this is the way of it [OPEN]

[firstroar]

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...

Comments

and I hate your brain for SUCH SAD TAGS :<<<<

[khajidont]

Jaime followed the path of Blue's finger, staring down at his own chest before raising his eyes once more, finding himself at something of a loss. He had so many doubts about himself here, so many more than he had ever felt before, but Blue - someone who he respected and admired - was there to tell him otherwise, again and again. Somehow, repetition never seemed to weaken the effect of that, like a gentle warmth suffusing through his body at the same time as the desire not to prove Blue wrong grew ever stronger.

He tilted his head, expression soft, something grateful in his eyes. "He must have been really important to you."

It took very little to catch the sadness in Blue's face and the quiet ache in his voice, spurring Jaime to add, "But you do know that you're worth the effort, right? And if there's any way there's anything I can still do..."

He was no doctor, and he was no magician. The fact that Blue wasn't waking up wasn't something he could do anything about, but the fact that they were here and speaking was something of a miracle in and of itself. What he was asking was less about what Blue felt needed to be done, but what he wanted to be done. The two could be very different, sometimes, and Blue deserved to be asked the latter more often than he likely was.

shh itll b over soon.....

[firstroar]

Jaime's words trailed off and were met with a slow shake of Blue's head.

"I won't ask any more of you, Jaime," he said, letting his hand withdraw. His head tilted just slightly as he continued, a gentle fondness in his voice. It was something that seemed to effect the atmosphere, given their presence in a dream. "You've done much for my sake. You even let me enter here, a treasured place...I'm very glad, for all you've let me see and understand. I regret I've not done as much for you."

Such seemed to be the way, every time in his case...Jomy, Jaime...

but that's ALSO terrible

[khajidont]

"Hey, come on, don't talk like that. You've already done enough. You got all those people out there, actually doing something, and gave us all at least some kinda direction. I've been here for..." How long has he been in Exsilium for? It was hard to grasp onto numbers when he was so grounded in his home, dwelling between one place and the next. It had been a long time, he knew, just as he knew it hadn't been so very long at all. He shook his head.

"For a while now, and I haven't seen anyone else able to do that. And you've always been around to listen."

Maybe that wasn't as important to the war effort, to the big picture everyone was always talking about and trying their best to see, but it was important to Jaime. Whenever things looked their bleakest, somehow Blue always managed to be right there, quiet, steadying, calm.

"You're here now, aren't you?"

[firstroar]

Jaime was being too generous, from how Blue understood things, but it came from an honest place. The regard he was given felt more than he deserved, but he'd only regret not taking it to heart, and he saw no good in trying to underplay it with his own doubts.

"I am," he agreed, trying to pull the smile a little wider. It was hard; the longer he lingered, the more aware he became of the how and why of being there...and what that meant.

"I want to be here, as long as I can." His gaze dropped again at that as he nodded. "And perhaps I'll linger on, somehow, when I'm not. After all of this, I still don't know what to expect."

[khajidont]

Jaime's gaze dropped, hearing Blue's words but not really wanting to listen. Still, this was his chance, and he knew it. There was no reason to wake up from this with regrets at not having asked the question out of cowardice, only to find out that he missed out on his only chance.

He took a step back and leaned against the wall there, head bumping lightly against it as he did so. He had gone to visit Blue before, and what he had seen hadn't been reassuring. He wasn't used to seeing people like that with the exception of that long, long month of spending his days in the hospital as the supervirus took hold. When they lay there for so long, and so still, that had never been a good sign. It rarely was. As far as he could tell, Blue wasn't getting worse. But...

He blinked rapidly at the ground for a moment, then raised his gaze once more with a little shake of his head. "You're not doing so good, are you."

[firstroar]

Sparing Jaime sad truths wasn't kindness, especially not in such a place. He was young, but not a fragile child, and Blue could not claim to respect him at all if he were to coddle him as one. He knew it was right to feel the pain of guilt as a kind of just payment for having brought unhappiness to his young friend's heart.

"My body has never been strong," he said softly, "but somehow, I've been able to live for more than three hundred years. Maybe more." His head shook once, slow. "There's still very much I don't remember, that I wish I could. But if it weren't for coming here, I wouldn't know of it at all."

Gamora's angry refusal of his failing crept into the back of his mind like an uncomfortable pulse of heat. He was quiet a moment, letting it linger in him. Would he find the same outrage here? He doubted it. Jaime was an entirely different sort.

"I'm at my limit," he said at last, hesitating once more. "Or beyond it...without the help I've had here, I don't think I'd have lasted so long."

[khajidont]

Jaime would be angry later, perhaps, the way he was angry about so many things in Exsilium, but there was no anger in him now. Instead, he felt only the slow, resigned sadness that had been a stranger to him prior to his arrival, but something he could scarcely remember living without after all these long months.

"That's what I thought," he confessed, hands balling up into fists at his sides. "I had just hoped..."

He hoped for many things, and it wasn't likely that he would stop even after Blue was gone. "Oh, Blue," he said, voice catching. "I'm sorry."

It was an odd thing to say, but it was an equally odd position to be in - what did you say to someone right after you asked whether or not they were likely to die soon? What could be said? Maybe Jaime would know if he was a priest, but going to Church on his own for the past few months had lent him no enlightenment, and he honestly wasn't certain what he believed - he only knew what he wanted to believe. Blue spoke about dwelling here, lingering on in Exsilium, but he didn't want that for him, or for any of them. At the end of their roads, people deserved peace, and so did Blue.

[firstroar]

Strangely contrary to Jaime's expression, Blue had begun to smile again. Despite the hurt, the empathy he could sense was the consolation. What seemed inadequate to the boy came with much more than three syllables. The kindness that it was built upon was of the same quality that he'd discovered in his first meetings with him – consistency to be admired, to be grateful to find.

He reached out and put a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently for his attention.

"We'd have been enemies, Jaime," he said. "Were we still in the world I am from? Enemies, at the worst. Otherwise, you'd have never known me or my kind even existed. And in your world...?" He shook his head. "I couldn't say. All I have are the glimpses you've given me, and they're full of warmth and hope. There, too, maybe we would be friends.

"I've found myself twice in worlds beyond my own. And along the way..." His voice trailed for a moment, having lost some of the strength in his voice nearing those last words. He found it again, nodding. "I know my time is done, where I'm from. And I know I've faced an end once more elsewhere. So here, now...that's three. Three beginnings and ends in three worlds, and I'm still carrying the love and memories of my past with me. Even those pieces I can't find yet, I'm certain they're there."

In saying that, his fingers pinched at Jaime's sleeve to tug and draw him into a hug.

"So your kindness will come with me, too. Wherever it is that I must go from here. And perhaps I'll befriend you again somewhere else."

Wild hope. He had to hold onto it, had to impress it and share it, lest he lose his footing as he had before, straying into dreams of strangers and respected friends and allies alike. Even in his fear, Blue couldn't make it take root in Jaime's mind.

[khajidont]

It was a little ridiculous, Jaime thought, that Blue was comforting him instead of the other way around. He was certain that he wouldn't be so calm in the face of his own death, but Blue always seemed to operate on a different level from the rest of them, though if that was a psychic thing, simply the way of his personality, or a result of so many long years lived, Jaime couldn't say. Nevertheless, Blue's serene acceptance of whatever would come to pass reassured him as much as they could. Maybe somewhere, in some other world, they would meet again under happier circumstances, but either way, they would be friends. He couldn't imagine anything else.

As gentle as Blue was in drawing him into an hug, that really wasn't the way Jaime did it, and his returning embrace was a tight one. His family always hugged like they meant it, and Jaime was no exception to this rule. "We'll make things okay here, after you're gone," he said. He knew that things could never be right here again, and he wasn't even sure if they could manage good, but making things okay? That was doable.

"I promise we will. We'll try. You don't have to worry about that."

[firstroar]

He could hear other voices mixed in with Jaime's, all resonating with that assurance. Don't worry. We'll take care of it. A dozen and more voices spoke that notion in unison while Jaime's firm assurance gave the embrace its tight, tactile feeling. So many...

Blue clung tighter, tighter against the encroaching fear of losing those voices and the thoughts that came with them. The need to be known, recognized, and remembered was strong in most anybody, but Blue's nature craved it even more. If any trace of him was left, be in in thought or deed, it meant he'd mattered, didn't it? Just the tiniest handprint on someone else's heart meant he'd done right to some degree.

He'd told himself and many others over his life that there was no telling what the right thing was until it was over; even then, he wasn't certain of what he'd done, of whether it was right or not. Maybe that meant it really wasn't over, or...or perhaps he just wasn't wise enough to see the proof of his life wholly.

The warmth of the embrace and the memory that dream was encased in slipped – rather, Blue did, leaving the echo of himself and what he could offer as gratitude. Grateful to matter, to have encountered such good, hoping it could sustain him.

Thank you.