#finalkeeper

          disorientation proves powerful as newt struggles to piece together his time in the scorch. it all feels incredibly distant; dream-like memories create a feeling of dissociation as he recollects nauseating memories. it feels as if he’s on the outside looking in─ like watching someone with his name and face through clouded lens. but he knows it’s himself and that very knowledge pounds guilt into his heart; ever-present and unwavering. and yet, despite the horrors presented by his own memories, newt can’t bring himself to simply IGNORE the things that had happened. 

even in this new city─ seemingly FREE of the wretched disease that took so much away from him─ newt can’t bring himself to stop thinking about everything that had happened. if he can’t remember, can’t put together the pieces─ how can he ever MOVE ON? ATONE? at least, it’s the excuse he feeds himself in order to keep himself grounded through whatever ridiculous trial they’ve been given. because there’s no other explanation for how he’s here  ─  right? a solution this pure and easy can’t be possible. not after everything they had been through. 

above all else, newt remembers his final encounter with a certain someone supposedly joining him in this sick game ( will wicked ever stop??? ). conflicting feelings surge through him, foggy memories cascading new waves of guilt that wrack his thoughts. IRONIC how easy it is to break down the glue. 

it’s a pounding on the door that alerts newt’s attention. for a second, he fears the worst. but a voice calls beyond the door and relaxation bestows; there’s only one person that would make so much racket without hesitation. he’s seized by a new wave of anxieties; how can newt possibly face him after everything that had happened? after everything that he’d said?  but he’s moving, striding across the room with an incurable desire to see his friend again─ even if he doesn’t deserve that much. even if this is just another one of wicked’s TRICKS. 

he’s no time to fret over the conversation to come and, frankly, no need to. he dubs it ridiculous to even worry in the first place. this is minho, after all. he doesn’t even need to open the door to know that for sure. so newt opens the door, allowing himself to feel at ease and simply enjoy seeing his friend again; and after who knows how long. he looks well, too, newt notes. and... is that a sign he’s holding? 

despite everything, despite not even knowing how minho will react, newt smiles. 

❝ quit making all that noise, you bloody shank. ❞ his voice is soft, almost wavering between trying to be casual and holding himself together, ❝ you have a key, you know. or were you trying to take the door down? ❞ newt raises a brow, feeling his emotions rising. keep it together. silly of him to ask─ minho was always do first, think later. 

          THE SHEER SIZE OF THE city is impressive ─  almost INTIMIDATING ─  though newt will never vocalize that specific thought for any to hear.  he hadn’t been able to see the city his companions were able to before their departure from the scorch and,  as such,  everything is FAIRLY new.  of course,  newt’s heard about many of what the city has to offer.  but having the knowledge is much different than experiencing it FIRST HAND. 

earlier ventures had been cautious ;  exploring the city for knowledge and confirming any suspicions.  as such,  there hadn’t been much wiggle room to take in all the city has to offer.  but now, at minho’s suggestion and encouragement,  he’s out and about with no goal other than to simply meander about.  he keeps minho close,  always within arm’s reach,  as dark hues scan the streets.  so many things he’s got knowledge of, but never actually seen.  he’s amazed by some of it,  wary about other bits,  but his curious nature has interest piqued now that he’s able to relax and  ( even temporarily )  cast away some of the doubts plaguing his thoughts.

he finally sighs,  feeling a bit overwhelmed,  if he’s being honest.  where does one even start in a place like this?  hands find their way into the pockets of his pants.  he scoots closer to minho and nudges the other with his shoulder,  eyes casting to him.

          the tension that clings to the air is thick and foreign─ an unfamiliar and, quite frankly, uncomfortable feeling in comparison to the ease that he’d grown so accustom to when with his two most cherished friends. but the uneasiness can’t be helped even isn’t by fault of their own. it’s the first time they sat together─ the three of them─ without the looming threat of DEATH in their wake. newt can’t possibly express the happiness and relief that has come from seeing thomas and minho again, but guilt and fear burden his mind as well. he can’t imagine the other two feel any different─ especially with a daunting, ever-present fear that he’s SURE is plaguing all their minds: how long will the peace last? 

the thought of his own revival still haunts him but his final memories haunt him even more. but despite everything, newt knows they can’t afford to wallow. even if he can’t trust his own mind─ he won’t allow himself to let it swallow him if he can help it. not now, since he’s gotten them back. in spite of the uncertainty, he’s confident they’ll be able to move forward. they have to. starting by tackling a few bumps. 

“Oh wow, that’s /very/ scary. I’m so scared, take my hand…” He tosses a water balloon up and down in his hand. “Why, can’t take a joke or two?”

“This is a stupid ‘holiday’ where people pulls pranks on each other, and I’m not sure you’ve noticed but some people don’t know where the limit it” go ahead, throw that water balloon. See what happens. “So before someone gets hurt, I’d rather just avoid it in the first place.”

mythology asks

Morrigan - What do you think happens when we die?

“Physically, we stop functioning. Forever. Then rigor mortis sets in and we start to decompose. But I guess that’s prolly not what you’re askin’.”