#dra oc

Beni exists in such a weird positions in the family because at the same time she grows up to be someone who exists within their post-tragedy family dynamic (Kanata and Yukari are gone, Hikaru isn't all that present due to work at the foundation, Hamato is her primary caretaker) she is simultaneously seen by her remaining family as a remnant of what used to be even though she does not remember that out of being so young before the tragedy took place.

Ramble that steemed from the thoughts that came outta this last night.

This is moreso with Hamato because he was a Mama's boy and copes kinda badly with Yukari being gone, he wanted (and honestly kinda expected?) Beni to also cherish her as much as he did, especially since she died protecting her, despite her having no memories of their time together nor much knowledge about Yukari and how she used to be because neither her brother or dad talk much about her when she's growing up, yet she was still expected to just,, turn out like that. Unconditional and undying love to someone you have no memories of because that's what expected of you.

Like a living memory they'd be able to have of Yukari, and when she didn't that kinda soured the sibling's relationship. Especially post Sdra2 era where in this AU Kokoro is alive, working on redeeming herself and Beni starts to spend time with her around the foundation since she was the first person that could see there was something up with her (undiagnosed mentall illness) and tried to help, subsequently leading to Beni seeing her as the closest thing to a mother figure which Hamato,, hates. To say the least (for pretty obvious reasons tho, this is still Kokoro we're talking about)

Ironically, it kinda was his insistence for Beni to stay away from Kokoto and want that she'd develop a deep care for her own mother that made her turn out to resent Yukari to an extent. As an adult she barely looks like her anymore (guess who she actually resembles? Haha that sure is one in the gut to Hamato), which is hurts Hamato a little because, given his own feelings, he kinda feels like he failed her even tho that person is literally who Beni is and if she wasn't this way then it wouldn't be her.

The highly abbreviated gist of it is that whatever magic was used for him to become Calamity Ganon’s seal did not seal Sol’s consciousness, leaving him to stare into and practically breathe Calamity for 100 straight years. Nothing but the sound of his own thoughts and memories, chewed and regurgitated until he can’t tell where memory ends and dreams begin. Can he prove that those things happened at all? Eventually, those stop too. In the absence of all things, Calamity’s heartbeat does not cease.

—————

The Beast has no need for comfort — not from the Hero that tore it from its home, much less the King that ordered its capture. The “outside” is vast, greater than anything it has ever experienced, closing around it, surrounding it. The… cabin. That is far more agreeable. Yet it is the den of the King. It wishes to be left alone.

The King returns with a sack heavy with goods — wooden, like the aged-timber smell of the cabin. It does not look. The floorboards underfoot bear the weight of each object — dense, with the mundane timbre of a drinking cup against a table. It does not move. The King murmurs something it does not understand and leaves it to its dreaming.

It does not recall if it had waited for the King’s footsteps to fade, or if the occasional rasp of paper against paper had been with it all along. In its view is a set of blocks. Building blocks, something reminds him. For children to model other objects by shape and structure. And next to them, a wooden creature that rolls towards him at the tug of a string affixed to its snout.

The texture is smooth, more like the slippery grain of the table than the floor. It weighs against the palm, and something possesses him to let go and grasp at another shape. There is no reason to its construction. He is… content to watch as wooden structures rise and fall, rounded edges biting into his skin when it dampens the fallout’s return to the floor.

The insistent grind of wood against wood aggravates, and his heart forces the breath from his lungs in a halting whine. He pauses in his winding of string around his finger. Reins, he supplies. Attached to the bit and bridle of a painted horse. It burns, yet his finger grows cold. The horse releases itself into a rattling canter, colliding noisily against a fallen archway. His throat is tight, another pitiful sound crawling up into his mouth.

—————

I imagine the order of processing his father bringing these toys to him goes something like this:

numbness —> offense(?) —> confusion —> curiosity —> okay FINE

There’s just enough stimulation to keep his mind from wandering towards Calamity, riding that wordless thought-language until he slowly stops bristling at everything that interrupts his dissociation. As for how little he drops, I’d say around 7-9? Somewhere with enough indignance to want to argue with you but without the emotional constitution to articulate it when he’s overwhelmed. I’m very new to all this and am reexamining the themes of my past work rather than writing something specifically for agere or otherwise. Please be patient with me. I’m happy to discuss the topic as well!