#i hope you're happy bc my braincell typed this up at 2am due to hyperfixation 💔

[ednaeflowers]

@crystallizedflowers : ❝ i was born against my will and it’s been downhill ever since. ❞ ( crystallizedflowers )

she always thought sorey was more tragic out of the two of them, but thinking it over, that might've been meebo instead. after all, he's the one who has to live with three gaping holes in his heart—three holes where the water leaks through and drips, like irreversible waterfalls. he's a waterfall himself: always going down and down, loud and rumbly like the thoughts haunting his head. edna always thought he was naive, too hopeful and maybe even idealistic like his best friend—but now, there is always a lingering, yearnful feeling when she looks at him. it's a look she's not used to seeing from him. he has looked like this ever since that trip to lohgrin long, long ago. she feels like she's wronged him by watching those flashbacks unfold of his mother, of the previous shepherd—of the life that he could've had if only he survived that day.

despite living much longer, edna's never lived through death. she supposes that's where the line draws between them: the earth is always solid and stable, but water always escapes and drips through anything that's opened. he falls apart easily, and she thinks that's very mikleo-like of him. he's always had some penchant for keeping that side of him hidden—yet here he is, gently letting the waves find a path to flow, a direction to be guided towards, and he picks her to do it. 

she looks up at him, and wonders why she'd been entrusted with this task—but at the same time, it's a reminder for her that water does indeed seek for something solid, concrete, to stop it from flowing too far; maybe to a place that is forgotten and lonely, sort of like the two of them. ❛  life isn't exactly a smooth ride. that's just a fact.  ❜

they've both been through a lot—but if there's one thing he could do better than her, it's not crying. edna is almost fond when she thinks back on memories of her saying it was okay to cry, yet he stubbornly never did so, like he always had something to prove. he was a boy who wanted to act too mature too fast. now, he is taller; his shoulders are broader, his hair is longer, his eyes are slimmer—and yet, she can tell it's still him, through and through, with how he talks of this pain he has kept to himself for decades. she wonders what he is thinking of right now; if there is something specific in mind that he thought she could understand, because she actually finds herself understanding a lot. he's lonely and she's lonely, so they can be lonely together: kindred souls, she supposes. at the beginning, he was just someone fun to tease. now, he is 'meebo' to her. this one nickname encompasses a lot about him, a lot of things she cannot quite put into words. it makes her feel like she has to steer him anyway, because if not her, then who now? he has always been sorey's pillar—but sorey is gone, so she will be mikleo's pillar in his place for now.

❛  none of us are born because we wanted to.  ❜ she stares at the scenery, at the landscape this cliff towers over. it's a lovely display of nature and life, very unfitting for this depressing conversation. ❛  but we were born anyway, so instead of lamenting your losses, you ought to find something that makes you go uphill instead, meebo.  ❜ after a beat, she adds, ❛  even though it's hard, sometimes going forward is all you can do. it will hurt, but that's how you get stronger, isn't it?  ❜

after all, water always flows in one direction, each current bigger than the last—just like him every time he gets back up.