#and he went on to build a life for himself that doesn't just vaguely resemble but actively MIRRORS almost everything about it

[cagedchoice]

@killjoysanonymous

“I felt it a long time ago. I can show you. Feel.”

[icestardragonhc]

Just some thoughts about Belos/ Philip Wittebane from TOH (ramble)

For all of his shortcomings and aborent qualities he has one single thing that makes him stand out among a cast of characters with plenty of positive and lovable personality traits. He's the most hopeful character in the show. Lemme explain:

When he really shouldn't be. Sure it's part of his delusion but at the end of the day he doesn't have any good reason to do anything he does in the story and deep down, he knows that. Ultimately he does everything he does to justify the death of his brother. But that's clearly not his true wish. All he want is his brother back, take back what he did and make that his brother never left. Return to a version of reality that can never be obtained. His brother will never return and he knows it. Considering he killed every grimwalker copy, the 20 or so he made of Caleb. Despite being a smart man, he refuses to grow up and accept change (or death) as we see in Hollow Mind. For 400 years. This child like naivity translates into a neverdying hope that finishing his plan will change anything, fix anything. It's not even about personal revenge as much as it is an escape from reality. He could have wiped out Caleb's decendants anytime in the 50 years he had total power in the empire or even way before that. But he didn't. Killing the Grimwalkers also seemed to upset him but he deems it a necessary step to fix what went wrong all that time ago. But the Grimwalkers never are like his brother, they only vaguely resemble him. For him it's not killing his brother again and again (ignoring he's killing actual individuals), it's rebuilding him stone by stone. It's all for nothing. It serves no purpose and is meaningless. And I think he knows. But he refuses to accept it, no he is completly unable to accept it. Much like a child who can't accept that a specific obscure and crazy dream of his will never come true. This dedication to that meaningless cause is even more visible once the Collector pretty much oneshots him at the end of season 2. He's reduced to a puddle, a soul without a body and he's most likely in a perpetual state of pain and confusion, now returned to the human realm that is nothing alike to what he left behind. Which he can't even interact with properly like he wished to do. Giving up, just dying would be easy and probably is an attractive alternative to his constant state of agony. Yet he clings onto the last bit of life remaining. Despite his carefully made masterplan he took decades if not centuries to realize failed horribly. Knowing he will have to face the seemingly all powerful Collector eventually who squashed him like a bug. He stays alive against impossible odds to "right his wrongs". For the slightest chance to see the reality he gaslit himself into believing was possible. A reality where his borther could have stayed, for a reality where his actions were justified, a reality where he didn't waste the entirety of his extended life, a reality where he's the hero, not the villian. He clings onto hope like a scared, hurt beast. Hope is powerful and scary. It can make a normal man go through hell and become what he swore to destroy. Hope as much as it can build a new future can also raze it to the ground. The sweet and horrific duality of hope.

[fidgetnano19]

Day 7, Part 1: Eyes to the Grave

I guess you could say that this is what happens when Fidget is scolding herself for focusing too heavily on dialogue on Day 5? I wanted to work more Einnet parts in, but it just didn't come out that way...

Griaria, 13 years ago

[[MORE]]

Marek stood quietly, eyes to the grave in front of him, careful not to bother mama during the service. She had already explained that his father wouldn't come back again, not like the times he went on long trips and gave him gifts when he returned. As for why they wouldn't see each other anymore, Marek was still a little confused about that part... something about souls, or his father being with Kea now. 

When he'd asked if he could go there, too, just to visit, mama only wept harder, squeezing him so hard to her chest that he could hardly breathe. He didn't ask that question again, or any others. Today, he was just glad she was out of bed, with her beautiful purple hair brushed and swept up on top of her head by the servants. He gripped her hand tighter every time she sniffled, silently begging her not to cry again.

Across from them, on the other side of the big, stone box, Egom Cillian stood with his family. He'd met them before, he vaguely remembered, when the new Eika was announced – Reidory. She was there, too, though she looked more like one of the children than a wife. She'd given him treats at her wedding, and told him he was pretty.

He shook his head, reminding himself to pay attention to what the man in robes was saying, even if he didn't really understand the words. He had wondered why they weren't being said in his language, but mama told him it was because of something called tradition. He had no idea what that was, but again, he was trying not to bother her with questions.

He watched Brexton's mouth move silently, mimicking the robed man's words. Did he speak tradition? His eyes – silver, like the ring on mama's hand – lifted, meeting Marek's. His mouth stopped moving, formed a soft smile.

Marek smiled back, because Brexton was nice to him at the wedding, too, taking him outside to play when he didn't want to sit still anymore. In exchange, he'd shared some of the candy Reidory had given him.

The man in robes stopped talking, and everyone took turns walking up to the large box, rubbing their hands over the smooth stone, or leaving flowers on top. Marek eyed the flowers greedily, wondering if he could take a few for himself, but he forgot all about them when mama's hands started shaking, fat tears falling from behind the black veil that covered her face.

...

"Marek!" Brexton called out to him as soon as he and mama stepped out of the coach.

Mama let go of his hand, nodding that it was alright for him to go off on his own. He watched her head inside the palace with some of his father's men, while Brexton approached him, carrying a small child in his arms. She had thick hair that looked like Marek's, and big blue eyes.

"We're going to play in the gardens." Brexton explained, nodding behind him – toward Reidory. "Do you want to come?"

He brightened, his mood lifting as he accepted Brexton's outstretched hand. It was cold, much colder than mama's, but he didn't mind it too much. "What are we playing?"

"Hmm... how about hide-away?"

"I'm really, really good at that game!"

Brexton laughed, leading him to the side of the palace.

"Brexton! If you don't put Finnoula down once in a while, she'll never learn to walk!" Reidory scolded them when they got near, wrangling the child out of his hold and setting her down on the ground. "I swear, you spoil her too much."

"It can't be helped, Kiga." Brexton shrugged his large shoulders. "She is my bond, after all. Plus, I like spoiling her." He stopped, his fingers loosening as he glanced around the garden. "Where did Torin go?"

Reidory's face clouded for a moment, reminding Marek of mama's. Her smile, when it came, was tight-lipped – like the smiles his father's men had been giving him for days.

"He said he didn't want to play." She turned to Marek, bending down to stroke her fingers through his long hair. "If it isn't my sweet little nephew! Are you going to join in?"

"He's going to be my special helper", Brexton announced, giving him a quick nudge. "How about boys against girls? We'll be 'it', first."

The other girl, who Brexton introduced as Einnet, ran off to hide along with Reidory and Finnoula. Brexton and Marek covered their eyes, counting out loud until they reached twenty-five.

They had already found Einnet, curled up under a bench, and were off looking for Reidory when a loud voice disrupted their game.

"Reidory! Where are you?!"

Brexton's eyes widened, and he tugged Marek behind a row of nearby hedges, pressing against the top of his head in a silent command to duck. "New game, Marek. We're hiding from that man, okay?"

"Why?"

Brexton placed a finger over his mouth, shushing him instead of giving him an answer.

"Reidory! Come out here, now!"

He heard a rustling sound somewhere nearby, and the sound of running feet.

"I'm right here, Lazzari. There's no need to shout."

"What are you doing out here? Look at your hair, it's a mess." There were a few moments of quiet, followed by, "We're going inside, try to behave yourself."

"But we're still play–"

There was a loud sound – like hands clapping – then quiet crying.

"Enough nonsense. You are an Eika, and you should be inside with the adults... Unless you'd rather go back home, hmm?"

"N–no, sir."

"Good, then give that thing back to Einnet and follow me."

"Who was that?" Marek asked, once Brexton stood up again, peeking carefully over the hedges.

"Reidory's egomija... and my father. Come on, let's go back to Einnet."

Marek thought Brexton would offer his hand again, but he didn't. Instead, he held his hands at his side – curled into fists, with a thin layer of ice covering them.

The frost vanished as they approached the benches, meeting up with Einnet.

"Lazzari just–"

"We heard. Aww, did he scare you, Finny?" Brexton scooped Finnoula out of her arms, cradling the small girl to his chest. "I've got you now, so don't worry." He turned his attention back to Einnet, his expression growing more serious. "You should find Torin, tell him what happened. Whatever you do, don't let Lazzari see you, got it?"

Einnet promised that she'd be careful and ran off in search of the other boy, leaving the three of them alone in the garden.

For a long while, Brexton didn't say anything, just watched her leave until they couldn't see her anymore. Finnoula squirmed in his arms, and this snapped him out of whatever he was thinking about. He shifted her weight up on his shoulder and turned back to Marek.

"We don't have enough people for hide-away, anymore, but would you like to throw some snowballs?"

Marek scrunched his face, sure that Brexton was teasing him. It wasn't anywhere near time for snow. The leaves weren't even gold yet.

Before he could point that out, Brexton set the baby on the ground. He pulled a small stick out of his pocket, and waved it through the air. Marek could hardly believe his eyes. Snow! All over the ground at their feet, and it was the perfect sort for building or throwing.

"Can you really make snow, just like that?" Marek asked, staring up at him with the most intense admiration he'd ever felt in his young life.

"It's not a big deal, really. I have an ice mija, so I can do things like this." He bent down, encouraging Finnoula to touch the fluffy white snow. "Someday, I'll use it to protect Finny, here. Your mother has a bond, doesn't she?"

Marek thought hard, but he couldn't recall knowing anybody like that. Here in the palace, there were only the servants, and father's men. "I don't think so."

"Brex!" The other boy, the one with the fiery red hair – just like Reidory's, skidded to a stop right at the edge of the snow, frowning down at them. "He'll catch you, you know."

"We're just having a little fun. Besides, he already went in."

"Did he– he took Dory in with him?"

Brexton tucked the wand away, busying himself with collecting snow in his big hands. "Yeah, a little bit ago. Scolded her for playing with us, then dragged her away to be with the adults. Didn't Einnet tell you as much?"

"She did." He nudged a small pile of snow with the toe of his boot, staring down at the pattern his sole left behind. "It's fine, isn't it? She's one of them now."

Brexton frowned, standing to hurl the snowball at the older boy's face. "I hate it when you sound like him."

Marek tried to ignore their bickering, gathering up snow to form something resembling a brick. It was hard to do, especially with Finnoula trying to 'help', but he managed it. After that, he made another, and another, creating a ring with them.

"Do what you want..." Torin said, eventually, storming away.

"Idiot." Brexton mumbled it, but Marek heard it well enough. "How about that snowball fight, now?"

Marek nodded enthusiastically, crushing one of his bricks to make the first ball, his sad attempt at building a castle completely forgotton.

They played outside until the servants called them in for dinner. Brexton made all of the snow vanish with just a snap of his fingers, which Marek thought was an even better trick than when he'd made it appear in the first place.

"Brexton?"

"You can just call me Brex. Almost everyone does."

"Brex..." He tried it out, deciding he liked it much better. "How come Reidory doesn't want to go home?" He walked alongside Brexton, hopping over the cracks in the cobblestone.

"She's afraid of the dogs."

"Oh..." He didn't really understand why anyone would be afraid of dogs, or what that had to do with going home, but he pretended to. There were lots of things he was afraid of, so it made a little sense.

They were sat around a big table, with more food than Marek thought he'd ever seen before in his life being served on the good, silver dishes. Marek picked a seat between Brexton and Einnet, and the two of them snuck their vegetables onto his plate, saying he'd get big if he ate them. He could tell it was a trick, but he ate them anyway.

"Getting tired?" Brexton cocked his head to peek down at him, letting Marek lean against his arm.

"A little. Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yup. It's a long way back to Terracia, so we're not leaving until morning."

"Will you sleep in my room? I used to sleep with mama, but she won't let me anymore."

Brexton looked around the table, like he wanted to ask someone about it, but didn't know who. "Sure."