[ What Siffrin hates more is that they're useless from this side. Always ever useless. What's the point of being strong enough if they can't do anything for those they care about? Their head in a constant dark state, murky, quiet place. Even when it's Lucas's life.. unlife.. on the line, he's here trying to comfort them.
(Can you get any more pathetic?) Their hand squeezes weakly back, but their breathing seems at least normal from what can be seen. Even if their expressions twists in their continued torn emotions. ]
[UNLIFE. It's fine, he lives for being able to care for and fuss over others. Being able to do this for Siffrin is soothing and healing in its own way, even if he'd feel badly if he knew they were upset over it.]
[ At that question, Siffrin looks up at him, brows furrowing and their mouth opens
..and again, no sound comes out. No words. They frown, before bringing their free hand to have fingers tap at their own throat and shaking their head a little after. ]
[ Even if the answer was there, they couldn't bring themselves to do it. They would much rather blame themselves, and that is the consequences they bare. It isn't Lucas's fault. It could've been any one they love and they would have made the same decision.
At the offer for him to talk, they nod. That's fine. That hand raises, carefully, gingerly to tap at Lucas's neck. Featherlight. They want to hear him talk. They've had enough of silence to last them forever. ]
Lucas just allows for the ginger and light touch. His neck is covered, as it always is, with peeks of bandages showing over the edge of the high collar. He'll stop petting their silly head momentarily to catch that hand and hold it, too.]
Then I'll speak. What should I talk about, though? Mm... I could tell you a story that the children I taught used to love very much, about a shepherd and her flock of sheep far, faaar out in the beautiful mountains, perhaps?
[ I'm being nice and not writing out the full intensity and volume of their self-deprecating thoughts.
That's fine though, when their hands are taken up both by Lucas. Their fingers curling over his, remember remember. Remember how warm his hands are, in this moment. How gentle they are. How grounding they are. Don't forget. Don't.. forget.
Their eye flutters up to him, before they nod at him. Yes. That would be fine. They'll listen. ]
This is fine, though. This is so fine. He'll hold their hands with his, warm despite the state of death they're both in, and he'll keep on holding them.]
Then... Once, in a land high up in the mountains, a young shepherd lived together with her mother and their loyal flock of sheep. Such silly creatures those sheep were, forever wandering into the rain and getting their soft and fluffy fur all matted...
[He'll continue like this in a perfect storyteller voice, taking Siffrin on a silly little adventure with this shepherd and her flock and all of the amazing places that they go and see together. It's a lovely story, with no fighting and no loss and no surprise twists at the end where everything is just a distant dream. Just people and animals making the best of their warm lives, somewhere far away.]
[ For a while, they just listen, nodding quietly along here and there to indicate they're still listening since.. they can't really say so verbally. Even if at some point they close their eye, to listen to his voice and this adventure.
An adventure that seems too good. But it is as it is. A shepherd and her flock. Seeing sights and places. Simply enjoying.. their life. Distantly, they think of the few sheep in Dormont. Contently munching on grass, baa-ing in greeting to anyone that comes to them.
Their eye opens again when the story ends, peering back at Lucas and gently squeezing his hands. It is not a story they resonate with. Not after everything. But they like listening to Lucas talk, and for that.. they mouth a silent thank you. ]
[He smiles back. Not many of them can relate to this story, which is why he ends up telling it, really. A sad thing. Once finished, he'll give their hands another little squeeze, and the smile that he gives when he sees that silent thank you is small but very warm.]
...Would you like to hear another story? I have quite a few, you know. You can stay as long as you'd like, listen as long as you'd like.
[ Another nod. They'll listen to whatever story he wants to share with them. And they'll stay as long as possible. They will, of course.. leave when others come visit, hang outside the church to give them space and room to talk...
But the moment Lucas is alone, they'll come back, and accompany him. Until he needs rest. Until they can no longer stay here, and they'll simply wait outside until the next stage is made and the next script to follow is given.
However, while they do have time, they'll listen to whatever he wants to tell them. ]
[He'll weave them beautiful stories. Heartfelt ones, warm ones, cozy ones, silly ones. Some are tinged with melancholy, just by the nature of their island and their island's works, but not overly-much. Not to the point of overwhelming anything else. Lucas does think that people have had enough of all of this, after all. Enough of the loss and grief and sadness and anger and helplessness. It doesn't need to be in their stories, too.
So he'll talk, and he'll talk, and whenever they leave he gives a polite nod, and he greets them warmly whenever they come back, always welcoming. He'll hold their hands and pet and pat and stroke their hat, sit with them on opposite sides of the bars or stand if they need to move about. It's like until they can't stay, because Lucas doesn't rest tonight. He'll spend the last of his time on this side with the friends he's made and cherishes so dearly.
And once they do finally part, he just gives their hands one last squeeze and says, simply:]
Dear Siffrin... It's my honor to have come to know you here, and to call you a friend. Please be well in the time we're apart. We'll all meet again soon.
[ It shows in the way they don't want to leave. Because they know when they do, the expulsion will come, Lucas and.. whoever ends up there, will be made to play their roles until the every end and there won't be Lucas on the viewing deck to come stand by. No Yves to reach over and tuck them into his side.
Even if letters will come, even if eventually they can and will possibly see one another again... it doesn't lessen the ache. The way their chest feels as though it's being ripped from the inside out because they have become so, so incredibly attached to these people. They wish they could change it. They wish they could stop it, they wish....
Their vision blurs a little, trying to intake their next breath, swallow down those heavier emotions. A small shake of their head. His honor? If anything, they were lucky to have met him. To been able to know even a bit of his life, of where he's from, of his family with his sister.. Siffrin should be thanking him. But they can't. No matter how much they try, no words can be uttered. Even if they could, they wouldn't be able to tell the truth of how much the idea of him leaving is digging deep and twisting an ache that sits heavy.
Their hands can do nothing more than helplessly tighten. Don't go. Don't go. ]
[Ah, it would have been so much better if he'd just been able to finish what he'd started. If he'd just been able to work a little harder, be a little better, then maybe Siffrin wouldn't be here right now, holding his hands through the bars, clutching at him like they don't want to ever let go.
There's a thread of guilt somewhere in his heart, but he lays it to rest. Here and now, it isn't about him. It isn't about his wishes, or his feelings; it's only about what he can and can't do for those he's already hurt with his mistakes. He wants to mend. Instead of hurting, he wants to mend.
So he leans forward, and through the bars, he places a gentle kiss against their forehead. Soft and fond, like an elder brother, like a caretaker, like a teacher, like someone who holds those within his life so dear. And he'll hold their hands tightly, too, until he no longer can.]
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(Can you get any more pathetic?) Their hand squeezes weakly back, but their breathing seems at least normal from what can be seen. Even if their expressions twists in their continued torn emotions. ]
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...Would you like to talk?
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..and again, no sound comes out. No words. They frown, before bringing their free hand to have fingers tap at their own throat and shaking their head a little after. ]
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...I'm sorry, dear. Would you like it if I talked, instead? Or would you rather sit together in the quiet?
[He doesn't know which would be more helpful to them, currently.]
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At the offer for him to talk, they nod. That's fine. That hand raises, carefully, gingerly to tap at Lucas's neck. Featherlight. They want to hear him talk. They've had enough of silence to last them forever. ]
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Lucas just allows for the ginger and light touch. His neck is covered, as it always is, with peeks of bandages showing over the edge of the high collar. He'll stop petting their silly head momentarily to catch that hand and hold it, too.]
Then I'll speak. What should I talk about, though? Mm... I could tell you a story that the children I taught used to love very much, about a shepherd and her flock of sheep far, faaar out in the beautiful mountains, perhaps?
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That's fine though, when their hands are taken up both by Lucas. Their fingers curling over his, remember remember. Remember how warm his hands are, in this moment. How gentle they are. How grounding they are. Don't forget. Don't.. forget.
Their eye flutters up to him, before they nod at him. Yes. That would be fine. They'll listen. ]
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This is fine, though. This is so fine. He'll hold their hands with his, warm despite the state of death they're both in, and he'll keep on holding them.]
Then... Once, in a land high up in the mountains, a young shepherd lived together with her mother and their loyal flock of sheep. Such silly creatures those sheep were, forever wandering into the rain and getting their soft and fluffy fur all matted...
[He'll continue like this in a perfect storyteller voice, taking Siffrin on a silly little adventure with this shepherd and her flock and all of the amazing places that they go and see together. It's a lovely story, with no fighting and no loss and no surprise twists at the end where everything is just a distant dream. Just people and animals making the best of their warm lives, somewhere far away.]
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An adventure that seems too good. But it is as it is. A shepherd and her flock. Seeing sights and places. Simply enjoying.. their life. Distantly, they think of the few sheep in Dormont. Contently munching on grass, baa-ing in greeting to anyone that comes to them.
Their eye opens again when the story ends, peering back at Lucas and gently squeezing his hands. It is not a story they resonate with. Not after everything. But they like listening to Lucas talk, and for that.. they mouth a silent thank you. ]
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...Would you like to hear another story? I have quite a few, you know. You can stay as long as you'd like, listen as long as you'd like.
[Until the night is up, anyway.]
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But the moment Lucas is alone, they'll come back, and accompany him. Until he needs rest. Until they can no longer stay here, and they'll simply wait outside until the next stage is made and the next script to follow is given.
However, while they do have time, they'll listen to whatever he wants to tell them. ]
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So he'll talk, and he'll talk, and whenever they leave he gives a polite nod, and he greets them warmly whenever they come back, always welcoming. He'll hold their hands and pet and pat and stroke their hat, sit with them on opposite sides of the bars or stand if they need to move about. It's like until they can't stay, because Lucas doesn't rest tonight. He'll spend the last of his time on this side with the friends he's made and cherishes so dearly.
And once they do finally part, he just gives their hands one last squeeze and says, simply:]
Dear Siffrin... It's my honor to have come to know you here, and to call you a friend. Please be well in the time we're apart. We'll all meet again soon.
no subject
Even if letters will come, even if eventually they can and will possibly see one another again... it doesn't lessen the ache. The way their chest feels as though it's being ripped from the inside out because they have become so, so incredibly attached to these people. They wish they could change it. They wish they could stop it, they wish....
Their vision blurs a little, trying to intake their next breath, swallow down those heavier emotions. A small shake of their head. His honor? If anything, they were lucky to have met him. To been able to know even a bit of his life, of where he's from, of his family with his sister.. Siffrin should be thanking him. But they can't. No matter how much they try, no words can be uttered. Even if they could, they wouldn't be able to tell the truth of how much the idea of him leaving is digging deep and twisting an ache that sits heavy.
Their hands can do nothing more than helplessly tighten. Don't go. Don't go. ]
no subject
There's a thread of guilt somewhere in his heart, but he lays it to rest. Here and now, it isn't about him. It isn't about his wishes, or his feelings; it's only about what he can and can't do for those he's already hurt with his mistakes. He wants to mend. Instead of hurting, he wants to mend.
So he leans forward, and through the bars, he places a gentle kiss against their forehead. Soft and fond, like an elder brother, like a caretaker, like a teacher, like someone who holds those within his life so dear. And he'll hold their hands tightly, too, until he no longer can.]