minecraft is unrealistic

[vagabone]

Who: Héctor, anyone
What: His spirit is as dead as he is.
When: July 25th
Where: Enso
Warnings: Mild injury, and a truckload of d e s p a i r to start with.

It's mid afternoon, one year and then some after he first arrived on the beaches of the island. The thirteenth month. Thirteen's been said to be an unlucky number. Certainly it's not doing him any favors.

As good and kind as everyone is... it's just not enough. Not every day. There's only one thing that ever will be, one thing which he always seems to be denied, one way or another. Granted, not much about his situation is new, when it comes down to it, but then neither are these deep black moods. There were no failures this year. No bridge. Nothing to try. Everything's perfectly fine until he can't fake it anymore, because everything is not fine.

He had four pleasant days with his family, after so long dreaming of them. Was that it? Is that all he'll ever have? And there's no reason for it, seeing as there's very little he can do someone else can't do better. Of course, if he hadn't been so stupid, he would have had many years with them before being drawn to this world, not only four days... stupid, stupid, stupid. He's always been stupid. It explodes outwards as anger first, for a few minutes, but that's hard to sustain for him. So...

He's just lying on the ground, in the leaves underneath a tree, no smile on his face and cracks spiderwebbing through all the bones of one hand. Don't punch trees if you have no padding on your hands, you won't like the results. He doesn't want to get up, he doesn't want to goof off, joke around, play games, none of that. There's... nothing. No point at all.

Comments

[journalname]

"Very well." It was a bit of an awkward offer to begin with; Asgore's home is not particularly close, so it would have taken him a bit of time to go fetch tea. That's just sort of an instinctive response for him, especially when other people seem upset.

He laces his claws together idly. "No, it is alright. My magical stamina seems less since I came here, but healing magic such as that is minor." It was only a small injury, and Hector's only bones. There's a lot less to stitch back together, no flesh and veins to worry about. "As long as I get enough sleep, I do not wear myself out easily."

[vagabone]

He'd have to sit up to drink the tea properly and that's not happening. Easier to be flat and hope the ground swallows him up.

"That's good."

Seems he's not a chatterbox today.

[journalname]

For a moment, Asgore just casts Hector a worried look. He used to be good at this - maybe he still is, sometimes. But his people, the other Patients, he knew them all quite well. He just isn't that familiar with Hector, not even enough to have an idea of what might be wrong.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

[vagabone]

Silence. Yes and no. Neither. Both. It's not fair to lay it on someone else--every single person on Enso is in the same boat. He ought to be the one giving them all a pat on the back.

"It doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do, we're stuck here."

[journalname]

"Well, yes. But I imagine we will all go back sooner or later."

Asgore's more or less immortal, too. He knows he tends to take a long view on things. But then again, time freezes for the people at home - and it's their feelings that matter most to him. So what if he must miss them a while longer?

[vagabone]

So what? No big deal. Unless you've already spent almost four lifetimes missing them... the thought of having to start over is too much to handle. It hit him when he woke up, the entirety of it, the impossibility of going home, sending him away from people he might upset. Out where he can scream at the trees and collapse, bothering no one.

So much for not being an inconvenience.

"We have to. Other people have. Isn't that right?"

[journalname]

Of all the things Asgore deserves, missing people while stuck on these islands is easily the least of it. He just has to accept it.

"They have. And these things never do seem to last forever." His own previous experience was rather different from this one - not unique, unfortunately, but not quite like this. There's plenty of other people who have been to other worlds in one form or another, though, and obviously none of them stayed there forever.

[vagabone]

So, so many worlds. Far too many people of Enso who came here from a place very similar for Héctor's comfort. He deserves it too, in his own way... no one forced him to leave his family.

"No, not from what I've been told. I'm... being ridiculous." But. There is a but. "...But I don't think I can do this."

[journalname]

Asgore thinks back to the first few years after his children died, after Toriel was gone.

"No. But I suppose there is nothing else to be done."

[vagabone]

"I know. I know, I have to do this. Can't lay here for all eternity."

Shouldn't, that's the word he ought to have said. Because he certainly can lie in the muck and wet leaves, forever and ever and ever.