lifeaftr | minecraft is unrealistic

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minecraft is unrealistic

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.

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It's... Ginko. There are roughly ten thousand reasons he shouldn't be doing this to the poor guy. Too many to count. For one, he's rubbing the whole idea of family in Ginko's face...

He closes his eyes, exhales and shrugs weakly. "Doesn't matter. I get this way once in a while. I'll be back to normal eventually."

It's true that trying to talk about this kind of thing can be... kind of tough for him. With practically no experience with the subject at hand, he's left wondering whether he can provide anything of use at all - and he can't pretend that that reminder doesn't hurt a little.

But he can't imagine shying away from helping Hector because of it. If he can never have what others do, what Hector is trying to get back-- at least he can try to protect it for others. Or, in this case, to keep Hector from losing hope that he'll have it again.

Ginko doesn't seem terribly reassured by that, but it's... something. His tail thumps on the ground a couple times before he replies, "I... don't know how much I can do to help. But if there is anything, just let me know."

His eyes remain closed. Not that he feels anywhere near sleep right now. Odds are it would only lead to nightmares, and worse, someone witnessing him talking in his sleep. A wreck, a burden, bringing everyone down with him... for no reason at all. It's not helping him either.

"Wish I knew. Don't know what to ask for. There's only one thing I want, it's always been one thing."

"...Yeah." No need to ask what it is that Hector wants; he knows that much already. He just wishes he knew... any way to help.

"I'll just stay here, then. If you don't mind." He'd rather not risk leaving Hector to break any more bones.

"You don't have to." Did he say that already? He doesn't think so, not in such direct words. "I'm not a good person, not really. But you know enough about me to... get that."

What does he have going for him? Kindness? Sure, right up until the very second a path opens for him to get what he wants, the one thing he needs--each and every time, all bets are off. He'll do anything.

"I know. But I want to."

He lets out a slow breath, fighting back to immediate urge to just... argue with him on that outright. He knows Hector too well to expect that to be productive.

"You can be a good person. And you care about your daughter. That's got to be worth something."

"...you have pretty low standards if that's all it takes. Besides, she's Coco. It's impossible to do anything else, she--she is lovable. It's written into the fabric of the universe, or however that goes."

He's tired, his thoughts are a bit silly. Coco, the Lovable One, that is her title. She just is. So, so good, the biggest joy in his life. Why did he ever leave...?

"Mm. You'd be surprised." Ginko has worked pretty damn hard to keep his outlook, what he expects from and thinks of other people, positive. And it has taken work, with some of the shit he's seen and experienced - but he can't imagine regretting putting that effort forward.

For one thing, if he wasn't willing to sleep in strangers' houses, he would have died of exposure a long time ago. And, even if he hadn't... he thinks he prefers this to the bitter, cynical person he knows he could have ended up as.

...And at that, he can't quite stop a grin from creeping over his mouth. "Mm-hm. Not doing much to disprove my point."

Why does he want to argue so badly that he is a terrible person? It sure says a lot about him, doesn't it? Because he's doubling down and carrying on.

"...It wasn't enough to stop me leaving home. I had her and I had Imelda, and her crazy brothers... but still I left. I did this to myself."

It's all his fault. He deserves it. Every second of pain he's suffered.

Ginko's smile fades, completely and immediately.

"You made a mistake. That doesn't make you a bad person, and it doesn't mean you deserve any of this."

The thought that he didn't deserve any of it, the century of loneliness and grief... that's more terrifying, in its own way. Too huge to accept. Too vast. He just... can't go there, nope, too painful.

"No. You're wrong. Because I hurt them too, by leaving and never coming back. A mistake is... is dropping a glass or being late to a party or something, not tearing apart your own family."

"I never said mistakes can't hurt people." Ginko has certainly made his share of hurtful mistakes, whether in his work or in his clumsy efforts at having a personal life - and that's without going into how many other people's minor mistakes he saw blow up. "And not getting back wasn't your fault."

He really can't stress that enough. Getting murdered was not your fault, Hector.

"They don't hate me now." There's no doubt that his own family did hate him in the past, oh yes, they'd made that very clear. A century-long grudge in both worlds!

He's smiling, faintly, torn between fondness for them and the sheer longing to be back. "I'm sure they'd tell me the same thing you are, if they were here... they're good people. And I'm not saying I want them to go back to hating me, because... because it was so wonderful." He can't stop himself imagining it, voice hitching. Thinking of waking in a soft bed, Imelda right there to say good morning to, spending another day sitting in their shoe workshop and listening to all their stories and the twins' silly jokes and pranks and new invention ideas...

It hurts. He wants it so badly, it's hard to breathe. Smile's gone as quickly as it appeared.

But reality isn't going to change just because he wants it to. He exhales, shaking his head and starting over. What was he trying to say? "What I mean is that I caused my own problems. It's not on you to cheer me up."

Ginko's ears slowly lower as Hector talks, his eye fixed on him, sympathetic and pained. Part of him insists that this really isn't fair, that Hector shouldn't be stuck here, not after how long he waited to be close to his family again - but of course it isn't fair. Fairness isn't a part of the equation, not with nature or gods or black-hole dimensions that drag people into them from all over.

"...I know. But I don't want you to be left on your own, feeling like this."

"...Gracias."

It truly isn't fair. He waited so long, he tried everything he could, and now look where he is. Storyteller Island, with plenty of fun adventures to fuel the stories they want. He exists to feed a god, or something.

No smile reappears. "You're a good guy. You know that? Almost everyone I've met is."

Ginko... wilts a little at that, almost imperceptibly. His tail wishes along the ground to pull against him more tightly.

And he smiles, just barely. There's no trace of relief to it, or... much of anything, really. He guesses he should appreciate that Hector thinks that about him.

"There are a lot of good people here, yeah. I think... that might be an advantage, in finding a way out." He'd like to think so, at least.

He opens his eyes, crossing his arms and resting his chin on those long bones... and completely misses the look on Ginko's face, not glancing over. What if there is no way home? What if the Storyteller wishes to keep them forever, feeding on them? What if they escape only to awaken somewhere else bizarre? He might never make it home.

But he doesn't dare say that out loud.

"I know. We're a real community. Don't you think so? And everyone gets along, most of the time." Faust and Foster are the exceptions, of course. Especially Foster. "Like a... family."

(How desperate for family is he?)

"Right--" He starts off confidently enough; as much of a mess as this place may be sometimes, he's got to be glad for the way the islanders have come together.

But he falters a little, despite himself, when the full extent of Hector's statement sinks in. It doesn't take him long to recover, at least. "...I guess you could call it that, yeah." Just because he's in no kind of position to claim that kind of status with the other islanders doesn't give him any right to deny it to Hector, especially not in the state he's in.

(Silly Ginko, isn't Héctor one of the islanders too, having lived with them for an entire year now? And don't they spend time together practically every day?)

"I had something like that back in the land of the dead. Have, I mean. Still have. Los Olvidados. Those with no dead family to be with. I found my way to them one day and they just... took me in. Like they'd known me forever."

Oh, how he misses seeing familiar faces. Faces like his own, friendly skeleton grins... People like himself, people he belongs with. He's almost smiling, a wistful look on his face. "Primos and tíos. 'Cousin Héctor', that's who I was. We're all the same. We stick together. We look after each other. Always."

(Sure, he is. And sure, they do. And if Ginko spends more than a moment thinking about it, he can barely imagine why Hector would waste so much time on him.)

There's a bit of a shift in his expression, that twinge of uncertainty moving toward quiet interest as Hector speaks. "...I'm glad you found each other."

"So am I." Bittersweet fondness. He aches for them too, though not as much as he does for the Riveras. The real Riveras, the ones who aren't him. Aches and wonders if he'll ever be able to just... have what he wants. More than a few days, that is. Long enough to enjoy it, maybe even to heal.

"...I miss those guys too."

For a few moments, Ginko isn't sure he has anything to say to that - or, rather, he's not sure he should say it. This is about Hector's experiences, not his, and... he's not sure if trying to relate would just backfire. Nothing that's happened to him can really compare-- he knows that.

In the end, he speaks.

"...I knew... a couple people, in Ryslig, who were... close to family." He stumbles a little, on those last few words, just a brief hitch in his voice. "I don't know that it was even close to the same, so... I can only imagine how hard it must be for you."

"...Why wouldn't it be the same?" he says quietly, brow furrowed. Genuine confusion underneath--well, everything else weighing on him. It's there, it's just hard to hear.

"You can have family as much as I can." After all, if anyone here is worth less than the other, it's him. Not Ginko. "Who says you can't?"

Dammit. He shouldn't have said it after all, should he. Ginko's expression doesn't change much, but his tail thumps on the ground.

"...Nobody. I just said I don't know if it was the same." He knows he's just dodging the subject, but it is true. That is exactly what he said. "No sense in assuming two different situations were exactly alike."

Tail thumping. It could mean anything. But what can he do, really, if he can't snap himself out of this funk? Of course he's stressing the poor guy out.

"Do they need to be exactly alike? It's not going to bother me, you calling them family."

minecraft is unrealistic

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