❛january (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acperience) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fictionalized2013-01-18 12:10 am
acperience) wrote in fictionalized2013-01-18 12:10 am
fanfic; crash and burn
Title: Crash and Burn
Series: The Legend of the Legendary Heroes
Character(s): Tiir, Ene.
Warnings: Death.
Summary: He's always failed.
—
Crash and Burn
—
As a child, he doesn’t know of loneliness.
Love is a lie and companionship is a delusion. Looking at the humans around him, he thinks that it’s a wonder that they’ve lived this long without tearing each other apart in hatred.
—
It’s a nice home, all things considered. When you don’t have a home, your standards are considerably low.
Still, the children seem to like it enough, as they run around the house, despite Tiir’s chiding. By the staircase, a group of Alpha Stigma bearers, guided by some of the older ones, put up tags. Tiir can’t see them as anything beyond paper, but he knows what they are, as the one who suggested that they be put up. The finer details of magic aren’t his strong suit—and never will be, given his Iino Doue—but he knows enough. A spell to block out sunlight is simple enough, and it’ll entertain them for a short bit. In the basement, more of them set up the spell for a barrier.
They won’t let anything happen to Ene.
It’s almost a normal home, even, except ‘ordinary’ people don’t live up deep in the mountains where no one can find them, set up spells in their house, and litter their yard with magic to dispel wanderers and magic traps to take care of anyone who might bypass the former. The children have been forbidden from playing anywhere aside from the open space by the building, and all of them are wise enough to not stray too far without an Alpha Stigma bearer in tow.
“Brother Tiir!” A child tugs at his pant leg. “When is dinner going to be ready? I’m hungry!”
“Soon, soon,” he says, smiling as he ruffles her hair. “Be patient for just a little while longer, all right?”
She pouts. “Fiiiine.”
That said, she apparently isn’t hungry enough to stay still, as she then goes off running to play with the others outside. With numbers as large as theirs (and it should be more, he thinks bitterly), peace and quiet is an impossibility.
He hardly minds, though. It’s better this way.
He’s had enough of silence.
—
In spite of having been on the verge of death just a short while ago, Tiir leaps across the trees as fast as he can, the wind blowing across the face. In the dead of the night, the sound of the children crying into his chest is all too loud.
Two children.
There should’ve been more.
(He came down here with two friends, and he’s returning with neither of them.)
“It’s all right,” he tells them gently, despite knowing that nothing he says can heal what they’ve just been through—not right now. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
They continue to sob into his clothes, already stained with blood that has yet to fully dry. Tiir grits his teeth for a moment, as he summons all his energy, practically flying across the sky.
The sooner they reach the main base, the better. The sooner they’re surrounded by friends—friends who can ease the pain that never fully goes away—the better.
(It never fully goes away.)
—
Ryner kicks against the ground launches himself at Tiir with a speed that’s impressive for a human, but still slow in comparison to Tiir, who dodges him easily.
“Wait, don’t get in my way. This is to open your eyes, after all,” he says, slipping past Ryner to attack the woman—the wretched human who’s deluded Ryner—behind him.
Why doesn’t Ryner understand?
Why can’t Ryner ever understand?
“You’re the monster here!”
He’s just trying to help him. That’s all he’s ever been doing.
And yet—
As Ryner slams into him and pushes him to the ground, there’s a brief moment of pain—but it’s nothing compared to the flash of hurt that Tiir feels as he wonders why—?
That human isn’t his friend. Tiir’s seen it over and over again—people who claim to love others, and yet the only thing behind those words are lies. Humans lie, lie, and lie again. And so, his friends are betrayed, betrayed, and betrayed again.
Ryner knows. Tiir knows he does.
Tiir doesn’t want to lose a friend to despair.
It occurs to him that perhaps Ryner simply hates him—but he quickly ends that line of thinking, not wanting to dwell on the idea any further.
He can’t understand any of it.
“A coward like you who keeps running away has no right to talk about my friends with a self-important air like that!”
Why?
“So, I’m being deceived? Humans aren’t my friends? Then where are my friends? Here? These cowards who ran away into the mountains?”
They’re friends.
They’re friends, right?
—
“We’ll all die one day,” Ene tells him, her voice as calm as ever as she closes eyes that are losing their sight. “I only hope that I won’t have to see you die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Tiir says sharply. Ene gives him a sad smile from where she sits.
Forming a connection with another person has been one of the strangest journeys of Tiir’s life. Listening to Ene is so unlike listening to the voice in his head, and Tiir has since long ago given up on trying to find the ‘right’ choices to say—it’s hardly as if Ene cares either way. With her around, he can no longer move as freely. It was almost a surprise, at first, to find that she was a ‘monster’ like him and yet so strangely fragile.
Still, Tiir doesn’t regret any of it. When she isn’t around—which is rarely—there’s quiet and a sense of emptiness that Tiir doesn’t quite understand. Her presence alone is fulfilling, even if neither of them has anything to say.
He can’t imagine life without her—not anymore.
“I am,” she says simply. “It’s inevitable.”
And then she opens her eyes, her tell-tale red design rising to the surface of her eyes.
“You aren’t, and it isn’t,” Tiir replies in a low voice. He looks away from Ene’s eyes—the pattern of the Torch Curse that’s slowly killing her. “We’ll change this world before then, so that you never have to use your power again. You won’t die.”
Softly, she gets up, before walking over to him. He watches, unsure of what she’s doing (as he often is) as she reaches up to touch his face.
“You know, I truly am glad to have met you, Tiir,” she says. “And though it may be selfish of me… that’s why, seeing you die—I sincerely hope I’ll never have to.”
—
Her wish comes true.
Everything is silent again.
Series: The Legend of the Legendary Heroes
Character(s): Tiir, Ene.
Warnings: Death.
Summary: He's always failed.
As a child, he doesn’t know of loneliness.
Love is a lie and companionship is a delusion. Looking at the humans around him, he thinks that it’s a wonder that they’ve lived this long without tearing each other apart in hatred.
It’s a nice home, all things considered. When you don’t have a home, your standards are considerably low.
Still, the children seem to like it enough, as they run around the house, despite Tiir’s chiding. By the staircase, a group of Alpha Stigma bearers, guided by some of the older ones, put up tags. Tiir can’t see them as anything beyond paper, but he knows what they are, as the one who suggested that they be put up. The finer details of magic aren’t his strong suit—and never will be, given his Iino Doue—but he knows enough. A spell to block out sunlight is simple enough, and it’ll entertain them for a short bit. In the basement, more of them set up the spell for a barrier.
They won’t let anything happen to Ene.
It’s almost a normal home, even, except ‘ordinary’ people don’t live up deep in the mountains where no one can find them, set up spells in their house, and litter their yard with magic to dispel wanderers and magic traps to take care of anyone who might bypass the former. The children have been forbidden from playing anywhere aside from the open space by the building, and all of them are wise enough to not stray too far without an Alpha Stigma bearer in tow.
“Brother Tiir!” A child tugs at his pant leg. “When is dinner going to be ready? I’m hungry!”
“Soon, soon,” he says, smiling as he ruffles her hair. “Be patient for just a little while longer, all right?”
She pouts. “Fiiiine.”
That said, she apparently isn’t hungry enough to stay still, as she then goes off running to play with the others outside. With numbers as large as theirs (and it should be more, he thinks bitterly), peace and quiet is an impossibility.
He hardly minds, though. It’s better this way.
He’s had enough of silence.
In spite of having been on the verge of death just a short while ago, Tiir leaps across the trees as fast as he can, the wind blowing across the face. In the dead of the night, the sound of the children crying into his chest is all too loud.
Two children.
There should’ve been more.
(He came down here with two friends, and he’s returning with neither of them.)
“It’s all right,” he tells them gently, despite knowing that nothing he says can heal what they’ve just been through—not right now. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
They continue to sob into his clothes, already stained with blood that has yet to fully dry. Tiir grits his teeth for a moment, as he summons all his energy, practically flying across the sky.
The sooner they reach the main base, the better. The sooner they’re surrounded by friends—friends who can ease the pain that never fully goes away—the better.
(It never fully goes away.)
Ryner kicks against the ground launches himself at Tiir with a speed that’s impressive for a human, but still slow in comparison to Tiir, who dodges him easily.
“Wait, don’t get in my way. This is to open your eyes, after all,” he says, slipping past Ryner to attack the woman—the wretched human who’s deluded Ryner—behind him.
Why doesn’t Ryner understand?
Why can’t Ryner ever understand?
“You’re the monster here!”
He’s just trying to help him. That’s all he’s ever been doing.
And yet—
As Ryner slams into him and pushes him to the ground, there’s a brief moment of pain—but it’s nothing compared to the flash of hurt that Tiir feels as he wonders why—?
That human isn’t his friend. Tiir’s seen it over and over again—people who claim to love others, and yet the only thing behind those words are lies. Humans lie, lie, and lie again. And so, his friends are betrayed, betrayed, and betrayed again.
Ryner knows. Tiir knows he does.
Tiir doesn’t want to lose a friend to despair.
It occurs to him that perhaps Ryner simply hates him—but he quickly ends that line of thinking, not wanting to dwell on the idea any further.
He can’t understand any of it.
“A coward like you who keeps running away has no right to talk about my friends with a self-important air like that!”
Why?
“So, I’m being deceived? Humans aren’t my friends? Then where are my friends? Here? These cowards who ran away into the mountains?”
They’re friends.
They’re friends, right?
“We’ll all die one day,” Ene tells him, her voice as calm as ever as she closes eyes that are losing their sight. “I only hope that I won’t have to see you die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Tiir says sharply. Ene gives him a sad smile from where she sits.
Forming a connection with another person has been one of the strangest journeys of Tiir’s life. Listening to Ene is so unlike listening to the voice in his head, and Tiir has since long ago given up on trying to find the ‘right’ choices to say—it’s hardly as if Ene cares either way. With her around, he can no longer move as freely. It was almost a surprise, at first, to find that she was a ‘monster’ like him and yet so strangely fragile.
Still, Tiir doesn’t regret any of it. When she isn’t around—which is rarely—there’s quiet and a sense of emptiness that Tiir doesn’t quite understand. Her presence alone is fulfilling, even if neither of them has anything to say.
He can’t imagine life without her—not anymore.
“I am,” she says simply. “It’s inevitable.”
And then she opens her eyes, her tell-tale red design rising to the surface of her eyes.
“You aren’t, and it isn’t,” Tiir replies in a low voice. He looks away from Ene’s eyes—the pattern of the Torch Curse that’s slowly killing her. “We’ll change this world before then, so that you never have to use your power again. You won’t die.”
Softly, she gets up, before walking over to him. He watches, unsure of what she’s doing (as he often is) as she reaches up to touch his face.
“You know, I truly am glad to have met you, Tiir,” she says. “And though it may be selfish of me… that’s why, seeing you die—I sincerely hope I’ll never have to.”
Her wish comes true.
Everything is silent again.