sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ BLUE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firstroar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2014-01-21 09:06 pm
firstroar) wrote in exsiliumlogs2014-01-21 09:06 pm
this is the way of it [OPEN]
Date & Time: 1/18 -> end of Jan
Location: near and around a bed
Characters: Soldier Blue, tbd
Summary: a psychic dying tends to dreamhop or suck nearby people into his own dreams.
Warnings: dying, references to such, any bad memories lying about in any given headspace
The way of it was unprecedented in his world: If any Mu before him had lived a life to its full extent, it was done so hidden away from notice. All others suffered and inevitably died far, far too young. Too many children.
Soldier Blue found his eyes wouldn't open, his body barely stir, disobeying every command just the way it had at the start of his fifteen-year sleep. He'd been so much more resigned to that, back then. Secure as he could be in the faith he had in his successor, his comrades. Here, though? Here, he wasn't so sure.
Throughout the days that passed, he found the strength to exert, push his mind away from the prison of his body, if only for a moment. But he'd lose himself in doing that, lose the purpose, drift and find himself straying into dreams or the passing presence of more focused, willful minds, some more familiar than others. It all twisted into pasts distant and near, making for disorienting journeys that often ended in the darkness that he constantly tried to shake himself from, harder and harder each time.
He chased the specks of light he perceived in the place of those thoughts and dreams, feeling weight bearing down upon his body the further he reached. Warmth on his cheek, the gentle breathy voice of his goddess...or some other? Everything blended together so seamlessly that the tears reality caused were frightening.
His reach shrank and lights grew distant like stars, became stars, a canopy of a hundred-years old vigil in an entirely different world.
Ataraxion? Exsilium? He couldn't say, not without someone to tell him the right of it. Whether they were ghosts or truly present, though...
Location: near and around a bed
Characters: Soldier Blue, tbd
Summary: a psychic dying tends to dreamhop or suck nearby people into his own dreams.
Warnings: dying, references to such, any bad memories lying about in any given headspace
The way of it was unprecedented in his world: If any Mu before him had lived a life to its full extent, it was done so hidden away from notice. All others suffered and inevitably died far, far too young. Too many children.
Soldier Blue found his eyes wouldn't open, his body barely stir, disobeying every command just the way it had at the start of his fifteen-year sleep. He'd been so much more resigned to that, back then. Secure as he could be in the faith he had in his successor, his comrades. Here, though? Here, he wasn't so sure.
Throughout the days that passed, he found the strength to exert, push his mind away from the prison of his body, if only for a moment. But he'd lose himself in doing that, lose the purpose, drift and find himself straying into dreams or the passing presence of more focused, willful minds, some more familiar than others. It all twisted into pasts distant and near, making for disorienting journeys that often ended in the darkness that he constantly tried to shake himself from, harder and harder each time.
He chased the specks of light he perceived in the place of those thoughts and dreams, feeling weight bearing down upon his body the further he reached. Warmth on his cheek, the gentle breathy voice of his goddess...or some other? Everything blended together so seamlessly that the tears reality caused were frightening.
His reach shrank and lights grew distant like stars, became stars, a canopy of a hundred-years old vigil in an entirely different world.
Ataraxion? Exsilium? He couldn't say, not without someone to tell him the right of it. Whether they were ghosts or truly present, though...
no subject
Blue's head nods faintly, hands folding in his lap. It's painful to realize that she may have avoided that fate in her own world, Exsilium had seen fit to try and shape her into some kind of warrior anyway.
It isn't very fair, but...he'd been fourteen when he had to become the warrior.
"But you left," he says at last, looking up again. It was a guess, but one he was confident in; her memories of Joel weren't tied into that reflection, yet he's so important.
no subject
She looks down at her bare arm, where now a old, bubbled over scar remains. Human teeth broke the flesh long ago, seemed to try to travel through her body, but failed. She never had this scar while here. She never had this scar before Rylie came back.
"I'm immune."
Rylie wasn't. She'd only told Steph about it, but she figures there's not much use in hiding things from Blue. He was trustworthy.
"They were going to use me to find a cure."
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"It didn't end up working out like that, so it's alright. Don't look too sad."
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"Do you regret it?" His voice is softer. "For what happened..."
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"Some days? That was the worst day of my life," she replies, a thumb running over the marks. "But getting out of this place... it was like getting a whole new pair of eyes. Everything looked different."
And she met Joel. She got family. But she'll never forget Rylie's death. The two of them were supposed to die together.
"And if we do end up finding the place where they can make a cure, then everything will be worth it."
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"For someone like me," he says at length, trailing off into a pause for a moment. "To hear about the hardships of people much younger...It feels so much more unfair. When the truth is...we all endure burdens at any age. Myself, too. And it's those burdens which make us that much stronger, give us the strength we have when we're not so young anymore."
He looks up at her, nodding.
"You're very strong already, Ellie. But more than that, you're still kind. It speaks very well of you."
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(Hypocritical, since she thinks Joel is kind--and the blood on his hands outweighs hers plenty.)
"You're still kind, too. Even after people have treated you like crap."
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He smiles gently. It's hard to not want to praise her, with how she reacts.
"Being so meant I could meet remarkable people," he says. After a beat, he rises, giving the room another sweeping stare before his eyes fall back on Ellie.
"I'm grateful. Meeting a human like you...meeting all the people in this world we're all a part of now. If I can offer anything, it's that gratitude."
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"You're going to make me turn red, Blue."
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"But maybe I can do more."
He gravitates toward a wall, hesitating before reaching out and touching it, causing a delayed ripple that spreads, smoothing over with pale pale white, a pristine and out-of-place wall that stretches, warping perception of the room, making it seem much more vast than it was seconds ago.