a man for flowers ✿ ( INIGO ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flatteries) wrote2020-08-30 08:58 pm
flatteries) wrote2020-08-30 08:58 pm
ic ✗ inbox
leave a comment here, mostly for
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
voidtreckerexpress in-game shenanigans but anything else will be appropriately labeled. leave a comment here, mostly for
voidtreckerexpress in-game shenanigans but anything else will be appropriately labeled.
no subject
He stands, holding something in both hands. He shakes his head, determined even when Inigo can't see his eyes, his face. The lilt in his response is so weighted, it could pull both of them down into a crashing orbit. He's begging, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want Inigo to lift a burden that Roland took on willingly, it isn't right. He's already done so much in his short life, this doesn't have to be another burial Inigo makes on his own. Not when Roland is the one who asked, who wanted this.
If it's hard on him, it's only because Halo's face is easily replaceable; in one minute, it's her, in the next, it's Inigo disappearing because the train is destroyed and he's at the foot of the chaos. Roland hasn't processed it totally, hasn't stayed up enough chasing the shadows that lead to this violent end. For now, all he can do is provide peace to a soul departed from the void, wherever such souls should go after void crafts can no longer save them from death. But more than that, it's in the final wish to make sure she's not erased completely. That if anyone else should come here, in this very spot where she once lay, more void missionaries might think to come and remember her too.
He crosses the distance again, kneeling on the opposite side of the mound forming from rock and ground. The item from the bag is revealed in open view as it lays beside his knees - two thin branches tied up in twine to form a cross, or maybe just an 'x' to mark the spot, with a third spike down the middle ready to dig deep into the earth. Face down, a wooden makeshift plaque obviously fashioned from old bits and pieces found in solar stations and jungle flora littered every which way...but the writing is yet unclear, hidden from sight.
Without another word, Roland helps Inigo with the rocks closest to his person, arranging the upper half of the mound in a similar fashion. His hands are not shaking from the inside, not anymore, not when he glances up at Inigo from time to time, as if daring an apology that will never his lips. Not now, when they're in the throes of their own little bubbles of misery.
no subject
So he just lets Roland join in again as they silently work on getting the rest of the rocks into formation. Even though it isn't the best idea, even though it just makes Inigo worry what kind of dark clouds must be passing through the other's mind. He's never been good at this. Inigo could go through hell and back by himself and not complain a single moment, but the instant he had someone else by his side throughout all of it, he'd just worry about them.
.. It's the same as back then. In Irivar. If Reno had just beaten him up, then he probably wouldn't have cared much. But it had been the fact that Roland was right there in the fight with him that filled Inigo's heart with worry for his wellbeing.
Although this time, it's not Roland's physical health that's on the line. Instead it's his mental health. His emotions. How much more can a soul like Roland's bear, one that has already had to face the death of a nation?
It's hard to tell whether or not Inigo notices any of the glances Roland is throwing his way. Every time the man looks over, Inigo seems entirely consumed by the act of building the mound, not looking up from the rocks he's picking up and putting down at all.
He only speaks up when they're all out of rocks.
"I think this part is done like this."
no subject
He stands again, looking at the mound with a keen eye. Details that shouldn't even matter are assessed as if there was something on the line, but Roland wouldn't disrespect someone that way; he'd go all the way. Taking everything into account, from his own work at the top half of the mound to the bottom, where Inigo has masterfully placed three rocks in ascending size one on top of the other. It's looking exactly how it should, even if he doesn't exactly have a picture of it in his mind's eye. He bends down again to grab the makeshift branches tied up together, and when it's turned over, there's writing on the horizontal panel of wood, fashioned out of bark cut from the jungle itself. The darkness obscures what it might be, but Jumblie may be able to shed light on it some. Words that don't wax poetic, though it's an aside about how straight to the point they are. Roland means only one thing with the memorial, and that's to accomplish her final wish: that she did not leave this world without anyone knowing who she was.
A proud Enraran, from System#1015.
Thank you.'
He weighs it in his hand, looking down at it now with only a hint of hesitation. Was this good enough? Was this going to help someone be at peace, wherever they were now? After all they've been through? Would this be a remembrance worth keeping on an alien planet he had no business being in at all? Roland breathes in deep. This is the best he can do. He can only hope it's befitting the gesture, or the kindness of circumstance granted to five Voidtreckers who didn't know what they were meant to find that day.
"Come on." Roland offers his other hand to Inigo, to help him up. He does this more often now, masking the idea of helping him to his feet when really, it seems he might just be indulging the act of holding hands. It used to be something Inigo yearned from him before, but in these moments, when he has very little to ground his own thoughts, the roles reverse and its his turn to want it. To want a hand to hold, to remind him of what is, what else he has to fight for now. "Help me install this?"
no subject
.. there's a surprising amount of information on it. Maybe nothing too personal, but.. her name, her ship, the place she came from. It makes Inigo wonder just how much Roland was able to talk to her before she died. Is that why he came back, why he felt the obligation to do this? Because it made him know who she was?
As the thoughts are still swirling around in his head, Inigo's gaze shifts. He looks at the empty hand held out to him, and Inigo wordlessly takes it. Though even something about that is a bit different from usually. Not in the way he holds the hand tight, as if wanting to reassure Roland that he is here, but more in the way he does it so stoically. There's no smile, nor the usual bounciness. Inigo doesn't even attempt to just straight up move to cling to Roland's arm, like he often does.
This time the physical contact is all for Roland, after all. Inigo is giving here, not taking. He's just here to try and be the wall that can - if not at least partially - protect his father from all of this.
"Of course," he speaks up, only by then, when he's risen back up on his feet. "Where did you want to put it?"
It's Roland's memorial for this captain Halo, after all. It was his idea to come here to honour her, so Inigo wants to at least leave that decision up to the other.
no subject
The planks replace what would have been a headstone. It isn't a particularly heavy piece of wood either, but Roland isn't reaching out because he can't do it himself. When his hand lets go of Inigo's to focus on the task, it misses the usual grip, the tightening of fingers around his that remind him of his presence. Instead, he silently asks for him to take the other side, its width long enough to cover an arms length and a half. Shabby yet earnest; he's no craftsman, but it isn't here to look pretty. There's some general directing that passes between them - move it more to the left, yes like that, then press it deep...now - and it's a task that takes them less time than the arrangement of stones and sticks beneath the marker.
Done. It's done. His breaths come in huffs as he makes his way around the funeral mound, the act of building it finally settling into his bones like a chill that won't go away no matter how strongly he sets his sights unto the words he had etched himself. One step, two, three; and he's in front of it now, arms crossed over his chest in a daze.
Death has always lingered close by. He's encountered it intimately even before he ever thought magic, fiends, and revenant kingdoms could actually exist outside of fairy tales. Both members of his family have met and greeted Death itself, and by extension, the rest of his charge; the country he pledged himself to serve until the last of his term. Death has knocked on Roland's door plenty of times; and so this, what they've done, what he bore witness to, it's not this. It is not Halo's passing that forces his eyes to see only what is before him, wrapped in darkness with no dawn in sight.
No, his reasons were much simpler. Seeing this, a grave he envisioned and helped to build, almost seemed like the manifestation of his wildest fear come true. The Roland who has damned; the Roland who has failed. The worst part of him, nagging and tugging as it must be acknowledged - one day, your hands will bury everyone on this train because you could not make the right decisions. One day these graves will multiply and you will be there to lower every single one of them down.
His fist clenches. His exhale is audible.
"Will you remember her?" Her name? He utters these words as if he is speaking to the wind, but Roland knows Inigo will catch them. Take them to heart. "That's all she wanted, in the end." He closes his eyes, watching the fading gold light on her body finally drift up into the red sky.
no subject
Will you remember her?
He thinks back to mass graves in Ylisse. He thinks back on the Risen, too far gone to tell him their name, who they were, their dreams. Does he remember all of their faces? There's just no way. He's watched so many people die, sometimes by his hands. It's too many to remember even just the faces of every single individual.
He thinks back on his mother's grave, where they didn't even have the opportunity to make it a nice and proper grave, to give her a real headstone.
".. I will," he slowly says, even as he thinks he doesn't have the right. But if it's all she wanted, then what choice does he have? All Inigo can do is try to keep giving everything he has, in the hope that it will one day get better, even with the trail of death he's already left behind him.
Inigo doesn't step away from the memorial though. This is more for Roland than him, after all. So Roland is the one who makes the choice as to when they leave, as to how much time he needs here.
In the meantime Inigo will just stay here. Standing next to the other. Being there - if not just so Roland isn't alone in his darkest moments.
But letting a respectful silence linger otherwise.
no subject
Roland cracks a small smile, dark humor more than anything. It's an awfully quiet night in the jungle of Nion, whereas his days were filled with endless static and the noise that rang in his ears when communications came crashing down and all they could pick up was her distress call. He realizes Inigo might have realized that. With both of them, Tidus too and the way Roland had snubbed his efforts to heal him, even after they seemed to be looking for him after everything was over...It isn't a moment that ages well for Roland, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He hates that he lost his composure. Hates that for a rare moment in his life, he was so shaken that he forgot who he is, that staying calm must be the priority at all times. Especially in times of trouble.
But the look they gave him. Tidus was hurt. Inigo was confused. That was the worst of them all. He treated them so poorly, for what? Caring?
They must have been trying to get in touch with him then, but like the other four in his party, couldn't. And all he could do was rebuke them, rebuff them like a fool.
Roland's profile comes into Inigo's view, his head angled such that he could see him partially, even with higgledy light from beneath. There's a sense of shame that washes over him, one that he doesn't try to hide.
"I'm sorry. For what I did."
Not this, not digging up another grave, though it warrants an apology all the same. Roland is speaking from the lens of another notch in time, and it's clear he's not talking about the proverbial burial of a body that isn't even there anymore.
"I'm sorry that I behaved poorly, the day you and Tidus found me." The formality is a mask he wears expertly - it's easy to fall back into it when guilt threatens to swallow him whole once again. "I won't let it happen again. I swear to you."
no subject
And it feels very easy to recall that day. Mostly while he's standing here in the dark jungle, while he's so close to the spot where they found Roland, when they're right at the spot that caused Roland's distress in the first place. He remembers the worry, the sheer panic that gripped him when he realised he couldn't contact the man who had been telling him to stay in touch with him so frantically the entire mission. He remembers them rushing towards him the fastest they could, he remembers the look on Roland's face, the words rolling out of his mouth.
Sure, it wasn't an easy moment, but to hear an apology from Roland for it.. That just feels wrong. Inigo's fingers slowly clench into fists at his side.
"You shouldn't apologize for feeling panicked. For being unable to stop that feeling from making you act a certain way." Inigo doesn't look at Roland as he's speaking, even though he can spot a glimpse of the other out of the corner of his eye. Instead he looks ahead, right at the funeral mound they built. "You're not infallible. You shouldn't have to be."
Even if he's the president. Even if he's Inigo's father. Roland is still a person. And though kings being people too is a concept Inigo still struggles with, he's been able to adjust to it at least a tad thanks to his interactions with Gyousou.
"If you want to apologize to anyone.. then you should probably say sorry to Tidus. I think he was pretty hurt when you reacted that way to him offering to heal you. Maybe it made him feel like there was something wrong with him specifically." Though it might be Inigo projecting a little. It's how he would have felt in Tidus's shoes. But even so - he can't help but be a little protective of the other, no matter how Tidus usually acts. He's had his feelings bruised enough for them to be poked at again.
He shakes his head, finally turning it to look at Roland. It's like the Brand in his eye is reflecting the moonlight cast down upon them, filtered by the leaves above.
"But I'm.. I'm fine. I'm used to this."
People panicking, unsure of what to do. Not having anyone or anything to fall back on - having to fend for himself, make his own decisions.
"I belong here." Among death, among panic. The way he's spent most of his life. "I almost forgot that while fooling around on the train."
no subject
He's learning, even at his age. Or at his current disposition. Whatever or whoever he's becoming in the void, all Roland knows is he doesn't get infinite chances no matter what the void crafts might grant them. He has a third chance at a life well-lived, so he can't make impulsive decisions like that again. Especially at the cost of seeing someone get hurt, the way he did to them. The two who think of him more often than he's ever expected anyone to; the two who give him gifts and call him names and confide in him when they can.
The two of them who remind him that there are things to live for apart from the job or the work he's chained himself to, regardless of place or time.
But this was not so much a moment of compounding guilt as it was an offering of mutual comfort. Roland's own feelings slowly simmer down, seeing the mound completed; a peace that he had hoped would come, does. And it's Inigo's words which give him a boost, a jolt back into life. It could have been a knee jerk reaction, the words ready to catapult back to Inigo, but he takes his time instead. He turns around fully, catching that stare, holding this vision to memory.
It's unnatural. He need only to see it from behind closed lids; a boy this young, handsome and kind, forcing himself to fight every day in a battlefield that was brought about by circumstance of birth and curse. Who has given his entire being to slaying a beast that would erase him from his own narrative. It's unnatural, it's unfair. Roland won't have it.
He shakes his head without breaking gaze, though for once, he withholds himself from taking a step forward to bridge the distance. They're closer than they've ever been anyway; united in the field of death and despair, worlds tinged in red, the sky always aflame.
"No. No you don't." He declares softly, but with purpose, with push. Then, when it seems like he won't say anymore, Roland's head tilts up just a tad, looking through the ruined canopies. This he can say with confidence; how easy it is to imagine Inigo somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away.
"You belong under the sun. With...with big trees up above, and lots of leaves dancing in the wind." Like when he taught him in Irivar, how to nap on a mission even if he's never once let his guard down before, not on the job. Inigo did that. Inigo taught him how to be at peace. "You belong where the flowers are. Flowers in every shape and size and color. You belong there. Not here."
Dare he say it?
Roland promised, though. Would he hold back now, after seeing him build headstones from debris, not a single emotion flitted on his face?
"...You belong with me, hopefully. When I figure out how to save my home. That's...that's what I believe in, at least. You belong with us." Plural. With people. With friends. Away from this choking darkness of the world. More than anything, Inigo deserves to hear Roland's earnest feelings, even as he turns away, hoping he can pull him back up to better memories. He did this to Inigo, at the end of the day. He made his son responsible for a grave after knowing how much he's already had to make all on his own.
no subject
The other speaks of flower fields, and that's something Inigo would easily refute. Because he's left those behind so long ago. Like the flower fields he used to prosper in, the ones he played in every day as a very young child, were left behind in his heart the moment his mother died, the moment everything turned to ash and destruction. Ylisse was no longer a place for flowers, and so there no longer was any place left for them in Inigo's steeled heart either.
But it's not all Roland is talking about. Inigo hears the rest too, catches those last words.
It's those that make him look back at the other again. Because as much as Inigo would like to refute the words, feels like he must keep carrying this dark burden for everyone's sake..
.. he wants them to be true. He wants that to be it so badly. That he has a place to belong out there. With Roland.
"Can I really..?" His voice is a bit more quiet, only audible due to the stillness of the night.
And really, it's not the kind of question Roland should answer as much as Inigo should answer it for himself - but considering the older guy has filled up the position of his father so naturally, it comes like instinct to ask him that. Like he's asking for permission, for confirmation, only barely managing to surpress the desperation that wells up in his heart. Is it really alright for him to ever step back, to no longer carry the burdens of the entire multiverse on his back?
Despite what he said a moment ago, he wants better times. So badly. And more importantly, he wants better times together with Roland. Both of them being able to be happy, rather than stand here on a dark planet in front of a funeral mound without a body.
no subject
Yet here he is, unable to stop himself from answering Inigo with his bleeding heart, wanting it for everyone he's ever cared for even if he knows he can't guarantee a thing.
"Yes. You can." There's not a hint of hesitation in that breath of an answer, not as he stares into his eyes and resists the urge to comfort him with the language he knows best, arms around him to warm him from the outside in. But tonight, perhaps such a gesture would do Roland more good than Inigo. Still, he remains planted where he is, with only a pivot to face him fully. "I hope one day you can believe it as much as I do. Take your time. I'll wait for you. Okay?"
His smile lifts from one corner, small yet fond all the same. Long has Inigo told him he doesn't think he deserves such an ending, or a future where he can be happy with all the things he's had to do to survive, but he's a hero more than Roland ever will be. His decision to end his own timeline so that the past can grow in peace leaves him in admiration to this day; yes, Inigo is the most deserving of a future on his own terms. Once and for all. Happiness, because it is the only reward befitting of sacrifice.
May the good captain's spirit be the final witness to Roland's resolve to take them with him no matter where he might be flung to next.
no subject
Slowly Inigo's gaze moves back over to the rocks with the sign. Still quiet, still thinking.
His gaze turns to Roland.
"Do you.. want to stay here for a bit longer?" The choice is up to him. Roland was the one who wanted to come out here in the first place, after all. Inigo will stay here with him for as long as the other needs. "Or do you want to go back?"
no subject
Roland opens his eyes once more, and he salutes solemnly, the straight of his hand reaching the top of his brow. Afterwards, he turns back to Inigo, tired lines marking a face that had no business looking as old as he feels or actually is. But he's still trying, bridging the gap and reaching out for him with fingers splayed gently. Roland jerks his head backwards, softly.
"Come on. We gotta go." And perhaps he means that in more ways than one. But whether or not Inigo actually takes that hand or not, or if he tugs him forward back into the thick of trees and jungle, Roland will stop him for a minute, his gaze heavy. "Can you just do me one more favor? If it's not too much to ask?"
If in other days he would have reacted differently, perhaps as shy as a man like him would ever allow someone else to see, regardless if it's Inigo, tonight he was not quite that person. Roland's smile is an attempt all on its own, far from happy, just searching for sympathies he knows he doesn't deserve.
"Is it all right if I can sleep by your side, tonight?"
no subject
But if Roland wants to go, then they should go. He can't let the man linger here for too long, after all. Inigo knows what happens when you spend time here for too long. When you're constantly surrounded by death, by having to pay the last respects to people you've hardly even known. It slowly kills your heart. And Roland - he's so kind. So loving. He has it in him to love an entire nation, and Inigo couldn't stand seeing that be ruined.
But he stops tugging when the other speaks up. Stops walking, even. Inigo freezes on the spot, only turning his head back to look in the other's direction.
Hearing a request he didn't expect.
".. of course."
Inigo wonders why his throat suddenly feels so tight. Why it's suddenly harder to speak than it was a few moments ago, even though they were building something as heavy as a funeral mound back there.
"Anytime. Please, father. Whenever you need it, come to me. Don't hide away thinking you shouldn't bother me, or that you don't deserve it, or-- or whatever you're thinking." It's not like Inigo can precisely tell, after all. But no excuse is a good excuse to stay away in his mind.
"Please seek any and all comfort you need from me. That's what I'm your son for."
To support him too. Especially during the moments things get too hard for Roland. Inigo may be younger, but he's more weathered than he seems. He can carry it.
no subject
That not even the title of 'son' can exist in his heart without it amounting to a worth that's neither a requirement nor is what Roland truly asks of him. Even tonight, he turns something off without prompting. He transforms himself into a gravedigger like he's done it more times than he can count; and Roland knows he has. How could he keep up is own farce, his own defenses at the face of such painful realizations?
The arms that wrap themselves around Inigo find shelter against the breadth of his back, reaching his arms, tucking his head close.
"You're my son because you're loved." Not for any grand purpose, not for the utility of being there to comfort when it's convenient, not because Roland sees him as a companion to his own grief despite his place by his side that fits such a space. His hug tightens for a second before he lets go, draws back and looks at him straight in the eye. There it is again; the shine of a Brand that tells him what to look for in a crowd, or in a world far flung should that be the fate that comes to pass for them all.
A better fate, hopefully. One he has promised him. One he wishes for with all his heart.
"I'll do my best to confide, but don't be mistaken about that, okay?" Roland removes himself completely from his proximity, before drawing out the hookshot, ready to make the return trip to camp.
no subject
It's not like Inigo has never experienced it before. He had a very, very loving mother, after all, who made sure to spend her every waking moment reassuring him that he was very much loved by her. But what Roland is thinking about Inigo is true. He's so inclined to put himself into some position of servitude, always thinking first about how he can help, whether his caring and love can improve things in any given situation.
So much so that he sometimes forgets it's that easy. That someone can care deeply about him, just because they do. Without anything being necessary in exchange.
Remembering how they got here, Inigo hurriedly moves to cling to Roland again so he can use the hookshot to get them back--
-- and also so he can bury his head against the man. Trying to cope with the overwhelming thought, especially after having to slip into an all-business mode earlier that he hasn't used in a while. Because you're loved.
"L-Let's hurry back," is all he can say.
Even if Roland is the one who made the request, it's for sure that the cuddles while sleeping will be mutually necessary.
no subject
He's done his duty. Hasn't he?
"Thank you." He whispers solemnly, one last time. The depth of his gratitude can't be contained in just his words alone, but he hopes he will continue to receive chances to show it more appropriately; as they deserve to be expressed for a soul as kind as Inigo.
He turns his head to the sky, looking for a branch as he did before. The hookshot meets its target, and the cycle of travel begins anew, with but one notable difference. Inigo is held so much closer to Roland, no gap to exist between them as they travel from tree to tree, no more pausing to adjust. He knows precisely where they need to go, and he knows Inigo will never let him go.
And neither will he.