janescayre | Duocaeli Inbox

[She can be anything her heart desires.

This was part of the deal. She's supposed to help him as much as he wishes to help her. They're meant to help each other, and that understanding pushes his reluctance to share the burdensome echo of what he just saw.]

. . . I saw them. The elder from Old Town, who begged for mercy as he lay dying in the snow, and the man who threw himself onto a blade for his brother. I'm all right, but . . . fate was not so kind to them.

[His hand hovers over his face—the very eyes into which the old man had peered with such affection—while the image of a bloody body on the ground sears itself into his mind. A wave of sorrow crashes against him.]

They were moments from my past.

[stop being so positive and encouraging she'll burst into flames.

There's a lot of definitive facts here. He's got a city, identities. A devastating event.

That's to be expected, isn't it? Shocking things stick out like tombstones in a flat field. They're often the first to poke through the shroud.]

A war? [She ventures, taking a closer step.] W-were they close to you?

[My, what a lovely flame she makes.]

I don't know. Their faces weren't familiar.

[Is that because they really weren't, or because he's forgotten?]

But perhaps it was. [A war.] There were soldiers. The man was unarmed . . . In his haste to protect his kin, he failed to draw his blade.

[Roland lowers his hand, and he chances a look at Fukawa now that the initial shock has passed. His smile is wry.]

Apologies, Fukawa. I could not see the stars . . .

[I can't take this]

Oh, f-forget about the damn stars! [Can he not flagellate himself for two seconds? It's so irritating, she's going to get hives. ~~this is her territory~~] If you s-saw something in there from your memories, then maybe it can unlock more! Or th-there's another stupid magic thing going on with it. I don't know!

[Soldiers, devastation — it has to be a war. Maybe an ambush, since the defenders were unarmed. Which side was Roland on?]

Try looking again!

[She makes a fine point. As disturbing as the images were, they were indubitably moments from his past. If he's to regain what he's lost, he can't shy away from the unpleasant memories as they come. Thus, he eyes the telescope with a trace of wariness that he ultimately sets aside to look through the lens again . . .

. . . and sees nothing but stars. He could marvel at this. As soon as he's about to draw back, however, the lights distort and fade, and another scene takes their place—accompanied by a strained voice that despairs as the ground is stained crimson: "Father . . . Father, forgive me . . . "

Roland pulls away with a heavier heart. This time, his expression remains pinched from the ache of it all.]

May they rest in peace . . .

[This new sobriety has her stalling. The shock was easy to fire back on, but only now does it occur to her that making him look at people dying is just a bit gauche.

Fukawa winces. You moron.]

I'm... [Deep gulp. These words have never come easy to her.] S-s-sorry...

[She clutches at her elbow. Casts her gaze around the observatory.]

You...you d-don't have to look anymore.

[She couldn't have known that it'd be more violence on top of violence. Roland's eyes open at the meek apology and he turns to her face with soft eyes and a small smile. Fukawa is looking away, but that's all right; he softens his tone, too.]

No need for apologies. You were only trying to help. In the end, it was my decision to look.

...

[He's only going to insist it's always his fault, isn't he?]

It won't b-be avoidable forever. But, for now... [God, this is awkward. Komaru was so much better at the soft stuff than she was.] I don't know. Just b-be prepared. It's probably going to suck.

[Not very helpful after all. Fukawa scoffs, scratching her skin through her sleeve. Then she scampers to the books, ferreting them off the shelf.]

It stinks up here. I'm g-going to get some air.

[It probably is. It already does. But that's nobody's fault but his own. If there's a particularly troubling memory, he'll simply digest its contents and move forward without unnecessarily burdening anybody. Everyone else has their own troubles . . .

He's snapped back to the present by light footfalls. Roland looks at the shelf and realizes that he's added to her load.]

Can I help?

[To carry her things. Then he'll leave her be if she wants to be alone.]

[She rolls her eyes.]

N-not like I'd be able to stop you. [Since he's so determined to hang around her. Vacant memories or not, it's borderline suspicious.

Still, the help is not completely unappreciated. She had struggled balancing the books on the way up, and now there's the flowers to contend with. Without once meeting his eyes, she drops a few tomes into his hands and takes up the last three herself, cradling the flowers atop the stack. Please ignore the subtle press of her nose into a blossom as they descend. And the way her eyes flick to him when she thinks he's not looking.

He's just an odd sort. That's all. Hard to get a read on a guy who doesn't know who he is. Maybe once he knows she can finally decide what she thinks.]

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SCREAMS I THOUGHT I SENT THIS TAG YESTERDAY?????? I could have sworn

time was simply giving fukawa a much needed moment

she needs it ig

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