#i avoid listening to eat bc the pain and the grief is can be so overwhelming

[salstini]

So you are dreaming of after

Was it really all just for fun?

I was the man still in love with you

When I already knew it was done

[sakura-scum]

₊˚⊹ open arms ⊹˚₊

✿ a/n: i don't ever really post original content on here so whaddup :p unedited/not proofread af, but satosugu has been eating me alive and i needed to post this somehwere bc feels? heavily inspired by sza, i can't stop listening to this song omfg :0

✿ summary: angsty stsg analysis from gojo's pov

✿ w/c: ~1.5k words

✿ warning: anime + manga spoilers for jjk 0 + hidden inventory (ish) || implied sex? right off the bat tho lol, loss, grief, possible swearing :p 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"This was your first time, wasn't it?"

"I've already told you that."

"Hah... no. This was your first time being truly open with someone, hm?"

I'll never forget the way he delicately brushed the strands of hair stuck to my forehead. It was as though he held all the tenderness and adoration in the world for me.

"What do you mean? I'm always open?" My voice cracked, betraying the facade of strength I tried to uphold.

"The way you said that, as if it were a question, says it all." His observation felt like a dagger twisting in my heart, a painful acknowledgment of how right he was. 

I wince as he gently taps my cheek, coaxing me to meet his gaze. Suddenly, I'm hesitant to look into his eyes, afraid of further truth I may uncover there.

Eventually, when I did, I was reminded why I was here in the first place. Warm brown eyes that felt like home now held a distance I couldn’t bridge. The first gaze that could accept me for who I was. He can see right through my flaws. Here, I never had to pretend to be perfect. He made perfectionism feel like a distant dream.

"Stop overthinking. I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry," was all I could muster, my voice barely a whisper in the silence that lingered between us.

He smirks at me before rolling over onto his side. I remain fixed in the same position, staring at the ceiling, as if he were still hovering over me. Somehow, the weight of his absence felt heavier than his presence ever did.

"Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness, like a plea for forgiveness that would never be answered.

.     .     .

As the silence envelops us, I feel a surge of emotions rising within me. It's strange how words can sometimes fail to capture the depth of what we feel. But with him, it felt like there was an unspoken understanding; a connection that transcends mere conversation.

With a gentle sigh, I shift closer to him, seeking solace in his presence. His arm instinctively wraps around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. In his embrace, I find comfort, a sense of security that I've longed for.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. It's in moments like these that I realize how much I've come to rely on him, and how empty my world would be without him. It was as if his presence had become a sanctuary in the chaos of my life.

After that day, I began to realize my own lack of transparency. Was I avoiding the scrutiny of others, or fleeing from myself? What destination was I so desperately seeking, and why? I’ve never been a lonely person, or at least that is what I had convinced myself. I’ve always been surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones. It was a fulfilling life, wasn’t it? Meeting you unearthed a loneliness rooted deep within me. 

 Every bad day, every terrible moment, I found myself back in that same special spot, searching for solace in the echoes of our past. Even if I didn’t voice my concerns, you always greeted me, arms open wide, like my head had a reserved spot on your chest where I could close my eyes and relinquish myself to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

Before we crossed paths, I had never pondered these questions, content to drift through life to fulfill what I had been told was my purpose. But you redefined that purpose. Suddenly, I felt compelled to cease running, not from myself or others.  When did I become so reliant on you? Why was I now running from you and your open embrace? I fled towards the places steeped in damage and shame. Had I finally found the courage to look within? 

The questions you provoked within me felt like shards of a shattered mirror, reflecting back a distorted image of a soul struggling to find a place in a world that no longer made sense.

The solace I sought in you blinded me to the truth: you were the fractured mirror all along.

But how could I notice when I was so self-absorbed? Perhaps if I could mend the fragments of the ruins of my mind, a haunted house of mirrors, I could in turn help fix you. Days blurred together as I found myself gazing into my own reflection, contemplating how I might reach out to you, openly trying to reach the dark and shaded depths of your mind. In my blurred vision, perhaps I overlooked just how much you truly needed me. Fixing you felt like a cruel illusion, a fantasy born from desperation and despair.

Checking on you was not nearly enough. It just felt like a feeble attempt to bridge what now separated us. How could I convey the love you give to me so effortlessly? Did you truly grasp the depth of my feelings? 

 I said those three words so often, but you never had to because your actions spoke louder than any declaration. How did you effortlessly escape speaking in moments like these, when every word you uttered started to feel like a knife to the heart? What was silencing you? Have you ever even uttered those words to me? I can’t recall a time you did. 

The more I delved into self-improvement, the more distance was created between us. Was I on the wrong path? Did my self-loathing somehow bind him to me? I’d gladly revert to the dark depths of hating myself if it would draw him closer. Even now, though, that felt like a hollow promise to keep you from walking away.

My insecurities, the void in my heart… it gave you a purpose, didn’t it? I’d gladly embrace that version of myself if it meant I could stay by your side. I yearn for the comfort of residing in your arms once more. So I mirrored your actions: I waited for you with open arms. 

Why didn’t you approach me as eagerly as I had once approached you?

The day I found out about what you did, I felt more angry at myself than I did you. It felt like a painful acknowledgment of my own complicity in our downfall. I blamed myself for letting things deteriorate to this point. Whether or not I chose to adapt that feeling of self-hatred willingly, it seemed to return on its own accord. 

Did you choose to walk away or did my ignorance push you to that point? 

It’s like I couldn’t force myself to care about your actions; I just had to know if you were okay. I’m hopelessly devoted to you. Is this what love does to you? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Please tell me it's love. I know you’ve always been hesitant to admit it, but I need to hear it from you. 

I searched endlessly until I found you. Amidst a crowd of faces blending together, none of them could hold a candle to you. My world was monotonous without you, and there you were like the sun in a valley of stars. You always swore you were the moon and that couldn’t be more false in my mind. Can’t you see my whole world revolved around you? 

I wanted answers. No, that’s not enough, I wanted to understand you. I needed to understand the depth of your pain and suffering, like a desperate plea for absolution in the face of our own insecurities and shortcomings. Why couldn’t I just open up to you? I wanted to tell you everything. You knew me inside and out and yet I couldn’t claim the same about you. My mind felt like a treasure you delicately unwrapped, cherishing every discovery. Yet, my impatience drove me to want to tear into your mind, to uncover all the secrets I endlessly sought. 

Where did you vanish to? What happened to us? Was I just another casualty in your evolving quest for power and control?  Did I ever truly know you? Who are you, really? 

I promise I didn’t intentionally self-isolate. That’s just what happens when you’re in love, right? My life was always this lonely, or that's at least how I remember things because my life only had meaning when you came into it. 

I guess I have to let you go. 

Memories spilled through the gaps of my fingers like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy. The more I tried to hold on to them, the more difficult they became to remember.

Retrospectively, I never changed myself. I’m that same broken teen I once was. You just brought perspective and meaning to my life, a debt I could never repay.  I never learned to be open or expressive. I just learned to endlessly drift with echoes because I couldn’t say goodbye.

At least I got to hold onto your lifeless form with open arms. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

✿ a/n: no, i won't be paying for anyone's therapy ;-;  comments n' feedback always appreciated! thanks so much for reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[konaizumi]

A Tale of a Thousand Stars ep 5 thoughts/reaction

so tian killed torfun, but does tian know this yet? bc that would make more sense for why his parents didn’t want him to know about the donor

 tian, pls stop comparing yourself to torfun, you don’t like phupha bc of her heart and he doesn’t like you bc of her heart

also, yesterday i listened to the full ost yesterday for the first time with the lyrics and it’s so beautiful and meaningful

tian had better be on his on the get his medication refilled

i love tul’s pretty casual reaction after being able to contact your friend for the first time in two months after they vanished with only a vague note

awww, tian looking up stuff to do with the children

poor yod, just wants to eat

can’t believe phupha is still trying to deny his feelings to his friends

lol p’aof

but what’s he gonna do with the second scent pouch?

dr nam, at it again

tian trying to trash talk phupha but with a smile the whole time

dr nam knows exactly what he’s doing

tian, pls stop lying to the doctor, the one that’s going to have to take care of you if something happens, like i get that you don’t want people to know, but dr nam is literally the person who needs to know

“like those who reforest but decorate their house with ivories” tian throwing shade at his father

prediction: tian’s father will get involved with the situation at some point and will somehow be involved in resolving the situation with the mob boss (bc he’s the minister or former minster of environmental smth)

tian really is a trouble magnet tho

it’s great to see tian interact with an old friend, mix and white really have good chemistry of friends who’ve known each other forever

i can’t stop laughing at the product placement being used as an excuse for tian to be horny

*pictures shirtless buff phupha* “yeah it is good for your health” XD, i cant

tian, i know why you don’t want your mom to know where you are, but pls at least give her a call

tian complaining but seeming super happy about the bad parts of the village is so pure, my boy is so happy

not phupha going through the 5 stages of grief while tian is gone

he’s such a tsundere

I’m all for phupha being one of the main reasons tian stays at the village but at the same time there’s no need for them to downplay the importance of the rest of the characters to tian’s happiness, like the village and the children are allowed to be just as important as romantic attachments

phupha’s like a dog with separation anxiety

i loved tul and tian’s whole conversation about tian being gay, i was so relieved that’s how it went

can’t believe gmmtv actually avoided making an entire plotline out of a character being gay but thank god

also the implication that tian knew he liked guys even before he started liking phupha, pls give us more content like this gmmtv

also i love the editing that switches between tian’s and phupha’s conversations

also i just love nam/yod/rang/phupha friendship

thank you tul for immediately telling tian that torfun’s heart has literally nothing to do with tian’s feelings

“ i never said i had feelings for him” lol, sure tian

phupha lowkey sulking while his friends make fun of him

tian literally can’t trash talk phupha without smiling, huh?

pls stop hurting my precious baby, he’s very fragile right now

“i have someone there protecting me already” oh if only phupha could hear that

i’m just very glad that there’s not a whole plotline around tian and phupha realizing and admitting their feelings to themselves, like they both have reservations about telling other people, but they both are clearly aware of their own feelings and seem pretty comfortable with them

i can’t wait for tul to meet phupha and spill all the of tian’s dirt

gives the middle finger (affectionate)

tian seeing that phupha is sulking and immediately assuming it’s bc he didn’t tell phupha his plans (and he’s right lol)

tian being super confused by nice phupha

phupha trying really hard to follow dr nam’s advice is so cute

tian, he’s literally smiled for so many times

“what do you want me to be?” my boyfriend

tian immediately feeling embarrased after calling him p’phu

tian brings up phupha’s relationship status for someone who “doesn’t have feelings”

god, phupha smiling a the secret picture he took of tian is just so pure

the phutian content throughout the whole episode is honestly god tier

you know it’s a good scene when you sit there mentally shouting at the characters to just kiss already

(and you know they want to kiss each other so bad)

i really appreciate them giving phupha valid reasons for being insecure like he’s much older and he’s tied to the village, starting a relationship with him would mean staying in the village rather than going back to the city, and him thinking that tian (a young 20 year old rich boy who’s still in the middle of a college degree to be an engineer) wouldn’t want that isn’t unrealistic, like i just appreciate that his reasons for hesitating aren’t stupid

shit, there’s so much fondness~~~~

how many sexual innuendos did phupha make this ep lol

i love how natural their relationship feels too, like it’s just genuinely two people falling in love with each other

everytime phupha fondly watches tian interacting with the children, i gain a year of life

okay but i love all the forest rangers encouraging phupha to ask tian to stay longer

they’re literally so in love it hurts

tian using phupha’s full title when he’s embarrassed

they’re so happy flying the kites together

the very last scene is heartbreaking but also very satisfying to watch

the fear in phupha’s eyes

also i imagine it must be pretty terrifying bc tian’s not just passed out, it’s not like he just fainted, he’s still conscious but can’t move or speak and seems to be in a lot of pain and to have to watch that and not knowing what’s happening to him or what to do

but that’s literally why you need to tell people, tian, so they can help you in emergencies like this

dr nam, hate to break it to you but phupha definitely knows how to flirt

“im also strong” i cant with this man

yes, dr nam, tell my son to quit being such a dumbass and take care of himself

tian and phupha better kiss next week, they deserve it

shit, this was such a good episode, all the quality phutian moments, finally the heart transplant will be revealed, the tul and tian content was great and I hope we see tul again

MVP of the episode: Tul

[the-finch-address]

Tag: Word Find

Tagged by @sharraus! Thank you!!

tHO isn’t at the stage where I can find half of these words in a comprehensible state since most of it is Draft 1 gibberish. So instead I’m using the opportunity to write something new for each prompt; some being canon from the book and others just standing as an excuse to write the characters interacting. Bc of this the length got a bit......Out Of Hand. Sorry about that. Putting it all under the read more so I don’t bombard anyone’s dashboard

> Prompt: Work [Note; This occurs years before the plot begins]

Vestiel ran his fingers through the grass and picked at early yellow blooms. The harsh clang of metal against wood echoed around him, the sounds of the forest easily lost behind it.

“Can we go home soon?” he whined, “I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.” His bottom lip is brought between his teeth, and he waits. Clang. Clang. Clang. “Please?”

The axe stills. Andi turns, wiping the sweat from his brow while fitting Vestiel with a look. Magpies trill in the wake of his silence, the flutter of fallen leaves following the breeze. Andi straightens his back. “Silas won’t have finished dinner yet, lad, the sun’s still well up the sky.” He answers, looking annoyed, “We’ve plenty of light to finish this up first. Fill the baskets if you’re so restless.”

He reaches for the axe again. The disappointment must have shown on Vestiel’s face, though, since the tool remains lodged, and Andi continues to look distracted. He knew the boy was too young to understand how important this work was, how it kept them warm and fed. He couldn’t blame a child for prioritizing an empty stomach over harsh and thankless labor. Still, that morning’s storm had downed too many trees to not take advantage of. It had to be done.

“Tell you what,” Andi resigns himself, a weary smile lifting his eyes, “I’ll let you do a few strokes, but Vestiel-”

The boy is already up and on his feet, dandelions forgotten in the sunken spots of grass where his legs had crossed, “You mean it?” He brightens, “I can do it all by myself?”

“Listen to me,” Andi lifts a hand, demanding attention, while the other remains on the hilt, “you’ll start with the axe wedged in and bring them down together-” he offers a stern look, “--and I don’t want to hear any complaints. This is your first time, I don’t want you lopping off a toe or, North forbid, a whole foot. You need a feel for the tool before you do anything else.”

Vestiel acknowledges this with a hasty nod, the muttered agreement of “Yeah, yeah, sure” crossing his lips, hand already reaching for the axe.

Andi comes between him with a harsher expression than before, eyebrows raised expectantly. Vestiel lets out a sigh.

“The axe will start in the wood. Got it.” The impatience hasn’t fully left his tone, but it’s an improvement, and Andi appears content by it.

The wood is already a narrowed size when the axe is driven through its flesh. The blade settles halfway down the block and wedges itself firmly along the grain with little resistance, just on the edge of splitting. He brings it to Vestiel, who takes the closer end of the block with his left hand and the hilt with his right.

“Now, you’ll want to bring it down towards the back of the splitting block,” Andi starts, “Make sure you do so with both hands together, or you’ll only-”

Clang. Vestiel opens his eyes, already knowing that Andi is going to ring his neck for having closed them in the first place. All is forgotten at the sight of the severed wood, though, and he can’t help but be excited with the results. It isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s his, and he’s no less proud of it despite his brother's hand-holding. He looks to Andi in hopes of praise.

“Mother’s grief, Vestiel, have some patience!” Is the chastised response he receives instead. “You couldn’t have at least waited for me to finish?”

Vestiel makes a sour face. “I did it fine, didn’t I?” He retorts, “Isn’t that good enough?”

Andi raises a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, a long and tired breath escaping him. After a minute of patience himself he’s able to give Vestiel the reaction he was looking for. A smile, small but proud. “It’s not bad for your first time,” he says, “but you’re going to need more practice, and patience, than that if you want to hack apart whole trees in a few years.”

He extends a hand to bring Vestiel near, pulling him snug against his side. “You did well.” Andi continues, “but, lad,” his voice lowers to a stern whisper, and

Vestiel pales, “If I ever see your eyes closed with an axe in hand again, you’ll sweep the whole corridor. Twice.”

He swallows harshly and answers only with a nod. The pride blooming in his chest doesn't falter.

> Prompt: Weather

The evening sky flashes white, casting shadows across paintings framed in gold and goblets of silver. Across the room, Caprice of the North hunches over a desk painted in candlelight. He draws a finger across the map in study of its various routes and borders, frowning. Behind him, thunder crashes down. He flinches. Pitiful.

Shaking away the thought, the young deliverer refocuses. His back arches further towards the desk until braided locks of gold spill over onto the wood. Especially now, as he squints in the darkness of his shadow, does he wish this dreaded storm had chosen another night. It brought a miserable chill to his bones despite the grizzly pelt draping heavily over his shoulders and brought an ache to his bones.

Lightning comes again, its brilliant light cutting into the room with the swiftness of a sword’s blow. Capri anticipates it this time. When thunder claps against his window he’s decisively ready for it, his knuckles gone white against clenching fists. He can’t stop their trembling no matter how tightly he’s squeezing.

A knock at the door sends him out of his skin.

Like a sharp wound, the anticipation drives him into a panic. Young flesh grasps aimlessly for a new frame to stretch into, finding nothing but mortal bones. By the time the door swings open he is straightened, remembering a human form, begging the drum within his heart to settle.

Silence greets him. A form approaches from the doorway and draws towards the light, illuminating their features quick enough that Caprice’s hand stills where it rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Dove?” He relaxes and lets himself breathe, forcing air into his lungs with more effort than is needed. “I thought you were with Eivind."

“He was needed elsewhere,” Dove signs. His hands portrayed a sense of disappointment where one couldn’t be seen in his expression, brown eyes seeming indifferent.

Caprice looks away shamefully, “You didn’t have to come,” he says.

“I wanted to.”

His gaze again lifts to meet the other with only a grunt, reluctant to answer in words for fear that his voice might betray him.

Light consumes the room with blinding force and concurrently Caprice’s hand reaches blindly for the edge of the desk to ground himself. It’s silly, he thinks, ruined pride staining his cheeks red. Internally he’s counting the seconds as they go by, steeling himself.

Dove reaches for him--

Capri recoils just as thunder cracks and booms overhead. The approach was too quick, well-meaning as it may have been. Dove understands the reaction. He reads Caprice as well as the noble reads his sign.

The thrashing of rain fills the aching silence and neither of them dares interrupt it. Seconds pass by without distraction until Dove again extends his hand forward. He moves slower than he has to under the young emperor’s weary gaze as though addressing a wounded animal.

When Caprice notices it’s not without backlash. His eyes turn hard, looking fussed. His nails dig into the wood beneath them until angry lines form on the underside of the desk and pain shoots up his fingers.

Dove’s palm settles over his hand, squeezing.

He flinches but can’t bring himself to shake the man away. The silence between them stretches on unbearably after, broken only by the rain. He releases the desk and turns his palm face up, intertwining their fingers wearily. “Thank you.” He whispers.

When the thunder comes this time, he doesn’t flinch.

Prompt: Help

Vestiel’s heartbeat thuds like thunder roaring inside his ears. He stares with too much intent at the earth beneath his worn shoes, doing his best to concentrate on the hole boring over the space near his toes.

Much to his dismay, Fannar-Haise appears to notice.

She carries herself past the snow huts and politely cuts through the crowd, stepping lightly around the fire and between celebrants, their songs alight with a different kind of flame.

Vestiel can’t hear them past his own thoughts. Get out, get out, get out. He forces some semblance of greeting out as she approaches but can’t manage to look her in the eyes. It’s hard most days, but especially now.

“Enjoying the party?” She asks, making no mention of the answer being pretty obvious. The smile on her lips is pitying, judgemental at worst, he just knows it. He can’t bear to lift his chin and see. If Andi were here he could explain himself easily but, as it was, he was going into this situation alone. Completely, utterly alone.

“Yeah,” he lies, “just tired from all the traveling.”

It’s a witless excuse and she knows it. Instead of pointing it out, though, she only offers a shake of her head. There’s a lot to say about communication and Fannar-Haise considers herself an expert on the subject. She watches him fumble about; the trouble in getting his tongue to do its job sticking out to her as sorely as the restless, rhythmic tap of his hand against his hip and the blatant avoidance of eye contact. It answered her question more than his words could, and that was okay.

“You’re overwhelmed,” she nods to herself this time, having seemingly come to a conclusion all on her own, “Let me help. You don’t have to answer with words, a nod will do just fine. Can you walk?”

Vestiel squints at the sole of his shoes, looking confused, then apprehensive, “I’m-”

Silence. No matter how hard he pries, not a single word comes loose from his tongue. The thoughts are there and plentiful, excuses and apologies, maybe something more, fastened tightly like honey coating his throat and hidden away between his ribcage, leaving him breathless and useless.

His chin tilts upward, lips parting, but he can’t manage it. Instead, he allows himself the nod she had been looking for.

“Good. That’s good. We’re going to go somewhere quiet and after that you can tell me what you want to do. Can I touch your hand?”

She patiently waits for the resulting, albeit cautious nod, and takes his hand within her own.

She guides him past the bustling scene like this. As they reach a distance where the noise has muffled he finds it in himself to speak again. It’s slow, at first, allowing his mind time to find the right words. “How did you know?”

Calmly she turns her gaze from the sky, not looking directly at him but rather just past where he stands. There isn’t a soul there when Vestiel follows her gaze over his shoulder, but he’d only half expected one. Andi had learned with time not to stare too long; something told him Haise was just as quick of a learner.

“Call it a hunch,” she hums, “I’ve experienced my fair share of things, Vestiel. This isn’t new or strange, it’s just you.” She pauses to face him, eyes still averted. He returns the favor and looks at her nose like it’s his only salvation, seconded only by the sight of his snow hut in the distance and the soft murmur becoming of the crowd ever fading behind them.

“Besides,” she continues, “these celebrations aren’t a requirement by any standard. They’re here to bring happiness. If something causes you to be unhappy you have no obligation to stay. If you need to step away, I will understand. We will always understand.”

Vestiel doesn’t know what to say when they reach the entrance. Despite her words, he can’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him for having both left the celebration early-- a celebration of his arrival, no less--and now, leaving their leader at the door.

She picks up on this, too.

“I’m going to head back to the others for a while longer. You can join us if you’re feeling up to it, or you can stay here and get some rest. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

Her warmth is everything to him, more grounding than a hole in his shoe could ever be. He wants her to know, wants to find the right words to explain how much her actions mean to him, but there isn’t an easy way to go about it without making a greater fool of himself. He answers with a weak smile and a simple, “Okay”, the best he can offer in way of thanks.

She matches his smile and bids him goodnight.

Prompt: Hope

The scent of leather tanning above flame clings to his nostrils. It fills him with a sense of despair unlike any other, weighing different from the miserable few weeks he’d spent mourning Andi, even. Putrid, a nauseating sort of agony like snakes writhing and tearing at his stomach. Burning. Burning. Burning.

The forest was ablaze. That was all he could possibly know, here in the dark. Shadows drove past him in a stampede of bodies carving through the night, survived only by a name and footprints worn into the poaching grounds.

He scares awake. Stars wink faintly above him, hidden behind the morning sun.

“Bad dream?”

Tupelo’s voice startles him a second time from where he lay, their trek up the hill all but forgotten until that point.

Vestiel slowly drags himself into a sitting position with a grunt of effort. Sweat collects at his jaw, cold against his cheeks. He licks his lips and tastes salt.

“A fire, just to the north of here-- tonight maybe--the forest, the people-”

Tupelo tends to the campfire, looking drained. It was suddenly apparent neither of them had slept well. “The forest?” they ask with a shake of their head, “Not to the north, yet.”

“Yet?”

Vestiel draws his shirt away and uses the

bottom corner to dry his face. Goosebumps still clinging to his arms, the memory remaining like a fresh wound.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he says, “I can’t explain it to you and if I do, you’ll just think I’ve gone strange. I’m only asking that you take me north of here.”

He reaches for the map tucked inside his rucksack, spilling a few more items in the process, “It shouldn’t be too far off from where we’re going already. I’ll show you.”

Tupelo is quick to rest their hand against his wrist with a sympathetic, albeit calm look on their face. “We’ll go.” They assure him, pointing to the north. “If it’s important.”

_________________________________

It quickly becomes evident that Tupelo is just as ill-equipped for this kind of travel as Vestiel. For as nimble as they are the hill obviously called for a different kind of strength. The original path would have taken them up and around, but this new direction was a straight shot to the north, uphill for the better half of it.

Tupelo watches Vestiel out of the corner of their eye, checking up on him every now and then as though waiting for Vestiel to change his mind, or hoping he’ll get around to it if they climb for long enough.

However, Vestiel remains steadfast in the endeavor, eyes locked on the horizon. He’s certain of what he saw, having learned to trust the dreams long ago, and he had no plans to stop now. The smell of burning flesh still lingered undeniably.

“We’re almost there.” Tupelo breaks the silence.

“Finally,” he gasps, “I don’t think my legs can go on for much longer.”

He can feel it already. The weight of the earth shifting beneath his feet, a familiar pressure that seeps into his bones, pungent smoldering inside his nostrils once more. “It’s right over here,” he drags himself the last few feet to the summit, “It’s-”

Dead. Every tree, every blade of grass, the entire opposite face of the hill lie dusty and black, an empty expanse of burnt trunks where the forest should have been.

Tupelo comes up beside him.

“What happened here?” Vestiel gasps in disbelief, “I was sure-- my dreams have never lied, not once before. Were we too late?”

“Your soul tells stories, not prophecies.” Tupelo answers, “Father told me you can hear them.”

“Them?”

“The spirits,” they gesture to the barren woods, “they speak because they know you will listen. Come.”

Vestiel follows their lead. Dry grass crunches underfoot as they descend the hill. Patches of green pop up here and there, but aren't constant and don’t compare to the full weight of the forest that should have been in its stead. It’s a sight he feels the need to grieve over as though his own soul were tied to the scorched land. The thought scares him.

Tupelo steps ahead and crouches to their knees, hands smoothing over a ring of stones that would have gone unseen had they not brought attention to it. Wordlessly, they pull the canteen from its strap and let the remainder of its water drip out.

Vestiel inches closer now. He kneels beside the other, “What is it?”

Tupelo sits back on their heels, palms opening to show a young sapling, green and healthy, standing tall, small as it may be. It rests in a forgotten graveyard.

“A tree?” Vestiel reaches for it and thumbs carefully along the juvenile bark. “What is one tree to an empty field?”

Tupelo cradles the sapling fondly. “Hope.”

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I'm tagging @faenova @squid-scribe @zmlorenz @ashen-crest @henrike-does-writing-sometimes and @sharraus (can I tag the tagger? I'm doing it anyway)

Your words are Drenched, Gather, Cradle, and Howl