stranglingfruit | what matters most is how you bring joy to life

Given the erratic nature of Navi’s travel patterns, Jon would never have expected to be paying a second visit to any particular planet they’d previously encountered. But Jon also can’t claim he’s unhappy about the ship’s return to Trelnar. He has quite fond memories of his last visit during Vivamion City’s winter festival, mainly revolving around time spent there with a certain Celestial, back when they were both still new to each other.

Jon treasures how close he and Murmur have become since then, and a return to the place where their partnership took root feels somewhat celebratory - like marking an anniversary of sorts, except it’s difficult to keep track of time in the vastness of space. Regardless, being here again feels good, and Jon is glad to accept the feelings of good that result from knowing (not Knowing) Murmur.

“Did you, erm … did you want to look at anything in the market?” Jon asks as they walk out of the ship and into the frigid night air. He suspects Murmur would prefer to quickly move past the hubbub and toward the peaceful silence of a less populated locale, but it’s only polite to ask.

Trelnar was a lovely planet with fond memories, which was somewhat unusual in Murmur's long existence. Existing forever didn't necessarily come with ease, like most life it was mostly hardship. Here, however, had been the blossoming of something rare and wonderful. As such he was delighted for another visit, and a chance to enjoy their lovely warm winter drinks again.

"Perhaps a warm drink? I recall they had a marvelous selection. Best to keep warm should we retire to somewhere secluded."

He's sure he could find the auroras again, he has a nose for such things.

Jon was rather hoping they would see the auroras again. Viewing those brilliant swirling colors in the quiet night sky the last time they’d visited this planet had been an incredible experience, and he’d been touched beyond words that Murmur had chosen to share the experience with him, of all people in whichever universe they’d found themselves.

The angel did enjoy his teas. And Jon couldn’t argue that a warm drink would be a perfect accompaniment for whatever they’d wander into tonight, though unlike last time, Jon remembered to wear his gloves tonight. The same gloves gifted to him last time by Murmur, in fact.

“Right,” he says, nodding his agreement as he scans the grid of stalls in the market ahead of them. “Erm, pick a direction?” Jon has no preference.

Edited 2025-04-23 03:42 (UTC)

Murmur would of course be delighted to share those with Jon once more. After a nice warm drink, of course. While he himself did not feel the cold, he was aware that Jon did and might be disinclined to complain when he should. The aurora wasn't going anywhere, nor was Navi for a spell, so they had time.

Please with Jon's agreement Murmur lifted his nose to scent the air, letting that direct his course. He didn't answer immediately, simply turned his attention once he found a smell he particularly liked and began to move. Now that Jon was more accustomed to him he sometimes allowed his human "mask" to slip, enough to let some of his more uncanny behaviors through. The more comfortable he grew around Jon the less he felt it necessary to uphold the act.

This time the stall Murmur directed them towards was more coffee and cocoa focused, though they also had a few seasonal hot teas and other drinks on offer. "Will this do?" He asked, gesturing for Jon's approval.

Some people might find the angel’s more eccentric behavior to be off-putting, but Jon happens to find those little non-human quirks of Murmur’s to be quite charming. It’s refreshing to know he’s comfortable enough around Jon to not feel the need to mask the fact that he isn’t human, and - well, Jon isn’t exactly human himself anymore, is he. Not entirely, at least. Murmur dropping the act, even for a small thing like choosing a drink vendor by scent, makes him feel a bit less lonely in his state of existence.

Then again, Murmur makes Jon feel less lonely in general. Even Beholding never made Jon feel as seen and understood as the angel does.

Approval at Murmur’s choice is given with a nod and a small pleased smile. “This looks lovely,” he says, then asks “What will you have?” He’ll be paying for the both of them this time, don’t argue.

Some did, Murmur was glad that Jon was not one of them. While he did understand that he was off-putting, rarely did Murmur understand exactly why. He mimicked their behavior, he observed them so very long to try to get it just right and yet... something still eluded him. Perhaps it was the way he was sometimes almost bird-like, or the other way in which he moved more like a machine or insect. All driven, focused purpose. Such as now, as he wove through the crowd like a leaf through water, somehow people finding themselves drifting past him and Jon all the while barely casting them any notice.

Somehow, despite the crowds, they found themselves exactly where they wanted to go with ease. There were some benefits to keeping company with angels.

"Perhaps one of their seasonal blends? I am feeling a touch adventurous tonight." It wasn't often he suggested trying new things himself. It wasn't out of reticence, he simply didn't think about it. That was a habit he was attempting to break, even if only in very small ways. "What about you?" He won't argue, Murmur barely understands the concept of currency as it is anyway.

“I think I’ll have the same.”

Jon nods, a gesture of finality to himself with his choice, and steps up to the counter to place their order - two of the seasonal blend, please, thank you - and pay. Once the drinks are paid for and delivered, Jon retrieves them and turns to Murmur, holding both out to him so he can have first pick. The drinks aren’t any different from each other, but it’s the polite thing to do.

“Well … where to next?”

The seasonal blend did smell quite good, so Murmur had faith it would taste at least as good as it smelled. Hopefully that would be enjoyable for Jon as well, who he knew didn't indulge himself very often in sweet drinks. Murmur on the other hand was quite fond of sugar.

He accepted the drink that he felt was closest to him, though the distinction was entirely arbitrary, with a faint bow of gratitude.

"Do you have any requests?"

A little bit of something out of the ordinary once in a while usually didn’t hurt. And the drink was something shared with Murmur, which made Jon inclined toward it by that very nature. Everything associated with the angel, be it beverage or hours spent together, was made more agreeable because of that association.

Jon shakes his head and offers a slight but genuine smile. “Surprise me.”

Murmur was extremely good at doing just that.

At least Jon could be fairly confident that any out of the ordinary Murmur subjected him to would probably not be detrimental to his health, or life threatening. The angel was very invested in keeping Jon alive, after all. Who else would bury a city in a fit of rage over such a thing?

A thoughtful hum. "Come, let us walk. I will think on your request."

The aurora was always nice, but would it be surprising? Maybe not at the moment. So instead he'd consider what else he could show Jon that he thinks Jon might find interesting. There were many wonders in all the worlds, but not everyone found the same things as fascinating as the angel did.

Even if all they do tonight is take a meandering walk with no destination in mind, Jon will be content. Time spent in the angel’s company is never wasted, never boring, and never something Jon tires of experiencing.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Jon sets off with Murmur in whichever direction he chooses. He has the utmost trust that he will enjoy however they end up spending tonight.

That may indeed be all they do. Though Murmur had that faint, buzzing impression that he often got when things were about to go awry that told him tonight might be more interesting than that. Whether they liked it or not. Certainly he could warn Jon, but that went against his rule of not tampering, instead he'd simply keep his senses alert for any imminent danger.

There was no apparent threat, and the snow truly was quite lovely. Murmur particularly enjoyed listening to it softly landing on tree branches above them the further they moved away from crowds. It was peaceful, and snow always had that unique quality of making everything just a little more still and quiet.

He would wait. Sipping his drink, and enjoying the time quietly spent in his beloved's presence.

At this point, Jon has been removed from the perils of his world long enough to not be in constant danger, and it has possibly dulled his finely tuned sense of hyper-vigilance for it by a slight amount. He will mentally chide himself later for growing too comfortable, too relaxed, perhaps even too dependent on Murmur to keep him safe - after the immediate panic of the new ordeal has passed.

The silent peace of the forest is suddenly and violently shattered by the sound of a substantial weight crashing down from a high distance through trees, snapping branches, ending in a loud thud and a very human-like scream of pain. It’s not far away from them, by the sound of it, and it’s alarming enough to make Jon physically jump - and lose his grasp on his rather tasty beverage. Which, admittedly, is not very important, in light of whatever has now been introduced to their immediate environment.

“Good lord,” he whispers, eyes suddenly wide with fear, “what was that?”

To be quite fair to Jon, even Beholding's Avatar couldn't expect to have the same level of constant awareness of an angel. A being so utterly alien so as to have never been human, to utterly lack the kind of mind that, by necessity, knows how to filter out excess noise so as to not be in a constant state of overwhelm.

So much so that when the crashing sounded followed by a scream sounded through the trees Murmur appeared not only unsurprised, but completely calm about the whole thing. He merely sipped his own drink, canting his head very faintly to the side as he listened.

"It sounded like someone falling from a height through the trees and hitting the ground," He mused, both completely confident and completely unconcerned. Most would likely find the casual way in which he observed that to be unnerving, furthermore the distinct fact that Murmur appeared not in the least bit driven to go investigate. After all, what business was this of his? It was almost callous in a way, how coldly indifferent he was toward a potential loss of life outside of his very small sphere of select individuals.

If they were not among Navi's crew, then they were none of his business unless otherwise requested.

Jon knows Murmur well enough by now to not find his reaction (or lack thereof) out of the ordinary. He simply wasn’t given to excessive displays of emotion.

Jon, on the other hand, continues to stand there, mouth agape and frozen to the spot in total shock. Someone meant a person, and Jon assumes that means some shade of trouble.

Exactly which shade is the question.

“Can you tell if - if they survived the fall?”

Nor was he given to excessive displays of concern for anyone outside his very select sphere. Those he cared about he cared for deeply, those he didn't, well... He simply didn't.

What shade of trouble indeed? Murmur lifted his nose, again scenting the air as he contemplated the question.

"There is quite a lot of blood... but I have not felt a soul evacuate the area. They live, for now."

Again that was utterly unconcerned. Whether or not this individual lived or died was of no consequence to him. As far as he was concerned everything was precisely as it was intended to be. Now Jon on the other hand, was absolutely free to make an executive decision here, and Murmur would go with him. He simply wouldn't volunteer on his own.

Jon is perhaps not as much of a monster as he believes himself to be, because he’s already begun heading in the direction of the loud crashing sound before Murmur finishes speaking. He’s no hero, he … doesn’t even really know how to help someone bleeding out - he just knows he wants to help.

If he can. So that starts with finding the injured party. Jon takes off at a sprint, because what is thinking through your decisions before acting on them? He sort of assumes Murmur will follow along.

Were they going? Very well. Still enjoying his drink, a shame about Jon's, he moved to trudge along behind the man while he went searching for the source of the crashing. He would advise against racing through the trees willy-nilly but Jon's a grown adult and can do as he pleases.

Murmur, for his part, remains too unconcerned to bother with rushing. He'll be there precisely when he so feels it appropriate. Just a leisurely stroll through the woods for him, following in Jon's snowy tracks.

What Jon finds when he reaches the site of the mystery crash landing is not quite a bloodbath, but blood is certainly present, and in a significant amount. Said vital fluid appears to have previously belonged to a person currently struggling to right himself and not having much success - a young man of slender build and shaggy brown hair. He’s dressed in freshly ripped clothes - a tan button-up jacket with black trousers and shoes - with one black-gloved hand pressed to the dark stain of blood covering his midsection and the other clutching a fistful of shattered black and red plastic that used to hold the shape of a gun, one resembling something from a sci-fi film. He kneels on the snow-covered ground, trapped between attempting to breathe and suppressing cries of excruciating pain as he continues his futile attempts at climbing to his feet.

Jon skids to a stop when the sight before him comes into view, with a panicked shout of his trademark good lord escaping from behind the hands clapped over his mouth in horror. The other man - boy, really, he can’t be much more than a teenager - snaps his head up in alarm at the interruption and levels a feral scowl at the intruder in front of him.

“Don’t. Come. Near me,” he growls through clenched teeth, arm extended out in front of him with the shattered plastic grasped in his shaking hand pointed at Jon. He is cornered, frenzied, searching in desperation for an escape.

It just hurts too much to move.

Edited 2025-05-08 02:40 (UTC)

This young man was certainly having a no good, very bad day.

It was widely known that Murmur was more than a little protective over Jon. That said, despite what some may have been led to believe, he wasn't a complete lunatic about it. Not until he had good reason to be, at any rate. The boy, brandishing a weapon at Jon was cause for some alarm, but he was also wildly unsteady and the weapon appeared damaged. Murmur wasn't going to take the risk that it was completely disabled, however, and decided to intervene.

In perhaps one of the most humiliating ways for the terrified kid at present. He threw a snowball. Hard and with vicious accuracy, but no more deadly than a snowball to a hand could be.

"I would advise against that." Murmur called as he approached the fiasco, a little to the side from the direction Jon had come. After hearing him speak Murmur was able to adjust his own language to suit, Japanese not being an unknown to him made it significantly easier.

The snowball connects, and with a sharp cry of equal parts pain and alarm, the boy drops the mangled remains of his weapon. Careless, he mentally scolds himself, he should’ve been paying attention -

His attention snaps to Murmur, tense and furious. Flight isn’t an option in his current state, so fight it is. He raises the hand not currently pressed against his stomach to his face, as if grasping at something over his eyes, and screams, his voice harsh, commanding, desperate:

“TO ME, LOKI!”

A flicker of blue flame circles around his head briefly before stuttering out. The boy collapses to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Edited 2025-05-09 16:42 (UTC)

The snowball had the intended effect of disarming the boy, though Murmur did have to admit to mild irritation at his continued insistence on trying to fight. Why humans must be so insistent on causing problems for themselves he'll never understand.

But, fortunately, it didn't last. The power swelled, and died, as expected. Leaving them a dying heap of bloody mess to deal with. Or rather leaving Jon a dying heap of bloody mess to deal with, because Murmur wasn't getting involved until he was directly asked.

Instead he just hummed a faint sound of disapproval, and sipped his drink. Somehow his has survived this ordeal.

Jon has survived the ordeal largely by remaining rooted to the spot in abject terror. He is not a skilled physical fighter by any stretch of the imagination, and if the now-unconscious boy had been in any shape to cause actual damage, Jon would have made an easy target. He doesn’t entirely understand what he just witnessed, but that’s less important now. This newcomer clearly needs help; it’s not hard to guess he’s likely lost a lot of blood and in desperate need of medical attention.

But Jon is no doctor. After giving Murmur an incredulous stare that he imagines the angel either won’t notice or won’t care about, he rushes forward in a panic and kneels on the ground next to boy. Surely he can at least check for a pulse, right? Even someone with no medical skill can do that. Hesitantly, Jon reaches out to loosen the black and white striped tie around the boy’s neck and gently presses two fingers to his neck, searching for a sign of life.

His skin is pale and clammy, and his pulse is irregular when Jon is able to find it, but it’s there. It might not be too late.

Jon shakes his head and violently shoves away the memory of an open door and the beckoning darkness within while another boy walks toward it, helpless to resist.

“We have to help him.”

Not exactly asking, but the expectation for Murmur to pitch in is the same.

The boy is certainly in desperate need of medical attention, Jon is certainly right about that. However that "we" remains a load-bearing we at the moment, as Murmur remains utterly impassive as he watches the goings on with a level of disconnect Jon has rarely been privy to. This one was not of their flock, not yet, and therefore firmly out of his purview.

Thus, if Jon expected motivation on the angel's part, it was going to take more than implied requests. He didn't want to get involved in this, after all. To him it wasn't any of his business, but Jon was upset and he could tell Jon was going to only grow more upset if Murmur didn't give him a nudge on the necessary course of action.

He can't get involved on his own, but he can get roped in.

"What would you like me to do? Move him, heal him? Navi is an option."

He remained, perhaps frustratingly, calm about the whole ordeal.

Jon isn’t thinking about the whole “can’t get involved, human free will” nonsense that binds Celestials’ action or lack thereof. He turns around with an incredulous stare, like he must be hallucinating or losing his mind entirely.

“What sort of question is that?”

Of course Jon wasn't, the mortals always forgot that part at those key moments when a Celestial's hands were most bound. Murmur was already bending the rules by offering at all, hell being there was teetering on the edge. He wasn't willing to risk Falling again on behalf of some stranger whose circumstances were wholly unknown to him. Granted, that did raise the question of what would he be willing to risk a Fall for?

Meeting Jon's incredulous gaze, he hesitated. There was one thing he could think of... though he wasn't certain Jon would much enjoy what became of that. He felt a knot twist, a sensation he was largely unfamiliar with... anxiety? Before he allowed himself to ruminate on it too long he moved, forgoing the reminder that a direct request was necessary.

"Of course. How silly of me."

The young man didn't have much time, and Jon wasn't in the mental state to handle arguing about celestial nonsense. Murmur didn't know what would come of this, all he knew was that he'd not actively defied his commands before. It terrified him.

Swiftly he knelt by the boy, feeling that knot grow into something cold and heavy that he ignored as he placed his hand on his chest, a warm healing light enveloping the young man. Murmur was not a skilled healer by any means, and it drained him rapidly to do so. Even still, it was better than letting him bleed to death. He could at least stabilize him before they returned to Navi, they would be much better suited to mend his injuries.

In the back of his mind he was dimly aware of a searing pain though his currently invisible wings. It wasn't like the Fall, which burned worse than death, but it wasn't terribly far off either.

He felt it would be best not to mention this to Jon.

Edited 2025-06-15 22:01 (UTC)

The boy on the ground groans quietly as Murmur works his healing magic, but otherwise doesn’t stir or regain consciousness. The rise and fall of his chest settles into a more regular rhythm, a sign his breathing has stabilized. Jon sighs deeply, relief audible.

“Thank you,” he says, with a curtness of tone that also means finally, and he checks the boy’s pulse again, just to be sure. It seems better than before, but Jon still isn’t a medical professional. This boy isn’t completely healed, and he appears to have lost a lot of blood.

“We should get him back to the ship.”

Murmur didn't much care for that tone, and didn't look Jon's way. He didn't understand, couldn't understand, perhaps. His wings burned, like fire ants chewing through his feathers.

He ignored it.

"Lead the way." Murmur muttered, moving to lift the boy. He was light, as all humans were to him, but long limbs still made him somewhat awkward to wrestle. Still, far easier for him to lift than for Jon who probably didn't spend much time hauling bodies around.

what matters most is how you bring joy to life

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