tushanshu_logs | [OPEN] Il nous reste toute une vie pour pleurer

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[OPEN] Il nous reste toute une vie pour pleurer

Characters: Midii Une & Anyone who comes across her
Date: backdated to March 28 (~~One Year and~~ 6-month 'versary of the day Malicant killed a few baby turtles)
Location: A small memorial set up just outside the city.
Situation: Midii Remembers the times before the Final Battle

Warnings/Rating: Talks of depressing subjects such as war, death, loss, etc etc. Basically, this is not meant to be a happy log.

On that day, Midii wore black.

She was normally quiet to begin with, but there was a noticeable aura of solemn about her. Hair combed until it was slick straight, only partially concealing her eyes as it fell down her shoulders in twin waterfalls of blonde. Face, washed. No makeup--she had never learned how to apply it properly, even as she came of age where many girls might have begun to take an interest.

Her first stop was to see a florist. Normally, flowers would have been an unnecessary expense. Even on Valentine's Day--they were pretty, yes, and sometimes they even smelled nice. But with her limited resources of money, she could never justify the cost. Except for today. She would have been remiss if she'd gone without a small bouquet of carnations and forget-me-nots. The flower of Remembrance.

If anyone where to follow her, they would notice her steps were deliberate. She wasn't wandering around the city aimless. It would be a long haul to make it all the way out of the city, but she never once stopped. Not even to eat. She wanted to make it to the site before it got dark.

Once there, she approached the grave marker with little hesitation. Her eyes scanned over every inch of it, trying not to think about how long it had been. How she should have been back sooner. The flowers were placed at its base, and she took the time to lightly run her fingers over it before calling out, softly:

"I'm sorry, Emily-Helen. You shouldn't be here. You should be with Riva and the others. Alive and Happy."

Were anyone to approach, she wouldn't feel ashamed. She wouldn't feel frightened. She wouldn't even shut herself off.

And if anyone were to ask...she would tell them.

Because Emily-Helen and the other baby turtles deserved to be remembered.

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Zelgadis had his own reason for visiting the grave. He'd brought incense and something to eat, and a book, and from the expression on his face, hadn't been expecting to find another person present. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

There was little surprise that someone else would be there, though she did question the inventory he carried with him. Eyeing it curiously for a time. (Who brought food and a book to a gravesite? Sure, they could be for wherever he intended to go afterwards, but they were so far out of the way to begin with.)

"It's alright. That's what this is here for, right? For people to visit...and remember."

"Especially on an anniversary," Zelgadis said. "I should have expected the others would visit here."

To be honest, he'd forgotten how many of them were left. Five had died, each with a single parent, and Zelgadis had assumed everyone else had gone home.

Zelgadis would make four, that she knew of, if Midii included herself in the count. Off the top of her head, there was also Bakura and Enjorlas. At least one of whom should also have been here today. Not that she was complaining for her current absence.

"Riva's still alive. I can feel her, just barely." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to divulge that much, but she did. Words as much for her ears as for his. "But...I knew Emily-Helen. She and Riva were close."

Zelgadis nodded. "All of the turtles were close to some extent, though I know they had friends."

Friends, yes, though--at least, as far as Midii knew--those mostly consisted of fellow Turtle Parents. Names came to mind. Most of them gone now as well. Not dead, just...gone.

"It was hard not to be their friend."

Zelgadis nodded. "They didn't have a ounce of guile in them." Which was the worst part. Five of them had died in fear and pain and Zelgadis wasn't certain any of them had understood why, or why their parents couldn't come save them.

"...I wouldn't say that, exactly."

It was with a smile she said this, however, thinking back to some of the ways Riva had demonstrated just that. She'd been a clever girl. Even more so as she got older and became more aware of not just the world around her, but the emotions she'd constantly glinted off her turtle parents.

Midii, more than once, had fallen victim to her (harmless) ploys. Frustrating at the time, but now, she looked back on those days fondly.

Zelgadis's lips twitched in what was almost a smile. "I mean, they assumed most people would be their friend. I think, even if we warned them, they didn't grasp that someone would try to hurt them."

Given how much the city had found them to be a sign of hope, it wasn't unreasonable.

Tell me about it.

She thought back to past conversations, and how Emily-Helen had always tried so hard to keep the peace. That was the kind of person--er, turtle she had been.

"They had no reason to think anyone would have hurt them at the time. We didn't know."

"We knew Malicant would try to kill them, just not how," Zelgadis said.

"...I didn't." Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid. "I mean, I knew there was always a chance that somebody would be after them. We were supposed to protect them, after all. Keep them safe. But...when it happened, I was completely blindsighted."

"I sure didn't know Malicant could strike at that scale. Because it'd never done anything even remotely like that."

"No, he hadn't. Everything until then was...almost subtle. Hidden. But that time, it was right on display for all of us to see. He wanted us to see. To scare us."

"To make us despair instead of challenge him." It hadn't worked. Zel had grieved, had hated himself for being too weak, had started to wonder if it had been his own hand once he'd learned that the boon he'd asked for was Malicant's doing. But he hadn't given up.

"He should've known that would never work, though." Midii had seen true despair. Long before the death of the baby turtles. It made people angry. And when people were angry, they were more likely to rise up and fight. "Maybe he wasn't as clever as he thought."

"Maybe we rushed him," Zelgadis said. "Or he was afraid that the turtles would figure him out eventually."

"It doesn't matter now, does it? We figured him out."

"No, it doesn't."

"Apologizing seems a little pointless, so far after the fact," Bakura said, catching the quiet words as he stood behind her. Not too close, but close enough.

He hadn't intended to come out here today... it had been largely by accident, actually, that he'd even realized the date. He hadn't been slumbering in the Dreaming with the others for the missing year; time was skewed for him. Even after he'd realized it, he'd debated. He'd only been to the little pyramid once, after it was completed. He wasn't really the memorial type.

But a lot had changed, and he didn't have anything left to lose by giving it a chance.

"She'd tell you that being sad isn't a good way to remember anyone."

Emily-Helen had always been precocious, like that.

She should have known.

In fact, despite her initial reaction at hearing his voice--a visible tensing of the shoulders, stiffness to her frame--Midii wasn't all that surprised. Maybe that he had remembered, given the difficulty she'd had in tracking down the actual date. But if she had been able to do it, then so could he. His presence here and now was proof enough of that.

Apologizing seems a little pointless.

Part of her wanted to scream. If he was here to mock her sentimentality--

She'd tell you that being sad isn't a good way to remember anyone.

...oh.

"There is no good way to remember someone." She didn't turn around to face him, keeping her eyes focused on the memorial. It helped to even her temper, and remember why she was here. Not for him. For her. "If you have to remember someone, it's because they're gone. And that is sad."

"Remembering them is the good way," Bakura replied. "They say you can die a second time, if everyone who knew you, forgets. At least she won't have to worry about that."

"Unless we leave here."

Because Midii knew what was said to happen. She would return to precisely the same moment, all those years ago, on the battlefield. Eleven years old once more, and without a single glimmer of Keelai memories. The same as any individual who disappeared from the city.

He can confirm the return, although it's entirely possible that has changed now, with Evastelei dead and the Dreaming plane's antics in charge of their arrivals and departures. Bakura doesn't agree that the entirety of Emily-Helen's memory is bound up in the Foreigners alone, but it's an insignificant point to argue.

"Ha'tip es, Auset em hotep," he said instead, moving past her to place a hand on the dark stone. The Ring, visible atop his shirt, chimed faintly; he was forcing the words to remain untranslated, against the magic of Tu Vishan. Not because he wanted to obscure their meaning from Midii or anyone else, but simply because they didn't sound right to him in some other language. It's got an odd cadence, but it flows well together, and it sounds actually rather beautiful.

"Seheru es t'ai em re uat'ek. Taa-nek hora'k er Amenti, sehet'k taiu; sat'eriu a'ha er maa-nek; tepa-sen mehu em seba."

It had been a long time since Midii heard a language unfamiliar to her ears. With the translation effects in place, everybody normally spoke either French or Japanese. So when Bakura started to speak...

She didn't interrupt. Not once. It wasn't her place; much as she had loved and adored Emily-Helen, she had been Bakura's baby. He had even more of a right to be here than she did.

"What does it mean?"

Curious as to how he had managed to speak so much, wondering if he knew the words wouldn't be translated.

"Something that has little context for you," the thief replied, pulling his hand back from the stone. "But it asks a goddess' protection for a journey from a dark place to a bright one, and for finding those who went before once there."

"...a prayer, then."

His was a faith different than hers, if he was praying to a goddess, but...of all the things to judge him for, that wouldn't be one of them. If anything, she was impressed. Maybe even a little humbled, that such a moment like this could bring out that side of him.

"I don't...it's been a long time since I've been able to pray. I'm not sure I remember any of them."

He shrugged, his mouth thinning slightly. "I suppose you could call it such," he replied neutrally. He didn't think of them like that; prayers were what Ryou had offered, night after night, to his dead mother and sister. This was something different, to Bakura at least. This was more a sign of respect.

"What's there to remember? If you want to talk to your gods, just talk. Wouldn't they hear the same prayer words repeated a million times? It's not like they need a refresher on them."

"God. Singular. There's only the one."

In hindsight, she vaguely wondered if he would interpret that as a comment on his beliefs, rather than simply informing him that hers was a monotheistic religion.

"Then there's really no excuse, you can't even end up aiming for the wrong one," Bakura answered. It seemed he hadn't taken her clarification personally.

Instead, his hands slid back into the pockets of the light jacket he wore, and he turned back toward the city.

That's not the point. She almost argued.

Instead, Midii did something she never thought she would. She took Bakura's words to heart.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered shut, the last image burned into her retinas being that of the monument. Her lips slowly began to move of their own accord, reciting a series of words that were too silent to hear. She stumbled over them several times. Improvising at will. At one point, brows furrowing together in concentration. Or as if she had come across a particularly unpleasant thought.

When she was finished, she lifted a single hand and placed a soft kiss on the knuckle of her right index finger. From there, she lightly touched it to her forehead, chest, and either shoulder.

"Va en paix." Just as they had with Bakura, her spoken phrase came out in French only. Untranslated.

By the time Midii opens her eyes again, Bakura has left the memorial's immediate vicinity and is starting the walk back to the city's main gate, though he hasn't gotten too far yet. He hadn't intended a long stay at the grave-marker (he hadn't intended any stay) but he doesn't begrudge anyone the privacy to pray, for as little as he actually respects gods in general.

It wasn't about respect for gods, no matter how many (or few) there were to choose from. It was about respect for the memory of those they had lost.

On some level, she figured Bakura had gotten that, and when Midii opened her eyes again, she was hardly surprised to find his shadow missing from her side. Though his presence still lingered. Which was why, instead of turning around to look for him just yet, she made a show of reaching out one last time to touch the memorial. Letting her fingers just graze the surface before slowly moving to get up.

She turned to leave. He could either follow or stay. It made no difference to her.

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[OPEN] Il nous reste toute une vie pour pleurer

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