ]
You fucking brilliant bastard, thank you!
[ and gilmore is nervous but still smiling, and you realize yourself about four seconds later and mutter - ] ...this is embarrassing, sorry. [ as the childish joy settles, your ears turn red, and you float slowly back down with gilmore to the roof of the castle, feathers settling in your wake. ]
[It's amazing, a memory like that, a feeling like that. Kumon's never experienced anything even close to flying. He doesn't understand why he'd be embarrassed at all- it was brilliant. The pure joy of being able to fly is a beautiful wonderful rush-
For Kumon, the memory he shares is something heavy. Something he's carried with him. Maybe not this specific instance, but there's a feeling that this has happened before. He thinks too much, feels too deeply and works himself into a worried frenzy.
Kumon is laid out in bed, fever ravaging through his body, with his big brother, Juza, taking care of him.
Of all the people who deserve to be on the stage, it certainly shouldn't be you. All you've ever been able to do is let people down. You don't want to let them down, but your body keeps letting you down and there's nothing you can do personally to fight back against it.
He...failed, again. Again and again and again. He never manages to live up to what he wants, for himself or for the people around him. Juza was right when you first asked to get on stage, wasn't he? Kumon never should've been on stage. It's nothing but another group of people he's let down.
But Juza speaks, gentle, a soft smile on his features as he encourages you. There's no such thing as a right to be on stage, that you'll get through it this time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 2 monday!
vax is here, looking at a... costume for a small child, maybe.... ?
he seems to think it is the fucking funniest thing in the world, though, checking out the details before he notices kumon. ]
'llo, Kumon. Looking for something?
no subject
no subject
[ local ye olde sees the glorious colors of a party city for the first time. ]
"Party shops" normal for you? Even if they're small.
no subject
no subject
Yuki? Friend of yours?
no subject
week 3 monday!
vax just looks at it, for a long minute, and closes his eyes. ]
...Might as well get this over with.
[ he reaches out and gently touches the bubble to imbue it with blue.
no subject
For Kumon, the memory he shares is something heavy. Something he's carried with him. Maybe not this specific instance, but there's a feeling that this has happened before. He thinks too much, feels too deeply and works himself into a worried frenzy.
Kumon is laid out in bed, fever ravaging through his body, with his big brother, Juza, taking care of him.
A memory begins to play (until 2:24).
Of all the people who deserve to be on the stage, it certainly shouldn't be you. All you've ever been able to do is let people down. You don't want to let them down, but your body keeps letting you down and there's nothing you can do personally to fight back against it.
He...failed, again. Again and again and again. He never manages to live up to what he wants, for himself or for the people around him. Juza was right when you first asked to get on stage, wasn't he? Kumon never should've been on stage. It's nothing but another group of people he's let down.
But Juza speaks, gentle, a soft smile on his features as he encourages you. There's no such thing as a right to be on stage, that you'll get through it this time.
You can only hope he's right.]