ERR0R.

It’s been a long 2-3 years on this blog and much, much longer in this community. Thank you everyone for all the writing, the experiences, memories, memes, and fun times.

The passion I’ve received from others and the passion I’ve enjoyed sharing with you makes this a very hard decision for me.

Despite all the good things and the positive encounters here, I’ve taken a severe hit to my mental health the past year that’s left me the worst I’ve been in years. While I’m gradually getting better, it’s still a long road ahead. 

I’m not enjoying rping as much as I used to because of this. 

I know I’ve written similar messages--it’s a difficult decision but it’s one I have to make for myself.

(A small drawing of how Zero looked by the end of his time here. The shocks of white near his hair are stylistic choice, not his hair color.) 

Thank you to everyone who wrote with me on this blog, it was a wonderful 3ish years.   

If you’d like to exchange twitters, please message me here. I won’t be sharing my discord to those I haven’t already shared with due to social anxieties at the moment. I apologize. 

Again, thank you for a wonderful time, and please continue writing with all your hearts. 

He’s going to do everything to avoid another existential crisis. Life has been good for him lately, all things considered. 

“When I grow up?” She hums, contemplating, “OH! I know! When I grow up, I wanna do something like Mr. Karna. I want to own a flowershop just like him. Make all the pretty flowers. Working there is so much fun! I like helping and learning about different flowers. That or….Mmmmm, another thing I want to do when I grow up is make something.” She has a long ways to go anyway before she’s all grown up!

“You’ve grown a lot already, you know. Maybe a few inches.” 

Zero places a hand on her head gently. He’s lightly joking, but entertains the idea of keeping track for a moment. 

He...looks a little less tired these days. A soft smile downward. It seems the both of them have grown quite fond of flowers. He couldn’t say what the future looked like for him occupation wise. He only needed money  

Alongside speaking, he signs. 

"The coat and the wine are for you. I was told these cards are good for a few stores. Hopefully it will help you relax for a while and do something nice with Pandora without having to work extra shifts. Enjoy yourselves. -- Kratos "

It's a deep breath of cold air that enters his throat, no attention paid to the puff of steam that comes out as he reads the letter. Another gift, another thing Kratos has done for him that he can't express enough gratitude for, no matter how simple.

As the new year inches close, he is grateful. Grateful for the simple opportunities he receives to feel...human.

He carries the boxes inside, carefully setting them on the kitchen table. Slicing the tape open with whatever knife he grabs from the block. He'd worked hard this year to make the house a home, to have something to lean on should he need it, and to make up for lost jobs he never told anyone about.

Fired because his memory was bad. Fired because of his temper, or snark. He wasn't good at working with people, so hard labor is a lot of what he ended up with. A lot of it was to avoid thinking, to avoid others, avoid, avoid avoid. A void.

One that was slowly filling again with warmth. (You were a little afraid of the warmth. What it meant. What you could lose.) 

With this and the savings he's amassed for the both of them, he's grateful.

And as he looks at the bottle of rice wine, he closes his eyes and reminds himself he can't just carelessly drink it like he'd want to. Maybe another time, when someone else can care for Pandora for a night.

He tries on the coat, thinking further about how time passes. Over and over again. A burden, now a grace, to keep re-experiencing that in multiple timelines, people are still kind to him.

"You really shouldn't spend money on me...save it for yourself." Zero takes the gifts in hand, flipping over one of the samurai movies to skim over the plot summary on the back.

Despite his objection, he's happy to receive gifts, and...putting the weighted blanket over his shoulders...

"Merry Chrissmas, Pandora."

He's slowly sitting on the floor. The blanket is so cozy he feels sleepy again.

Pandora looks up. She sees him, but she will not dare pretend she understands the turmoil he’s going through. She wants to tell him that it’s okay if he didn’t remember, but would that be something okay to say? She isn’t sure. Things may be okay, but right now he doesn’t feel that. 

If there is one thing she’s glad about, it’s that he’s speaking his truth and the flowers are leaving him. The pain may have subsided and while it’s not the pain that’s causing all of this, at least the pain of concealing the truth is withering away, leaving him alone. When he leans against her, she stays still, but not for long before she shifts to where she can fully face Zero and place her small hands on his face.

He’s not crying yet, but she can tell behind his eyes and so, she rubs her thumbs over them. His question sits and simmers with her and then she answers, “Mhm. This island has been super kind, like you said. I wasn’t alone when I was home, but…I felt alone. My mam….she was always out and she didn’t spend a lot of time with me. She avoided me a lot, but not because she hated me…just….” She falls silent. “I like being here because I got to meet so many wonderful people. Like you, Nero, Byleth, so many. I think…..it’s okay to feel that way. To feel like you love being here more than where you’re from. Even if you’ll miss the people back home…if here treats you kinder, it’s okay to want to stay. I want to stay here. With you for as long as we can.”

“I don’t know anything about my mother. Or my father. I don’t remember them. There’s no record that I even existed before the war. No name, just an age, a codename, an occupation. Zero isn’t...my real name, but it’s all I have to identify myself with.” 

A piece of the past he anchors himself to, lest he completely fall apart, identity-less. 

 A small epiphany glitters as a flower falls and wilts from his bangs to the floor. The flowers...? Right. These aren’t things he’d like to be telling her. But both of them seemed to be forced into this, as the Stars desire. 

Having agency taken away from him is nothing new. Something too familiar, he’d say. 

His attention drags back to Pandora’s words, and his brows knit together, a small frown on his lips. 

“I want to stay too, with you. But I made a promise to that girl. To take her somewhere better. If I ever have the chance to go back, I have to take it. I’m sorry.” 

Despite the weight of what he’s just said, he continues;

“Before that day comes, I’ll still do my best to keep you safe and happy. Ok?” 

The desperation, despair, fear…She can feel all of it. It breaks through the ground beneath them and grabs at their ankles, crawling up until they’re both suffocated by it. He’s been so scared for so long. The guilt he carries with him must be SO unbearable. She wishes she could ease some of that but she knows there’s not much she can do. 

“Zero….I’m not going anywhere.” She reassures. “And—And the little girl…She…” What does she want to say about her? She doesn’t know the little girl that Zero had lost. She must be frightened, but, “I’m sure she’ll be okay. Because she knows you’ll be there to find her and save her.” Whenever and if ever Zero were to return to his world…Ouch. That….That hurt to think about. She doesn’t want Zero to go away. She wants him here with her. Was that….Was that selfish? 

New pain surges through her, but it isn’t too bad. She’s growing flowers around her neck like a leis. 

She scoots closer to Zero. “I’m not going anywhere,” She repeats. This time firmly. She moves her eyes away from him for a moment while she finds her place comfortably close to Zero, “and I’m super happy when I’m around you. You keep me warm, safe, and you’re funny, we do movie nights sometime and….I know you’d keep me from harm.” After all, he didn’t talk about the things he did. The killings and all. He kept that away from her. She knows. 

Reaching out, she grabs the book and opens it. With her being near him, his petals of flowers fall right onto her head, shoulders. Where ever else. Some on the book, but she doesn’t move them away. 

She looks up at Zero when she points at a drawing of a long black haired man wearing similar clothing to what Zero is wearing. Or similar enough at least. “That’s you.” Pandora says before beginning to tell the story. The drawing of this man wields a sword and it looks like he’s slaying creatures to search for freedom. In her story, he finds it. He’s surrounded by people who care and love him. Two little girls. Even if Pandora didn’t know what she looked like or anything about her, she felt it was right that she’d put her in this drawing. “I love you very much and so many others do too! We just want you to be happy too, because you deserve it. No matter what you did in the past or here…you deserve love too. People may not see it right now, but they’ll soon find out just how great and kind you are. You have a big heart.”

“I didn’t even ask her name.” he mutters. “I didn’t even ask his. Or Head Hunter’s...maybe I did and forgot.” 

Zero puts gentle fingers over the ring dangling from his necklace, eyes poring over the book as his attention drifts to it. 

“My memory isn’t good. Names are the hardest. Sometimes, even though I practice, I have to dig and dig into my head to remember. Things just fall out sometimes, no matter how important it is.” 

His mumbling of truths continue, a hand now brushing the pages as she turns them. The pain in his head is turning dull, as the flowers abate. 

“No-one’s lives mattered before her. My own life, didn’t matter to me, until her...until Nero...until you. Until...others.

This island is the kindest place I’ve ever been in my life. For what I can even remember.” 

Zero slightly leans into Pandora, staring down still. Mouth held open between words, sentences. He finally looks at her, a hand on her head. His eyes burn a little, behind the aching. A desire to cry, but not quite there. It’s not sadness or happiness, nor is it melancholy--so he’s not sure what the feeling is. 

A hand presses against the door, but she doesn’t push. Not yet. She can tell he’s said something, but in what he says, she is not entirely sure. There’s no animals inside to tell her and there’s no birds by the windowsill to relay any words being said. She’s on her own and that’s okay. Removing her hand from the door, the small girl steps back and quickly runs down the hall only to then return shortly after with a handmade book. 

She isn’t gentle this time with the door. She pushes and she pushes as hard as her little body can allow her and with MUCH strength she succeeds. 

Seeing Zero like this pains her. She can’t come close to ever understanding what he’s been through, the things he was forced to do in order to survive. 

“Zero, look…” She’s on her knees now. She slides the short story book his way. She was working on this awhile back. With someone’s help, she was able to make the perfect Samurai story about Zero. “It’s you and–and how I see you.” and she’s sure other people could agree. Those who knew him and surrounded him with their presence and vice versa.

“I may be very little and just a child, but I am here. You can always lean on me. You’re family and I love BIG.”

To be surrounded and still feel so lonely. To come home to someone else and still feel as if he’s invading space that isn’t his. He was slow to adjust to it all. He’s still adjusting. 

Maybe it would still take more years, and even through the suffering of it...

It was better than that gnawing and absolute lonely-hood of his previous life. Having someone--anyone--and the pain that goes with it, was better. His voice is hoarse and unheard, rasping whispers as he lay on his side, curled, hair splayed out behind him. 

A mess of black strands and bright purple flowers, numerous, encompassing. Threatening to overtake his face, his throat, his shoulders. He doesn’t even notice her coming through the door at first, jolting when she comes into view.

He wants to speak normally--or not at all, but his lips and teeth again force themselves apart. 

“No amount of strength could save me from how much I’m scared of losing you. I’ve already lost one little girl. She’s in danger because of me. They wouldn’t have kidnapped her if she had nothing to do with me.” 

Flowers wilt, dull and sad eyes staring now to the book. 

She doesn’t get the chance to ask him anything further because he dashes off. He’s quick when he sprints and she takes a step forward, a hand outstretched to keep him from running. Too late. Though, it isn’t as if she has lost him forever. “Zero…” 

I’ve only used my strength to kill hundreds. I don’t think it’s protected or saved anyone. 

That’s what he said and it’s what he believed. His face–his expression had said it all. He’s wrong though. he has no idea just how many times he’s saved her.

 Pandora walks down the very same hallway Zero ran down. She comes to  a stop in front of the bathroom door. A hand is pressed against the door and she closes her own eyes. 

“I’m not….too  innocent either.” She admits. “I’ve done very bad things too. I….hurt many people, too. killed many people. But….what matters is…is not only using your strength to put harm onto others right? You do protect. You save so many people. You saved me.”

If it did, it was by accident. Plain and true, he enjoyed the killing he’s done. No, you’ve wanted to do good, enjoying it and doing it for good cause is different. Still you’re--

You’re still a shallow husk building itself to be anything more. It’s been years, and it’d take years more to be more. You avoid facing your own empty identity through endless and grueling work. You never wanted her, or anyone else, to know how careless you are. 

How empty you are. 

How you rely on others to give you purpose. 

All you’ve been doing is surviving. You won’t be happy until you forget him. 

His head presses hard against the wall behind it, in frustration and in desperation of pressure and cold surfaces soothing all the aching. Crushing flowers as their purple petals fall, tinged that bright neon blue. 

Sandals sliding across the floor as his body sinks, curled to the shape of the corner. She’s been forced to kill too, and questions go unspoken as he scrapes his nails against the tile. Sweat dripping as the pain gets worse and worse. 

You saved me. 

You’ve saved people. 

You’re just a liar. You woke up in a hospital and decided you’d cling on to tales of samurai to put an honorable excuse over your violence. Who have you saved? How? It’s hard to think. It hurts...