death_begins | Forty-fourth rebirth [Accidental video]

[Yuca is sitting at the edge of the lake, staring out toward it idly, as if merely passing the time. His eyes are cold. Hollow. Dead. There's a blade on the ground next to him, but it's clean- no blood, no dirt.

There are two moons. He doesn't remember there being two moons before. Not that he remembers much of anything- but in his snippets of thought and memories of the night, there was always one moon. Intuitively, he knew that there was only one moon.

Slowly, he stands up. Starts walking, until he reaches the edge of the lake, kicking absently at the water. After a long few moments, he steps into it, shoes and socks and pants and all. His other foot steps forward. It's cold, but he doesn't seem to mind. He moves until the water is up to his knees, before going still, staring off toward the horizon.

He has memories of drowning. But that can't be real, can it? If he drowned, he couldn't have caught on fire. Couldn't have been strangled, shot, poisoned. If he drowned, he wouldn't be here, would he?

Cautiously, he takes a step back. There was something in the lake, wasn't it? He couldn't remember what, but he remembered- something. In the lake. A monster? And another step back. Why did it matter? And then he falls- or what looks like it should have been a fall, but was really just a graceful way to go from his feet to his back, laying down on the edge of the lake with his legs still in the water, gazing back up at the night sky with an utterly blank expression.

Something's missing. Something's wrong.

But he can't figure out what.]

[[ooc: Yuca just had part of his soul cut out. As in, most of his soul. He still has knowledge of things, but he doesn't know how he knows them. He has no lingering memory of anyone here, or anyone back home- just seconds and snapshots of things.

Also, he has absolutely no morals and his self preservation instinct is still completely intact- so he won't think twice about hurting or killing to protect himself. Approach with caution? But really, he's pretty passive otherwise.

Feel free to reply to this in an offline if you want to come running for him. PM/IM me if you want to set up a log.]]

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Water.

[Silence, for a while.]

Do you feel better now? Knowing?

It's the same.

[Curling and uncurling his toes.]

Just- cold.

It is winter.

[Al scoops up a handful of snow as if to illustrate, walking a bit closer, watching to make sure the proximity isn't making Yuca feel threatened.]

[He watches him with cold eyes, letting him come closer, but tensing a little, just in case. Yuca was used to violence- it was almost pitiful just how prepared for it he was, even with his memories gone. Especially with his memories gone.]

[Al drops the snow, the expression turning a little sad.]

You're really expecting me to hurt you.

Humans are violent.

They can be. But usually they don't attack someone for no reason, right?

[Yuca just shrugs. Back there, Kurotsuchi had seemed to attack him for nothing. That was really, all he had to go on.]

[Slowly, Al sits down next to him.]

... I wouldn't attack you unless it was to defend myself or someone innocent.

If you insist.

[He still doesn't trust people, inherently. Even if he didn't have the memory of heartbreak and betrayal, he intuitively knew it was there.]

I do.

[He knows. It's... sad, thinking that even as he is now, however that may be, there's still that feeling of danger and mistrust.]

You don't know who I am, do you?

I don't.

[Simply.]

Al. [A small smile. He doesn't seem terribly put out.]

And you're Yuca.

That's what people say.

[Turning back to examining his hand.]

I don't know what hell feels like.

Is that surprising?

I don't know. Maybe hell is an operating table.

... I'd been afraid of that.

Why?

Before this, you told me you were going to Kurotsuchi -- he's a scientist. That you were going to get something done with him.

You didn't want to tell me what it was.

That's odd. He attacked me in the lab.

That might be. But initially, you did go there willingly.

... I'm sorry.

[To tell him these things.]

Why are you sorry?

[Staring off into space.]

If Hell is an operating table, then I climbed on of my own free will. I wanted this to happen to me. I'm alright with it.

I'm sorry, that you'd ever want Hell to happen to you.

Does Hell happen, or is Hell?

[Yuca shrugs.]

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