Forty-fifth rebirth [Video]
I remember-
[
]
I remember when a boy with bones through his ear touched my forehead and smeared blood across my cheek. I remember- lying in a bed of flowers, staring up at the sky, and thinking... terrible things. Things that would have made the boy cry.
[He's quiet again, thoughtful.]
Shards of glass are coming together, but the mirror is still cracked. The patterns are untraceable. [Glancing down toward the PCD screen, his eyes unfocused as he tries to make out his reflection in the plastic.
]
...I want to sit by the fire and roast the day's kill. I want to wrestle my brothers again. I- I want to win the war. [A pause. Yuca bites his lip.] But I- I can't remember what I look like. My brothers are dead, my mothers are dead- here are their graves, and yet- I can't see myself standing before them.
[He's deeply troubled by this- trying to put pieces together, only to have the single, important vein of it missing, like a cold blue marble without threads of white to interlock the colors together.]
It's a waiting game now.
[
It's... like it's stuck permanently on that. Yuca's expression itself looks rather blank, as he stares toward the PCD screen, fiddling with it a little. The ellipses move and are replaced with- more ellipses.
He pages through the recent posts, aware that the feed is being recorded, but still too- absent to really care.]
Adstringendum. A shard- I think it's the present, but then again, everything is. Everything happens simultaneously. I remember- growing flowers of my own. After him.
[
]
Your kindness is insane. It's what brings everything forward, it stops the endless motion and- I can find the ground when I'm talking to you.
...Rain.
[
He finally smiles. He remembers him. Maybe not as much as he should, he's still not a full soul yet, but he knows him.]
Rain, can you come home now? I think I miss you.
[
]
I remember when a boy with bones through his ear touched my forehead and smeared blood across my cheek. I remember- lying in a bed of flowers, staring up at the sky, and thinking... terrible things. Things that would have made the boy cry.
[He's quiet again, thoughtful.]
Shards of glass are coming together, but the mirror is still cracked. The patterns are untraceable. [Glancing down toward the PCD screen, his eyes unfocused as he tries to make out his reflection in the plastic.
]
...I want to sit by the fire and roast the day's kill. I want to wrestle my brothers again. I- I want to win the war. [A pause. Yuca bites his lip.] But I- I can't remember what I look like. My brothers are dead, my mothers are dead- here are their graves, and yet- I can't see myself standing before them.
[He's deeply troubled by this- trying to put pieces together, only to have the single, important vein of it missing, like a cold blue marble without threads of white to interlock the colors together.]
It's a waiting game now.
[
It's... like it's stuck permanently on that. Yuca's expression itself looks rather blank, as he stares toward the PCD screen, fiddling with it a little. The ellipses move and are replaced with- more ellipses.
He pages through the recent posts, aware that the feed is being recorded, but still too- absent to really care.]
Adstringendum. A shard- I think it's the present, but then again, everything is. Everything happens simultaneously. I remember- growing flowers of my own. After him.
[
]
Your kindness is insane. It's what brings everything forward, it stops the endless motion and- I can find the ground when I'm talking to you.
...Rain.
[
He finally smiles. He remembers him. Maybe not as much as he should, he's still not a full soul yet, but he knows him.]
Rain, can you come home now? I think I miss you.