[ Has Lavi ever seen Don Quixote so quiet and still? She sits there, back rigid at a coffin that also says 'Don Quixote', except the figure in it is a tall man, with long white hair, clad in red, a strange golden branch piercing through his chest. She gives a tiny hiccupping sound]
...Father...thy...this is not thy true form, is it?
he doesn't know what to do when women cry around him; he was useless before when he still had a proper physical body and now that he doesn't, it's even worse. and given the added situation, he feels like he's witnessing something he shouldn't.
(though he doesn't feel as guilty as he thinks he should be.)
with a soft "ahem" and clearing of his "throat", lavi will make it over towards don with "flowers" seemingly in his hands. or, at least, it'll look like a shadow silhouette of flowers. ]
...it is all a twisted illusion, is it not? [She looks up, rubbing her face. She's not ashamed of her tears. But her heart feels heavy knowing she doesn't even remember how he had come to be like this]
And yet...I can't help but be caught up in it, even knowing better.
[ oh, to see her rub her tears away and simply be a shadow (or potentially car) makes the fact that he's just a simple shadow that much worse. intangible in every way and unable to interact with anything. ]
Knowing that it is, doesn't make it any easier, I imagine.
[ he'll slide over closer to the coffin that she had been crying over to get a better look. you know, since it'd help to contextualize things. ]
You can tell yourself a bunch of things but sometimes the heart will just believe what it will regardless of what the mind says.
[The man in the coffin looks nothing like Don Quixote. But if Lavi looks closely, he'll see the skin around the man's eyes twisted and mangled, as if a mask had been burned into place there, once upon a time. There's no missing the guilt in the living Don Quixote's eyes, as she presses her forehead to the coffin]
Verily...thou speaks with wisdom. 'Tis is not real...yet, I remember him looking like this very clearly. I remember the guilt that burned away my dream and awakened my memories. I had...abandoned him in his time of greatest need. [Nevermind, she had been forced away, lead away with Bari's aid and Don Quixote's command] But he still saw me as his Child, his little 'Sancho'. This is a reminder of how I hath sinned.
[ lavi doesn't know what to say not simply because this is a situation that he's ill-fitted for but he has a vague remembrance that the last time he tried to speak about this he only made it worse for someone.
(who was that person? what did he say that time?)
so he takes his time to allow don to explain herself fully and to feel the weight of her confession. the very real guilt that she still feels and allows to haunt her. eventually, he'll come to a conclusion and take a leap. ]
At least you are alive right now to talk about him. If he saw you as his child then it'd only be natural that he would want you to be safe.
[ ... ]
He'd probably would want you to keep on walking forward, sins and all.
[The words bring warmth to her even though he doesn't know the truth of the matter; that Don Quixote had tried to lure his wayward Sancho back to his side, after breaking under centuries of torture. That he had trapped all his other Kindred to keep humanity safe, yet that had frayed his control in the end.
That Dante and the others had spoken true, and brought a sliver of light back into Don Quixote they believed in.
And she knew her father well]
...Forsooth. When mine father was at his brightest, he was only ever capable of wishing and wanting the best in all his Children. Even the ones that betrayed him. The one that abandoned and forgot him, despite carrying a shard of his dream.
I wish he was alive to hear the things I wanted to say.
[ not me looking at this pc and what is going to happen in week 3. not at all...the irony of this and the woe as me for not being able to keep up with things. nevertheless, lavi is going to be mindful of what she says here about her father and how she describes him.
he could almost pity a man who was that kind. ]
I don't know what the afterlife is like in your world, but maybe there is a way that you can get your message to him.
[ hmm. ]
I've met a people that wrote letters to those who have died and burned them when they were done; they believe that the destroyed letters will be able to reach them in the afterlife.
[:) the irony is deep but at least Lavi will get to Know. The ache eases for just a moment. If she could apologise for whatever it was that was missing...]
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...Father...thy...this is not thy true form, is it?
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he doesn't know what to do when women cry around him; he was useless before when he still had a proper physical body and now that he doesn't, it's even worse. and given the added situation, he feels like he's witnessing something he shouldn't.
(though he doesn't feel as guilty as he thinks he should be.)
with a soft "ahem" and clearing of his "throat", lavi will make it over towards don with "flowers" seemingly in his hands. or, at least, it'll look like a shadow silhouette of flowers. ]
You...shouldn't trust everything you see here.
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And yet...I can't help but be caught up in it, even knowing better.
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Knowing that it is, doesn't make it any easier, I imagine.
[ he'll slide over closer to the coffin that she had been crying over to get a better look. you know, since it'd help to contextualize things. ]
You can tell yourself a bunch of things but sometimes the heart will just believe what it will regardless of what the mind says.
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Verily...thou speaks with wisdom. 'Tis is not real...yet, I remember him looking like this very clearly. I remember the guilt that burned away my dream and awakened my memories. I had...abandoned him in his time of greatest need. [Nevermind, she had been forced away, lead away with Bari's aid and Don Quixote's command] But he still saw me as his Child, his little 'Sancho'. This is a reminder of how I hath sinned.
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(who was that person? what did he say that time?)
so he takes his time to allow don to explain herself fully and to feel the weight of her confession. the very real guilt that she still feels and allows to haunt her. eventually, he'll come to a conclusion and take a leap. ]
At least you are alive right now to talk about him. If he saw you as his child then it'd only be natural that he would want you to be safe.
[ ... ]
He'd probably would want you to keep on walking forward, sins and all.
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That Dante and the others had spoken true, and brought a sliver of light back into Don Quixote they believed in.
And she knew her father well]
...Forsooth. When mine father was at his brightest, he was only ever capable of wishing and wanting the best in all his Children. Even the ones that betrayed him. The one that abandoned and forgot him, despite carrying a shard of his dream.
I wish he was alive to hear the things I wanted to say.
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he could almost pity a man who was that kind. ]
I don't know what the afterlife is like in your world, but maybe there is a way that you can get your message to him.
[ hmm. ]
I've met a people that wrote letters to those who have died and burned them when they were done; they believe that the destroyed letters will be able to reach them in the afterlife.
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[:) the irony is deep but at least Lavi will get to Know. The ache eases for just a moment. If she could apologise for whatever it was that was missing...]
...but it sounds like a beautiful custom.
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Isn't it?
I like it a lot, too. It gives people the chance to get closure for anything that's unresolved.
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Mmm. Like messages in a bottle? I hath read stories about such things before. It seems freeing.
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Yeah, something like that. Why not give it a shot?
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[She brushes herself off]
'Tis a tragedy I hath left my writing tools back in mine dormitory. Will thou accompany me?
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I can't help with any sort of writing, but that shouldn't be a problem. [ hmm. ] Would you want a ride back? I can change into a car, if you'd like.
[ just not allowed in the driver's seat. ]
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[Excitement, lets goo!]
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[ ... ]
Though there's only one person who can sit in the driver's seat.
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[ into the passenger seat she goes??]