Mithos Yggdrasill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imatreenow) wrote2013-06-06 07:39 pm
imatreenow) wrote2013-06-06 07:39 pm
twenty [action]
[Almost a week ago Mithos had returned from a mission, the first he'd ever volunteered for. It may have seemed a strange choice for someone who trusted no one, who loathed being a pawn for others, to submit himself as a lab rat for combat testing, but his choices are narrowing around him. There is something he is after. Something he can finally close his fingers around, after watching it all scream past him for so long. If he is going to be used by the Malnosso regardless of his choices, it is better that he gains something from it - which he'd had to remind himself many times to dampen the sour taste sitting in the back of his throat.
Now back in the village, he has resumed the same quiet routine as before. In the early morning, before the sun is too hot in the sky, and before too many villagers are awake, he can be seen hunched over in the garden around House 52. He tries not to wonder if the flowers, planted with the thin hope that his sister might have the chance to enjoy them, amount to anything more than a vain effort. When he decides he needs more supplies, he makes sure to visit the flower shop in the early afternoon - wondering, like a scratch in the back of his mind, if school is still in session at all, or if he'll run into someone he would rather not see at all.
Later in the day, he withdraws to the woods south of the village to train. Four thousand years of fighting are wired inside his muscles, but it doesn't hurt to stay as sharp as possible. He's still getting used to the subtle differences between a proper sword and the knife he now relies on. Slicing the air, going through the motions of killing, he feels like he is building something. When he's done, he settles in against the base of a tree and draws the ancient set of panpipes from his pocket. He usually prefers to play inside, where the music of his sister cannot be heard by prying ears, but surrounded by the forest and his thoughts he can almost forget that people exist. And so the notes come out, clear and steady.]
Now back in the village, he has resumed the same quiet routine as before. In the early morning, before the sun is too hot in the sky, and before too many villagers are awake, he can be seen hunched over in the garden around House 52. He tries not to wonder if the flowers, planted with the thin hope that his sister might have the chance to enjoy them, amount to anything more than a vain effort. When he decides he needs more supplies, he makes sure to visit the flower shop in the early afternoon - wondering, like a scratch in the back of his mind, if school is still in session at all, or if he'll run into someone he would rather not see at all.
Later in the day, he withdraws to the woods south of the village to train. Four thousand years of fighting are wired inside his muscles, but it doesn't hurt to stay as sharp as possible. He's still getting used to the subtle differences between a proper sword and the knife he now relies on. Slicing the air, going through the motions of killing, he feels like he is building something. When he's done, he settles in against the base of a tree and draws the ancient set of panpipes from his pocket. He usually prefers to play inside, where the music of his sister cannot be heard by prying ears, but surrounded by the forest and his thoughts he can almost forget that people exist. And so the notes come out, clear and steady.]
action: in the woods; doop doop doop going to make this clearer
What are you going to do?
action: in the woods
I doubt you would understand anyway. [The need to do something, anything, just so he could stop feeling like he was drowning. The need to feel stronger, any way he can, because he's tired of being the weak, crumbling mess he's been reduced to.]
action: in the woods
As for right now though, Henry would keep trying to get Mithos to talk, to try and help this boy somehow.]
Because, I want to help you not feel like this anymore. I want to help the guy I became friends with that day when he found out what a hamburger was. I'm sure that part of you is still in there somewhere, Mithos. You just need help letting him out again.
action: in the woods
That part of me has been dead for a long time. [Dead and buried. He would never look at the world through such naive eyes ever again. The pieces of himself that he keeps hidden are scared and huddled down small - nothing like the hero he used to be, and closer to breaking than anything he used to hide.]
action: in the woods
No. I think he's still in there somewhere. He just needs help getting let out again.
action: in the woods
[He can't erase the wounds he's been dealt, or the sorrow he's asphyxiated on. There's no going back. Which is why he has to go forward. Not toward forgiveness or anything that could find him contentment - he knows that road is blocked - but toward control.]
action: in the woods
action: in the woods
Is that what I am to you? Something to help, to make you feel good about yourself? [He sneers this accusation, daring Henry to agree with him.]
action: in the woods
[There's a bit of a bite in his words. He wants to believe others can change, that it's possible. But, Mithos's question posed to him does leave him thinking for a moment.
Why was he trying to help him exactly? It wasn't what Mithos had said...no. He has to give it a moment to think why he's bothering at this point.
The thought comes after the moment of pause. He could see some of himself in Mithos. The teenager was alone. Henry had been alone too. People had treated Mithos badly because of something he couldn't control. He had been treated badly because of something he couldn't control. Of course, the difference was why they had been treated badly. Mithos for his race, and Henry for his beliefs.]
It's like I told you when we first met; I know what it's like to be alone.
action: in the woods
You've never been alone like this.