Till [Alien Stage] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foreversembrace) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sticksandbones2025-11-10 05:06 pm
foreversembrace) wrote in sticksandbones2025-11-10 05:06 pm
Entry tags:
Forget everything and just enjoy it [OPEN]
Who: Till and YOU!
What: Till returns from the garden after dying during last month's event
When: Start of November
Where: Various Places(tm)
Warnings: N/A, will edit if needed
[Till pays little mind to the ghosts currently haunting the Grove. A vision of his past self is nothing compared to that of the person he watched die. The facsimile of the person who would end up killing him.
He'd lost the scarf Mizuki gifted him in the scuffle. He remembers how Ivan ripped it off his neck, probably torn and bloodstained...it would be no use for him, now. It does mean that his neck is no longer covered, the brand not just out in the open, but visibly marred now thanks to the suspiciously human-like bite scars surrounding it. Just knowing they're there makes him want to tear at his throat, so he manages to find an older face-mask he'd used when he first got here to cover himself up. It'll do until he can find something else.
Part of him wonders if people noticed his absence. He knows some would, like Mephisto and Flamebringer who were well aware of what happened (the latter more than the former), but the rest...they wouldn't have known where he went. He could have just as easily been stolen back to the Segyein, a fate worse than death. Yet, he can't find it in him to reach out to let people know he's okay. He doesn't want to announce that sort of thing, it feels...weird.
He can't find his voice.
So, Till keeps to himself the first few days. He stays back at the house with Jibang, Mephisto, and Faust, and he allows himself time to recover mentally and physically. He hadn't lost a limb, and he's pretty sure he hadn't forgotten anything...ugh, his head is swimming with too many thoughts. He decides to relieve some of the anxiety by picking up his guitar to play. Not to sing...just to play.
...it's then that he learns he cannot. He can't remember the notes. He can't recall where his fingers should sit on the frets. Even when he tries to force himself to play something, it comes out awful and out of tune, like he's never held an instrument in his entire life.
The revelation is akin to having a cold bucket of water dumped over his head. He shouldn't...care this much about something he was bred to know how to do by the aliens who kept him, but being able to play, to write music was the one thing Till felt like he really had. This was his. It COULDN'T be taken away.
And now it's gone.
...he stays home for a while longer, not sure what to do. Maybe the house residents will notice how strange it is. How silent Till's room is, until he eventually has to leave and get outside, to not be there. He ignores everything else and everyone who might be there, instead making his way to the Inn building. He manages to scramble up to the rooftop somehow without eating shit and falling off, and there he sits with his arms wrapped around his legs.
He'll be up there for a while.]
What: Till returns from the garden after dying during last month's event
When: Start of November
Where: Various Places(tm)
Warnings: N/A, will edit if needed
[Till pays little mind to the ghosts currently haunting the Grove. A vision of his past self is nothing compared to that of the person he watched die. The facsimile of the person who would end up killing him.
He'd lost the scarf Mizuki gifted him in the scuffle. He remembers how Ivan ripped it off his neck, probably torn and bloodstained...it would be no use for him, now. It does mean that his neck is no longer covered, the brand not just out in the open, but visibly marred now thanks to the suspiciously human-like bite scars surrounding it. Just knowing they're there makes him want to tear at his throat, so he manages to find an older face-mask he'd used when he first got here to cover himself up. It'll do until he can find something else.
Part of him wonders if people noticed his absence. He knows some would, like Mephisto and Flamebringer who were well aware of what happened (the latter more than the former), but the rest...they wouldn't have known where he went. He could have just as easily been stolen back to the Segyein, a fate worse than death. Yet, he can't find it in him to reach out to let people know he's okay. He doesn't want to announce that sort of thing, it feels...weird.
He can't find his voice.
So, Till keeps to himself the first few days. He stays back at the house with Jibang, Mephisto, and Faust, and he allows himself time to recover mentally and physically. He hadn't lost a limb, and he's pretty sure he hadn't forgotten anything...ugh, his head is swimming with too many thoughts. He decides to relieve some of the anxiety by picking up his guitar to play. Not to sing...just to play.
...it's then that he learns he cannot. He can't remember the notes. He can't recall where his fingers should sit on the frets. Even when he tries to force himself to play something, it comes out awful and out of tune, like he's never held an instrument in his entire life.
The revelation is akin to having a cold bucket of water dumped over his head. He shouldn't...care this much about something he was bred to know how to do by the aliens who kept him, but being able to play, to write music was the one thing Till felt like he really had. This was his. It COULDN'T be taken away.
And now it's gone.
...he stays home for a while longer, not sure what to do. Maybe the house residents will notice how strange it is. How silent Till's room is, until he eventually has to leave and get outside, to not be there. He ignores everything else and everyone who might be there, instead making his way to the Inn building. He manages to scramble up to the rooftop somehow without eating shit and falling off, and there he sits with his arms wrapped around his legs.
He'll be up there for a while.]
no subject
It's fine. I get it. Fear makes people do... irrational things sometimes. I've seen it a lot on the battlefield.
... Why does he scare you so much?
[ Apart from being a dead friend(?) It didn't seem all that scary. It feels like he represents more than what Faust can tell at surface level. ]
cw: suicidal ideation
[One that he, honestly, hasn't told very many people. He hates talking about the stage, because he hates having to relive it. Others have seen it against his will (thanks for the memory sharing Suri he hates you too), but other than that...
He rests his chin on his knees, his brows furrowing.]
When he died, it was a situation where one of us was going to, no matter what. There was no way around it.
And I wanted it to be me.
[...]
But he made sure it wasn't.
no subject
[ Vague as hell thing to say. ]
I died ensuring Mephisto had a safe escape from a battle we were in. The situation kept deteriorating, and it was the only way I could see that didn't involve unnecessary sacrifice.
[ But sacrificing himself... was probably more than Mephisto could bear. It didn't feel like there was another option, though. ]
I'm sorry you were in that position, though. It's not easy to deal with.
no subject
Is that not crueler than a swift, easy death? At least...Till is relatively sure the Segyein would have at least made it quick. He's never seen someone die very slowly, up on the stage.]
...and you considered sacrificing yourself not unnecessary?
no subject
[ Mephisto was desperate, he can hardly blame him for being scared in a situation where they were otherwise certain to die, but he couldn't condone Mephisto cannibalizing their men for fodder. It wasn't working anyway. ]
I promised him a long time ago that I would protect him no matter what. And I did.
[ There was more to it. He didn't feel like explaining the details of him infecting himself to live and die alongside Mephisto, or the whole affair with Mephisto's descent into paranoia and cruelty borne from not being able to trust anyone.
He blames himself for all of it, but he could never ever hate Eno. He loved him too much, and he could still see the sweet, kind person inside him even if he was warped to everyone else.
Perhaps it was selfish on a couple different levels, but... ]
I couldn't let Mephisto die.
no subject
The only reason Till is fine telling his own story is because...well, it's his. That, and the other person involved is no longer alive to tell it himself.
His brows furrow as he looks down at his own hands, and he says nothing for what feels like a long while.]
I guess I can understand that. Even knowing how it would have made him feel.