Re: log: cemetery - revenant and misha
"Honey, you got folks in your life still? Folks you talk to and care 'bout? If you do, and I know you got Claire, at the very least, then holidays are for them. You're being selfish, and I know you ain't meaning to be, but it is selfish to live only for yourself. You reckon you're saving lives and sparing folks, but what 'bout the folks close to you? What 'bout them folks that have you as their last remaining tether to what they lost?" Misha asked, quiet and simple and the night still holding the warmth of its previous glow. He was just a boy sitting atop a gravestone, but there wasn't no hint of doubting in his voice, no warble to his words.
"I might ask him," he said of Damian and wedding. "But it ain't the most important thing. I'm committed just the same, with or without, and so's he," he said, and there was the fervent belief of the real young in his voice. His trust in this one thing was unshakable, and a paper would be nice, but it wasn't the paper that mattered. "See, I don't reckon we need a paper to call ourselves wed. I'm his and he's mine, and there ain't a thing in the world going to come between us." He smiled some, did the youth on the gravestone, on account of he could just imagine his daddy rolling his eyes upon hearing that, or Janus looking at him, at Misha, like he didn't know his head from his asshole. But that was all just fine, on account of he knew what he felt, and he believed whole and entire that Damian felt the same.
He looked at the claw David raised, but he didn't flinch back or show no surprise. "You made that. It wasn't given to you by nobody but you, honey. You ain't got a divine purpose that comes with killing folks. No one has that. It ain't actually how Heaven works. It ain't how Hell works, neither, if you're wondering." He shook his head. "All you hear is what you think you hear. Real truth, it don't matter to you. What matters is the truth you painted for yourself. It's a cause, honey. It's the reason you given yourself for getting up each morning, but that's all it is." Softer: "No one wants to die, David, but this is about you, not about her. All this, it's 'bout you and coping. It ain't 'bout her. She's long gone, and you ain't doing this for her." Another shake of his head. "I wouldn't kill folks to bring him back, seeing as that don't work, honey."
He didn't answer 'bout who was there, seeing as who was there would either make themselves known or not. And, David wouldn't be able to look on them anyway. So, he let David take his hand, and he knew what David would see: Nothing tangible, nothing solid and like living. Warmth, golden, all 'round, the feeling of it. It wasn't a place so much as a sensation, and with it came a real intense feeling of love. Just real transcendent, and nothing dark or black, no desire to hurt anyone. Just the sensation of wanting to help, and it wasn't something foisted onto David. It was just what Misha felt in that moment, sitting on that gravestone.