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boun ward: finale | requiem
“...That is it, then. We are settled.”
Marianne looks at all of you, then….
Gives the nod to Sugar, summoning the few of you who chose to leave before her on the table.
Her voice is kind:
“It has been my pleasure to assist you. I hope you all take to heart what I have said, what you have done here. I hope your rest is a peaceful one, when the time comes.”
And Madeline looks up, a little sheepish:
“...And thank you for not making a huge deal out of it--”
“Madeline.”
“...Right, right. Of course, Madame Director. I suppose … this is good-bye… and take care, okay?”
With that, Marianne’s head tilts to the ceiling.
And the small group collected before her -- Sugar included -- rise up to the sky -- floating, turning iridescent--
Shimmering -- shimmering like the cosmos and made up of twinkling dust and space and stars--
-- shimmering with boundless potential, with the threads of fate and time unraveling around them -- a choice to go back, to make things in their own images -- forsaking the ineffable plans of the universe itself -- bold, courageous--
-- to those left behind, seeing only the remnants of glittering starlight in the space before them, what did they perceive? Do they understand the lasting looks those that left gave to each other, to you? Fated to remember, fated to know the ending of all things, fated to understand what they could never speak of, what could never be believed?
Cassandras, they’ve made of themselves. Their voices shut to the truth of all things for the remainder of their earthly lives. But with that limitation, the gain could be immense -- or….
Or….
A piece of stardust might turn into a black as deep as obsidian, left behind on the table; a shard of remembrance.
Possibilities play on its reflection -- infinite potential realities; realities with you falling in love with someone you met in high school; realities of saving the world; realities of meteor strikes and famine and mass calamity; realities of world peace and technological impossibilities and new babies and grandparents holding your hand for a final time--
Do you pay it any mind?
Can you?
Because Marianne seems to pay it no attention, her eyes skimming over the rest of you with infinite kindness.
“Well. Let’s get started on those residences, then.”
A shift to you -- compelled, now, by the forces of Prix’s world--
Paws pad out of the board room -- wings aflutter -- maybe one or two of you gives a little hop--
And maybe one of you casts your eyes behind you, lingering on the table -- on the shards of obsidian with reflections that dazzle and dance and play and unsettle and--
-- and Madeline gently rests her hand on your newly furred -- or scaled -- or feathered -- shoulder.
“Hey… it’s alright.”
Her eyes are kind.
“They’ll be alright, too. We’ll all be. We all always are.”
Her smile is bittersweet.
“Welcome, by the way. I’m really excited to work with you.”
[BOUN ANIMA: WARD END]
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final vote | adrien emerson, folklorist
How much had been said? Between the here and now, between the lines and lives they'd lived - or the lives their other selves still lived... How many of those words came together to form their stories in this place, in this time?
Dawson - no, Adrien - was thankful, for the end of it. Though he'd always stubbornly pushed his way through what he felt he must until now, there was some part of him that gave instead. Gave, rather than took. Accepted, rather than denied. Lived for himself, rather than chasing the lost life of someone else.
And perhaps that is what helped him make his choice.
Adrien looked around the boardroom one last time, watching the faces of his silent peers as they made their own votes, trying to read their thoughts. Trying to send his own to them. A silent thanks.
To Konstantin, who taught him that his choices should truly be his own.
To Yukako, whose thoughts he could never predict, but respected all the same.
To Ume, who fought until the end - who, for all her stubborn and selfish ways, was still as compassionate as he thought she was, that first day on the playground.
To Yuu, who gave him trust, gave him patience, gave him love - gave him a chance. A man who loved with every fiber of his being, who stood by his side, who he would care for endlessly.
To Megumi, to Raizou - to Kaori, to Chris, to Sabrina - to Cricket, to Ashe, to Catherine - to Marit, to Fumiko, to Caelia - to Max, to Marrs, to Ana.
There were not enough words, not enough time.
Adrien Emerson places his vote.
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Final Choice || Violet, Lilac, everything in between || Megumi
Of course this decision was never going to have a quick answer. They were told as much with the time they were given, but Megumi still wasn’t used to being given the time to stew.
She was thinking about Naoya again for the first time in what felt like ages. Rather... to be fair, she thought about him almost always. It just came smuggled under layers of denial, sanitized, hidden behind a wobbly smile. But he was always there. The only difference was that now there was a face to put to the feeling.
It was the little things- a laugh, the tone in a conversation- that brought her back, and at first she had to admit she found it frustrating dredging up those feelings. Slowly it had been taking shape, and it wasn’t until she had settled in and watched that video that she knew why.
It was something about… well, where to start?
Sitting down, Megumi had thought to herself: it’s only natural to want to go back after everything. You know, keep fighting. Try again. Make everything worth it in the end. It’s a golden opportunity, and she knows she would never preach otherwise under any other circumstance.
It became the point of work. Living to always seize the next opportunity, moving forward so fast that the only thing in sight was the goalpost.
And she would keep going, and reach as far as she could until Saturday came, and air turned to smog, and her face went white, and maybe they’d have to drag her out of the office by the elbows, and even then she knew it would never be far enough. She’d just never be enough.
It was so stupid. She wonders just how long ago she lost the plot of it all.
So when Megumi had been arms-folded-over-knees on her third, fourth, whatever runthrough, watching her father pick up the pieces of her apartment, pawing through articles, finding order to what she cast aside, and she was wiping away tears on her sleeve, it felt silly how, hm… confusingly obvious it was.
Whether she goes back or stays, it can’t make up for the mourning she hadn’t done, and it won’t make life any easier to grapple with. But her own family still thought of her. Offered her an olive branch. And if she can’t keep running from what she can’t be, maybe she, then, needed to be there for the loved ones she still has.
Perhaps it’s time to stop measuring herself by her failings, and by the perseverance of others. don’t Maybe it’s okay- enough, even- to just stop and enjoy where she is, no matter where that may be, not needing to justify why. Maybe that’s its own opportunity. Would that be the obvious choice?
“I’m very sorry, but I have to stay as well.”
She nods softly toward Ume and to Raizou, and leans back into her chair. All the breath in her body circles and flows smoothly, but she’s still winding a finger through her hair- restless. It only starts here, after all.
She can’t resist feeling a sense of ease in her own way, even through the somber few goodbyes and the anxiety of the week just piling up like it has, it’s filed in the right place, so to speak. And Megumi’s never been one for eloquence, but that’s exactly what doesn’t matter right now.
Her only remaining comment, with a little laugh,
“Well, um… Kick ass out there.”
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YOU WANT TO BE HEARD || TAKARA || FINAL DECISION
As the votes roll in one after another, with the majority of their cohort voting to stay, Takara finds themself stuck.
They came into this meeting knowing what they wanted, yet they can’t help but doubt, but hesitate, but question their decision, fearing that it will lead to regret.
Their first reaction to the choice presented to everyone was to return to life. Why wouldn't it be? They can still remember that crushing feeling that had come over them upon finding out that they were dead, stealing the breath from their lungs and threatening to suffocate them. They had always wanted to make the most of their life, but-
What was left for them to do?
Her dream had been to design cybernetic organs for mass production, making them available for organ transplants. The biggest challenge and ultimate aspiration had been a heart, a fully functional cybernetic human heart, but her fear of blood had kept her from pursuing it.
And after her death, one of her coworkers had discovered her blueprints and made that dream a reality, cementing her legacy in the medical community. And if that was done, what was left?
But more than that, more than all of that-
Takara had spent her life fleeing out from underneath the shadow of her father in a feeble attempt to prove that, unlike him,
she was a good person.
She thought that she'd be trying to prove that to herself forever, until the screen in she and Yuu's room had flickered to the image of her funeral, crowded with those her work had saved. And at the forefront, giving a eulogy, was her mother.
Her mother, whom she hadn't spoken to in years, whom Takara had thought would always see her as her father's daughter.
Even now, just thinking of it is enough to bring tears to her eyes.
But she wipes them away and clears her throat.
Logically, cerebrally, she knows that there would be little left for her to do if she went back. Compare that to the afterlife- she could help others heal for an immeasurably long stretch of time, saving generations upon generations of people whom even the pinnacle of medicine could not rescue.
Not to mention the fact that if she went back, she would be alone again.
Everything she'd done here, every step she had taken towards emerging from her shell and showing herself to others, every bond she had made- it would all disappear, and this time, not even Yuu would be there to keep her company.
And she didn't think she could handle that. After so long in solitude, this place had finally pushed- no, had finally _allowed_ her to connect with others, and throwing that away for aimless ambition would likely break her.
It's rare that her head and her heart are in unison.
But that's what allows her to solidify her vote.
She'll stay.
And she'll make things better for everyone who passes through here.
But this time, it won't be to prove anything to anyone else-
No, this time, it's for her.
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CROSSING WAVES | MARRS | CHOICE
It seemed to Marrs that she and the others were suspended in deep water, on the verge of descending into a trench so dark that not even she could see the bottom. They could either stop struggling and choose to go deeper into that heavy blackness, or strive to stay afloat, knowing that some day they would sink like all the rest.
Marrs couldn’t say that she hadn’t seen the decisions coming. She had spoken with others, the majority of which indicated their plans to stay behind, but it was still an incomprehensible choice to her. She had witnessed the aftermath of her death and knew that nothing terrible would occur simply because she ceased to exist in the mortal realm. Her crew was in capable hands. The ship was undergoing repairs. Maybe someday, even more of her people would land on this planet. Maybe they, unlike her, would be able to completely make peace with living on an imperfect star that bore only passing resemblance to their real home.
Then why go back?
The answer came quickly to her: because Marrs had always struggled to live. Everything for the sake of living. Years of toil and strain to become a pilot, and even more time spent hurting through a wormhole to Earth -- all to ensure that no matter the cost, she would survive. Not as a ghost, nor as a Reaper, but to survive in a place that she knew, alongside her own species. Together, they were going to survive.
So what did it matter if she was not needed? Was her existence defined only by how useful she was? Once she fulfilled her goals, was she expected to simply let go of the world that she had worked so hard to reach?
Marrs glances around the room, her gaze lingering briefly on Max, Cricket, Konstantin, Sabrina, the rest of her crew...
“I am leaving.”
Marrs gurgles, locking in her choice. Regardless of whether or not she had outlived her purpose, she was going to keep swimming.
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basil: we've got to move on
This was the first time, in a long time, he needed time to think.
And time he had! Not too much time, but it was enough. Enough time to speak, to humor, to strategize- to plan, even. Each agreement he made with himself was another barb he felt the urge to pry out. It was painful to admit to some truths that their rooms had made plain to them.
Cedric would be better off without him, something he had known for a while now anyways- quietly admitted only to himself. His brother had genuine talent for the Wardens, a fact that had separated them since birth. Max was just a useful grunt to them, and even that had worn out in time.
Even if his brother had proven to be annoying- a perfectionist, hard working, faultless, intelligent annoyance- he would miss him. He'd miss him a lot. And he'd miss being able to tell him that he appreciated him, and that mom would have liked them, if they had ever met.
Britt was the harder one to say goodbye to. Who'd he become without her? He couldn't begin to comprehend how many of those Summer days spent roughnecking in the woods, becoming bonafide teen-venturers, would instead have been him being beat down in the Arizonian sun, cursing his own bloodline.
...perhaps he wouldn't have thought of it as a bloodline, at least.
So when it came down to choosing: to returning or staying, the choice- originally one fraught with difficulty, wore down to a simple answer.
The truth was, he would miss his family and friends, but they didn't need him. His presence in their lives would wither in the same way theirs would. He would become a fleetingly warm memory, occasionally turned to with the small prying of a smile, but nothing more. In becoming that to them, they too would become something more to him- memories. Memories of laughter, of bitterness, of excitement, of anger- memories he could proudly, finally say were his.
So, the choice was obvious.
He didn't want to say goodbye yet, after all.
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Sabrina presses to decline the offer, and chooses to return to her own universe.
Recorded.
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Sabrina | [...] that I used to know
When the choice had first been presented to them (after she accepted it was viable and not a trick) Sabrina was aware that not everyone would choose to go back. Some had made their peace with death, some felt there was nothing more for them there that they could have here. But the more she talked to the scant few she came across, the more surprised she was at the ratio of people who sought to stay.
It was to the point where she almost faltered, or at the very least considered the alternative. Was it strange to go back? To turn back the clock? When others stood in their own rooms, watched their own TV’s that spelled out plainly that 10 years had past, and figured that even without them things were okay, things would be fine for those they loved and that if they were to return that was uncertain...
Was she a terrible person for not thinking of that at all?
Maybe so.
Sabrina Park was 26, only 26 when she died. All she saw when she looked upon the events that lead up to 2035 was wasted opportunity.
‘If I go back. It is just for myself.’
So said Marrs and Sabrina agreed wholeheartedly. There was so much more she had to give to the world, to prove to the world--she couldn’t stand to be just a footnote in the lives of everyone she knew. Sure some would carry her loss harder than others-- her parents, her brother, Mina, apparently Avery-- but to most? She would be a tragic story, talent gone too soon, and maybe a decade later a foundation or a scholarship would be named after her but like hell would she be satisfied with that-- to be looked at with pity posthumously by peers she promised to prevail over was not worth presiding over other people’s purgatory.
Even when she gave it a chance, a half a thought, imagining herself as an animal guide leading lost souls on group therapy or supervising their panicked foray into violence, she felt just as she did stepping into the classroom those first few weeks of university-- uncomfortable, that she didn’t fit, didn’t belong. Perhaps the Sabrina who had earned the promotion with her bloody track record had chosen this path when she had no other options, but the Sabrina who stood here now, cargo pants with too many pockets and turtleneck feeling tight, was offered an alternative.
And she was going to claw onto that path and drag herself along it no matter where it may lead.
‘I’m not done.’
The mantra voiced by her now ex-roommate echoes in her head as Caelia makes her official statement to stay. She’s heard her side, and her reasoning and it makes sense. The same is for Yukako, Kaori, Konstantin... all expected. Everyone’s votes, some silent, some accompanied by a statement, were all expected; and yet now that she can see their choices, the consecutive decisions to STAY, STAY, STAY, they feel weightier than she expected.
They’ve made their choice, and she’s made hers.
It’s only after she locks it in that she takes a proper look around the room. Throughout this entire process, she’d known their paths would diverge, but now that there’s no going back it hits a bit harder. She’s said her goodbyes. Soon enough, Sabrina would be saying new hellos to those same faces behind which were total strangers, who shared no history of a fuschia terror park. On some levels, that was good. Objectively-- it should ALL be good. And yet, she couldn’t stop some modicum of wistfulness curl around her brain. So she glances once more around the room, right to left.
Occasionally, she lingers. On the director who she shared an unusual kinship with, who she hopes will be able to relax on her own terms. On the docent with whom no favor could go without terms and conditions to disguise consideration, except for the very last one. On the captain who had flung her into a situation she didn’t want-- but who she felt understood her goals the most. And of course, the woman who made her want pull her hair out, who drove her up the wall in every way possible.
No one had asked her to stay, no one had even considered her choosing otherwise. And there was something she could appreciate in that, in being comprehended as she was in a way that many people back in her universe did not. But to Sabrina, there was more to an existence than being surrounded by people who understood you.
Time to give this second chance everything she had.
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THE CHOICE | YUU | ハッピーエンド
Over these past few days so many people said to Yuu, ‘You’re staying, right? Because of Adrien?’ And every single time he felt this urge to clarify, to put his decisions into better words even though, fundamentally, they were correct. And those facts would remain unchanging no matter how he worded it. And yet he didn’t feel like those simple words reflected his heart. How monumental this decision was despite how early and easily he made his choice. How much he’d be giving up, and how close he came to choosing life if his circumstances had been any different.
Ever since he beheld the grisly scene of his father’s death so many years before, Yuu had developed a debilitating fear of death. Blood. Injury. Everything that came with it. He had a good career, and a brother and sister-in-law and niece and nephew that he dearly loved. He would have absolutely jumped at the chance to come back to life after a horrible killing game.
And yet…
And yet.
He had spent his life chasing something he felt was missing. Even though he had a good career, throughout those endless plane flights, those many hotel rooms, those countless rehearsals…he felt lonely. A longing. The thought of an artistic legacy didn’t fulfill him as much as the thought of having someone of his own. Someone who would love him, have a family with him. Someone who’d be waiting there at the finish line of his international career peak. He always fantasized they would settle down in a little house surrounded by gardens. Marital bliss…
It was a special kind of despair to go and go and go and perform in play after play after play, only to have his love life squeezed into the gaps in his schedule fail and fail and fail. Yuu had died with his spirit close to breaking, worn down by relationships that never lasted more than a few months and marriages that never lasted more than a few years. Aoi had told him he was too much, and Maruba had tormented him for not living up to what she thought he was. He died really fearing there was something wrong with him.
But then…
They were all right. In the end, it was Adrien. As nasty as their dynamic started out and as nasty as the killing game closed out, there was that beautiful time right in the middle where Yuu felt the closest to fulfilled that he ever had. Once they finally allowed themselves to understand each other, their true compatibility shined through. And most importantly… Adrien wanted someone who would stay. And Yuu wanted someone who would never leave. Their dreams felt so possible if they could only stay together…
And that was why Yuu couldn’t stand to live in a universe where Adrien wasn’t his Adrien. And his Adrien agreed to take the leap. The only thing that could hold Yuu back were the loved ones he’d leave behind.
And then…on those television screens…
He didn’t know if what he saw was the definite future or just possibilities, but either way he was assured that the untimely death of yet another Sagara man would not break the clan. He saw flashes of hope laid out like patchwork upon a quilt. He saw his brother getting back on his feet with their mother’s long overdue support, his niece and nephew growing into their own and thriving…
It was all he ever wanted for them.
Yuu had watched those screens covering his mouth and crying, the same as he is hovering above his voting panel right now.
They would be okay.
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i've left behind my calluses | kaori | "choice"
Kaori didn't have much of a choice. Not really.
She couldn't name the last time she'd really been given a choice when it came to the matters of her own life. If pressed, she might say some time before she was sixteen, but even that would feel uncertain, half-hearted, because she didn't know if even that was true. It felt as if life had ripped her along by a leash for as long as she could remember.
Because she never got to choose, did she, whether she'd be a werewolf or not. That was a truth passed down to her; it was the albatross tied around her neck that acted like a collar, like a noose, that pulled tighter and tighter with the years. She never got to choose whether that was a weight she wanted to carry. She never got to ask for breathing to come easier.
And the things that followed because of that one simple inheritance of hers—they didn't feel like choices. Maybe from the outside, that's how they looked; she chose something, nose pointed in one direction or the other, and she hit the ground running regardless of where that direction took her.
But that wasn't how it felt. Not to her.
Because when necessity bled into every little action you took, there was no such thing as choice anymore.
She didn't choose to drop out of school in order to work. She didn't choose to learn how easy it was to smuggle products out the front doors of stores. She didn't choose to learn the intimate languages of violence and survival. She didn't choose to know what flesh and fur tearing under teeth felt like. She didn't choose to find a way to justify murder to herself.
She didn't choose to find how stained one person's hands could get.
None of them felt like a choice. They felt like the only answers offered to her; they felt like the world dragging her along by the throat; they felt like what she had to do.
And others disagreed. They pushed. They insisted that she had a choice. That she always had a choice. That there were options that weren't the ones she had engaged with. That there must be something better to do for her.
And maybe there was. She could concede that, now, if only a fraction. Maybe there was something better for her. Something warmer. Something kinder. Something that wasn't this.
But when had any action she had ever taken been for her own sake?
So she could understand the pushback she received when she told others her plan, because hadn't everything she'd done up to this point been to live? To get back to her family? Hadn't she heard that aching howl, that eternal cry from them: come home, come home, come home.
She wanted to. She wanted to. She wanted to go home.
But when necessity bled into every little action you took, there was no such thing as choice anymore.
So Kaori walked into the conference room for the last time and, with little hesitation but instead with shaky hands that didn't suit her, she hit the button that would lock her into her future—one void of a collective of barked laughs, of warm hugs that were so tight they ached, of brushed back hair and swats at her hands and a quiet murmur, in spite of those swats, of thanks.
Kaori wanted nothing more than to see her family one last time. She wanted the right to say good bye in a way that stuck this time. She wanted to be something more in her family's remaining lives than a breeze that always felt too warm for the season. She wanted to see them growing older while she did too. She wanted to be needed by them—
But she wasn't. Not anymore. And that was her truth, even if it left her floating and directionless.
They didn't need her anymore. They were okay without her.
She needed to let them go. She needed to tell them good bye.
But a careful glance to her left side—to look, from the corner of her eye, at the man who had done far too much for her, and who kept coming back in spite of the things she'd done, and who kept insisting she consider herself for once; the firefighter who did little more than fuel a fire in her rather than try to extinguish it, who pulled her along to find the small pleasures the world had to offer, who reminded her that sometimes the world knew how to be kind; the friend who dwarfed her in size but never made her feel small, and she knew so well how that felt, to feel small, to feel myopic, to feel like very little in the world cared for you or the ceaseless thrashing you offered the world back in kind—and she could recognize, at least, that she was not saying good bye to her entire family in that moment.
And maybe that could be enough. Maybe that could be a start. Maybe, as her arms crossed and her frown morphed into something gentle and soft, and as she closed her eyes and laughed quietly at herself, Kaori could let herself consider that next time, whatever came, it really would be her choice.
She could like that, she thought. The idea of having a choice all her own.
She could like that.
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