lights will guide you home || Fairylights

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Soap really needed to be alone for a bit. However, after the stunt he pulled with Ghost, he might not ever get that alone time.


    "MacTavish... please... this can't happen again."


    He bit his cigar, remembering every death he had. The first from falling out of the clocktower in Prague, bleeding out. Then Shepherd, drowning him. Then Makarov, stabbing him just right so he couldn't breathe. This last time was an attempt, eating Foxglove in order to poison himself. Because he didn't deserve to live.


    He managed to get some alone time, surprisingly, even after the stunt he did, which caused Ghost to swat a pill in his mouth. It was nighttime, and he figured the lad was sleeping. He was laying on a small bed on the wooden porch, looking up and seeing what stars he could.


    Fairylights "SPEECH"TEXT


    --tags--



  • It seemed that John- her John- was none the wiser to the commotion that had happened in SunClan- someone attempting to change the balance of fate- the balance of life and death. Her spirit had been roused from the tendrils of death, something that SunClanners had never believed possible. They thought that when you died, Helios took your spirit, and there was nothing more. No heaven, no hell, just a blissful, permanent sleep. In the attempt to change that, however, Helios had lost his grip on the soul of Fairylights, but now, she was stuck. She did not recall what had happened, though after much time of wandering aimlessly, walking through the friends she once knew well, she knew in her heart that she had died. She was a spirit- a ghost, and nothing more. She was unaware of the attempts to revive her, knowing that she had been lingering for who knows why.


    Though she knew- at least thought she knew- that Soap would never see her, she wanted to see him, to see how the world had changed, to figure out how long she had been gone. The worlds between life and death were certainly an odd thing, like swirling mist in a shimmering curtain. She could see the world around her like a shimmer, a mirage, yet she knew it was a place she could no longer truly touch. The stars were bright, however, and her hooves carried her far across the territories, weeks of journey in the flash of a spirit eye, yet what felt like to her several years longer. Time didn't work the same anymore, though she did not yet know that, either.


    "John," she called out, having been standing behind him for hours, now, watching him watch the stars on the porch of his home. She had been trying so hard to get him to see her, and yet she didn't know how to. How was she supposed to make herself known? Her attempts to knock something over had failed- she couldn't touch the objects, her spirit was too weak to do that. In a huff of frustration, she carefully stepped her way over him to stand in front of his face, like a cold breeze of air, the tell-tale scent of lavender in the breeze before she stooped down to be eye-to-eye with him, though she knew he could still not see her. "John..." she attempted again, the frustration growing in her voice. Maybe this was all a waste of time. She was dead, there was nothing for her here anymore. She stepped to the side, and the emotions that drove her spirit allowed her form to flicker in the starlight, a brief mirage of smoke, but undeniably a small deer apparition standing aside from him, who suddenly looked down upon herself as if suddenly seeing herself for the first time, before her gaze turned back to Soap, her voice finally breaking through the barrier, however faint it was. "Hello, John.."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Unlike the Helios-worshipping SunClan, Soap had his own religion; a religion that was fading out. Christianity. He believed that after someone died, they went to Heaven. But he got stuck in Hell. A hell were people died. A hell were people were tortured. Oddly, he died here too, only to be an angel. An angel stuck in a despicable place like this, as if he was damned.


    He hadn't known of Fairy's attempts for hours, and if he did, well he figured it was the poison or the antidote talking. Hallucinations. He let out a hmph sound. "Stupid..." he muttered around the cigar. He didn't know why he thought that the 22nd of the 141 could be back.


    And then he heard something. "Hello John..."



    Saw something too. Her beautiful face. Her kind eyes. He let out a scream, stumbling backwards. Hey, you see your dead girlfriend and not freak out!


    "WHAT THE HELL?!"


    --tags--



  • Stupid he had muttered, yet she didn't know why. All she did know is that her attempts were finally breaking through. Perhaps lingering in one place long enough was enough for her spirit to regain some of its former energy from wherever it was being pulled from the revival attempt. She wouldn't know, of course, but all she knew is that she found herself suddenly stumbling back as John screamed and fell backwards. At first, her eyes went wide and her ears pinned back in surprise as she similarly stumbled, briefly disappearing in a whisp of smokey air before she appeared, some moments later, as a light laugh on the breeze, before her shimmering form caught once more under the moonlight, illuminating her in a gentle pale light. The breeze around them was cold, but the scent of lavender still lingered. "Oops! Sorry, John! I kinda forget sometimes. I'm real! I promise... well.. sort of real. I think I'm a ghost. I don't really know."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Had he heard about the revival attempt, he would have been disgusted. As much as he loved seeing her again, she nodded to be where she belonged. Not down here with demons and the conman rabble. He shut his eyes, trying to shake the image.


    He watched her disappear and frowned immediately. He wanted to see her form again. His jaw dropped when he heard the light laughter and then saw her wondrous form, illuminated by the pale moonlight. His tail twitched, as he breathed in the sent of lavender. "I can tell. It's good to have you back." He replied, but he was annoyed that she was a Ghost. Both of the ones he were comfortable with were Ghosts.


    --tags--



  • "I don't know why I'm here, John," she said truthfully, but she smiled as she drew herself closer, as if she would be lucky enough to get to hug him again, to be near him. "I tried for hours to get your attention- I missed you so much... " What did she say to him? What did she do now? What did she ask? How much time had passed? There were so many questions, so much confusion on her part, but she could only find herself staring at John, nose to nose, yet unable to touch, knowing that she was nothing more than a cold apparition that was stuck in some wandering swirl of mist. "Have you been well? You left SunClan again, I see... I'm sorry, John... I-... I never meant to leave you... I... I didn't to leave you."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Suddenly, upon hearing her apology, he began crying. Upon hearing how much she tried, for a fuck up like him. He couldn't stop the tears pouring, illuminated by the cigar. She was apologizing? There was no reason on God's Earth she needed to apologize.


    He tried to hide his face from her. He was the one to leave, to cause a painful death. "No... don't apologize. Not your fault.."


    --tags--



  • Her ears flattened back in surprise as he began to cry- sob, really, and her breath caught in her throat as she felt her own throat tighten with a similar feeling. Could a ghost cry? She didn't know, but her form flickered and shifted with the surge of emotion, briefly flickering out of existence before her form reappeared at his side, a brush of cold wind against his side, but she could not comfort him as she might have once when she was alive. "D-don't cry... I-it's okay... Shh, it's okay... I don't blame you for anything. I just wish... J-just wish I had had more time with you."


    MY MUSE IS DEAD AGAIN//

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    //It's alright!


    No. It wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to be the one that had to be comforted all the time and leave like it was nothing. The captain forced himself to stop sobbing, but he was still shaking somewhat. He tried to lean into her embrace, the cold breeze, but he couldn't and he sighed. "Th-that's m-my fault. 'M sorry. I-I shouldn't have l-left."


    --tags--



  • "It's too late to think of what could have been," she said as gently as she could, wishing there was more that she could do- wishing she could be near him- with him, again, and only led to feel frustration and guilt and hurt that it was all she could do to stand there while he cried, unable to do anything. "I understand why you left. No one... expected that what happened would... happen. I didn't expect to... We're here now, John... And whatever blessed me to be here, I won't waste it.."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    That was the problem for Soap. He always was stuck in the past with his clouded picture. How could he let everyone die? What could have been if he short fast enough? He shut his eyes upon hearing her gentle, soothing words. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't want her frustrated even more, so he tried to even out his breaths. "Yeah...quite the blessin' to have ya back."


    --tags--



  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Soap had been... well, rather bluntly, hopeless without Fairylights. Seeing her body for that split second before she was nothing but smoke tore his soul to shreds. To know he was the one that caused her death.


    The fact that he was betrayed made it worse. To see someone he had trusted with his life, someone he cared about, someone he risked his life In order to get revenge for... laughing at his pain, at his despair, and being the cause of it? His heart shattered into pieces.


    Shortly after it, Soap had gone back to camp, collapsing somewhere near his house. He didn't have the energy to make it back home. He didn't care anymore. Angels, demons, whoever... just take me home.


    It'd been a few days since then, and he hasn't moved a muscle. It was a night, raining, pouring. He didn't bother getting up from it, figuring what happens-- happens. He simply moved his SAS hat to cover his eyes, listening to the rain.

    --tags--



  • It was hard to explain what had happened to her after that iron dagger had pierced her - thrown by the one she could trust the most, loved the most, and yet its intended target had missed, and instead had eradicated her soul from the spot. But where had her spirit gone? It was an odd sensation- she was forced out of the place she had once been, and for several days- what felt like weeks to her- her spirit had drifted in fragments in the void, like little tiny butterflies flocking like whisps of smoke through the curtain that was the veil. Once her spirit had finally settled again, it took several hours for her to being piecing herself back together. Her spirit was weaker than it was before, currently, but she found, upon looking around, that she wasn't very far from where she had been stabbed to begin with. Perhaps because she knew deep within she was still tied to John. That she still, somehow, needed to look after him, even if she was now dead.


    It took her a while longer to find him back at camp, the rain making it harder for her to see, making her more sluggish, but she could see him, and he looked terrible. How long had he been there? Judging by what she knew of John to begin with, likely since he had broken her spirit apart temporarily. She didn't know why that had happened, in truth, but she figured it was a lot harder to get rid of a spirit permanently than one thought- plus there were still several of her personal belongings that, if mythology was anything to go by, would keep her here for a while. But how would she get through to him? Even when her spirit had been stronger, it had taken her a long time to figure out how to appear and show herself to him. But now she was probably half of her original spiritual power, judging that pieces of her were still trying to find their way back, but seeing him there, soaking in the rain, his pelt clinging to his frame like a skeleton- she couldn't just leave him like that.


    She stepped closer, stepping over him gingerly as a cold brush of air against his back, accompanied by that telltale scent of lavender as she debated what to do. Would he realize it was her? Or would he dismiss it in his own misery? She settled at his side, watching him in silence for some minutes. Poor John... It was strange to think that even though she were the one that was dead, she still would rather never see him suffer- she'd sit here for hours, days, weeks, doing anything if it meant that she could try and comfort him again. She tried to will her spirit to appear, but she could feel the tethers, like strings on her back that kept her firmly tied into this curtain world between the living and the dead. "John..." she attempted, though her voice sounded far away, a little whisper on the breeze, something that might be easily dismissed as a trick of the mind unless one were paying attention to it. "Get up, John.."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    John felt guilty that it was he who threw the knife, and not Ghost. Murder was a sin. One that most likely would never be forgiven. If somewhow in this wretched hell scape of a world that he got to see her, he could already hear the anger and hate in her voice. Killing your significant other... like that'll ever warrant forgiveness.


    He didn't know how weak she was, that she could no longer show herself, or that's how it seemed. As fragments of a broken soul searched for their owner, how shattered they were. It was an oddly physical manifestation of a mental feeling...


    He hadn't known how miserable he looked. He didn't care. He didn't care that he was slowly starving, that he only drank enough water to survive. As his bones would eventually start showing, as he could get ill.. There was no point anymore. He glanced at his slicked fur from the rain, before his eyes went forward, focusing on the darkness of the beret.


    The darkness was nice. It was comforting. It was warm. It cradled him so he could think.


    He felt a cold breeze on and near his back. He dismissed it as part of the storm, curling up to save what warmth he had. He let out a warmth breath, a cloud forming until he smelled the sweet, flowery smell of lavender and he let out a whimper. It already reminded him so much of her. John had no clue it was her, though. Just a trick of the mind... he told himself, moving his head on the muddied ground slightly. He heard the water splash against him but he didn't care.


    He heard the whisper of Fairylights, the trapped Fairylights. He heard how distant it was, like it had blown from a mountain and he let out another whimper, pinning his head against his ears. "I really am going crazy..." He muttered. He dismissed as a trick of the mind, of something that was created in his despair, just to bring back some hope.


    --tags--



  • Why was he like this? It was frustrating that she couldn't draw enough power to show herself, to prove that she was there, instead having to see him curl up misterably, thinking that his mind was playing some cruel trick on him. But she persisted, resting at his side for as long as she dared, knowing that her presence now was a cold spirit, instead of the warm deer that she had once been. "John. It's me." Would he believe her? Or would he continue to let his mind play tricks on him? From the looks of him already, he couldn't stand much longer of this. "Get up..." she continued, though she could feel her own voice falter at the end and briefly flicker out. She took in a breath- or at least the spirit form of a breath, and tried again. "You need to eat. Get warm. Out of the rain."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Why was he like this? He lost his entire world in the span of minutes. He lost his lover, and he lost a brother. He lost someone who told him it was okay to feel again. He lost someone who saved his life. He lost someone who he worked with, and who he cherished. That, upon his complicated animal and human lives, just wrecked him. As he now caused eight deaths, no longer six. He heard that clock tower despite the pounding rain.


    He should've just died in that old pub in Prague, holding his "father's" hand, whispering those last words, and never come back. Where his usually iron grip was frail, his bright and shiny eyes clouded and glazed over, his strong body rocked with pain...


    He heard her words... he still thought it was his mind playing a trick on him, feeling the coldness near him, smelling the lavender... it was just something to give him one measly shred of hope. He placed a muddied paw upon his muzzle and grumbled as if the Voice was "real." "Leave me 'lone... I deserve 'ta rot here..."" His voice was paved with pain and despair.


    --tags--



  • Her heart ached for him, seeing him like this, yet knowing she was in a world where she was not allowed to be near him. It wasn't like when she was alive. She could've wrap him up in blankets, forcefully move him inside, make him cocoa or talk to him or do any of the silly things that she thought might have helped right now. Instead, she was looking at him through a curtain, like the finest silk in the world, shimmering incandescently, yet he was on the other side of it. Wanting to die- giving up hope, again. Of course she understood. He had been betrayed, thought he had killed her, but she just didn't understand why he refused to accept that she was standing right there besides him.


    "John, please..." she pleaded again, knowing that if she stayed here long enough she'd probably get some more of her power back, but knowing it wasn't good for him to stay out here any longer. "I'm not strong enough again to speak any louder. It's me. It's Fairy. I'm right here." Why didn't he believe her? How frustrating it was to be like this, unable to do a thing. For those few moments, she knew exactly how John felt, perhaps, when she had died. And for that alone, she was still sorrowful about. "You don't deserve to rot. I won't leave you. I promised you that a long time ago." 

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Even if she could do anything, he would refuse it. Soap didn't want to be wrapped up inblankets, to be inside, have cocoa, or talk. He just wanted to stay there. He flicked his tail tiredly. He gave up every bit of hope he had after everything, and he just wanted to wither away there. That would be best.


    His second thought was that it was Ghost just stabbing him in the back again. He'd already proved he loved seeing MacTavish in pain, why not have some more? And then when he heard the pleading tone, it finally broke through that it was her and not some cruel trick, no matter how quiet the voice was. Instead of feeling immense happiness, it was bittersweet. More bitter.


    He didn't deserve someone like her. Where you would accidentally kill them, and then they appeared to help you? That wasn't what most spirits would do. He tried to crack a small smile but couldn't. However, he did move his SAS hat so he could see. Even if he didn't see her. "Nice 'ta... hear ya again? But, I... I ain't movin'."


    --tags--



  • "Yes you are, John." Her voice was firm for once, confident only in the fact that somehow she would get him to move. "You can't give up. I won't lose you," her voice had softened again, pleading to him still despite it all. He couldn't just sit out here to die- which he would, eventually, either by sickness or by the stubborn fact that he wouldn't move to take care of himself. Damn it! What could she do to convince him? She stood up, rising over him so that the cold brush of her spirit was still persistant at his side, urging him to move even if she couldn't do it physically, or even show herself. "Get up, John. I won't let you just lie there. It'll be okay. I promise."

    TAGS

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  • The game of life is hard to play

    I'm gonna lose it anyway

    The losing card I'll someday lay

    Soap didn't make a sound upon her firm, confident voice. However, he was glad that she was slowly regaining her confidence, after all that happened.


    "You can't give up." That part rang in his ears. Because when he didn't give up, he lost those that meant the most to him. When he didn't give up, it nearly cost him his life. Even if she didn't want to, no, she couldn't lose him, what was the point? He'd lost himself.


    She was right. He wouldn't move to take care of himself and would instead fall ill. He just couldn't find the strength to do so. The usually tenacious captain lay there, still feeling her cold presence.


    "It'll be okay." No. It wouldn't. Not after everything. Not after all of his screw ups, all of his mistakes, everything. She couldn't promise it would be okay when it wouldn't. "It ain't gonna be okay." He sighed.


    --tags--