Mm.... Fox told me that as well, though from what I understand it sounds like there's a price in order to make it happen.
[so that's not like.
great.]
I'm not sure... I'd heard that someone received a message last week that wasn't obscured - so I wonder... if we all possess the app now, will they come through clearer?
You are nine years old, and you are breaking into your father’s grave.
Not by accident, but by design.
Darkness provides cover for you to break into the royal family’s mausoleum, where your father was entombed along with his father, and his mother, and all the royals before him. Your father, who was originally meant to be king, before he was passed over by his younger brother; your father, who did not care for rank and wanted only to serve his country; your father, who would not die in an accident.
Kye-sook’s story sits with you – what the man witnessed with his own eyes. Even as you muscle open the coffin with your small hands, with your hands who are dirtied by this act of desecration, you think about what your father would have wanted. What he would have thought, if he could see you now.
“If we don’t apply our reasoning with efficiency to swiftly arrive at answers, the country will be ruined.”
The people are saying that Lord Yu-hon died by accident. An eyewitness said that he was murdered.
To swiftly arrive at an answer, the simplest way would be to check the corpse.
Your father is broken.
His body is mangled, bloodied, and torn. His skin is cold and ripped in places where tree branches punctured him upon his fall. He is not your gallant father, who would tell you to beat your colds into submission, or lavish you with praise when you finished another book.
At first glance, it would look like an accident.
You turn him onto his back.
It takes time, but your fingers eventually run across it – a wound that is in the middle of his back, the incision wide and deep, of a blade that ran through his body.
You think of what Kye-sook said he saw. The report that he gave to you before you entered this place, and the words exchanged by your father and uncle.
Uncle Il will entrust this country to gods he has never met, and hope that will be enough to serve the people.
You think of the strategy books you’ve read as a child. Economics, agriculture, trade, war strategy – all necessary items to consider in the ruling of a kingdom. There are no chapters on the gods providing rescue.
You hope that Uncle Il’s rule is fair, and he will wake up from this dream of godly rule.
You lay your father back into his resting place, you don’t cry.
(You want to cry. Your mother hasn’t stopped crying since the day your father was taken. You have to be strong for her, who has become so afraid – you want to go back to vibrant days, but if they’ll never return, you have to give vibrant days. You know you can’t cry. You know you can’t cry.)
[ . . . . of all things, for some reason, he didn't expect that. the sadness clears from his gaze - mostly. it lingers in the corners of his eyes, but when he faces blanca, he's mostly questioning.]
... for what?
None of that was any fault of yours. If anything, I brought it upon myself since I wasn't watching where I was going.
[against a rogue bubble.]
It's... just politics.
[and a young boy who had to solve the problems of the adults who came before him.]
[By the expression on his face, it looks like he disagrees. He's so tired of children having to accept such cruel things, like they always have, maybe even like he has.
Very carefully, he lifts his hand and stretches it out to try to touch Soo-won on the shoulder.]
You don't have to trivialize something that causes you any grief.
[he looks a little surprised when the hand falls on his shoulder, even a little bit confused by it. for what reason is someone offering him condolences? probably only because...]
... you're a kind person, Blanca.
[and his expression just turns a little bit more rueful]
... I have no interest in trivializing my father's death. It caused me pain, along with deeply hurting my mother - as far as I can recall. I love him, and I miss him. I wish I had more time with him.
.... but it was my choice to examine his body. That is something I decided to do, so I cannot accept condolences for it.
[The hand doesn't really rest there when he finally touches Soo-won. In fact, it pulls very gently, he he brings Soo-won forward to him so he can give Soo-won a hug.
he'll let him - but he's obviously a bit perplexed about it. he stiffens up in a way that lends itself more toward confusion than it does aggression or defensiveness, a bit of awkwardness that comes with receiving affection from someone else.]
You aren't obligated to offer any kind of response. Thank you is enough.
[He can already tell Soo-won has not grieved, but sort of buried it and moved forward. It happens to a lot of people, some by choice, and some not by choice.
He can't begrudge Soo-won that, though he does wish Soo-won was given the time to mourn.]
It--
[The bubble is sneaky, a little sneakier than Soo-won's before. It comes up on him from behind, and he's so broad in the chest, Soo-won might not see much of it, and he certain wouldn't facing the way he is. As soon as it pops, he understands what will happen.
[The perfectly landscaped grass crunches beneath his feet. It isn't extremely hot, but the shade from the trees on the elaborate estate feel nice, and he goes on through to the other side.
It's really not as grievous as Soo-won's, but there are some things which only make sense with greater context. It leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, not because of their interaction, but because of everything else.
soo-won is startled when the memory comes, if only because he didn't see the bubble coming. he thinks about the interaction between the two, finds himself curious about the nature of accents and whatever baseball is, but ultimately.]
If you had asked me before, I'm not sure if I would have admitted to that... but, you're right. In a way, he's important to me. I taught him for a few years.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I don't know if it is related, but Fox confirmed those who have been removed can be revived.
[He says this as if he isn't sure Soo-won already knows completely or not.]
I thought the middle portion of your letter was related to that information, but thinking about it, I don't think it is. Perhaps.
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[so that's not like.
great.]
I'm not sure... I'd heard that someone received a message last week that wasn't obscured - so I wonder... if we all possess the app now, will they come through clearer?
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[About the price. GOD.]
I guess we shall have to wait for replies to find out.
[1/3]
[and he'll move to turn, though as he does so - a bubble suddenly appears at the corner of his eye. he doesn't move fast enough in order to dodge it]
no subject
You are nine years old, and you are breaking into your father’s grave.
Not by accident, but by design.
Darkness provides cover for you to break into the royal family’s mausoleum, where your father was entombed along with his father, and his mother, and all the royals before him. Your father, who was originally meant to be king, before he was passed over by his younger brother; your father, who did not care for rank and wanted only to serve his country; your father, who would not die in an accident.
Kye-sook’s story sits with you – what the man witnessed with his own eyes. Even as you muscle open the coffin with your small hands, with your hands who are dirtied by this act of desecration, you think about what your father would have wanted. What he would have thought, if he could see you now.
“If we don’t apply our reasoning with efficiency to swiftly arrive at answers, the country will be ruined.”
The people are saying that Lord Yu-hon died by accident. An eyewitness said that he was murdered.
To swiftly arrive at an answer, the simplest way would be to check the corpse.
Your father is broken.
His body is mangled, bloodied, and torn. His skin is cold and ripped in places where tree branches punctured him upon his fall. He is not your gallant father, who would tell you to beat your colds into submission, or lavish you with praise when you finished another book.
At first glance, it would look like an accident.
You turn him onto his back.
It takes time, but your fingers eventually run across it – a wound that is in the middle of his back, the incision wide and deep, of a blade that ran through his body.
You think of what Kye-sook said he saw. The report that he gave to you before you entered this place, and the words exchanged by your father and uncle.
“If you rule righteously as king, I’ll gladly swear my loyalty to you! I’ll dedicate whatever life I have left to you! But don’t clutch at a useless straw of hope in a position like yours!! Do you think you can entrust our country to the gods!?”
You know it then.
Uncle Il killed your father.
Uncle Il will entrust this country to gods he has never met, and hope that will be enough to serve the people.
You think of the strategy books you’ve read as a child. Economics, agriculture, trade, war strategy – all necessary items to consider in the ruling of a kingdom. There are no chapters on the gods providing rescue.
You hope that Uncle Il’s rule is fair, and he will wake up from this dream of godly rule.
You lay your father back into his resting place, you don’t cry.
(You want to cry. Your mother hasn’t stopped crying since the day your father was taken. You have to be strong for her, who has become so afraid – you want to go back to vibrant days, but if they’ll never return, you have to give vibrant days. You know you can’t cry. You know you can’t cry.)
There is no waking up from this. ]
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... oh.
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Soo-won is so young, and was so young.
Uncertain for a moment how exactly to broach this in a careful and less infiltrating way, he is briefly quiet.]
I'm sorry, Soo-won.
[For what happened, or for seeing the memory?]
no subject
... for what?
None of that was any fault of yours. If anything, I brought it upon myself since I wasn't watching where I was going.
[against a rogue bubble.]
It's... just politics.
[and a young boy who had to solve the problems of the adults who came before him.]
no subject
Very carefully, he lifts his hand and stretches it out to try to touch Soo-won on the shoulder.]
You don't have to trivialize something that causes you any grief.
no subject
... you're a kind person, Blanca.
[and his expression just turns a little bit more rueful]
... I have no interest in trivializing my father's death. It caused me pain, along with deeply hurting my mother - as far as I can recall. I love him, and I miss him. I wish I had more time with him.
.... but it was my choice to examine his body. That is something I decided to do, so I cannot accept condolences for it.
no subject
[The hand doesn't really rest there when he finally touches Soo-won. In fact, it pulls very gently, he he brings Soo-won forward to him so he can give Soo-won a hug.
Well, if Soo-won will let him.]
I'm sorry for your loss.
no subject
he'll let him - but he's obviously a bit perplexed about it. he stiffens up in a way that lends itself more toward confusion than it does aggression or defensiveness, a bit of awkwardness that comes with receiving affection from someone else.]
Mine...?
no subject
[Luckily, the hug is brief; he doesn't strangle Soo-won with too much of it. But he doesn't back away, or anything.]
It's what you say to someone when they've lost someone they cared about.
no subject
[said almost in an amused tone of voice but.
.... he just manages a tilt of his head even as blanca pulls away, almost wondering.]
... thank you for your sentiments. I wish I knew a better response to them.
[no one ever really gave him time to grieve, outside of the norm - they opted to put him to work on recovering the country almost immediately after]
1/2
[He can already tell Soo-won has not grieved, but sort of buried it and moved forward. It happens to a lot of people, some by choice, and some not by choice.
He can't begrudge Soo-won that, though he does wish Soo-won was given the time to mourn.]
It--
[The bubble is sneaky, a little sneakier than Soo-won's before. It comes up on him from behind, and he's so broad in the chest, Soo-won might not see much of it, and he certain wouldn't facing the way he is. As soon as it pops, he understands what will happen.
He just doesn't know what it'll be.]
no subject
There is a boy lying ahead in the grass with his head resting on some books.
It's really not as grievous as Soo-won's, but there are some things which only make sense with greater context. It leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, not because of their interaction, but because of everything else.
So he ends up frowning deeply.]
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soo-won is startled when the memory comes, if only because he didn't see the bubble coming. he thinks about the interaction between the two, finds himself curious about the nature of accents and whatever baseball is, but ultimately.]
... who was that boy?
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Ash. He is... a former student, I suppose you can say.
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He's the one that you have a doll of, right?
He must be important to you.
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[He looks back at Soo-won, smiling very faintly.]
If you had asked me before, I'm not sure if I would have admitted to that... but, you're right. In a way, he's important to me. I taught him for a few years.
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Why wouldn't you have admitted it...?
[though.]
... I suppose the interaction you had did seem rather complicated.
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I suppose he is, and he has been since I met him back then.
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... is there something that makes it hard for you to say confidently?
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I was his teacher for several years. And then I went back to the Caribbean after I was finished.
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Ah...
Do you feel guilty for leaving him?
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