the song of the ruthless was stilled
Sep. 13th, 2023 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
batteryacid[ Takes place after Eddie's death on Parade Day ]
The first thing he's aware of is a sensation of floating.
We all float down here...
Then Eddie thinks, 'I'm not supposed to be here,' and something answers him.
"No, you're not, son. But you and your friends have made a habit of doing things you aren't 'supposed to', and it'd be a shame to break the habit now."
When he opens his eyes, at first he's not even sure he has -- faced as he is with total darkness. But then there are faint pinpricks of light breaking up the dark, growing closer and larger as he floats on.
Considering that he now has something to compare it to, Eddie concludes that his first death is still the worst of what he's experienced so far. At least dying at the hellish parade on Marrow Isle hadn't involved drowning. An odd thought perhaps, but there's nothing else to do at the moment but think.
Or speak.
He looks around at the stars -- or are they stars? -- that pass all around him and inquires aloud, "Do you know about my friends? What do they remember? What's happened to them now that I'm... dead?"
"I do. Or... there is a new me who will, and we all remember such things."
Eddie gives a sigh. If he thinks about that sentence too much, he's sure his head will start hurting.
See the Turtle of enormous girth!
On his shell he holds the earth.
The Turtle laughs and answers Eddie's thoughts again, with an "oh, probably" before coming into view. And that's what the speaker is: a massive turtle who seems to be swimming slowly and toward Eddie's tiny form. There's something on his back... or maybe there isn't, it flickers and fades from view when Eddie tries to focus on it. The form of the turtle flickers as well -- now a living creature, then an empty shell with stellar gases leaking from it and somehow pooling like blood, then a living creature once again. The Turtle himself sighs, and comments, "Never did get the hang of dying..."
"It's not easy," Eddie replies dryly.
"That it's not," the Turtle agrees. "But you asked about your friends. The reason that all of you forgot in the first place was to protect you. The Other helped you along, as the Other does and I cannot. You see, your human minds would have kept chewing on those awful things you faced... had you known that you faced them at all. You can't quite forget and the Other wouldn't let you quite remember, and that's the best that could be done."
"Mike never forgot."
"He thought of it as manning the lighthouse. Keeping watch for my sister to rise again. And so I suppose the Other decided that one remembering it all was enough. An exception. All things considered, that's probably you now. Dead and not dying, you're a little outside the rules we operate in, son."
His thought is slow but always kind;
He holds us all within his mind.
There's no help here; was there ever? Maybe only the sort of help that pushes one to help oneself. But Eddie is familiar with that, isn't he? Slogging through the muck of life as best he can, wobbly and uncertain but pressing ever forward. There's no real choice but forward. There's no real choice but to go on, even if everyone and everything starts to circle around --
Circle around.
Water and blood circling a drain, vanishing into the dark.
Blood of the covenant, water of the womb -- his hand, the scar on his palm, aches something fierce. Following the example of the others, he'd sliced his palm open with a broken soda bottle, shoving his worries of infection down because the vow was more important. In the golden light of the setting sun, all of the 'Lucky Seven' had made a promise.
If It isn't dead, we'll come back to fight it.
They'd come back, all right, nearly all of them to fight It.. and now Eddie was the dead one. Dead twice over.
On his back all vows are made;
He sees the truth but may not said.
Not the only dead one. Stan, poor Stan... Eddie still hasn't cried for Stan, and he's not sure he can right now.
How many times growing up did he hear 'boys don't cry'?
"Men do," the Turtle rumbles. "You'll find that out in your own time, but I'll tell you now. Some humans try to say that boys don't cry, but real men feel all their emotions."
That makes Eddie laugh, humorless and bitter, but any protest about it sticks in his throat. Does he really want to argue with the Turtle, somehow alive despite Bill's absolute certainty?oh God the Turtle really is dead Then again, Eddie was dead for a certainty himself.
Forget it.
The Turtle blinks at him, and then without words there's all this knowing in Eddie's head.
Richie left first, headed back to California as fast as he could, and landed himself a movie role. (There's more, but Eddie doesn't want to dwell on it. Too much pain there, as much as with Stan, and it's less safe than mourning a best friend who was just a friend.) Mike is finally going to leave Derry, free to leave the horrors and memories behind. Knowing that part makes it easier for Eddie to accept that if someone must remember, it will be Eddie from now on -- knowing that Mike gets to find his own happiness at last. Ben and Beverly remember enough to leave town together, still in love and heading west for Las Vegas and a marriage chapel. Bill tends to his wife Audra, who is still locked in her own mind after looking into It's deadlights, hoping for a solution in the newly peaceful town, visiting Mike every day as Mike heals from Henry Bowers's attack.
Bill and Mike are slowly, slowly forgetting each other despite that.
Something in Eddie also aches to ask the Turtle to help them -- Bill and Audra, at least, even if the memories have to fade -- but that's not something he does, is it? The Turtle watches and encourages and dreams, but he does not do.
"That's something I must leave to all of you. You're the ones who do."
He loves the land and loves the sea,
And even loves a child like me...
Eddie awakens to the sound of the waves, curled in the sand with the faint light of dawn on his face.
The first thing he's aware of is a sensation of floating.
Then Eddie thinks, 'I'm not supposed to be here,' and something answers him.
"No, you're not, son. But you and your friends have made a habit of doing things you aren't 'supposed to', and it'd be a shame to break the habit now."
When he opens his eyes, at first he's not even sure he has -- faced as he is with total darkness. But then there are faint pinpricks of light breaking up the dark, growing closer and larger as he floats on.
Considering that he now has something to compare it to, Eddie concludes that his first death is still the worst of what he's experienced so far. At least dying at the hellish parade on Marrow Isle hadn't involved drowning. An odd thought perhaps, but there's nothing else to do at the moment but think.
Or speak.
He looks around at the stars -- or are they stars? -- that pass all around him and inquires aloud, "Do you know about my friends? What do they remember? What's happened to them now that I'm... dead?"
"I do. Or... there is a new me who will, and we all remember such things."
Eddie gives a sigh. If he thinks about that sentence too much, he's sure his head will start hurting.
See the Turtle of enormous girth!
On his shell he holds the earth.
The Turtle laughs and answers Eddie's thoughts again, with an "oh, probably" before coming into view. And that's what the speaker is: a massive turtle who seems to be swimming slowly and toward Eddie's tiny form. There's something on his back... or maybe there isn't, it flickers and fades from view when Eddie tries to focus on it. The form of the turtle flickers as well -- now a living creature, then an empty shell with stellar gases leaking from it and somehow pooling like blood, then a living creature once again. The Turtle himself sighs, and comments, "Never did get the hang of dying..."
"It's not easy," Eddie replies dryly.
"That it's not," the Turtle agrees. "But you asked about your friends. The reason that all of you forgot in the first place was to protect you. The Other helped you along, as the Other does and I cannot. You see, your human minds would have kept chewing on those awful things you faced... had you known that you faced them at all. You can't quite forget and the Other wouldn't let you quite remember, and that's the best that could be done."
"Mike never forgot."
"He thought of it as manning the lighthouse. Keeping watch for my sister to rise again. And so I suppose the Other decided that one remembering it all was enough. An exception. All things considered, that's probably you now. Dead and not dying, you're a little outside the rules we operate in, son."
His thought is slow but always kind;
He holds us all within his mind.
There's no help here; was there ever? Maybe only the sort of help that pushes one to help oneself. But Eddie is familiar with that, isn't he? Slogging through the muck of life as best he can, wobbly and uncertain but pressing ever forward. There's no real choice but forward. There's no real choice but to go on, even if everyone and everything starts to circle around --
Circle around.
Water and blood circling a drain, vanishing into the dark.
Blood of the covenant, water of the womb -- his hand, the scar on his palm, aches something fierce. Following the example of the others, he'd sliced his palm open with a broken soda bottle, shoving his worries of infection down because the vow was more important. In the golden light of the setting sun, all of the 'Lucky Seven' had made a promise.
If It isn't dead, we'll come back to fight it.
They'd come back, all right, nearly all of them to fight It.. and now Eddie was the dead one. Dead twice over.
On his back all vows are made;
He sees the truth but may not said.
Not the only dead one. Stan, poor Stan... Eddie still hasn't cried for Stan, and he's not sure he can right now.
How many times growing up did he hear 'boys don't cry'?
"Men do," the Turtle rumbles. "You'll find that out in your own time, but I'll tell you now. Some humans try to say that boys don't cry, but real men feel all their emotions."
That makes Eddie laugh, humorless and bitter, but any protest about it sticks in his throat. Does he really want to argue with the Turtle, somehow alive despite Bill's absolute certainty?
Forget it.
The Turtle blinks at him, and then without words there's all this knowing in Eddie's head.
Richie left first, headed back to California as fast as he could, and landed himself a movie role. (There's more, but Eddie doesn't want to dwell on it. Too much pain there, as much as with Stan, and it's less safe than mourning a best friend who was just a friend.) Mike is finally going to leave Derry, free to leave the horrors and memories behind. Knowing that part makes it easier for Eddie to accept that if someone must remember, it will be Eddie from now on -- knowing that Mike gets to find his own happiness at last. Ben and Beverly remember enough to leave town together, still in love and heading west for Las Vegas and a marriage chapel. Bill tends to his wife Audra, who is still locked in her own mind after looking into It's deadlights, hoping for a solution in the newly peaceful town, visiting Mike every day as Mike heals from Henry Bowers's attack.
Bill and Mike are slowly, slowly forgetting each other despite that.
Something in Eddie also aches to ask the Turtle to help them -- Bill and Audra, at least, even if the memories have to fade -- but that's not something he does, is it? The Turtle watches and encourages and dreams, but he does not do.
"That's something I must leave to all of you. You're the ones who do."
He loves the land and loves the sea,
And even loves a child like me...
Eddie awakens to the sound of the waves, curled in the sand with the faint light of dawn on his face.
