For the first month. Yeah. We were medics. It was, um... [He lets his eyes flutter shut. Then suddenly, he chuckles. Half a huff under a heavy breath.]
Jing Yuan. Our most valiant leader. Barely saw the man, but I've still got two pictures of him bleeding together. Like he's in two places at once.
Yves. [Said low. More to himself than beckoning, affirming something. He nods a little.]
...It's like fucking Rip van Winkle. You know that story? Or — nobody knows that. Not here. Or there. [God he is making no sense, not even to himself. Jesus Mary and Joseph.] It was a place that was real enough while we were there, and real enough to rip the shit out of us, but not real enough to get consistent. People who shouldn't have been there were. We were people and things we've never been.
[ he genuinely was too busy dealing with the armor and the deer to get a close look. but otherwise he waits through richie's words patiently and reaches out to place a hand on his less injured shoulder lightly ]
Who did you see that wasn't supposed to be there...?
I didn't. He was another one, another old pal. Way back in the day. Kind of a hypochondriac — his mother was a piece of work. Picked and prodded at him like he needed quarantining for life, dragged him to the ER over any fucking little thing. He was a little shit and I loved that sucker.
And — [He holds, head cocking as he fights the tennis ball wedging into his trachea.] — he's not supposed to be there. Or he should be here. He's dead. Fuckin...not three minutes before me, he bled out and died.
Funny thing is, he lost the other one! [He jerks his chin at his only remaining arm. Then he bursts out laughing. It's a hard sound, even if it's mostly empty air. The smile around it is jagged like a slash from a rock.] How's that for a comedy act? He'd be lefty, I'd be righty, together we'd pull off one round of applause!
[He takes back his hand then. He needs it to cover his face, stifle this shit, stop it stop it stop it. Even jamming fingers beneath his glasses doesn't stop the sting coming, the rough wheeze the laugh becomes.]
yves listens and he watches, and he thinks of how many times he's seen this before. the grief that hits so suddenly, so painfully, after it's been tried to be pushed down. what must it mean to die alongside someone and then not see them again in the afterlife? (he knows. he does know, and he wonders if he should be hades burning alongside the person he's looking for.)
it's for that reason that he's careful when he places a hand at richie's back, mindful of injuries but still trying to be soothing. always trying. ]
... you must miss him. It must've been hard to see him, even if you wanted nothing more than to see him.
[His shoulders hitch at the touch, paired with a sharp inhale. But he doesn't pull away. Does his best to still his breath, grit his teeth until his head screws on straight enough to keep it together.
His voice is still drawn taught when he works up an answer.]
Sure. Now I can see it. At the time it was just... [He shudders, inhales once in full, and finally takes his hand off his face. He'll be all right. He's good. He's not going to have a whole ass fit in front of the kid, no matter how supportive he'd be about it. It's just undignified.] Part of the illusion. I didn't recognize him from home. Now that I'm out of it, I know what it was to see him.
A goddamn kick in the pants. Courtesy of some sick son of a bitch or just the chaos of the universe in action. I can't rightly say.
[ yves thinks about how painful it must be. to see someone and not even fully comprehend what they mean to you, even though they do mean the world. to know that it's probably just some illusion of this place, playing with memories and sights that you hold in the depths of your heart ]
... it could be any of those.
Even still... I'm sorry, Monsieur Richie. That must be really painful in a way that not even physical wounds can compare to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What... do you remember of those moments? Were the other three with you?
no subject
Jing Yuan. Our most valiant leader. Barely saw the man, but I've still got two pictures of him bleeding together. Like he's in two places at once.
no subject
... that's a difficult overlap to manage.
no subject
[He holds a moment.]
Yves. [Said low. More to himself than beckoning, affirming something. He nods a little.]
...It's like fucking Rip van Winkle. You know that story? Or — nobody knows that. Not here. Or there. [God he is making no sense, not even to himself. Jesus Mary and Joseph.] It was a place that was real enough while we were there, and real enough to rip the shit out of us, but not real enough to get consistent. People who shouldn't have been there were. We were people and things we've never been.
...Did I come back here with a tail?
no subject
[ he genuinely was too busy dealing with the armor and the deer to get a close look. but otherwise he waits through richie's words patiently and reaches out to place a hand on his less injured shoulder lightly ]
Who did you see that wasn't supposed to be there...?
no subject
[Forcibly furried. The worst.
He does stiffen at the touch, head jerking back at the contact, but he doesn't fight it. Just weathers whatever flared up and works his jaw loose.]
You might have to ask all the guys. I don't know if they would know something I didn't. But, Jing Yuan was there, and um. Marcoh.
...And Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak.
[He goes quiet, mouth thinning.]
no subject
yves looks a little worried when richie stiffens at the touch, but he lets his hand linger until he relaxes some. ]
... Eddie... I don't know if you mentioned him?
it spoilers? does anyone even care this canon is mummy dust
I didn't. He was another one, another old pal. Way back in the day. Kind of a hypochondriac — his mother was a piece of work. Picked and prodded at him like he needed quarantining for life, dragged him to the ER over any fucking little thing. He was a little shit and I loved that sucker.
And — [He holds, head cocking as he fights the tennis ball wedging into his trachea.] — he's not supposed to be there. Or he should be here. He's dead. Fuckin...not three minutes before me, he bled out and died.
Funny thing is, he lost the other one! [He jerks his chin at his only remaining arm. Then he bursts out laughing. It's a hard sound, even if it's mostly empty air. The smile around it is jagged like a slash from a rock.] How's that for a comedy act? He'd be lefty, I'd be righty, together we'd pull off one round of applause!
[He takes back his hand then. He needs it to cover his face, stifle this shit, stop it stop it stop it. Even jamming fingers beneath his glasses doesn't stop the sting coming, the rough wheeze the laugh becomes.]
no subject
yves listens and he watches, and he thinks of how many times he's seen this before. the grief that hits so suddenly, so painfully, after it's been tried to be pushed down. what must it mean to die alongside someone and then not see them again in the afterlife? (he knows. he does know, and he wonders if he should be hades burning alongside the person he's looking for.)
it's for that reason that he's careful when he places a hand at richie's back, mindful of injuries but still trying to be soothing. always trying. ]
... you must miss him. It must've been hard to see him, even if you wanted nothing more than to see him.
no subject
His voice is still drawn taught when he works up an answer.]
Sure. Now I can see it. At the time it was just... [He shudders, inhales once in full, and finally takes his hand off his face. He'll be all right. He's good. He's not going to have a whole ass fit in front of the kid, no matter how supportive he'd be about it. It's just undignified.] Part of the illusion. I didn't recognize him from home. Now that I'm out of it, I know what it was to see him.
A goddamn kick in the pants. Courtesy of some sick son of a bitch or just the chaos of the universe in action. I can't rightly say.
no subject
... it could be any of those.
Even still... I'm sorry, Monsieur Richie. That must be really painful in a way that not even physical wounds can compare to.