Cunoesse - Tumblr Posts
Thank you, @slemhosta for the prompt.
August 13, 2024 Doodles
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — The heap of rusted metal seems strangely small and fragile as the little procession gathers round it. The swings creak softly behind you, jostled by the salted summer breeze.
No one sits. It would be improper.
CUNO — The boy is unusually quiet, standing beside you with arms crossed and gaze dark. He stares at the Coupris, and you could read any number of things in his face.
EMPATHY — Disgust. Pity. Or something gentler than both.
HALF LIGHT — A recognition of something he cannot yet put words to, but knows all the same.
CUNOESSE — The girl stares at her feet sullenly, hands stuffed in her coat pockets.
EMPATHY — She cannot bring herself to look directly at the half drowned wreckage.
PAIN THRESHOLD — It touches something too raw.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — Your fellow village idiot is smiling grimly at the sight of the poor Coupris.
EMPATHY — It is not a mocking smile. He’s remembering the night of your Tequila Sunset— the way his heart nearly leapt out of his throat when your carriage went into the ice and he realized he would not be able to reach you. And then, the sight of you crawling out, unhurt as if by some miracle, swaddled in seaweed. Like the sea itself had sent you off with a consoling pat on the back. The memory is funny in a sympathetic kind of way.
WASHERWOMAN — Isobel leans on Lilienne’s arm as they walk up the shore to meet you. She has on a black shawl that you have never seen before.
EMPATHY — For funerals only.
LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne’s silhouette is as stark and dignified as ever as she comes up beside you with the kids in tow.
EMPATHY — She is no stranger to funerals. She told you this when you first met.
And neither are her children.
LILIENNE’S TWIN — One of the boys looks uneasily at the water.
LILIENNE’S OTHER TWIN — His brother wraps a comforting arm around him.
EMPATHY — The sea has taken much from them, too.
KIM KITSURAGI — The former lieutenant walks in step with you and stops beside you. He stands close enough to nearly brush your shoulder.
EMPATHY — His eyes are on the remains of the MC, but his attention is on *you.* He doesn’t know what to expect, so he’s staying as close to you as he can.
HALF LIGHT — He’s not entirely unsure that spending too much time remembering that night won’t drive you to just throw yourself back into the sea.
INLAND EMPIRE — Neither are you.
VOLITION — It’s okay. That fear will always be a part of you now, but it’s bearable. For you, *and* for them. Worth bearing, even. That’s why you’re all here.
LITTLE LILY — “…Mister Harry?” The little girl whispers discreetly, peering up at you.
“What is it?” [Whisper back.]
Ignore her.
LITTLE LILY — She holds her little upturned palm out to you. “Do you want to hold my hand?”
EMPATHY — She doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on, but she knows that you’re hurting. This is what people do for her when she hurts: offer a hand.
“No, but thank you, Lily. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
Take her hand.
LITTLE LILY — She wraps her small hand around your thumb, grasping it with all the gentle firmness she can muster. She smiles up at you, and then reaches out to grasp her brother’s hand.
LILIENNE’S TWIN — The boy takes it, and his brother’s hand, too.
LILIENNE’S OTHER TWIN — He reaches out for his mother.
LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne takes his hand, her thumb trailing gently over the back of his palm.
WASHERWOMAN — Isobel gives Lilienne’s arm an affirmative squeeze and reaches out her free hand to the man beside her.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — He hesitates for a moment, looking a little taken aback.
EMPATHY — It has been a long time since anyone reached out a hand to him.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — And then he shrugs, taking Isobel’s wizened hand in his and taking a step closer to her.
LOGIC — So that she can lean on him, too.
YOU — [Glance at Kim. Casually.]
KIM KITSURAGI — Kim’s hands are folded behind his back, as usual. His expression is entirely neutral as he glances to his left, at you, and then to his right, at Cuno.
EMPATHY — There is just barely discernible discomfort pulling down at the corners of his mouth. He’s not good at these things.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Also, he *really* doesn’t want to hold Cuno’s hand. Who knows where it’s been?
KIM KITSURAGI — Even so, he looks again at you, and lowers his hands slowly.
EMPATHY — Reluctantly.
KIM KITSURAGI — He moves as if to hold out a hand to you, then looks down at yours where it rests on your cane, and for a moment, his hand just hangs awkwardly in the air.
COMPOSURE — He’s *really* not good at these things.
KIM KITSURAGI — After a moment, he settles for taking your arm. His hand is firm and warm in the crook of your elbow.
And then… he looks to Cuno.
EMPATHY — Even more reluctantly.
CUNO — Cuno, however, is not looking at Kim. He’s looking at Cunoesse.
HALF LIGHT — There’s fear in those eyes. Not of violence, no. Of a quieter kind of death.
INLAND EMPIRE — The first death in the heart.
CUNOESSE — The girl looks back at him, small and pale. She almost looks sulky, like a child her age ought to.
EMPATHY — But very little of her life has been what a child’s *ought* to be.
CUNO — Cuno swallows hard. Slowly, uncertainly, he holds out a hand to her.
SHIVERS — Almost four years now in the past, a boy cautiously approaches the creature sleeping under his desk. She opens her eyes, as if she was never asleep at all. As if she’s too afraid to ever truly sleep. He offers her a hand. And she…
CUNOESSE — She takes his hand before she can lose her nerve, staring stubbornly at her tattered shoes and blinking back tears.
“WOOHOO! I knew you guys would make up! Brotherhood *does* conquer all!”
Don’t do that.
CUNO — The kid wipes his eyes gruffly on his sleeve and holds out a begrudging hand to Kim.
KIM KITSURAGI — He hesitates.
CUNO — “Read the fucking room, man,” Cuno snaps.
KIM KITSURAGI — With a sigh, the former lieutenant takes Cuno’s hand.
EMPATHY — He was always going to.
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — Hand in hand, arm in arm, the ten of you stand on the shore and watch the waves lap at the Coupris, gentle like Lilienne’s thumb stroking the back of her son’s hand.
Soon, the Hardie Boys will come to clear the wreckage. What can be salvaged will be sold for scrap, and the rest will be left in an open grave for the rust and the sea air to break it down like opportunistic organisms.
INLAND EMPIRE — You did this to her. For what? What good did it do?
PAIN THRESHOLD — You did it to hurt yourself. The car was collateral damage, much like most of the other things and people you’ve wrecked.
VOLITION — What’s done is done. You’re here to send her off properly, not to wallow in self-pity.
No, I’m pretty sure I *did* come here for a pity party. Why else would anybody drag all their friends to a funeral for a car, of all things?
It still hurts too much to look at it. I can’t do this.
[Take a deep breath.]
COMPOSURE — You take in a lungful of clean sea air, and then slowly release it. You feel your body relax, the sadness welling in your chest abating somewhat. Not entirely, but enough to carry on.
+1 MORALE
CUNO — “…So, now what?” The boy raises an eyebrow at you. “Gonna say something, or what?”
RHETORIC — Ah. Right. This is a funeral, so we really should have prepared a eulogy…
Oh fuck. I didn’t write anything. Oh god. [Stare at Cuno in stunned silence.]
It’s fine. I’ll do it off the cuff. Right from the heart.
A eulogy for a *car?* This feels like it’s getting out of hand.
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — An awkward silence hangs over the procession. Everyone tries very, very hard not to look at you expectantly.
EMPATHY — But… they *are* expecting something. You’re the one who brought them here, after all.
YOU — Um… ah… well… Oh god…
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — “Khm…” Your idiotic friend clears his throat. “May I?”
“I’d rather go first. I’m the one who sunk her, I shouldn’t take the easy way out.”
“Go ahead.”
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — He nods, and turns to the Coupris with his head bowed.
“The tale of Tequila Sunset is well known to us all by now, so allow me to tell a different tale: The tale of his brave companion…”
He pauses, looking to you.
EMPATHY — He’s wondering if you named her.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — You may have. You do seem like the type. But if you did, that name is now lost to you, just like the car herself.
“I lost her name…”
“Coupris Model 40.”
Just shrug.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — He suppresses a grimace. “His brave companion… Coupris Model 40.”
EMPATHY — Not very high concept, he thinks. But now is not the time for constructive critique.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — “You see, this Coupris really loved her dear friend, Tequila. She was devoted. Steadfast. What I witnessed of their partnership was… short-lived, but it was plain to see. That fateful night, Tequila Sunset decided it was his time to…” He suddenly stops, eyeing the children.
“His time to set,” he says delicately. “And he decided to take the Coupris down with him. A lesser friend would have told him to go f— uh, go kick rocks. But not our good friend here. She not only went with him, but she wrapped herself around him like a great steel ribcage, protecting something vital. And so she did. She took the force of the impact and kept him safe. She floated, only half submerged, keeping his head above the water. And so there was no sunset that night. Our man Tequila emerged from the water, baptized anew.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Okay, he’s laying it on a little thick now.
DRAMA — Nay, sire, he’s providing the gravitas our poor friend deserves.
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — He puts one hand to his chest, the other held out with his palm flat, as if to press it against the great steel ribcage of the Coupris. “Goodbye, friend. May we all be lucky enough to have someone like you to hold us when we fall.”
EMPATHY — He really means that. A dull ache accompanies the words as he wonders what it would look like for him to be pulled up out of the spiral.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Like a sea monster, emerging from a deep, dark place…
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — And then he drops his arms, taking Isobel’s hand again. He smiles drily. “Anyone else?”
WASHERWOMAN — Isobel closes her eyes and performs the Stations of Breath as well. She breathes in deep, taking in the sea air that has filled her for all her life.
“Rest now, little one. Thank you for bringing our friend to us safely.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — “Little one” is certainly an odd way to refer to your massive MC, but it’s true that it looks strangely small from here, dwarfed by death and by the ocean surrounding it.
EMPATHY — What she means is, don’t worry. You have someone else to carry you safely now.
LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne holds out the crook of her elbow for Isobel to hold onto as she performs the Stations of Breath. Not for the first time, you think she looks almost statuesque, looking solemnly out to sea with her head held high.
EMPATHY — She doesn’t know how else to carry herself anymore. Her body has forgotten how to open itself to grief.
LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Goodbye, sweet friend. Thank you for watching over us for all this time.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Not haunting you, but watching warmly, like the sun, or some benevolent god who was on your side that fateful night.
LILIENNE’S TWIN — The boy mimics the Stations of Breath, though it’s uncertain whether he understands the meaning behind it. “Goodbye,” he whispers.
LILIENNE’S OTHER TWIN — “Goodbye,” his brother echoes. Their voices almost sound reverent.
EMPATHY — They hope that wherever she’s going, she’ll be able to watch over their father, too.
LITTLE LILY — Lily reluctantly lets go of your hand to perform the Stations of Breath. Her outstretched hand isn’t quite right— rather than a flat palm as if to a chest, she extends it like she’s offering a helping hand.
“Bye-bye,” she says softly. “It’s okay now.”
And then she takes your hand back, smiling up at you.
VOLITION — She’s right. It’s going to be okay now.
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — For a moment, there is silence again. The soft creaking of the swings rings in your ears.
SUGGESTION — It’s your turn now. They’re waiting for you.
Okay. I’m ready.
Oh god, I’m not ready…
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — The silence stretches on. The waves and the swings and the almost imperceptible groaning of the MC’s metal cab seem almost deafening.
KIM KITSURAGI — Kim clears his throat quietly. He gently slips his hand out from under your arm to lay it over his chest. And then…
He whistles, clear and bright.
EMPATHY — And louder than intended. His brow furrows just slightly, but he pushes through the embarrassment.
KIM KITSURAGI — The tune is similar to the one he whistled all those months ago, sitting beside you on the swings. It’s not quite the same— more brief and uncertain, lacking the boldness he felt when he was joining in with you. But still just as strangely beautiful.
And then he stops and lowers his hands, clearing his throat once again. He does not look at you as he takes your arm.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — That was tough on him. He hates to look foolish— or, god forbid, *earnest.* But for you, he was willing to take the risk.
INTERFACING — And for the MC. It was a fine machine.
CUNO — The boy stares at the car for a long moment, his jaw working as if he were chewing on something. His brow is knit tightly, his lips almost puckered in consternation. And then…
Rather than perform the Stations of Breath, Cuno balls one hand into a fist and thumps it against his chest, his other hand still holding Cunoesse’s tightly.
EMPATHY — A part of him is afraid to let go.
CUNO — “…She descended like a shadow,” he says, clearing his throat. “It was some sick shit. Night City shit.” He suddenly falters, shaking his head and letting out a frustrated breath through his teeth. He drops his hand, sullenly snatching Kim’s back up.
EMPATHY — And Night City is where we will leave her, is what he wants to say. But it sounds *lame.*
CUNOESSE — The creature has a strange look in her eye. She watches the water lap at the shore and swallows.
HALF LIGHT — The sea calls to her, sometimes. It’s terrifying.
CUNOESSE — But, to your surprise, she holds a hand out to the Coupris, the other hand still in Cuno’s rather than over her lungs.
EMPATHY — To her, there is little difference between the two.
CUNOESSE — She mutters something in Suruese and quickly drops her hand, her face blotchy and flushed.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — Something stirs in the recesses of your mind. You recognized her words.
YOU — What, really?! Do I speak Suruese?
ENCYCLOPEDIA — No. But you *did* study poetry in school, once. Those words were a line from a Suruese war time poem:
“I am the mother of all stray dogs, of all who are not welcome anywhere.”
SHIVERS — YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WELCOME HERE.
ALWAYS.
SUGGESTION — It’s *really* your turn now, Harry. Last chance to say something.
VOLITION — Don’t overthink it. All that matters is that it’s *something.*
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Another memory stirs— a song that you think you must have heard at another funeral. Or, at least, something just as sad as a funeral.
“Sleep well, my friend. I’ll never forget you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so fucking sorry…”
“Thank you for partying with me. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”
“I promise to do better. I’m already doing better.”
“I’m not lonely anymore. I hope that wherever you’re going, you won’t be, either.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t keep looking back at you. I have to look forward.”
“There, there. You were mine once. But it’s all over now.”
[Drama - Formidable 13] Send her off properly. With a song.
CHECK FAILURE
DRAMA [Formidable: Faiure] — You lean into Kim and pass him your cane so that you can bring your hand to your chest, holding out your other to the poor Coupris. Something about that unbridgeable distance between you brings a lump to your throat and tears to your eyes as you sing in an unsteady voice…
LIMBIC SYSTEM — “Hey, hey, hey, the end is near. On a good day, you can see the end from here. But I won’t turn back now, though the way is clear… I will stay for the remainder.”
KIM KITSURAGI — You think you feel Kim’s grip on your arm tighten. Just a little.
LIMBIC SYSTEM — “I saw a life, and I called it mine. I saw it drawn, so sweet and fine. And I had begun to fill in all the lines, right down to what we’d name her…”
IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. And then, slowly, his gaze returns to the sea.
INLAND EMPIRE — White shadows still hang heavy over you both.
LIMBIC SYSTEM — “Our nature does not change by will. In the winter, ‘round the ruined mill, the creek is lying flat and still. It is water, though it’s frozen.”
CUNOESSE — Her head bows low. You’re not sure whether she’s hiding tears or something more fundamental.
CUNO — The boy looks at her, his expression full of something uncharacteristically tender.
PAIN THRESHOLD — Tender and pained.
LIMBIC SYSTEM — “So, ‘cross the years and miles and through, on a good day, you can feel my love for you…”
COMPOSURE — Tears are hot on your cheeks. Your voice starts to break irreparably. You can’t go on much longer.
LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — For the very first time since you’ve known her, you see pain flit across Lilienne’s face.
EMPATHY — Good days are few and far between.
PAIN THRESHOLD — It has to be that way, or the love and all the grief that comes with it could swallow her.
WASHERWOMAN — Isobel watches you, eyes soft and searching.
EMPATHY — She wonders if you have it in you to make it to the end. She hopes so.
VOLITION — You do. Keep going, Harry.
LIMBIC SYSTEM — “Will you leave me be, so that we can stay true to the path that you have chosen…?”
SUNKEN MOTOR CARRIAGE — Your creaking, tremulous voice hangs in the sea air for a moment, and then is swept away.
The Coupris groans softly, as if to say:
“Goodbye, Harry.”
“Goodbye.”
“I love you.”
Say nothing. Just hold tight to the hands in your own.
LITTLE LILY — As you cry, Lily wraps her arms around your leg and hugs tight, as if she could wring all that sadness from you.
KIM KITSURAGI — Your partner’s hand drifts from your arm to your back, patting gently. He presses your cane back into your hand and lets you lean into his shoulder.
EMPATHY — He is more greatly moved than he lets on. It isn’t tears he tries to stem, but something heavier. A creek that once lay flat and still, but is starting to flow again.
VOLITION — It is hope. It terrifies him. It terrifies all of you.
But you have always lived in terror of something. You persist in spite of it. You are irrepressible, miraculous. Just like your love for one another.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — You *are* your love for one another.
Hand in hand, both the bird and the wire, singing by the seaside. This is what you were made for.
INLAND EMPIRE — This is home. At long last.
Teaches children to play cards.. Or not?)
no words can describe my love for Cuno and how happy and clinically depressed i am when i think about him. this little trash vermin deserves a better life
Чтооооо я жива
i miei figli
