FINALE

[foundationmods]

[And finally, after everything...it's over.

Everything is back to how it should be, once you exit out of the door behind the Waterfall. There are so many Monsters around, all of them excited and running around. Some are wondering what happened - some are just overwhelmed.

But, regardless....they're alive. They're here, after so much time. All of Monsterkind, back where they should be.

And everyone who you've lost...

They're back. They're back.

You have overcome so much. You have suffered through so much, and seen to the other side.

But now, for the first time in a long, long time...

...The Future is truly the brightest it's ever been.

No more pain. Only....forward, into wherever you go from here.

Though there is still so much to fix....there is still, as always...

Hope, and Dreams.

Hold onto those...

....And there's nothing you can't accomplish.]


SCP: THE FOUNDATION

THE END.

Comments

[noneforall]

[The funny expression softens his smile and warms it like the sun -- just the tiny glimmers of it at the very top of the skyscrapers in the distance, liquid and drop by drop (a little sea-breeze salty) in their inescapable cocoon at dawn. This is an echo too, a watercolor; his insides are a little liquid too when he follows the tail-end of that impulse to sneak a kiss to the scrunched-up nose, lighter than a butterfly's landing.]

It means whatever we want it to mean. Everything we want it to mean.

[Because everything has always been a part of him just as much as it has hounded him through the years, through lifetimes and eyes that looked through him and artifacts that weighed down the walls and ceilings around him since he could walk.

All of this is uncharted territory: everything of it, there is no step of this dance that he has done before but that's what makes it feel like finally stepping back into the world. From nothing: towards something. Someone.

Eyes that see him, lips that don't speak in any language he's ever shared nor scavenged before. At the end of all those lifetimes, maybe millennia of them, at the end of all words, Subete closes his eyes. He's never needed them to find the blurriest shape of words, the trailing ends of the phrases that led them here, but just now he wants to listen with everything else he has.]

[kaliedoscopes]

[ Under the brightening rays of the sun instead of fluorescent neon, it's not the cloying notes of too much sake that's making his kisses sloppy and his words murmured, but a salty sweetness that's bubbled forth like a overly shaken bottle of champagne. He's more aware of everything like this and so he adjusts his tempo not to a rapid flurry but to a thoughtful, slow rhythm because he has even more to say now than he did that night.

It's a while before he has to surface, before he feels okay with drawing back to take in what they've just created from ashes and shadows and storms, fashioned into something new, bright and solid as a sunflower stalk sprouting from the earth. There's a bit of a pause where he studies all their colors and then smiles in relief that they're all still there; there may be even more of them now. ]

You would know about everything. [ A soft sigh and his eyes flutter closed before he opens them again, still more than one spectrum of the rainbow. It'll probably be a bit before he truly settles, but they've found the time for that again, in the tick tick of their watches. ]

But what I want right now isn't everything, except maybe it is. Bed and you, the shoes don't really matter this time.

[noneforall]

[It's like sharing a good bottle or a too-small corner of a too-large onsen, a sweet that he's going to end up eating most of; the first kisses pop easily like the top of a flute before tipping, smoothly flowing deeper and more amber the more light is wrapped between their touches. Months and so many experiences later it's still easy to get swept up in the current.

The colors are slowly coming back into the world, but it's his ears and the senses nestled at the core of him that feel the passing of the storm and the brand-new notes in the still hushed field, brighter than the dandelions.

There's a tilt of his head as their gazes meet properly this time, the quick smile back a brushstroke at the edges of the way they melt together.]

Well. Bed, and us. I do know about that.

[Unselfconscious for once, maybe because he's riding the rush still from everything that just shook through here without disturbing a single feathery flower; maybe because he's distracted with trying to move without letting go, and discovering that means walking backwards all the way home.

A thoughtful blink and a hum later, a hum when he reaches back down into that core to add his own splash to their still-wild spectrum, a spring-green light washing over their hands and coalescing into a window in space-and-time: sunlit shades of a familiar wide-open room with the lines of a couch and a book or two abandoned on the side table more familiar still, the faint stirring of the ocean in the background.]

... I think.

[It's a touch nonplussed, because that's distinctly not where he meant to open that portal, and his control over his abilities is normally -- even though this isn't a normal time at all -- something beneath thought, or perhaps beyond it. That might be the source of the sudden weightlessness Hikage is feeling, the green light spreading outward from their palms, or it might just be part of the same movement when Subete reaches out to semi-catch and semi-lift him in an easy carry once the wave of Verbalism wears off.]

... Us, then bed?

[kaliedoscopes]

With all the nights we've spent together, of course you do. [ Somehow his words manage to be both playful and sincere, and he doesn't bother to over correct like he normally would. He's too preoccupied watching all the colors in a bid not to drift off like one of the dandelion puffs around them.

Mn, it doesn't seem to be working all that well as he really does feel like he could float away, taken by an early morning breeze. It's the only thought he has before he's swept up, not by the wind but by supple arms he knows all too well. ]

I can still—I said shoes didn't matter! [ Like that's not entirely nonsensical, punctuated by a long grumble that he muffles into Subete's chest because it's really the only option here. It has the exact opposite effect he intended, and it's not even that successful at hiding how his cheeks now match his one eye.

This isn't the first time he's been in this position and you'd think he'd learn but actually- ]

Fine, I guess it's faster this way even if the orders wrong. [ Instead of doing his best impression of a caterpillar, this time Hikage reaches up to wrap his hands around Subete's neck for support. A butterfly can learn new tricks, after all. ]

[noneforall]

[Ah, he somehow still can't hold a candle to Hikage when it comes to these lines, or the awareness of all the things they're capable of together (for better or for worse), so getting called out on that particular front makes Subete's ears turn red just as surely as any other time they've broached the topic...

Maybe the world will have mercy and Hikage will have missed that particular mishap in the middle of the ridiculous arc of Verbalism and bridal carries. Subete's brief huff turns into a soft laugh against his hair, he can't quite help laying his cheek there and letting the flyaway locks of it tickle at him. It's entirely an early-morning indulgence that usually happens in bed, but it's been a long, long morning and he's allowed to lose himself just a little bit the way Hikage is losing track of his words.]

Mmm, but shoes always matter. Yours especially.

[Even as he idly returns the completely nonsensical dialogue he's stepping forward, giving the bundle in his arms a small securing squeeze when he steps quickly through the portal into one of their living rooms (he's actually not sure how long the thing will hold, given how erratic his abilities and his emotions are right now). It takes a moment or two of glancing around to try and orient himself at an hour when they'd usually be in the kitchen, or out on the patio somewhere exchanging glances and the occasional smile over breakfast and the paper.

There's a quiet buzz and a small electronic boop when one of the numerous, fairly rudimentary robots littered about the place rolls forward out of nowhere to try to assist. It's really very funny, their little corner of this SCP Earth: spacious, overly opulent, full of knick-knacks but not at all empty.]

But I just wanted to get home. That's all.

[There's a pause between one sunbeam and the next, Subete tilting his head to press a kiss where his laugh had landed, easy and fleeting. There's a gentle tap of his foot to get the robot to go back to whatever-it-was-doing before he moves on.]

[kaliedoscopes]

[ Whether it's mercy or simple physics is up for debate, but between the position he's in and his own not quite fluttering it's easy to miss that particular spot of red. But Hikage can hear certain things better from this position, except it's honestly hard to tell whose heartbeat is in his ears like this.

His own beats a little faster at the off comment, because for all his vanity his heels are one of his most eclectic signatures along with the lace he wears for special occasions. That all makes it more personal somehow, even if things are plenty personal already. There's no proper quip back, just a soft mmn, along with a few words about that must be why the robots keep stealing them. His more settled grip is entirely coincidental.

The beeping and buzz are almost lost in the sensation of traveling via portal, and for a second it tickles at his mind that there's something he should do... it's quickly replaced by an actual tickle brought about by a kiss. Whatever it is, he can deal with it later. Whenever later is, and that might be a while judging by his yawn. ]

Yeah, home. [ ... ] Isn't there a saying about cheating home? Maybe it was stealing... [ In lieu of a shrug there's a nuzzle instead; he barely knows anything about sports, particularly baseball but it's okay if he can still use it to convey his feelings on the real subject. Regardless of how he says it, and regardless of the loopyness of his mind, emotions, and everything in between: this is home and it's where he feels like he belongs. ]

[noneforall]

[There's a brief muffled laugh at the comment about the robots, that trips a little to become more muffled still when Hikage tightens his grip, but Subete doesn't mind; there's an indulgent note in the noise of thoughtful assent he makes back, some muttering about how 92-kun might need a few tune-ups.

It's still very quiet in the house that's slowly waking up around them, albeit in slightly more distant whirs and beeps, the sound of the sea whispering closer with each open window they pass. Their heartbeats seem to settle easily into the space between ticks and taps and other noises, a rhythm to the homecoming itself; this is around the time Subete would normally be checking his phone or one of the screens or displays for news and plans for the day, but all of that's sort of flown out of his head by now.

Instead the yawn is contagious and he seriously contemplates just going back to bed for the rest of the day -- the closer Hikage nestles the more tempting that idea gets. At the very least, early to rise and early to bed seems to be the immediate plan here.]

Stealing home base. [he's not a huge baseball fanatic but he did do sports at some point in the recent (distant) past; even across dimensions Japan's national pasttime refuses to give it a rest] Which is exactly what we're going to do.

[There's something pleased and a little wry about it, because even as they finally reach their (really much too large) bedroom and Subete makes sure all the shades are drawn and the sun and maybe the day itself is put away -- there's echoes to those words that tiptoe into the future. They have more than two home bases now to take back and fashion the way they want, after all.

For now, though, getting to bed is more than enough -- they can steal some more sleep and time together.]

[kaliedoscopes]

Later... [ Because he's not stealing anything right now other than Zzzs. It's a dangerous mix to be both physically and mentally exhausted, but that's what happens you sleep even less than you normally do due to ill-fated plans that seem to be the only thread you're able to grasp. But now with a veritable bundle in his hand... oh, there's something else in his hand too.

He opens his eyes having closed them somewhere on the not so scant journey to the bedroom (still red but he matches the sunbeams just fine), the soft lines of the room coming into focus. ]

I only need you in bed... [ That might be nonsensical too except for the pop of blue that goes flying from his hands to 92-kun who seemed to be lying in wait for his next opportunity. A beep beep later it's rolling off, Hikage's only thought that it better not make a wreath of his shoes and flowers for the genkan.

Right, shoes. They skipped that step and it doesn't matter...well if he's fleetingly grabbing at consciousness he can make an attempt; his concentration is as flyaway as his locks at this point but a moment later a few butterflies spring forth, flying away and taking his shoes and his cowl with them. Trying to change himself into sleepwear is way beyond his abilities in his current haze and who knows how it would have went, maybe even removing clothes was too much because in the kaleidoscope escaping towards the ceiling is a singular white butterfly. That can't be right, or maybe it is.

Hikage hasn't noticed either way, because he may just be asleep at this point. In vicinity of the bed is good enough. ]

[noneforall]

Mmm, it really is a reflex, isn't it?

[How Hikage manages to fluster him even half-asleep is seriously getting to absurd levels when you think about it, but Subete isn't thinking too hard just now so he's not indignant, just kind of bemused -- he watches 92-kun nip in and out with much fanfare and probably pop a wheelie on the way to doing absolutely ridiculous things to their shoes.

... He's not sure whether to laugh or call it back somehow, but his Verbalism really is about as reliable as Hikage's butterflies right now so in the end he just shakes his head and carefully deposits his bedside delivery amidst the sheets. He should... probably also make sure Hikage is bundled in (cocooned in) properly once the flurry of butterflies passes, but for now he just sprawls in a half-sitting position next to him and watches the murmuration of many, many wings shifting the shadows into strange shapes, fantastical textures.

(He notices that there's something off in the cloud of wingbeats somewhere, but it's not enough for his dazed brain to register just now; maybe sometime later he'll think back and realize, but today is not that day.)

He ends up sitting there for a while, listening to the slowing breath behind him close enough to touch and staring into the air long after it's completely cleared; in here it's still and slightly cooler and the tips of his fingers are warm where they got tangled together somewhere between the flowers and the shoes. His sigh is warm, too, shifting all the pieces settling back inside him and rattling him around a little. It's impossible for everything to settle right now, but he--

He curls up, eventually, tucking himself close and against their hands. He'll get to the sheets later; his clothes, the shower, everything later. He'll be hovering at the edge of sleep and wakefulness for a while.]