[ it's tiring. it really is. to a wind that had never known more to life than flying, to ascend with elemental energy to turn into a wisp fairy, to be drawn to a boy's song and learn about--music, freedom, attachment, love, war, loss, loss and loss and loss and over and over again, through years. decades. centuries. millennia. that boy dies first and everything about the world almost instantly dimmed, every song afterwards was only a fraction as lovely but he continued on. learned songs that boy would love, traveled like that boy wanted, protected the country that boy died for, met people that bard would surely have loved to befriend. every single bit of the world might be just that much more precious because that bard was a part of this world... maybe there's something to like and treasure about everything and everyone because of that.
it's like sitting in a garden and befriending and being attached to flowers, growing and blooming beautifully, then wilting and dying and he still remained there. with a lapful of fading petals and memories of every blossom he met and traveled with and sang to and loved in some way and they are gone. jinx will be gone, clarke will, mizuki will... all of them, within a century or so at most.
but he can't stop caring, even if it's tiring.
and it seems clarke might understand, on a more mortal scale. his smile is softly understanding, if--tired, the weight of years, ages. ]
That's exactly what I feel, too. [ you know what that is for her? growth. ] Exactly so... you said that when death is meaningless, life is worthless, you know I disagreed with that but perhaps you know now, you do too don't you?
If this is purgatory, even if we're all here for some attempted-divine punishment or simply energy for that Captain, isn't it a miracle that we've met some of the most remarkable sinners here? I think, actually, it's a miracle for any of us to meet at all. Out of the infinite realities, we were spirited away here. At the height of my power I would never have been able to meet you or Jinx or Mizuki no matter where I travel or where the winds blow. Even if the Captain doesn't care about us, I do... and you do, and surely all of us do, for each other.
If that care can be stronger than the death and suffering, even through the struggle... I think that would be greater than any divine providence. And you don't need gods to care, that's something I've always admired about people like you. [ he had been mindless, careless wind. it took a single humble bard to teach him about music, love, the world--
the wind wraps around clarke, warm and with that faint scent again of a foreign flower.
and then his cloak also goes around her. well, let's try to dry her. and it'd provide a maybe-more comfortable layer between them when his arms go around her too, the embrace from one god that cares if the attempted-god captain doesn't. ]
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it's like sitting in a garden and befriending and being attached to flowers, growing and blooming beautifully, then wilting and dying and he still remained there. with a lapful of fading petals and memories of every blossom he met and traveled with and sang to and loved in some way and they are gone. jinx will be gone, clarke will, mizuki will... all of them, within a century or so at most.
but he can't stop caring, even if it's tiring.
and it seems clarke might understand, on a more mortal scale. his smile is softly understanding, if--tired, the weight of years, ages. ]
That's exactly what I feel, too. [ you know what that is for her? growth. ] Exactly so... you said that when death is meaningless, life is worthless, you know I disagreed with that but perhaps you know now, you do too don't you?
If this is purgatory, even if we're all here for some attempted-divine punishment or simply energy for that Captain, isn't it a miracle that we've met some of the most remarkable sinners here? I think, actually, it's a miracle for any of us to meet at all. Out of the infinite realities, we were spirited away here. At the height of my power I would never have been able to meet you or Jinx or Mizuki no matter where I travel or where the winds blow. Even if the Captain doesn't care about us, I do... and you do, and surely all of us do, for each other.
If that care can be stronger than the death and suffering, even through the struggle... I think that would be greater than any divine providence. And you don't need gods to care, that's something I've always admired about people like you. [ he had been mindless, careless wind. it took a single humble bard to teach him about music, love, the world--
the wind wraps around clarke, warm and with that faint scent again of a foreign flower.
and then his cloak also goes around her. well, let's try to dry her. and it'd provide a maybe-more comfortable layer between them when his arms go around her too, the embrace from one god that cares if the attempted-god captain doesn't. ]