It took a moment before Shion realised he could move. He came to awareness and realised he was alive, back again and he settled to wait.
But people were moving around him and he realised. He could move as well, no feeling of terror. No inability to move even the smallest muscle. No paralysis at all. He scrambled upright. Of course. Story Tellers Temple not his bed on the Tower. The Islands. The Flowers.
He had died. He had died and broken his promise. Just like he knew he would. He was the worst brother. He squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn't cry. He had brought this on himself with his inability to sort out the mess that was his mind.
And he wasn't the only one hurting. How many had died in the end? How many had had to watch those they loved die?
He sat up fully. He was no stranger to death. Returning from death was not new to him and this was... Less bad than usual despite the flowers, the reminders of the month growing over the temple.
He got up, looking for anyone he knew. Or anyone that seemed to be alone. No one should be alone, especially after dying. He looked for Aster, he looked for Ceej though he was unsure if the latter would even want to see him.
There was a lot to think about, a lot to examine and he had just proven that he didn't have the slightest bit of mastery over any of his emotions. Not just the anger.
He took out his notepad, writing had become a comfort, another way to keep calm and setting out exactly what had happened might help him understand.
Except when he opened it he couldn't read it. He had written the words before he died but they were just symbols, shapes. He had no idea what they meant or how they went together.
Panic welled up in him. He put pencil to paper but... He couldn't. He didn't know how to write.
There was a clatter as notepad and pencil fell to the floor and Shion sat, staring at it in horror, breathing too fast, hands shaking.
no subject
But people were moving around him and he realised. He could move as well, no feeling of terror. No inability to move even the smallest muscle. No paralysis at all. He scrambled upright. Of course. Story Tellers Temple not his bed on the Tower. The Islands. The Flowers.
He had died. He had died and broken his promise. Just like he knew he would. He was the worst brother. He squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn't cry. He had brought this on himself with his inability to sort out the mess that was his mind.
And he wasn't the only one hurting. How many had died in the end? How many had had to watch those they loved die?
He sat up fully. He was no stranger to death. Returning from death was not new to him and this was... Less bad than usual despite the flowers, the reminders of the month growing over the temple.
He got up, looking for anyone he knew. Or anyone that seemed to be alone. No one should be alone, especially after dying. He looked for Aster, he looked for Ceej though he was unsure if the latter would even want to see him.
There was a lot to think about, a lot to examine and he had just proven that he didn't have the slightest bit of mastery over any of his emotions. Not just the anger.
He took out his notepad, writing had become a comfort, another way to keep calm and setting out exactly what had happened might help him understand.
Except when he opened it he couldn't read it. He had written the words before he died but they were just symbols, shapes. He had no idea what they meant or how they went together.
Panic welled up in him. He put pencil to paper but... He couldn't. He didn't know how to write.
There was a clatter as notepad and pencil fell to the floor and Shion sat, staring at it in horror, breathing too fast, hands shaking.