You're here. You're actually here, and I don't know what to do with that. (viola for melpothalia!)
There's a quiet that stretches between them, the arena now bereft of the audience as some drifted to their daily lives and others were ushered out from the guards. The band retreated; their symphonies silenced with their absence, the only music left the sound of footsteps as Viola crosses the stage and they move forward, two separated souls drawn back together by the ties that once bound them.
Slowly, fingers reach up and curl around the wooden mask that covers their face. With the additional research they have done, Melpothalia knows that she has the Giro Giro no Mi, that the mask is useless in the face of her sight, and so they choose to abandon it. To feel the gentility of the pleasant breeze against their cheek makes Melpothalia start. It has been a long time since anything touched their skin without the mask in the way when in public.
She descends to sit on the edge of the stage as they once did in their younger years, perched after her performance. The initial impulse is there to find her a granizado to quench her thirst and refresh her, but there is no such refreshment here. Just silence, lingering and heavy, and a wealth of unsaid things that lay lodged beneath the grief and hesitancy they hold.
"You're here. You're actually here, and I don't know what to do with that."
In the end, she beats them to the punch and lips part as a shuddered exhale slips from them. They are not sure what to do with being here either. Dressrosa feels terrifying; a land of burning and loss, and yet, they see the change since Doflamingo's dethroning.
"I'm not as I once was, you may not recognise me any longer..." The words are roughened that fall from their lips. As the broker they have always spoken in a neutral tone, or one that highlights their detachment from the world, and yet, here they can feel the tethers and ties to this land being sewn once more and all that they shut out pushing back in. Cracks bleed emotion and the mask distorts; Melpothalia becoming Vicente as the time passes.
"I won't be staying long. I have... work. But to see you dance was a privilege I could not ignore." She was always beautiful then and even more so now, radiant as she commanded the attention of her audience. It has been enough to allow them to be a little selfish and take the chance offered.
"There are many things..." They begin and then cut off, turning away from looking at her where she sits to instead look down at the mask in their hands, itching to put it on now their eyes sting and their face aches. Every sensation is potent, every emotion overwhelming and they struggle to linger.
It takes a deep breath before they can finish their sentiment. "To know you are well, despite what you endured, is a blessing I hoped for. I am glad to know you are well." Let me carry the sorrow. The pain. Let me be the last relic of the past that walks from this place bearing all the agonies so you can strive forward into the brightness of the future. I would gladly shoulder it all for you.
They look back up at her, just once, to take in the visage before them, the changes and the things they remember. They looked to etch her in their memory, to remind themself of the human beneath the mask they wear.
"I won't take up too much of your time." I don't deserve it. I can't hope for it. I shouldn't have it. Their words are a dismissal of themself, a withdrawal that might allow them to retreat to their shadows where they deal with the unsavoury souls and the dirt of the world. "I hope you only know joy going forward." Their fingers itch to take hers but they won't let themself, the mask in their hands the burden they willingly heaved up, the cage they locked themself in.
In the empty theatre they stand awkwardly and feel the melancholy consume them of a life that died here of the future stolen from them when their land was burned and its people sold the lie that allowed evil to take hold. It is a future that they mourn for the way it was stolen entirely, leaving them the shell that stands before her now.
˚₊‧⁺˙ 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 ˙⁺‧₊˚ · // @willofd
