( catch-all )

[tzaraisen]

Who: Percival (tzaraisen) & Others
What: April catch-all, including aftermath things
When: April
Where: Places
Warning(s): will warn appropriately

Comments

[almaredemptoris]

[Jean Valjean is as easy to catch as a ripple moving across the water's surface, slipping away as soon as one reaches out to touch it. Because too much solitude invites rumor and suspicion, he curates a public life to make himself just visible enough to others while keeping to the people's peripherals. He picks up odd jobs to carve out a living; takes long, winding walks about the city with no daughter at his elbow; and gives alms to the poor with little regard for the fact that, with his impressive life's earnings lost, he ranks among them, but always taking different routes on different days of the week. He little expects the hand placed upon his shoulder. His muscles tense. His eyes when he turns are sharp, the eyes of a man ready to preserve himself. When he sees who has stopped him, however - the realization of it striking like a cast stone - he blanches. His expression goes slack and his voice hollow.] Percival? But how--? How can this be? [Here is the man whose soul had fled his body while gathered in Jean Valjean's own arms. The man for whom he had so fervently prayed, and for whom the innocent Clair had so earnestly wept.]

[tzaraisen]

[ Ah. Perhaps he should have given his approach to finding and confronting Jean Valjean more thought. It was… likely incredibly distressing and confusing to face someone who’d died before your eyes fully healed and living again.

He leans back and withdraws, as if he means to give Jean Valjean some space. ]

I would say your guess is as good as mine, but unfortunately, I have learned the reality of just how powerful our Natha Orbiter saviors are.

Don’t worry. You aren’t seeing a ghost, and your mind is perfectly healthy. I wasn’t the only one who was revived, evidently.

[almaredemptoris]

[He knows not what to think, and thus knows not what to say. Life and death are under God's jurisdiction alone, these tools too potent for man's hands to wield and too mysterious for his mind to comprehend in full. That the Natha Orbiters have developed the means by which to usurp such power troubles him. No man, no matter how good his intentions, can play the part of God with impunity. Yet it remains an indisputable fact that these men are his saviors, and the tongue that gives gratitude can hardly be the same tongue that gives censure.] I am glad to see you well. [This he can say with certainty. The color returns to his cheeks, the sturdiness to his voice. What he cannot say is that he lay a part of the blame on himself, for not arriving soon enough to salvage Percival; that he prayed daily for this man's soul, which he feared was lost.] When did...you return?

[tzaraisen]

Physically, at least, yes. I was not the only one to be revived, either.

[ It was especially unfortunate that one of the people he'd found in the stasis units, newly awoken like himself, was a young teenage girl. ]

A few days ago, though I have avoided going out in public until now. But I needed to search for you, so that I may express my gratitude towards your kindness in person.

[almaredemptoris]

[His eyes bend downward as it remains difficult to reconcile the living, breathing man before him with the one who had gone cold and limp in his hands, the corpse lodged firmly in his memory. Yet he can scarcely imagine the terror that douses the spirit of one who has tangled with death. In reassurance he offers a ghost of a smile.] I could not leave you there. If there is some way I might help, then I must at least try. That is all.