Dream ♠ o14
Warnings: Mild spoilers for Eureka Seven, implied death. Oh, and HTML abuse.
Dream Effects: A generous heaping of guilt and self-loathing, mostly.
Filter: None.
(Hollow words befitting of a hollow man.)
There’s laughter-spiteful, empty laughter.
“What can you do?” Anemone asks, still laughing, and Dominic has no answer.
Laughing-
What can you do-
Then-it changes. The laughter doesn’t stop even though Dominic wishes it would, but the tone gradually changes-from a girl’s to a man’s.
He recognizes it all too well. It's a poisonous voice, ensnaring him in its grip and he just wishes there was some way to free himself.
And then-it ends, with a whisper:
“Off
with
her
head.”
“-I give up! And if you do too, I…” Grieving words, shouted by a hurting child. And the one they’re directed to?
Renton’s far from in the best condition-he still needs the support of nearby crates just to stand, and yet-
“… But I can’t. I can’t, and I don’t think you want me to,” he says. “I don’t either. Giving up’s the last thing I want to do.”
Really, Dominic can empathize with him. But there’s a failure that rests on his shoulders, a painful reminder of what he understands now-a lesson Renton needs to learn.
“You should listen to the boy-” the first time he’s spoken since the child’s speech “-You have limits, Renton. Accept them.”
He has the scars to prove that he did all he could to protect Anemone. He believed and believed and tried to do it with everything he had-
-but believing and trying aren’t always enough, and they don’t mean anything if one doesn’t succeed.
“I, too, have been a fool… thinking, somehow, that I could save Anemone without anyone’s help. But I couldn’t.”
He couldn’t,
couldn’t,
couldn’t-
-So why did he think he could this time?
“I don’t know,” he admits, because he just doesn’t know. “Because I thought that comparing Vincent to world destruction, even if it was Vincent, was ridiculous, I guess.”
He was a fool. A complete and utter fool.
“… But it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t protect her.
His own advice not taken, a promise broken again and again-
-A head on the floor, and he throws up.
(If we were to take away sweet little Anemone in the dead of the silent night, I do wonder what would be left behind. Sir Dominic.)
---
[Dominic wakes up to Gulliver, who's sitting on the bed, making what could probably be interpreted as a concerned sound. Smiling softly, Dominic pats it on the head.]
... It's all right. I'm all right...
Dream Effects: A generous heaping of guilt and self-loathing, mostly.
Filter: None.
(Hollow words befitting of a hollow man.)
There’s laughter-spiteful, empty laughter.
“What can you do?” Anemone asks, still laughing, and Dominic has no answer.
Laughing-
What can you do-
Then-it changes. The laughter doesn’t stop even though Dominic wishes it would, but the tone gradually changes-from a girl’s to a man’s.
He recognizes it all too well. It's a poisonous voice, ensnaring him in its grip and he just wishes there was some way to free himself.
And then-it ends, with a whisper:
“Off
with
her
head.”
“-I give up! And if you do too, I…” Grieving words, shouted by a hurting child. And the one they’re directed to?
Renton’s far from in the best condition-he still needs the support of nearby crates just to stand, and yet-
“… But I can’t. I can’t, and I don’t think you want me to,” he says. “I don’t either. Giving up’s the last thing I want to do.”
Really, Dominic can empathize with him. But there’s a failure that rests on his shoulders, a painful reminder of what he understands now-a lesson Renton needs to learn.
“You should listen to the boy-” the first time he’s spoken since the child’s speech “-You have limits, Renton. Accept them.”
He has the scars to prove that he did all he could to protect Anemone. He believed and believed and tried to do it with everything he had-
-but believing and trying aren’t always enough, and they don’t mean anything if one doesn’t succeed.
“I, too, have been a fool… thinking, somehow, that I could save Anemone without anyone’s help. But I couldn’t.”
He couldn’t,
couldn’t,
couldn’t-
-So why did he think he could this time?
“I don’t know,” he admits, because he just doesn’t know. “Because I thought that comparing Vincent to world destruction, even if it was Vincent, was ridiculous, I guess.”
He was a fool. A complete and utter fool.
“… But it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t protect her.
His own advice not taken, a promise broken again and again-
-A head on the floor, and he throws up.
(If we were to take away sweet little Anemone in the dead of the silent night, I do wonder what would be left behind. Sir Dominic.)
---
[Dominic wakes up to Gulliver, who's sitting on the bed, making what could probably be interpreted as a concerned sound. Smiling softly, Dominic pats it on the head.]
... It's all right. I'm all right...