One Minute Back :: [Nocturne + Leon]

One Minute Back :: [Nocturne + Leon] Sept 27, 2014 2:02:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Sept 27, 2014 2:02:16 GMT -5

just one more minute
turn the clock back
i’ll spend tomorrow
like I did yesterday

Limbo is a lot like being back in the Capitol, pushing buttons on a random remote he found and losing his mind as the view out the window turns into what he thinks might just be the ocean he's never seen or the desert he's also never seen or the jungle he's also never seen or —

Time doesn't really exist here the same way Nocturne remembers it. There is a sense of logic in his ~~bones~~ ~~heart~~ spirit telling him that the past is not the present and yet he's pretty sure everything is happening all at once. The day he was born is just as clear to him as the moment he died and he is here and he is gone and the future isn't going to stop coming just because of him, but that doesn't mean he will experience it. Yet, the strangest thing is maybe that all of this feels normal, like what he used to think of as inherent truths (the sky is up, the ground is down, breathe or die) have simply been switched out (there is no such thing as solid, time does not belong to him, without is a mindtrick).

Whoever is in charge around here still doesn't seem to have figured out if he is who he is or if he's actually someone he's not supposed to be and so some of the other lingering souls have simply taken to calling him HNaowcthuorne as a ridiculous mouthful of a joke, because it's easier than trying to sort out which of his two names to use. In the mean time, he's been left to wander aimlessly through oblivion while the Powers That Be debate with the Reaping Committee about whether or not the right kid got the axe. "The sword," he whines with over-dramatic exasperation, "y'gave me the sword. At least keep your weapons straight if y'gotta rub it in."

Becoming something of a zen master with this new-found infinite free time, he has discovered that he no longer needs a remote to control his surroundings, but that the buttons of change are within. With a push of his mind he can not only change the window, but the world. He spent weeks visiting the family he's still trying to remember properly — memories returned but jumbled into incoherence — and old friends he'd left behind. It's nice, but a little like peering into muddy water and maybe that's why he thinks of the ocean.

Or maybe the water has nothing to do with it and the clarity has another home.

Since he's still new at this, he splices himself, appearing with half of his body in the correct room and half stuck in the wall and off on the other side. (A quick peek reveals that his left foot is actually standing on thin air, floating outside of the house from what might be the second story. It's awesome. Unable to resist, he can't help dancing a couple verses of The Hokey Pokey — "You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out, you put your left foot in and you shake it all about!" — before catching a glimpse of the reason he came here in the first place.) Leon Krigel is sleeping and Nocturne sighs to himself with more of the over-dramatic exasperation that brought him here, wondering how long he'll have to wait for him to wake up.

He's bored now. Nobody in Limbo wants to play with him. He came all this way and he's still being ignored. Aslaksjdfhasdkjfha!

Plopping down on the bed, he childishly blows air at the other boy's face, marveling as he swears he catches a twitching of his hair. He claps, but the sound doesn't echo like he remembers it used to. He curls up on an unclaimed pillow, but it doesn't feel his weight the same way it does Leon's. For a few philosophical moments, he wonders exactly how much a soul weighs and if Potato's sword cut him in half in more ways than one. (After all, he can feel the way the sheets crinkle subtly beneath him, see the way his exhalation pushes oh-so-gently at the air, and hear the way his voice has become more distant.) "Leooooooon," this is an intentional whisper, hushed but persistent, because if he has to be a ghost, he might as well play it up a little, "Come on, Leon, wakey wakey."

Nocturne Vargas has come to see the ocean... or at least that's as good of an excuse to haunt someone as any. Mostly, with all this time on his hands, he's suddenly not sure what to do with it all. While he remembers a lot of faces now, most of them are accompanied by a complicated tangle of confusion, but this one, well, he knows that he once decided that this face wouldn't be such a bad way to spend his last days. It's not such a bad view now either.

One Minute Back :: [Nocturne + Leon] Nov 9, 2014 12:39:07 GMT -5

Quote

Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 9, 2014 12:39:07 GMT -5

[googlefont="Megrim:400;Carrois Gothic SC:400;"]

Leon Krigel

what are you afraid of?

He allows himself to dream only because it all feels so real in his own head, like he's reliving it even when the details aren't all as clear as they should be (he can't feel the dust in the air coat his lungs or the weight of the sword in his hands or the heat burning away the chill on his skin from a wintry sleep). But it always seems real in the dreams: the knife flicking out from his one hand, his dead arm uselessly painting the ground red as it tries to grab Siren's falling body - it's just like his dead arm is the only part of him that stayed the same when the rest of him became... him. Him now. Him for however long he remains him, a shell of a person swallowing white sand and perfect pebbles and salty ocean water in a futile attempt to fill himself up once again.

Even so, Leon's dreams are restless.

And he swears he hears Nocturne laughing, singing to himself like the other boy always does, singing, "You put your left foot in-"

In the spirit of his dreams Leon is watching the sky. He can feel the weight of... something or someone against his back, the brush of hair against his own (or maybe it is the wind) and the pleasure of something peaceful that he cannot name.

But it is not warm.

"Why are you so cold?" he says, his voice echoing over the space surrounding them, the words spilling out with no intention, and Leon wishes he could turn his head but there's something soft in the way. "Can you start a fire?"

He doesn't know who he's speaking to: the ghost of someone he loves, or himself - because he certainly cannot start a fire, not with the heart with its target carved into cardiac muscle, not without the knowledge or the skill. Leon rests against a fragile body anyway, tilts his head back to feel a breeze on his face.

A cannon sounds, and he falls backwards.

(His hand reaches out uselessly for empty space

but he swears he grabs hold of someone's hand.)

Wake up.

But falling into space in a dream Leon could be an immortal - just not for long, And maybe in dreaming he's still comparing the past to his future.

Wake up.

I don't want to.

He opens his eyes.

You're still dreaming.

He must be because that's Nocturne lying opposite him - not Finn, not Nat, not anyone else he can remember. That's Nocturne, Nocturne like someone's bad eraser rubbed part of him out.

He's here

"Nocturne?"

wonder where your heart came from