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fictionalized2011-12-30 09:46 pm
acperience) wrote in fictionalized2011-12-30 09:46 pm
fanfic; goodbye
Title: Goodbye
Series: The Legend of the Legendary Heroes
Game:vatheon
Character(s): Tiir.
Warnings: ... Murderous thoughts?
Summary: Third time isn't the charm.
Dedication: Tobroski.
Note: Because Guriko disappeared and sad cannibal is sad.
—
Goodbye
—
It doesn’t matter how many times Tiir reminds himself.
He can tell himself over and over again on how fleeting happiness is, but he always seems to forget, wrapped up in the moment. A smile, the sound of the laughter—and he forgets.
He forgets that this won’t last forever.
It was the peace, he figures. There was no longer a constant threat, hanging over him and forcing him to live on the run. Constantly moving out—it was nothing more than a habit in Vatheon, rather than a necessity. He felt safe for the first time since Gastark attacked, and because of that, he let down his guard.
He should’ve been prepared for this. At the very least, he should’ve realized it was going to happen when his gift was that, of all things.
———
A skipping rope. Slightly worn, as if it’d seen plenty of use—but he knew that it would never be used again.
(And he can remember, the sound of children chanting a rhyme, oblivious to their fate that night—)
Clutching the rope like a lifeline, Tiir leaves the plaza.
———
He knocks on Guriko’s bedroom door, not alarmed at first. He assumes that she slept in, which is hardly uncommon for someone her age.
“Guriko?”
He knocks again and waits, and when she doesn’t answer, he opens the door.
It’s then that panic starts to rise, when she’s not there. He keeps calm, however, as he enters her room. A quick search tells him that she’s not there, before he exits and goes through the rest of the apartment.
“Guriko, I’m afraid it’s a bit too early to be playing hide-and-seek…”
And he prays that that’s all it is, to a god that’s never listened before.
(… But somewhere inside of him, he knows he’s just fooling himself.)
———
It’s only after he’s examined the entire apartment and leapt through the city, searching for her, does it occur to him to check the SFC.
Standing on the tip of a tree, hands shakier than he’d have liked them to be, he fumbles with the device. After calming himself down, he scrolls through the contact list. Twice, when he doesn’t spot her name the first time, and then again to be completely certain. It’s after the third time that the truth sinks in.
She’s gone.
… Of course she is.
———
And just as that human holiday mocked him, it’s only fit that humans mock him again, Tiir supposes. He watches with a bitter expression as the fireworks go off, while others celebrate an event that he can’t bring himself to care about here.
(What reason does he have to look forward to the upcoming year, when all he wants is to leave this place, where there’s no longer anything of value to him?)
His usual temptation (to kill these pathetic, lowly humans) rises —but he forces it down, just as he’s been doing since he took Guriko under his wing.
Later, he tells himself. She probably wouldn’t like it if he did such a thing now.
“She probably wouldn’t like it either way,” he mutters, smiling sadly as another fireworks explodes in the sky, showering the beach with light.
Even so, he’ll hold back for tonight.
For the sake of someone who isn’t even in this world anymore, he’ll hold back.
———
The ducks quack as he tosses bread at them absent-mindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. He can recall the first time he was here, watching Minato feed them.
Back then, he thought that the children would’ve liked to do that. He should’ve brought Guriko here when he had the chance.
—But he doesn’t anymore, so it’s too late.
It’s always too late.
And he wishes that time would just stop because he feels like he can’t keep up sometimes, but it never does. Life goes on, whether he wants it to or not.
(But he knows that inside, he’d rather it advance than stay still.)
———
He isn’t sure what to do with her belongings.
It’s not like the first time Gastark struck, when he had to run for his life. When he couldn’t be bothered with trivial, materialistic issues, when thirty-eight children under his care had just been slaughtered, and he wasn’t going to return to the site of their death for something as meaningless as that—
But there’s nothing to flee from here except his own feelings, and so as pointless as it is, Tiir has to address the matter.
… Before that, though, he throws away Minato’s gift.
He certainly won’t be making use of it.
———
All things considered, he should probably be grateful that she isn’t dead, but to be honest, that doesn’t make him feel much better.
It does give him some hope, though, and that's better than nothing. As long as she still has a chance at the life she deserves—that's what's important.
———
In the end, all that’s left to keep is the teddy bear he gave her.
(He was able to give it to her, at least. That much, he’s thankful for.)
He knows that there isn’t really a reason to keep it—just as there's no reason to keep the skipping rope when seeing it tears at him—but he does anyway. It might seem silly, but no matter how much it hurts, he wants to keep the reminder.
The teddy bear, so that he can remember that she was a part of his life.
The skipping rope, so that he can remember why he fights.
Why he keeps moving forward, regardless of how much he might want to scream and cry at times.
Holding the bear to his chest, he smiles.
“… Please be happy, Guriko.”
———
Even after the previous children died, he still gathered more.
Even after they died, he still befriended Guriko.
And he knows that even though she disappeared, and even though he’ll never see her again, he’ll keep on doing what he’s always done.
Perhaps this is his fate, to always be left behind.
But it’s worth it, he knows, because even if happiness is fleeting, it was there—and that’s what matters, isn’t it?
Series: The Legend of the Legendary Heroes
Game:
vatheonCharacter(s): Tiir.
Warnings: ... Murderous thoughts?
Summary: Third time isn't the charm.
Dedication: To
broski.Note: Because Guriko disappeared and sad cannibal is sad.
It doesn’t matter how many times Tiir reminds himself.
He can tell himself over and over again on how fleeting happiness is, but he always seems to forget, wrapped up in the moment. A smile, the sound of the laughter—and he forgets.
He forgets that this won’t last forever.
It was the peace, he figures. There was no longer a constant threat, hanging over him and forcing him to live on the run. Constantly moving out—it was nothing more than a habit in Vatheon, rather than a necessity. He felt safe for the first time since Gastark attacked, and because of that, he let down his guard.
He should’ve been prepared for this. At the very least, he should’ve realized it was going to happen when his gift was that, of all things.
A skipping rope. Slightly worn, as if it’d seen plenty of use—but he knew that it would never be used again.
(And he can remember, the sound of children chanting a rhyme, oblivious to their fate that night—)
Clutching the rope like a lifeline, Tiir leaves the plaza.
He knocks on Guriko’s bedroom door, not alarmed at first. He assumes that she slept in, which is hardly uncommon for someone her age.
“Guriko?”
He knocks again and waits, and when she doesn’t answer, he opens the door.
It’s then that panic starts to rise, when she’s not there. He keeps calm, however, as he enters her room. A quick search tells him that she’s not there, before he exits and goes through the rest of the apartment.
“Guriko, I’m afraid it’s a bit too early to be playing hide-and-seek…”
And he prays that that’s all it is, to a god that’s never listened before.
(… But somewhere inside of him, he knows he’s just fooling himself.)
It’s only after he’s examined the entire apartment and leapt through the city, searching for her, does it occur to him to check the SFC.
Standing on the tip of a tree, hands shakier than he’d have liked them to be, he fumbles with the device. After calming himself down, he scrolls through the contact list. Twice, when he doesn’t spot her name the first time, and then again to be completely certain. It’s after the third time that the truth sinks in.
She’s gone.
… Of course she is.
And just as that human holiday mocked him, it’s only fit that humans mock him again, Tiir supposes. He watches with a bitter expression as the fireworks go off, while others celebrate an event that he can’t bring himself to care about here.
(What reason does he have to look forward to the upcoming year, when all he wants is to leave this place, where there’s no longer anything of value to him?)
His usual temptation (to kill these pathetic, lowly humans) rises —but he forces it down, just as he’s been doing since he took Guriko under his wing.
Later, he tells himself. She probably wouldn’t like it if he did such a thing now.
“She probably wouldn’t like it either way,” he mutters, smiling sadly as another fireworks explodes in the sky, showering the beach with light.
Even so, he’ll hold back for tonight.
For the sake of someone who isn’t even in this world anymore, he’ll hold back.
The ducks quack as he tosses bread at them absent-mindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. He can recall the first time he was here, watching Minato feed them.
Back then, he thought that the children would’ve liked to do that. He should’ve brought Guriko here when he had the chance.
—But he doesn’t anymore, so it’s too late.
It’s always too late.
And he wishes that time would just stop because he feels like he can’t keep up sometimes, but it never does. Life goes on, whether he wants it to or not.
(But he knows that inside, he’d rather it advance than stay still.)
He isn’t sure what to do with her belongings.
It’s not like the first time Gastark struck, when he had to run for his life. When he couldn’t be bothered with trivial, materialistic issues, when thirty-eight children under his care had just been slaughtered, and he wasn’t going to return to the site of their death for something as meaningless as that—
But there’s nothing to flee from here except his own feelings, and so as pointless as it is, Tiir has to address the matter.
… Before that, though, he throws away Minato’s gift.
He certainly won’t be making use of it.
All things considered, he should probably be grateful that she isn’t dead, but to be honest, that doesn’t make him feel much better.
It does give him some hope, though, and that's better than nothing. As long as she still has a chance at the life she deserves—that's what's important.
In the end, all that’s left to keep is the teddy bear he gave her.
(He was able to give it to her, at least. That much, he’s thankful for.)
He knows that there isn’t really a reason to keep it—just as there's no reason to keep the skipping rope when seeing it tears at him—but he does anyway. It might seem silly, but no matter how much it hurts, he wants to keep the reminder.
The teddy bear, so that he can remember that she was a part of his life.
The skipping rope, so that he can remember why he fights.
Why he keeps moving forward, regardless of how much he might want to scream and cry at times.
Holding the bear to his chest, he smiles.
“… Please be happy, Guriko.”
Even after the previous children died, he still gathered more.
Even after they died, he still befriended Guriko.
And he knows that even though she disappeared, and even though he’ll never see her again, he’ll keep on doing what he’s always done.
Perhaps this is his fate, to always be left behind.
But it’s worth it, he knows, because even if happiness is fleeting, it was there—and that’s what matters, isn’t it?