Kanda Yuu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-24 07:29 pm
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-24 07:29 pm
[memshare] Interim
General Froi Tiedoll.
That's the name of the man who finds you and Marie. Looking back, you suppose it was inevitable; it was a miracle you made it out of the lab in the first place, and you suspect that half the reason it took so long for anyone to track you down is because they had to count all the bodies Alma left behind.
There was no way you two could last long, though. Your blood brought Marie back from death's door, but he's still blind and wounded, and you're (7 months no-- 8 years old-- no 35-- no) more-or-less a child, startled by the vastness of the sky and the crispness of the air. You don't know the first thing about survival--in the lab, you never had to try.
Beyond that, you're exhausted to your very soul. You can barely manage the messy memories and hallucinations swimming through your head, let alone the hole in your chest at the thought of Alma, his blood on your hands, your name on his lips--
--Anyway, you were never going to survive alone.
But Tiedoll doesn't make you go back right away, and Marie coaxes you into putting up with him. He's kind to you, but not in the way the researchers were kind--all placating smiles and awkward indulgences before they hooked you up and pushed your body until it broke. Tiedoll is calm against your fury, and patient with your ignorance. He watches your palm heal when you carelessly cut yourself peeling an apple (they grow on trees, apparently, you'd never seen a tree before), and you don't think the anger in his eyes is directed at you.
So you wander with him, all over the world, as far from Laboratory 6 as you can get. Marie stays too, for a while. Marie is the one beside you when you wake up screaming, utterly feral in your grief--you are too volatile to touch, but his voice is soothing, and his music drowns out the echoes of Alma's laughter, of his flesh hitting the floor around you. Eventually, Tiedoll stops making himself scarce during these episodes. You grow to tolerate him, and... well. Trust is far too strong a word for how you felt about anyone back then, but it's the closest thing to what you were capable of.
"Yuu," Tiedoll says, one day. You hunch your shoulders. You've been watching an animal (a rabbit, it's called) cautiously make its way through the grass, and you don't tear your eyes away when he speaks, but he seems to know you're listening. "Would you like a new name?"
You'd expected him to make one of his usual comments. Something about nature, probably--the sound of last night's rain, or the color of the flowers in this meadow. You blink, slowly turning your head.
He smiles at you, soft, a little sad. You can't decide how you feel about how open he is with his emotions. You don't like it, exactly, but at least it's honest. (And at least he's not beaming all the time, reminding you of--)
"Most humans," he continues gently, "Have at least two names--a surname, and a given name. You'll need both to join the Order officially."
You don't have a choice about that either way--but the more time you spend out in the world like this, the more you've begun to realize that your best chance of finding what you're looking for is back in that hateful place. Maybe that's why Tiedoll's not in any rush to drag you off: He knows you'll give in eventually. (Or maybe it's that anger. Maybe he would've torn the whole place apart too, just like--)
"You can choose anything you'd like," he continues. "That's your right. But I have a suggestion. I think it'll suit you."
-
It takes a year before you're willing to set foot in that place again.
Visions of lotus flowers bloom alongside every step you take towards the entrance, visible only to you. Your gaze no longer lingers on them. You look at no one as Tiedoll leads you through the halls, but you wonder, cynically, what will happen to them when they're no longer useful.
(You wonder how many lives Alma saved with his rampant destruction. You know that wasn't his intention. This massive building would've devastated him, the same way it infuriates you.
You hate this place and all it stands for. But you have a promise to keep, and no other reason to live. So.)
They ask your name in a farce of civility. You reply tersely, Kanda Yuu.
-
Nine years later, you grit your teeth, pulling a pillow over your head to block out the cacophony around you. You still hate this place--but you haven't found what you're looking for yet, so you're stuck. You go out on solo missions as much as you can, but Tiedoll is still very much the doting type (disgusting), so you can't avoid him now. Ugh. Annoying bastard gave you a name that he doesn't even use--
(--But you trust him, and respect him. He's earned that much from you, even if you'd rather die than say so.
Wonder of wonders: You don't actually hate all the people in this room, either. Half of them are like you, after all: Stuck here with nowhere else to go, bound for reasons that have nothing to do with the war, or loyalty to God, or whatever else Central uses to justify its atrocities. That's not to say you like them, because you really, truly don't like most people, (you can't, not after--)
Anyway. You don't hate them. But you do wish they'd shut the fuck up.)
That's the name of the man who finds you and Marie. Looking back, you suppose it was inevitable; it was a miracle you made it out of the lab in the first place, and you suspect that half the reason it took so long for anyone to track you down is because they had to count all the bodies Alma left behind.
There was no way you two could last long, though. Your blood brought Marie back from death's door, but he's still blind and wounded, and you're (7 months no-- 8 years old-- no 35-- no) more-or-less a child, startled by the vastness of the sky and the crispness of the air. You don't know the first thing about survival--in the lab, you never had to try.
Beyond that, you're exhausted to your very soul. You can barely manage the messy memories and hallucinations swimming through your head, let alone the hole in your chest at the thought of Alma, his blood on your hands, your name on his lips--
--Anyway, you were never going to survive alone.
But Tiedoll doesn't make you go back right away, and Marie coaxes you into putting up with him. He's kind to you, but not in the way the researchers were kind--all placating smiles and awkward indulgences before they hooked you up and pushed your body until it broke. Tiedoll is calm against your fury, and patient with your ignorance. He watches your palm heal when you carelessly cut yourself peeling an apple (they grow on trees, apparently, you'd never seen a tree before), and you don't think the anger in his eyes is directed at you.
So you wander with him, all over the world, as far from Laboratory 6 as you can get. Marie stays too, for a while. Marie is the one beside you when you wake up screaming, utterly feral in your grief--you are too volatile to touch, but his voice is soothing, and his music drowns out the echoes of Alma's laughter, of his flesh hitting the floor around you. Eventually, Tiedoll stops making himself scarce during these episodes. You grow to tolerate him, and... well. Trust is far too strong a word for how you felt about anyone back then, but it's the closest thing to what you were capable of.
"Yuu," Tiedoll says, one day. You hunch your shoulders. You've been watching an animal (a rabbit, it's called) cautiously make its way through the grass, and you don't tear your eyes away when he speaks, but he seems to know you're listening. "Would you like a new name?"
You'd expected him to make one of his usual comments. Something about nature, probably--the sound of last night's rain, or the color of the flowers in this meadow. You blink, slowly turning your head.
He smiles at you, soft, a little sad. You can't decide how you feel about how open he is with his emotions. You don't like it, exactly, but at least it's honest. (And at least he's not beaming all the time, reminding you of--)
"Most humans," he continues gently, "Have at least two names--a surname, and a given name. You'll need both to join the Order officially."
You don't have a choice about that either way--but the more time you spend out in the world like this, the more you've begun to realize that your best chance of finding what you're looking for is back in that hateful place. Maybe that's why Tiedoll's not in any rush to drag you off: He knows you'll give in eventually. (Or maybe it's that anger. Maybe he would've torn the whole place apart too, just like--)
"You can choose anything you'd like," he continues. "That's your right. But I have a suggestion. I think it'll suit you."
-
It takes a year before you're willing to set foot in that place again.
Visions of lotus flowers bloom alongside every step you take towards the entrance, visible only to you. Your gaze no longer lingers on them. You look at no one as Tiedoll leads you through the halls, but you wonder, cynically, what will happen to them when they're no longer useful.
(You wonder how many lives Alma saved with his rampant destruction. You know that wasn't his intention. This massive building would've devastated him, the same way it infuriates you.
You hate this place and all it stands for. But you have a promise to keep, and no other reason to live. So.)
They ask your name in a farce of civility. You reply tersely, Kanda Yuu.
-
Nine years later, you grit your teeth, pulling a pillow over your head to block out the cacophony around you. You still hate this place--but you haven't found what you're looking for yet, so you're stuck. You go out on solo missions as much as you can, but Tiedoll is still very much the doting type (disgusting), so you can't avoid him now. Ugh. Annoying bastard gave you a name that he doesn't even use--
(--But you trust him, and respect him. He's earned that much from you, even if you'd rather die than say so.
Wonder of wonders: You don't actually hate all the people in this room, either. Half of them are like you, after all: Stuck here with nowhere else to go, bound for reasons that have nothing to do with the war, or loyalty to God, or whatever else Central uses to justify its atrocities. That's not to say you like them, because you really, truly don't like most people, (you can't, not after--)
Anyway. You don't hate them. But you do wish they'd shut the fuck up.)