grice: (pic#14450844)
don’t make me go wumbo ([personal profile] grice) wrote 2021-12-25 04:54 am (UTC)

[ it doesn’t make it lesser, thinks falco of dipper’s number of deaths. it didn’t make this one okay, or easier to wave off. he digresses with the thought, but doesn’t verbalize it.

on the topic of injuries! falco doesn’t scar. he can’t scar, physiologically speaking, so there’s nothing to see on his skin; no old scratches, no new holes filled, no dents or oddly articulated joints. he’s— pristine, actually, and it may be entirely weird that he is, but trench in itself was a pocket of collected oddities. dipper’s, on the other hand, doesn’t go unnoticed. falco’s gaze has fallen to his hands, knows fairly well what a burn victim looks like.

it feels horrid, to think he was the one who left that mark.

air drifts heavily out of falco’s nose at the question, and he begins to shake his head— dipping the crown downwards to simplify removing the scarf he’s keeping around his neck. when he speaks, it’s soft, melancholy but genuine: ]


You did the best you could’ve. You dropped everything . . . To help me. You don’t know how much I treasure that.

[ but he feels that he should show him rather than hide it— the truth was at the very least an obligation when dipper dropped everything to help him. what he exposes is the brand on his nape, previously marked with a double, back to back purple S. it’s still there, but . . . it’s different. it seems that veins of the same ugly color coming from the edges of the mark have rooted further down into flesh, and disappear the deeper it goes. ]

I’m— feeling strange, though. [ it comes with death, he’s been told, but he’s looking to follow sincerity. there’s something off about him. and fuck yeah, he’s haunted now. ] It’s deeper, but it’s quiet. And . . . That’s not your fault. There’s something I didn’t tell you.

[ and it had been there, the source of most of falco’s guilt and uncertainty as to why he didn’t. panic? pre-possession? he wasn’t so quick to switch the blame away from him. it was too much like fleeing from responsibility for himself. it didn’t feel right until he spoke it over and felt convinced of otherwise. ]

There’s so much . . . I didn’t tell you.

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