dream;

[contemptibility]

[warnings: spoilers, death, and blood.]

—

The children, brandishing twigs for swords, laugh as they see him, with one running towards him and pointing his twig at him.

"Stay back, dragon! I'll defeat you and save the princess!"

In the silence, Tiir wakes up in a pool of his blood, drenched in red—

red, red, the world's always drenched in red

—before he struggles to stand, ignoring the pain that laces his body like fire, against the cool stickiness as his blood-soaked clothes cling to him.

"Monster."

His eyes widen as the voice speaks, and then he realizes that it isn't quite so silent after all. In the distance, three children laugh, pentacles appearing before their glowing red eyes. They laugh, and he needs to save them, before they lose control and fall somewhere he can't reach them—

"No," the girl—the princess, presumably—argues, hands on her hips. "Brother Tiir isn't the dragon! He's the knight."

He has to save them, before they die like all the others.

With the sounds, Tiir becomes aware of the sights as well—the corpses that litter the ground. Forty-three children—he doesn't even need to count them to know—and Lafra, dead from a wound around his waist, and Pueka, blood pooling where her eyes should be.

They're all dead, because he couldn't save them.

So he at least needs to save those three—

"... can't do anything but cause death and destruction."

But he only gets a step further before the other noise resumes. Voices around them, voices without bodies and yet still there, mocking—

but humans are always mocking them, always, always

Their voices rise, almost drowning out the laughter, before adding to it with their own. Unlike the wild laughter of the children, however, theirs is ugly, twisting the world and ruining them—because that's all humans know how to do, isn't it?

And so, Tiir laughs. A third laughter, without the madness of the children's or the cruelty of the humans'—

though perhaps he lost his sanity a long time ago, and perhaps he is the cruellest of them all

—as it's just empty, broken. His eyes flash red, brighter than that of the blood that drenches his clothing.

Tiir blinks, before he smiles, bending down to meet them at eye level.

"Oh? The knight, am I?"

"I'll kill you," he says his voice rising. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill every single last one of you—"

wretched humans, despicable, the only monsters here

Suddenly, there's an attack, as electricity flickers before Tiir and lightning slams into his body, sending him flying. Wounds that were just beginning to repair themselves are reopened, soaking his clothes in red once more, before he lands harshly on the ground.

"Abomination. This is what you deserve."

Through the blood that streams down his face—the closest thing to tears he'll ever get—he sees.

For a moment, the night turns into day and the world isn't red. His friends are alive, happy—

such a fleeting happiness, so fleeting, why did he hope for it to last

—and humans took that all away from them. It's nothing but a memory. A dream.

The girl beams, and she says what she must believe to be the truth:

"Yeah! You're the knight who beats the bad guys and protects everyone!"

And he screams, in grief and anger and frustration, as humans—as they, the humans, say what he already knows and doesn't need to hear:

"Worthless. Why don't you just do the world a favour and disappear?"

He grits his teeth, and he hates. He summons his resentment, until he can nearly feel it coursing through his veins, because he knows that if compassion will not keep him going, then hatred always will.

"You first."

But he can't attack. There's nothing to attack but the voices that cannot be touched—

because they'll never disappear, they'll always be there

—so what he is doing?

"You should never have been born. Good-for-nothing."

And he can't even deny it anymore.

Another child shakes his head.

"No, stupid! He's not the knight; he's the prince!"

But he has to save them, he thinks. And with that thought, he tries to walk, his legs almost too weak to support his weight.

The children continue to laugh madly, and he can only hope that it isn't too late.

—Except it is, as a light pierces through the eyes of one, gouging them out as she collapses to the ground, dead.

And all he can do is stare, and wonder why—

why is he never strong enough

—does this keep happening?

"Monster extermination almost complete."

How ridiculous those words are to him. Perhaps there's a truth that he can't see with these eyes of his, but all he can see is the unjust slaughter of his friends.

And yet humans would call it this.

This is what his friends all died for—extermination.

"He's definitely the prince—"

"Disgusting, hideous—"

And it doesn't hurt, he tells himself. It doesn't hurt because he's never known a life without these words. They're a dull blade by now—

it's his own despair that's tightening the noose around his neck

—and one that he himself already carries.

He knows and he knows and he knows.

"—because the prince is the one who gives everyone their happy ending!"

He's not a knight.

He's not a prince.

He's nothing.

—

[... When he wakes up, Tiir admittedly doesn't have much of a reaction. Instead, he merely lets out a deep breath, remaining stoic otherwise.]

Comments

[Video]

[bakegarasu]

[... Otoha is, for once, struggling to keep emotion off of his face. He knows how it feels to be called a monster - to have someone wish you were never born. He knows what it's like to be outcast, to watch someone you actually care about be slaughtered...]

[His face is a mix of sadness and an attempt to keep it off of his face.]

... Hey. You need anything, after a dream like that?

[Video]

[contemptibility]

[Likewise, Tiir's expression is passive, but not without effort.]

... 'After a dream like that'? Not much of a dream, all things considered.

[Considering how closely it mimicked reality.]

[Video]

[bakegarasu]

Memory, then. The offer's still open.

[Video]

[contemptibility]

[He's silent.]

... That's quite an offer for someone you don't even know.

[Video]

[bakegarasu]

I know the feeling, more or less.

[Video]

[contemptibility]

... Ah. That would explain a few things.

I'm fine, though. In any case, I don't imagine there's much that could be done.

[Video]

[bakegarasu]

Probably.

[...]

You want to spar or something? Or just go back to sleep?

[Video]

[contemptibility]

... I'm afraid I've never sparred in my life. I don't have much experience with fighting without the intent to kill.

voice

[bufudine]

[Is this how it is, back in Tiir's world?]

Would you like company?

[The company of monsters.]

voice

[contemptibility]

Ah, that's...

[A pause, before he continues, his voice as steady as he can keep it.]

If it's to comfort me, there's no need. I'm fine. However, I'm not adverse to the company of a friend.

voice

[bufudine]

[Sure you are, Tiir. Serph's not about to contest that.]

Where are you? I will be there.

[Tiir had said he moved often...]

voice

[contemptibility]

No, that's not necessary. I'd rather not disturb Guriko, so if you don't mind, I'll come to you.

voice

[bufudine]

I will be by the rose bush. The others are resting.

[And by that, he means sitting crosslegged in front of the plant in question.]

voice --> action

[contemptibility]

Understood. I'll be there soon.

[And with that, he hangs up.

True to his word, it doesn't take Tiir long at all to arrive—one of the perks of superhuman speed.

He smiles when he sees Serph, approaching slowly.]

It seems to be doing well.

action FOREVER

[bufudine]

[Wow that was fast. Did Tiir live nearby?

Serph gives a nod in acknowledgement at the greeting before gesturing to the ground next to him. C'mon, take a seat on the cold, hard concrete, man.]

Did your friend like the mug plant?

[contemptibility]

[... Sure, he'll do that. Whatever floats your boat, Serph.]

She did. She's been taking good care of it.

voice;

[tsundyne]

[She is frowning; wincing, as she watches this dream of his. Some of it is actually familiar, from the scenes she saw within his thought bubble long ago. It's actually pretty unnerving how many of these words could've very well been said by her--

Calling him a monster, saying how he causes nothing but death, and destruction.

This is an accurate summation of how she felt about him, upon finding out about certain things, she supposes. But a lot has changed since then--

And she certainly didn't see him as worthless or good-for-nothing.

She's not sure she ever did, angry as she was at the time.]

Honestly, that seemed more like a memory, than a dream. [Her voice is tired, but nevertheless, soft and non-accusing for once.] ...Heh. Looks like some people believed in you after all.

['Prince.']

voice;

[contemptibility]

It seemed to be a slightly twisted version of reality, yes.

[His voice is also tired, with all the resignation of someone who is less bothered by the dream than he is by, again, reality.

At her next comment, though, it tightens.]

... Most of those people are also dead because I wasn't as strong as they believed me to be, so you'll have to pardon me if I fail to feel reassured by that.

voice;

[tsundyne]

That's not--

[Her voice raises for just a moment, quickly getting defensive about what she's said; a little bit bothered by his tone. But then she takes a breath to calm herself, because she definitely doesn't need to be starting anything over a dream.

Based on reality though it may be.]

That's not really what I was trying to do. I was just...making an observation.

[Was she, though? Was she trying to reassure him?

...She has to admit, maybe she actually was. If only a little bit.]

voice;

[contemptibility]

... Is that so? Then yes, I suppose they did. Seeing as how I was the one who offered them a home after they'd been chased out by humans, it's hardly a surprise.

[His previous point still stands, though: it's hard to feel proud when he also watched them die under his care.]

voice;

[tsundyne]

...

[Chased out by humans, huh--

That's probably the most specific thing he's mentioned yet that's tied back to them. She can still hear their voices now, though the broadcast is over, and she thinks of children from her own world who don't look all that different from them.

Ken... that little girl from the shrine who they had to rescue from Tartarus.]

How disgusting of them.

['I'm sorry.'

But it's ridiculous to apologize on behalf of her own kind, so she only thinks it silently. She also thinks that was pretty kind of him, too, taking them all under his wing--

But that thought also remains silent and unspoken. It's implied anyway, she assumes.]

voice;

[contemptibility]

[To be honest, he doesn't catch the implication. They're cut from the same cloth, after all—so he has no reason to abandon them. Therefore, it isn't 'kind', but merely how things should be.

He does pause at her words, though, and when he speaks, he might even sound a bit touched—]

... It's not every day that I hear a human call their own kind disgusting.

[However, after a lifetime of suspicions and cynicism, his tone becomes darker. It's nothing personal to Yukari, as usual—merely a wariness that he has learned to use as a shield.]

Though would you be willing to say that to their faces, I wonder?

voice;

[tsundyne]

[She doesn't see how it's a big deal. People hate each other all the time. Disagreements, wars, petty arguments--everything in between. Humans have called each other a lot more nasty things than simply "disgusting"; and she's sure Tiir has his own choice insults to share. But in the end, she supposes she can understand his unfamiliarity.

In addition to hatred, humans are also known for being selfish and prideful. Toting themselves as the smartest race, always doing the right thing...

Tch, now that she's actually met other intelligent races, she can see how it could get old.]

I've never been afraid to speak my mind before. And I'd probably do more than just that, if I saw it happen.

[Just like him. He couldn't just stand by either.

It's hard to get the images out of her mind, and she hadn't even lived it. But then again, it's also hard to get the image of Tiir eating one of her kind out of her mind as well. There's a lot of conflict here that comes from not fully understanding the situation back in his world, but--]

It's just...hard to say what, since I wasn't there.

action;

[medama]

[ Guriko couldn't sleep earlier, and as such, she filled her time with looking through the SFCs--at dreams people had, but she could not. She wasn't jealous, exactly, but there was a bit of longing behinds her neutral eyes. The feeling of absence when she can't sleep--the idea that when she dreams, there's nothing but pain, where all these people experience such fantasies.

And then, she comes across Tiir's dream.

There's curiosity, of course, because Tiir doesn't talk about his dreams or even his thoughts, usually, so this little insight is extremely interesting. A moment inside Tiir-nii's mind, she thinks. How wonderful.

The dream (nightmare?) itself is not met with any strong physical emotion. She doesn't scream, she doesn't cry. The look on her face barely shifts. Guriko simply considers how jealous she is that Tiir has other younger sibling--about how she needs to share her older brother with people she doesn't even know. And then she reflects on what a selfish idea that is, because this dream is not about her, nor is it about the children. It's about her brother.

And she could ponder her own emotions for quite some time--she could sit in her bed all night, thinking about how Tiir might be feeling, and how that hurts her. But she doesn't, since there's Tiir himself to worry about, so she gets up from her bed, and runs to his room, knocking once. ]

Tiir?

[ She lets herself in, walking up to his bed, and taking a seat on the side. A hand reaches out to hold one of his cheeks and, though it's dark, it's easy to see Guriko is worried. ]

Tiir-nii had a bad dream.

action;

[contemptibility]

[While Tiir can't say that he's surprised that Guriko is awake, he had wished that she weren't. Of all people, she was the last one that he wanted to see this (to see how much of a failure he is—).

He sits up, before placing a hand on her head and ruffling her hair.]

You saw? Don't worry about it, Guriko. I'm fine.

[It's said partly because he doesn't want to worry her, and partly because, as far as he's concerned, it's true.

He's spent his life trying to be strong—believing that he was strong—that he honestly can't fully understand why anyone would worry over him. After all, he's always been the one who had it all together.]