[ open ] birthday time!

[picky]

WHO: Marcille, Ryoji, and YOU!
WHAT: A party for the April (and May) birthdays!
WHERE: LILICO Game Center in Akihabara
WHEN: April 20th
WARNINGS: TBA

No matter who you are, you receive a text early in the morning from Ryoji (memors):

Good morning! Did you know it's a special someone's birthday today? Actually, we have several birthdays to celebrate, so join us today at the LILICO Game Center! There will be cake! Lots and *lots* of cake. Hope to see you there!

This is an open log, so feel free to tag out or top level or respond to the prompts below. Have fun!

Comments

dungeon meshi spoilers

[picky]

[ The most amicable breakup ever. The palm over hers is considerably larger, covering most of her hands, and it's as comforting as it is depressing. Thirty years from now these nice hands will probably be worm food....

Marcille sniffs hard. She lets go of one hand and wipes her nose with her napkin, keeping her eyes closed. ]

So what? So I can live for eight hundred, nine hundred years? Maybe even more than that? Just to watch everyone else go on without me?

[frostfist]

[ This conversation has really taken a turn.

Unsurprising, given the nature of alcohol on the average person (average half-elf??), but he still sits at a loss, eyes open and mouth closed in a frown as he takes in Marcille's tear-stained face. Longevity, the meaning of life....none of this is really his forte. He hadn't expected to live as long as he had, and he certainly hadn't found a calling that satisfied him until recently.

What would Neuvillette say, in a situation like this? More than that, what would Sigewinne say, her small face still graced by a cheerful smile despite all her decades spent in the Fortress. Seconds tick by, his hand continuing to rest atop hers while he mulls over an answer. ]

So you can carry the memories of all the people you met with you. So you can keep experiencing new places and foods and sights where they can't. So you can take what you've learned and use it to shape the world for the better. [ It's an answer that sounds fanciful and overly optimistic so: ] I'm not saying it'll be easy. Even living to sixty, seventy years is too much for some, let alone centuries. But thinking about it as some sort of curse and framed only by what you'll lose rather than what you might gain won't help. You'll only sink to the bottom of the sea if you keep thinking about it that way.

ok don't match this length

[picky]

[ Marcille has only ever revealed her condition to a few people—not out of any shame or self-hatred, but only because the situation itself is complicated to explain. Her façade as a full-blooded elf had been an attempt to negotiate with the Canaries, but Cithis had broken it like throwing a stone into a glass house, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and all of its innards exposed.

Aside from her parents, the short-lived people Marcille surrounded herself with hadn't known about her lifespan at all. It was a blessing and a cruelty when it was discovered. All they could do was promise her to live full, long lives as best they could, and truly, that was all Marcille could ask of them herself. She had to accept the rift between her and other species, which also meant accepting that they might never understand her and her pain. She wanted to shape the world for the better once upon a time, and her vision of a better world wasn't anything more than a selfish wish.

Wriothesley is one of those people. He's a new, beloved friend to her who speaks so self-assuredly despite his inner conflict with how to respond. He knows how to command attention and chooses his words carefully. Marcille listens, looking miserably down at their clasped hands, her brow creasing at the mention of sixty, seventy years is too much for some, only because it means he's acknowledging her pain even if he doesn't share it.

She's still half-drunk and teary-eyed. She's silent for a moment, sniffing hard and still looking at their hands as the words sink in, a heavy stone settling slowly into a seabed. ]

I know. I know... [ She draws back one hand and wipes her eyes with the back of it. ] You're right. I could gain a lot from living that long too, even if I'll lose just as much. You're a good guy, Wriothesley.

[ She pats his hand and then lets it rest there. ]

If you could choose to live longer, would you do it?

sorry i failed

[frostfist]

[ the way i also have to answer this question now

He gives her space and time, unmoving in his seat as he watches her stare at their still-joined hands. There must be an endless stream of thoughts running through her head, most of which he's sure he can't begin to understand. Though he does make one last attempt at humor, the faintest smile ghosting across his lips when he answers. ]

I'm already living longer than I thought I would.

[ It's not a lie. He really hadn't expected to wake up in that hospital bed all those years ago, not when the last thing on his mind had been the scent, the sight, the hot sticky feel of blood all around him.

But it's not also not an answer to her question—at least not the straightforward one she deserves (even if it's exactly the type of answer he would give someone else). It's his turn to fall silent now, though his gaze wanders the restaurant instead of staying trained in one place, taking in the livelihood of the people still remaining and the neon lights of the city signs out beyond the window. ]

I prefer not to think about hypotheticals when there are still so many concrete matters in the present to take care of. [ But that's still not an answer so: ] But right now? No, I don't think I would.

[ It's a nice thought in a fantastical sort of way, but he's always been too grounded to entertain such things. ]

But who knows? I might be a different man in thirty, fourty years. Life is often unpredictable that way.