SIR YOUR FUCKING VAST OCEAN OF GRIEF, THOUGH. HELP. Matsui is in some parts grateful for this week's effect, because it helps him to understand things that he otherwise wouldn't. He's unhappy in other parts. The feeling of that stillness isn't unfamiliar to him, but there's still a thread of thrumming empathy that weaves through him when he feels it.
Humans shouldn't have to experience loss like this, even if it's steady, even if it's stable. People drown in tranquil seas just as often as they drown in turbulent ones.]
...It feels-- wide and quiet, inside of you. Like an abandoned shrine.
[#spirit metaphors. But if Haru says it's fine, who is he to argue? He doesn't know a damn thing about human hearts. After a beat, he nods in response to the last statement.]
Yes. Buzen healed the rest of my damage today.
[HE REALLY MAKES BUZEN DO EVERYTHING.
Anyway, beyond that thread of empathy, Matsui's general base state once Haru steps into range is that of an ailing Victorian who i have been describing with increasingly ridiculous seaside metaphors which truly makes him a match for Haru. It's not grief, though. Just a pervading sense of morose melancholy with vague underpinnings of guilt.]
[ i've written so many flowery water metaphors for wahhhh big sad ): hate that this is a shared trait for them. they can chill together with their watery grave vibes. it's placid between them. ]
A shrine... [ hm ] Could be worse.
[ he'll take quiet. he's rather be a forgotten shrine than a burning one. he reaches to pick a flower—it's more like a weed, tall and reedy, but bright yellow. ]
I don't mind healing you when you need it. [ a gentle current of concern threads through his words, still tranquil ] But I guess you were waiting on Buzen-san.
[HELPPPP NOT LIKE THIS they're down there... down in the twilight zone somewhere, living as squids.
Matsui watches as he picks the weed, and there's a little blip of something that feels like agreement when he says "could be worse", even if the concern is still present. It really could be...]
Abandoned shrines can become harbors, but they can also become curses.
[The offer, on the other hand, causes the guilt to increase a little, along with another, complex feeling.]
...Thank you for the offer. [A flickering thread of gratitude.] I dislike repairs, so... I wished for it to be Buzen, if it had to be anyone at all.
Matsui gives him a little look at that emotional rise, but doesn't say anything aloud. There is some faint whisper of concern, though. None Of These Kids Are Alright.
As for the question, Matsui replies very Catholicly.]
It serves as a reminder. Most of my damages occur because of mistakes I make that cost others in blood, so the least I can do is retain it for as long as possible, rather than wiping it away as though it never existed.
Matsui's emotions just remain in the same perpetual melancholic state, but there's something a little hesitant because he simply does not know how to explain Catholic guilt to this teenage normie.]
...Because all of the physical and emotional weight that I can carry is still not enough to compare to the loss of one life. The scales can't be balanced, but I would still like to do what I can.
feeling guilty about killing someone seems normal to him; having any amount of empathy would make it unbearable, he thinks. just living life, every happiness tinged with memories of robbing someone else of theirs.
but matsui is a spirit—he'd assume it would be different for him. haru reaches for some small, pink wildflowers. ]
You're right. There's no amount of remorse that brings the dead back. [ even here. ] ...But neither does pain.
[ justice, revenge, the metaphorical evening of the scales—none of that matters to the dead, do they? ]
[It's a kind sentiment, and one that moves him somewhat, in a sad sort of way. Matsui thinks he suffers as much as he deserves to.
Wordlessly, he plucks up a little blue flower and reaches forward to tuck it behind Haru's ear. There's a little soft thread of gratitude.]
You have a kind heart.
[At least, the heart that he's seen so far is kind. All the more unfair that he's had to suffer through such a loss. Rin, he thinks, also had a kind heart.
Life is largely unkind, though. It seems like death is much the same.]
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SIR YOUR FUCKING VAST OCEAN OF GRIEF, THOUGH. HELP. Matsui is in some parts grateful for this week's effect, because it helps him to understand things that he otherwise wouldn't. He's unhappy in other parts. The feeling of that stillness isn't unfamiliar to him, but there's still a thread of thrumming empathy that weaves through him when he feels it.
Humans shouldn't have to experience loss like this, even if it's steady, even if it's stable. People drown in tranquil seas just as often as they drown in turbulent ones.]
...It feels-- wide and quiet, inside of you. Like an abandoned shrine.
[#spirit metaphors. But if Haru says it's fine, who is he to argue? He doesn't know a damn thing about human hearts. After a beat, he nods in response to the last statement.]
Yes. Buzen healed the rest of my damage today.
[HE REALLY MAKES BUZEN DO EVERYTHING.
Anyway, beyond that thread of empathy, Matsui's general base state once Haru steps into range is that of an ailing Victorian who i have been describing with increasingly ridiculous seaside metaphors which truly makes him a match for Haru. It's not grief, though. Just a pervading sense of morose melancholy with vague underpinnings of guilt.]
no subject
A shrine... [ hm ] Could be worse.
[ he'll take quiet. he's rather be a forgotten shrine than a burning one. he reaches to pick a flower—it's more like a weed, tall and reedy, but bright yellow. ]
I don't mind healing you when you need it. [ a gentle current of concern threads through his words, still tranquil ] But I guess you were waiting on Buzen-san.
no subject
Matsui watches as he picks the weed, and there's a little blip of something that feels like agreement when he says "could be worse", even if the concern is still present. It really could be...]
Abandoned shrines can become harbors, but they can also become curses.
[The offer, on the other hand, causes the guilt to increase a little, along with another, complex feeling.]
...Thank you for the offer. [A flickering thread of gratitude.] I dislike repairs, so... I wished for it to be Buzen, if it had to be anyone at all.
no subject
he doesn't comment on which one he thinks he'd be. there's just a sway of emotion, a conflicted rise in the tide, and it settles again. ]
...Why? Isn't it painful not to get repaired?
[ he still has a human-ish body, it seems. ]
no subject
Matsui gives him a little look at that emotional rise, but doesn't say anything aloud. There is some faint whisper of concern, though. None Of These Kids Are Alright.
As for the question, Matsui replies very Catholicly.]
It serves as a reminder. Most of my damages occur because of mistakes I make that cost others in blood, so the least I can do is retain it for as long as possible, rather than wiping it away as though it never existed.
no subject
You have human feelings now though.
[ haru is not catholic so he doesn't understand this sort of guilt i guess. the levels of self-flagellation in this place puzzles him. ]
The damage will last in your heart, even if you let your body heal.
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I know. But I prefer to carry both.
[Sometimes the hurt in your miserable little heart just doesn't feel like enough.]
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...Why?
[ his emotions are—not really curious. more concerned. ]
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Matsui's emotions just remain in the same perpetual melancholic state, but there's something a little hesitant because he simply does not know how to explain Catholic guilt to this teenage normie.]
...Because all of the physical and emotional weight that I can carry is still not enough to compare to the loss of one life. The scales can't be balanced, but I would still like to do what I can.
no subject
feeling guilty about killing someone seems normal to him; having any amount of empathy would make it unbearable, he thinks. just living life, every happiness tinged with memories of robbing someone else of theirs.
but matsui is a spirit—he'd assume it would be different for him. haru reaches for some small, pink wildflowers. ]
You're right. There's no amount of remorse that brings the dead back. [ even here. ] ...But neither does pain.
[ justice, revenge, the metaphorical evening of the scales—none of that matters to the dead, do they? ]
I just hope you don't suffer needlessly.
no subject
Wordlessly, he plucks up a little blue flower and reaches forward to tuck it behind Haru's ear. There's a little soft thread of gratitude.]
You have a kind heart.
[At least, the heart that he's seen so far is kind. All the more unfair that he's had to suffer through such a loss. Rin, he thinks, also had a kind heart.
Life is largely unkind, though. It seems like death is much the same.]