#heartdata

warsan versus melancholy starters / accepting.

  here’s a wild and unholy thought, wholly blasphemous: you will get to live. both of you. you will be allowed to survive this darkest night. if only love was enough. if only.

 if love was enough, shinjiro-san would still be alive. if love was enough, mitsuru-san’s father would have sat up in her arms. if love was enough, ryoji would have never walked through those doors and into the night. 

 if love was enough, perhaps things would be better. but in this world, cruel and sterile and bleached, where everyone longs for death and destruction just for a change, just for something, anything, to happen, there is no such thing as love. SEES is different, a tiny pocket of the old world tucked away, where the hope in your heart is genuine and your hands are locked in one another’s. it’s a place where forgiveness is possible and peace is reachable and robots can grow a human heart.

 but the dorm is not the world, and all the people are not SEES. you’ve learned this pretty fast, with circuits twisted in ways that make you not yourself. the world sees you as a walking weapon, a machine gun that runs on automated commands, a not-creature. 

 how wonderful it is, then that hamuko loves you. how wild and blasphemous, how utterly sweet and darling that the girl your mechanical heart belongs to likes you back. how fragile, how fleeting.

 ( when you said that, you meant the illusion of the love, not the girl herself. and yet. and yet. ) 

 god is dead, or twisted, or cruel. god does not care for your heart, mechanical or not. god thinks you should rot. this is why nyx falls. this is why she stares down with empty eyes. nyx is not the good or bad here. there is no good or bad. there is only alive, and there is only dead. 

 but you love her, and you would give your life for her. nyx does not question whose life is given to her, but she does question trades. it takes the status quo by storm : orpheus, looking for his darling eurydice in the world of the dead, a voice like an angel and tears full of heavy tears. he’s doomed, but something shifted, didn’t it? there was a chance that the dead could return, if not for human nature.

 so when nyx crumbled, and hamuko came floating down, and you had cried your first real tears, you wondered: who was orpheus here? who was eurydice? 

 you found out two months later, hamuko’s head in your lap and ( you could almost feel the weight ), her eyes heavy with sleep and sadness. she seemed so tired. 

 you think you might be going mad. you’ve heard about it, humans losing it with grief. but you’re not losing it. you’re sad, you’re so sad that it hurts, but... it feels almost like she’s here. 

 god doesn’t care if your heart is breaking. but god also doesn’t care if there’s someone there, with her arms round your shoulders, phantom breath hot in your ear.

 when she said that she’d always be with you, did she mean it? literally? because ( hey, orpheus, your eurydice is calling with a voice so tempting and sweet. ) there’s something in your chest, like another heart beating. 

 there’s been soft whispers of will aigis ever get over leader? is it okay?

 you don’t want to. no one else in this world could love you. you’re just a hunk of metal linked to a dead girl for ten years when you pushed death itself out of the world and into her chest, and now she’ll be with you. always. you think you understand what she was trying to say in her last moments.

  “we loved like two people who didn’t know god.” she whispers into your ear. past tense, you think. it’s gone, it’s over - no ! it’s never over. it won’t ever be over. not as long as you keep it alive, this... thing in your chest, that burns and spins with endless potential, like hamuko did. 

 god doesn’t care. but neither do the girls in love on earth. 

only a gay trans man would wear khakis and a sweater vest in june

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 ?     in the courtyard of her castle ,  surrounded by wilted and dead flowers ,  because she didn’t want to consider dying without knowing the sensation .   when she and her sister had parted ,  severa had kissed her cheek ,  and lucina hers .   the last time she had seen her father ,  he’d kissed her forehead and assured her that timelines be damned ,  she would always have a place at his side .

certainly ,  it had been a long time .

lucina will generally admit to being less educated than she feels she should be , ❪  she holds herself to an incredibly high standard ,  particularly as an exalt  ❫  but she’s still intelligent to the point of learning things and understanding concepts very quickly ,  and absolutely more educated than other lower tiers of nobility .

she can also speak more than one language ,  and in her future past exalt verse ,  despite most of the continent being able to speak the common tongue ,  she learns most of the languages spoken in the old ,  individual kingdoms ,  so she can eliminate any possible language barriers ,  and will be able to communicate with all of her people .

the main places where lucina’s education is lacking are in history  &  math ,  particularly regarding arts ,  music ,  etc .   she knows myths  &  legends ,  as well as contemporary history ,  but never had a chance to truly memorize all of the details .   she also struggles with math ,  though she can do it without aid ,  she doesn’t enjoy it  &  only fusses with it when necessary .

that being said ,  lucina still knows many skills that most princesses learn ,  such as stitching ,  dancing ,  reading ,  writing ,  calligraphy ,  how to run a household  &  kingdom  ❪  to a small degree  ❫   etc.   aside from reading  &  writing ,  she’s out of practice with the others ,  but still has the ability .   if she were to need them they would come to her .

lucina considers her education very important ,  because she considers it important as not just a princess ,  but a crown princess to know as much as possible about her people ,  her history ,  and to know as much as she can in order to protect  &  help them ,  as well as to be on par with other countries and other nobles .   she wants to prove that she can be a good ruler and be the one that they deserve .

military wise ,  lucina is SO SMART .   she was her own tactician ,  and has led her army through so many battles ,  all while organizing and trying to help and heal her people ,  and doing general things an exalt would .   she isn’t as creative as robin when it comes to strategy ,  but it’s safe to say you wouldn’t want to come face to face with her as an enemy .

her thoughts on owain :   best cousin ever .   she loves him so much ,  and he’s always been a breath of fresh air when she and severa would fight and bicker .   lucina thinks he’s incredibly creative and smart ,  and enjoys spending time with him because he makes her laugh ,  which is rare for her .   he was one of her favorite playmates as a child !!   she loves him dearly and does her best to protect him ,  even though he doesn’t need it .   she also appreciates his blunt - speak when she needs it  --  she can tell when he means for her to truly heed his advice .

one word prompts / accepting. 

 hamuko has been getting tired all day. you’ve seen her lagging behind the rest of the students, leaning on the wall. she’s been smiling at you, in the way that says don’t worry! i’m okay!. she’d do the same in tartarus, and it did make you feel better then. but now, only a kind of soft dread sits in your stomach. 

 you knew this would happen, from the moment ryoji’s echoing voice told you that hamuko had found the answer to life. you knew what was coming.

 this has happened, but it plays on repeat. her head in your lap, red eyes growing unfocused and blurry. how her breathing had slowed. how her hand had lazily brushed your tears away from your face. it’s still happening, somewhere. you don’t regret anything that’s happened, but... you miss her.

 you can live for her. that’s what she’d want, isn’t it? you can imagine her, seeing you crying in your room, when there’s so much life out there to live. she gave you a gift. it’s the least you can do to repay it.

 you hardly dreamt before you decided to live, but now that you’ve made that choice, you dream vividly and lucidly - in colour, in real time. someone laughs in the distance, and a yellow scarf flies overhead like a flag, and the sea sings light pink on the horizon. you’ve learned to not really question them. your subconsciousness needs to express itself somehow. 

 and you don’t when hamuko appears in your dream, radiating warmth and vital signs, all soft and bright and alive. it’s so easy not to ask questions when she sinks against your side, and presses her chin onto your shoulder, eyes gleaming. 

 it’s real, but it’s not. you’re so aware that the dream will end that it almost hurts, as hamuko spins on the sand, skirt flying around her like a halo. on the bubblegum ocean, fuuka and yukari splash each other with water. junpei sits with chidori at his side. shinjiro grumbles in the distance, ken and akihiko and mitsuru’s voices chiming together in laughter. this is how things should be, or how you want them to be: bright and idealised and happy. 

 it’s not that life is bad. it really isn’t. you’re enjoying it, and your life is ahead of you, but it hurts, not having hamuko with you. you have to keep yourself busy, or the pain starts spreading and it becomes unbearable. this is muted, and the fear of waking up aches, but it doesn’t sting like it would in the waking world. 

 the bright world of the beach that doesn’t exist slips slightly, and you panic, call hamuko’s name, and she turns, smiles, radiant. if you had a heart, it would have picked up by now. it slips again, and when you wake, you’ll have to confront that she’s gone, once again. 

 “i miss you.” you blurt out, and hamuko laughs, sits down in front of you, presses a hand to your face. 

 “but i’m right here!” this is a dream. wakefulness flickers ever closer, and you thread your fingers through her hair, and pull her in.

 in the dream world, you can almost feel her mouth on yours. almost. you think that it burns. you pull away, see the melancholy in crimson eyes, and brush your thumb across her cheekbone. 

 “goodbye, hamuko.” you say, before you kiss her again, and as you pull back, your eyes flicker open. you don’t need a sense of touch to know that your face is wet with tears. but - well. the day isn’t going to live itself. and, you think, she wouldn’t want you to waste your life away on her behalf.