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[OPEN] Inner Glow
Who: Angel and Y'all
What: Springtime shenanigans
When:Anytime between mid-March and the April Event
Where: Various
Warning(s): Mention of minor non-specific injury in first prompt.
1. Got to fill your cup and find the way out of your own maze [Temple]
Whatever one's reason for stopping by the Temple of Sacred Roots, there's a decent chance to find Angel there. Right now, he's doing a lot of cleaning that Degas hasn't had the energy or strength for--dusting high shelves and cabinets, taking down curtains to be washed, doing windows. After all, his beehives are mostly getting situated right now, so he has some extra time to turn to the physical space of the temple.
If you hear singing from where he's working, well. Yes, you absolutely do, but he'll pretend otherwise if called on it.
And perhaps you come on a day where Angel's sustained some minor injury, and there's an unmistakable golden glow as a cut or bruise heals. He does not bleed blood, but on sanctified ground, he bleeds light.
2. Now there's a category for every song [Flowers?]
Angel thought he knew what he planted on the farm, in terms of flowers. But something's popping up, especially near the beehives, that's unfamiliar. Pointed clusters of teal-blue flowers that seem eerily, perfectly bee-sized. It concerns him a little, which is going to lead to Research.
Perhaps you find him in the library, trawling through books about plants. Or if you're known to be a scientist or druidic sort, you're likely to be approached by Angel with a sample in hand. Either way, he's got some funky plants he doesn't yet understand.
3. Don't keep your aching, celebrating, wonder-making heart alone [Wildcard]
Find me on Discord to plot or just throw anything at me!
What: Springtime shenanigans
When:Anytime between mid-March and the April Event
Where: Various
Warning(s): Mention of minor non-specific injury in first prompt.
1. Got to fill your cup and find the way out of your own maze [Temple]
Whatever one's reason for stopping by the Temple of Sacred Roots, there's a decent chance to find Angel there. Right now, he's doing a lot of cleaning that Degas hasn't had the energy or strength for--dusting high shelves and cabinets, taking down curtains to be washed, doing windows. After all, his beehives are mostly getting situated right now, so he has some extra time to turn to the physical space of the temple.
If you hear singing from where he's working, well. Yes, you absolutely do, but he'll pretend otherwise if called on it.
And perhaps you come on a day where Angel's sustained some minor injury, and there's an unmistakable golden glow as a cut or bruise heals. He does not bleed blood, but on sanctified ground, he bleeds light.
2. Now there's a category for every song [Flowers?]
Angel thought he knew what he planted on the farm, in terms of flowers. But something's popping up, especially near the beehives, that's unfamiliar. Pointed clusters of teal-blue flowers that seem eerily, perfectly bee-sized. It concerns him a little, which is going to lead to Research.
Perhaps you find him in the library, trawling through books about plants. Or if you're known to be a scientist or druidic sort, you're likely to be approached by Angel with a sample in hand. Either way, he's got some funky plants he doesn't yet understand.
3. Don't keep your aching, celebrating, wonder-making heart alone [Wildcard]
Find me on Discord to plot or just throw anything at me!
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Angel sets up the candles, and then hands César the box of matches.
“Because it’s okay to grieve, it’s as holy as it is to live and to die and to grow.”
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"It feels like it'll strangle me, sometimes. But only feels. I'm not alone here like I was back home." César says quietly as he strikes the match. "I keep asking myself: can you be an orphan at 28?"
He gently puts down the box and uses his now freed hand to protect the flame as he goes to light the first candle, and then he smiles sadly. "... grief is holy. It's too bad the rest of the multiverse doesn't understand that."
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He pauses for a moment. "I lost everything the day they died, my old self, my entire family. My baby brother lost his memories, too. He's a different person. He's amazing. And I'm proud of him. But I lost five years of time in fifteen minutes. Rex isn't ten. He's sixteen. The entire world moved on without me, and back home, even before everything went to hell, I was... adrift. The world forgot me. Forgot my parents. It's like my grief has nowhere to go back home."
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His goal is to get César talking in more depth. He doesn't actually know what he's doing. But he's trying.
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He lights the last candle and blows the match out, then hands the matchbox back to Angel. It helps to talk about them. The way Angel asks, the way everyone asks here... it's about how his parents are still alive through him.
"They accepted my whole being. Made sure I grew up knowing I was loved and how to love everyone else. People like me... often get disconnected from others. Lose themselves entirely to their work. But I didn't. They made sure I knew family was important. When I did things that seemed strange, they asked me why I did it rather than condemning me. I... was happy."
His last part comes out a bit choked, and his voice is a bit strangled as he continues. "People here... they accept me as readily as my parents did. Especially Magne. I... could go on and on about her. ... ... ... My parents emphasized I needed to find someone who accepted my whole self. They were worried about me that way, too. I've always been a gentle man. The wrong person could take advantage of that if I was in the wrong frame of mind."
César looks up from the statue, rolling the extinguished match between his finger and thumb. "Not exactly a worry anymore. I think my parents might find peace soon. They might not need to worry about me soon."
He doesn't draw attention to the tears starting to slip down his cheeks. "I miss them."
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Angel looks at the candles, then sidelong at César.
"Do you think you'd be happier, if you didn't have the memory of them to miss?"
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"... going to say a 'no' to the amnesia being better. Without the memories of my parents... I would've just died, back home. I would've been lost, here." He drops his hand to rub at his arm instead. "... I see momentary sparks of their lives when I talk to others about them. And more than one person here has been comforting to know that there were good parents, somewhere, somewhen. Their memories aren't just for me."
He looks down at the match. "It's like this match. It's flame is out... but it lit many candles, and they still burn."
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Angel nods slightly, approvingly.
"Their love is something you get to pass on to others. It's good."
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A pause for breath, and then he can say so much more. "I can be the man Magne needs me to be because of them. But not just her. How to love people. How to be a source of safety and compassion. How to be a big brother and a friend."
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Practical concerns.
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He comes back with cold water and a hanky after a few minutes.
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"... sorry." He flashes a brief smile, then looks down at his wet hand. "Thank you. I-I could probably use the handkerchief first."
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This is how one gently teases an upset nerd.
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He dips a third or so of the handkerchief in water and washes his face off, just taking a moment to breathe. Just having someone around that cares for him helps. Extra that they've gone out of the way to help. César blinks a few more tears, surprisingly able to hold a conversation.
"It feels like I can survive losing them here. Back home... I'm slowly breaking."