What colorful butterfly will fly next?

[waterfell]

Cold fog swirls, and makes the darkness even deeper, shrouding everything in a damp, cloying mist. There's a smell of ash in the air. To the side, a single golden pin impales a blue butterfly with black markings, just above the thorax. It struggles with a vain flurry of its tired wings, but for all the writhing desperation, there is little life left in the spasming body. It rests weakly between fits of frantic activity.

Beneath the butterfly, a picture of a blue-haired girl in a tiara and sailor-style collar has been clearly marked 'Mercury'. Nearby, similar displays bear the names of other planets. In some, the butterfly's wings have been pulled off or its body has been singed and scorched or bent to sickening angles; others are fresh and empty, but labeled in anticipation. They stretch into the distance as far as the eye can see in all directions.

Comments

[findmyownreason]

He knows he's losing her and there's nothing he can do about it. She was there for him when he almost gave up and he can't seem to do the same for her. Once again someone he cares about it dying and he's helpless and useless to stop it. Some things never change. There'll be time for recrimination later though. Right now, he's with her and he won't waste it. Leaning a little closer so that he can watch her face carefully, he makes a soft sound in his throat.

"For the rest of my life."

[waterfell]

There's power in that even beyond what she knows; but whatever she takes from it, the answer seems to placate something in Mercury. It's fine, if she's not alone. If he remembers her.

If he remembers her, that's how she'll live on.

"I heard you before," she reminds him. "If you can still hear my voice, it's hard to think, but we might meet again."

[findmyownreason]

Tucking her a little bit closer against him, he watches her with almost desperate intensity, hung up on each inhale, each exhale. He tries for lightness though, in his voice, even if he fails miserably.

"Yeah. I - that's what this place is for. Right?"

where I talk to my dead

[waterfell]

"People meet who should never have met." This is not necessarily bad; and it is not necessarily good. It simply is. She knows the ways outside influences, even small ones, can change a world drastically. Sometimes a world needs its fate changed, though. Sometimes that's all a world has come to be about.

[findmyownreason]

"So - we'll meet here again."

He's not good with goodbyes. He never has been. He doesn't want to admit that that's what this is but - it is. And all the things he should or wants to say can't find the words to come out. All he can do is hold her while she goes. It's not enough. It never is.

/sniffle. moving into endish?

[waterfell]

Despite the fatalistic words, and the sense of fatigue, Mercury seems to accept her current fate; and talking with Cloud and others has made her ready to still hold on to the ways she can still stay near the people who've started to make her believe she has people near her.

She doesn't quite smile, but she isn't raging, either. Even the talk of vengeance - she does expect to be avenged, because she knows the ones she left behind are quick to answer any blow dealt them - has faded.

So has she. Her body begins to shimmer and dim.

bwah. yep.

[findmyownreason]

He knows. He's always there when the people he cares about die. Never soon enough to stop it, always just in time to hold them as it happens. It's a pattern he had hoped that he'd broken... but holding Ami as she fades away tells him he hasn't. He doesn't have any words, even though he feels as if he should say one last thing. Instead, he holds her body until there's nothing left to hold. Don't tell him it's a dream. Waking won't change anything.