Sunday, Week 5 - Lenka; Post-Trial

[killtheanimals]

[Mitsuru's had some time to calm, though he's still sitting in his tree, his eyes are still red, his face still damp from earlier tears. He isn't sobbing at the least, which is a vast improvement, and the beyblade Boa gifted to him prior to the trial remains in hand, clenched tight between his fingers. His black robes are wrapped around him in spite of the heat, helping him to blend in with the dark of the trees, intended from the start as a symbol of mourning.

He didn't think they would be for mourning his best friend in this place.

Still. In spite of the dark thoughts filling his head, he's not completely oblivious to his surroundings. When he hears someone approaching, he jerks his head to see, heart rate picking up in a moment of fear - what if he's to die, too? - a spell on his lips, if unsaid.]

Comments

[soylentprotag]

[He's not going to go further and force him to eat or drink; he trusts in Mitsuru's innate pragmatism to eventually realize he needs the minimum to keep himself going, and if it's broken for longer than expected Lenka can check in on him later. As long as he isn't falling out of trees, they're still golden, or at least bronzed.

He doesn't know the details of how Mitsuru deals with death, the death he's dealt with -- but he knows the effects, and the results here in how he's strode across the weeks that have rained down on them, lifting his feet effortlessly over the corpses until they stopped moving here. There come, always, the corpses you can no longer just step over. The faces you remember not just in dreams but the ones you carry with you no matter how far you go.

He doesn't know the details of Mitsuru and Boa's relationship, either. But he knows how often he sees them together, the way Mitsuru thanked him for Boa's life, something he hadn't thought anything of at the time. The way Boa's hackles went up in a split-second the second he even suspected anyone of looking at Mitsuru funny.

There's a hole opened here, that won't be patched.]

But you don't feel it.

[His voice is soft, thoughtful, as he settles himself in for the count.]

[killtheanimals]

We still have three more weeks of this.

[It's almost a growl, not helped by the state of his voice.]

...I've grown tired of this.

[He doesn't want to have to keep pushing on like this anymore. Three weeks, which should be a relatively short time, feels like it's stretching out into eternity.]