Once upon a time, there was a cave, and there was a tree.
Oh, that's not how most people like to start to tell the story. The thing about telling stories is that it's often easiest to start from the ending. From tumbling down cliffsides and rings of cactus and dying just barely out of reach of your king, just barely after him. Of things constantly burning, of the first time being the first to die, of bunkers in the desert and a group of five standing around an enchanting table, waving a flag. Of clocks, and betrayals, and things that weren't actually betrayals (even though they seem like they should be), of firing squads--
That is not how the story starts.
It doesn't even start with a creeper, although I would guess if you asked them about it, more than one of them would probably say it did.
No, if I were to tell the story, I would tell it like this:
Once upon a time, there was a cave. Everyone had gathered in it, with crafting tables and beds. They were being attacked by phantoms. They're chatting about how to solve the phantom problem, because they are friends. They step outside to kill the phantoms, because they can, and because it's funnier, and because they don't know how to be afraid yet.
Once upon a time, there is a tree. It grows right under one of them, trapping them in its branches. "Help!" she cries out. "What's happened?" Everyone scrambles to help cut down the tree together. When she escapes, they all agree it was a close call. It would be awfully silly, they think, for someone to die this soon, and besides, aren't they all working together?
They go back inside and they laugh. They are all green. None of them have an idea of what happens when they aren't any longer. They are all happy.
This changes. It also doesn't.
I start this story with the tree because they all, together, agree that the tree is ridiculous and silly, but all help to cut it down anyway. I start this story with the tree because by the end--
Well. My point is that the tree is a far happier story, in my opinion. My point is also, maybe, that starting with what it would become, well, that won't do at all. Starting with the part of the story that's sad, dramatic, ridiculous--that rather misses the point.
The point is that it started with a cave, and a tree, and everything else came collapsing down after it. It's easy to bury the memory of a time it would be safe to all hide in a cave together, laughing, and save one another from a tree.
It does not do to forget.
910 notes
·
View notes
BACK ON MY INVINCIBLE MLP CROSSOVER JOY!!! I love this crossover smmmm, my soul is happy, cured even, treated of all possible ills. For Andressa's species, instead of relying on a horn for magic (which they don't have), every filly is bestowed a gem for magic! AND, because I want it, Oliver has some winks to Andressa's designs with the swirls on his legs mimicking the lines on hers, sharing a thinly tail, tiny little bumps like spikes, and the curls sorta kinda maybe like her antennae (if you squint and believe, which you should). Andressa and Oliver ilysm. Best purple pony on the planet tbh, sorrry not sorry Twilight Sparkle :/
Bonus drawing of Oliver trying to practice magic by lifting a sheet of paper, he's trying his best, ok???
188 notes
·
View notes
Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.
Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.
She'd never not remembered, is the point.
Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.
Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.
Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.
But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"
Grian stares at her a moment.
"You know, I guess not?" he says.
"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."
Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"
Good enough.
She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:
She moves on.
1K notes
·
View notes