[Action/Video] Diarmuid's Final Entry | Sometime Early November

[thenovice]

[Diarmuid feels something is wrong, when he wakes up.

It's not long before he knows what, exactly. He sits on the ground beside his old death statue, reads his worn bible, prays and sings his psalms, and realizes with great clarity just what it is that strains his thoughts so deeply: the ocean. The ocean calls to him, and every day after he feels himself more and more drawn to the shores of Trench. He knows what must happen, what will occur regardless of his attempts to turn away from it.

He does take a day to himself in his cabin, sitting on his bed and crying softly. It's not that he's afraid, or that he wishes to fight tooth and nail against the feeling; he just... knows that he will have to say goodbye, at least for now. He knows he will not see his friends for some time. It's a normal thing, to weep for a homesickness you've yet to feel.

But once he's had that moment to grieve the idea of leaving everyone behind, he feels at ease.

He visits each of his friends throughout the following days, knocking at their doors with different gifts — gifts from his own cabin, or perhaps a meal for them to share, placed in a basket that hangs off his arm. He needs this, this one last meal with them, a chance to explain intimately what shall be happening soon.

A return to the sea.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

A terribly calm, routine Diarmuid is at your doors.

Once he empties his cabin of all things he can give away, he collects the relic from under his bed and places it in a satchel. And then he visits the cliffside, far from Trench, where the ocean waves dash against the rocks below. It's here that he quietly pulls the god-blessed rock from his bag and studies its rough surface — and then, whispering a soft prayer under his breath, he drops it into the waters below.

It is time.

As he sits on the beach, he addresses any who may not have been visited in a peaceful, easy way.]

[Video; UN: Diarmuid]

... When I was very, very little, I remember the ocean being the only thing left to guide me; it helped walk me to the shores of Kilmannán, where I found my brothers — Brother Ciáran and Rua, and Cathal... and the Mute, my friend. And there, I lived a happy, healthy life along Ireland's shore. The beach was my place to play and think and mourn and pray, and so I cannot imagine a better place to go.

... I can feel it. The ocean, it's calling me back. It's asking me to return, to become a creature within its depths again. I had considered trying to fight the feeling, but after the last few days... I am at peace. It feels right, and I know in my heart that I cannot ignore it any longer.

[Softly sighing, he pulls back his robe from his arm, revealing the scarred skin to be shiny, not like human skin anymore. Shaped human, sure, but glossy and purple in hue, the texture so much like that of the very squid he had been when rising from the shores some months ago.]

I do not know how long I will be gone away, but I know I must go nonetheless; I will not last the day. I can feel this... and I have found peace in that. However... I still wanted to say goodbye proper. I've visited many of you, but if I hadn't gotten the chance... if time had been too short for a proper farewell, I wanted to say it now: farewell. For now.

You may find me on the beach, if you're close at hand. I've nothing left to offer as a goodbye present I'm afraid, other than my words and company.

[He smiles down at the feed, expression easy and gentle.]

Thank you so much for helping me up. Teaching me how to become better and wiser and made of stronger things. And for the gifts through the years, and the stitches you've sewn to fix me, and the nicknames you've offered. For helping me reach adulthood. For holding my hands in return. For everything.

I wish you well, Trench — you and all of my loved ones living throughout you. Please take care. And... do not wander too far from the shores.

Is aoibhinn liom tú, a cairde.

(OOC: Please feel free to use this entry to do action prompts BEFORE his final broadcast; if you are CR he's had some threads with or is close to, he will be visiting you to give you the news directly, as well as a meal and a gift from his home that he hopes you'll care for. Thank you guys so much for taking such good care of Diarmuid the last three years. ♥)

Comments

video; un: morningstar

[morningstud]

[That's... a whole lot to deal with.]

You... can sense that you are leaving this place?

I suppose that is... quite a useful gift to have, if bittersweet.

video;

[thenovice]

[Diarmuid nods, leaning into the wind comfortably. It smells like the sea — the same smell that has been luring him quietly, slowly, to the shores. Perhaps it should alarm him, but...]

It never let us, before. Never let us know when it was time.

And I'm not leaving completely, am I...? I am just... going on a trip. A pilgrimage.

[morningstud]

Maybe it's your blood. Mine has given me premonitions, but certainly nothing like that, before.

Perhaps you will return.

[thenovice]

Perhaps so. Or perhaps it is simply something in this place we'll all have to endure.

I would like to think this journey won't be a terribly long one.

[A beat, and then a fond little smile pulls at his lips.]

... You won't get into too much trouble while I'm away, will you?

I'd much rather you not end up stuck in a cage like you had before.

[morningstud]

[Lucifer smiles, a little sad, a little strained.]

I will do my best to avoid any repeats of that little incident.

time.... to cry....

[creidim]

[ It's certainly been worse days for her; she's not been all that well thanks to her Paleblood during the month, struck down with terrible migraines that seem to last for hours, even days. She's spend the majority of the last month at home within the dark of her room, under Peter's (fretful) watchful eye. But as the month's waned and slipped into November, she's gotten better — the migraines lessening and then disappearing all together by the time Diarmuid comes knocking at her door.

She's cheerful when she opens the door, as she always is when she sees him, quickly ushering him in from the cold, damp air of Gaze. At least inside it's rather toasty, she's been keeping the fires going in the main living areas. Helga's at her side, tail wagging, eagerly hoping for pets and sniffing curiously at the basket in the monk's arms.

Leading him through to the kitchen, brightly offering some tea for the two of them, she pauses thoughtfully, taking a good look at him under the brighter lights of the room. ]

You look like you've been crying, [ Ever sharp she is, her eyebrows raising slightly as she fusses with the kettle. ] I can kind of see it in your eyes. Are you alright—?

:') it's fine

[thenovice]

[He does, indeed, look a bit worse for wear this day. The tears of a man not quite prepared to leave his friends behind are not tears easily hidden, and he does not and would never bother to try and stop them, because he truly loves his friends. He knew Luna would see through anything well enough regardless, and he can only smile at that as he places his woven basket on the table, covered with cloth. There's a soft thump-thump noise, and his small, soft rabbit hops quietly at his feet; Queliot is well-trained, after all.]

I do have much to say, I must admit.

But I would be much more happy to have lunch with you first. I've brought you some strawberries! [He looks up, expression soft as he speaks.] I'm rather surprised at how well they'd transitioned from Deerington's porch to this one.

[creidim]

Lunch would be very nice! [ It would be nice, although it doesn't quite distract her from the fact she's a little worried. If he's been crying, after all. ] And perhaps some carrot for Queliot, I should have some in the pantry I can chop into little slices for him!

[ But if Diarmuid would rather have lunch first, then lunch it is. She continues making tea, pausing to go search her pantry for a carrot — charming a knife to slice it while she finishes making a pot of tea. ]

Strawberries! [ She's pleasantly surprised, her eyes lighting up! ] I haven't had any here, seems we're out of season, not to mention how different plant life is here. I'm glad they made it here!

[thenovice]

Oh, yes...! Queliot shall join us. He's quite an appetite, you should know; he's never quite full, no matter what his meal consists of. [He smiles as he picks up the rabbit, particularly contented by the softness he provides.] Carrot will suit him fine. It's what people thought rabbits always ate, isn't it? In cartoons and movies.

Like how they think Irish eat nothing but potatoes.

[Which humors him greatly, since potatoes aren't around where and when he hails.

Sniffing, he carefully sets Queliot on a chair, much like a proper person would.]

I give credit to your magic, Luna. They've not stopped thriving since the day you'd helped me with them. [He pulls back the cloth to show those very ripe and lovely berries, moving to take them out and place them on the table.] Trench is not kind to crops, but my porch had faired well.

squid to squid conversation, squid to squid communication

[eudaimonikos]

[Oh. Michael had gotten used to Sleepers vanishing out of nowhere; that was just the name of the game. But he's never really had anyone just...decide it was time before.

This shouldn't seem so strange to him anymore. That's how humans always talk about the Door, before they go. But Michael's never been...friends, really, with anyone who's gone. He's known some of them, and he saw many off, but it was all a little more...professional. The head of the Good Place seeing off a valued resident. Not really someone saying goodbye.

He doesn't like it.

But he's learned enough by now to realize that he can't change it. Better to just go and say his goodbyes, and feel whatever he feels afterwards. So Michael sets out to the beach. He doesn't bother responding to the network post. He's close enough to the shore already.

When he gets there, though, all he finds is a pile of monk robes out on the rocks.]

...oh.

[Did he miss him? That's...very disappointing. Maybe he ought to have called ahead.]

the truest form of friendship, the most obvious goodbye

[thenovice]

[The pile of robes sits innocently for a moment in that gentle breeze, as Michael stands in quiet thought nearby — and then, a rustling, just faintly. The slight shift of heavy woolen garments reveals one small, purplish tentacle, wagging for silent help.

The little fellow underneath certainly won't look familiar... but does he have to? S'ppose it speaks for itself.]

[eudaimonikos]

Oh - shit.

[Michael says in vague surprise! Why are Earth squids all so freaking tiny?

He quickly moves to kneel in front of the clothes, shifting them aside to expose the tiny squid. Is that...how it happens? You feel the urge, and then just spontaneously re-squid after a while? Or was it voluntary? Michael sure hopes it was voluntary.]

How's it going there, buddy?

[thenovice]

[The little squid thinks, of course, in a soft-spoken Irish accent:]

Oh, Michael! He doesn't know it's me... This is troubling...!

[Such a tiny squid. Certainly small enough to fit in the crease of one's elbow. He reaches up one small hand and waves in greeting, hoping perhaps Michael will know he's a Sleeper...! Though what he needs (craves!) is impossible to explain with a human mouth...]

video | un: mister_hatter

[payingfordeliverance]

[It's fortunate that Break is alone when he listens to this post, because it means he has some privacy as it slams into him like a ton of bricks. The words this young man is saying are breathtakingly positive, but that's exactly why they hit so hard -- Break is here in Trench because he is dead and he's been mired in mourning for the life he left behind these past two months, and the reason the loss hurts so much is that he holds such love for what he was torn away from.

He misses the loved ones who took him in and made him a part of the family. The ones who took his hands and helped him put himself back together again after he'd all but destroyed himself, and gave him a beloved nickname, and made him better than he once was.

For a while he debates whether he should respond or not, given that this person is a stranger. To share the intensity of his own emotional reaction here seems terribly forward, in a way. But he should know that this mattered, Break decides. Diarmuid seems like the sort who would be pleased by such a thing, and Break has a feeling he'll regret it if he doesn't speak up. So, after a time, a message is left -- a video from someone who is not quite totally in the frame, because he can't see, and since that's the case he certainly can't be bothered to figure out how to change the omni to voice alone or text message.]

...you and I...have never met, but -- I wished to...ah. Thank you, for such open honesty. [His voice is quiet, and a little rough.] To be able to hold such gratitude for one's life -- that's something truly marvelous, and I -- I needed to be reminded of that.

[He clears his throat a little, awkwardly. He's fully expecting that he may never get a response to this -- this person should be spending time with the people he does know, if he's even still there by the time Break gets his courage up enough to send this. Because of that, leaving off right there feels wrong. But what does one even say...?]

...I wish you well. Wherever it is you end up.

[Somewhere in the sea. Which, for all that Break does not want to be here, hasn't been calling him at all.]

video

[thenovice]

[Oh, yes. It is a pleasant surprise, to hear from even a stranger...! As he sits there, unable to move his legs any longer, the message appears — and it brings a small smile to his face. And despite the man's assumption that he may not get any sort of response, there is a sudden little ping, a notice of response, and the video that comes up is a live feed of a young man with unruly brown hair, a bit worn with faint scars about his chin and forehead. He looks content, and in fact pleasantly surprised when the message goes through.]

Ah...! Hello — Mister Hatter? I wanted to thank you properly for extending kindness to someone you've not met before. It would have been terribly rude of me to swim off without extending a greeting.

You're new to Trench? I worried you were having some difficulty.

[payingfordeliverance]

[Oh, sure enough. What a sweet kid, bothering to ask him such a thing at the last minute like this. Break looks tired when he answers, but that just makes his smile more genuine. His borzoi omen leans curiously over Break's shoulder, so Darmuid will get a good glimpse of a very long dog snoot, too.]

Ah -- I'm happy I was able to reach you. [There's a peace in knowing one's words were heard.] Mm, I am "new", but -- it's already been two months, and my companions and I have met people who are looking out for us. So, please don't worry about that.

[Despite everything, Break is aware that he's lucky he isn't alone, and that everyone he's met from the dream has been so helpful.]

[thenovice]

[Ah, a sweet dog snoot. He feels blessed this day.

Diarmuid seems a little concerned, his brow pinched as he studies the other man in the screen. It would usually be in his nature to find people like Mister Hatter, to make sure they are well and adapting, but — time is limited. Here he sits on the shore, sure to shift into a new form within hours. It's concerning in its helplessness, even if he's found peace in it.]

... I'm happy to hear that. There are so many good people here in this place, even if danger rounds every corner. I shall try not to worry, but it has become second-nature, I'm afraid...!

Your companions? People from your 'world'?

[possessum]

( It's a quiet morning when Diarmuid comes to him. Peter (another year older this month; it's a strange feeling for some reason, being nineteen. Some kind of in-between age) is curled up warm in front of the fireplace when the knock at the door comes. He makes his way over, looking as though he might've just woken up from a nap not long ago: eyes a little blurry, wayward curls poking out here and there like they got mashed down in the process of sleep and sprung back up again afterwards with a vengeance.

But he's immediately brightening as he opens the door and sees who's on the other side of it. )

Hey, man!

( Being Peter, there's always some tendency to meet unexpected visits with some worry — is Diarmuid okay, did anything happen, etc., etc., etc. — but he immediately spots the basket hanging off of the other boy's arm, and that tells Peter what the situation more or less calls for: his friend comes bearing some kind of gift.

It stirs up a memory, one from over two years ago: Diarmuid coming to his door to offer a basket of hot stew, and a scarf, and kindness towards someone he had only ever met once before, in the dangers of that hellish dome. Diarmuid had still been wearing his cast, was still nervous and wounded, but — he'd met Peter's own nerves and quietly voiced fears with warmth, and comfort. Peter couldn't have known at the time just how much the other boy would come to mean to him.

But of course, he knows now. )

What's up? ( There's a warm, lazy smile to greet him with — one of Peter's most genuine ones — and he's opening the door wider. ) Do you have time to come in?

[thenovice]

[Ah, it both warms and aches his heart to see Peter as he is — he needs to burn this image into his mind, remember him as perfectly as he can, for fear that he may not see him for so very long. It's a miracle he keeps from tearing up at the sight, but he's here for a pleasant, easy afternoon first — and goodbyes second.

Looking pleased, he holds up the basket in earnest.]

I was actually here to ask if you had time to allow me in. I've brought soup and bread — and pie! Though I must admit, I bought the pie from someone else; I've no skill in sugary foods yet.

['Yet'. And now he fears it may be a long while before he gets the practice.]

[possessum]

( Peter's eyes follow the basket as it moves upwards, as though it calls to him.... Diarmuid's brought food. One can almost see the lazy boy becoming more alert, his eyes gaining a certain life, a spark they usually lack... Peter's only ever fully awake when his stomach is. )

Dude.... you just made my entire day. ( He's grinning, moving to the side to create a space for Diarmuid to come in, inviting him wordlessly like that. The townhouse he shares with Luna is cosy and inviting: cluttered in a lived-in way, warm from the fire in the living space, which is where Peter will move towards, guiding Diarmuid that way. )

It's warmest in here. We can eat by the fireplace! ( He seems... excited... )

[thenovice]

[Ah, please don't say that, Peter. You'll make his heart break before he's even properly given reason for it...! But it shall not matter for now: he's going to treat this as he would any visit, with sleepy meals and enjoyable conversation. He's always loved visiting, always felt warmed and welcomed by the people who live in this home.

He will miss it so much.

Ignoring the relentless pull on his very soul, he pushes the thought of the ocean and it's soft waves from his mind. Not yet, he thinks. Leave me be, I must speak with my friend.]

You know I'm terribly fond of a natural firepit...! They seem even more common here in Trench than in Deerington, too.

[He settles down near the fire, basked in the lovely orange glow.]

Now! You must tell me, how are you and Luna fairing?

Action. So sorry this is late!

[incandescentfaith]

[Rei, pleased but surprised, opens her door to Diarmuid immediately. She steps back, waving him into her little home. The same home she'd been in during her stay in Deerington with a few touches of her partner Winter...but still her home.]

Hello, Diarmuid.

[She smiles faintly, catching that this is clearly important.]

How can I help you today?

Action. totally fine!!! ♥

[thenovice]

[Goodness, this isn't going to get any easier, is it? He's been making the rounds, and now as he stands with his basket in one hand and his lovely golden bowl hanging from the other, he knows that there's little room for 'beating around a bush', as they say in modern times. Stepping inside with his familiar monk robes trailing behind him, he places the bowl and the basket on the nearest table with a pleased smile.]

I wanted to visit and talk; I feel it's been far too long...! And to bring a gift, of course. Would you like some pie? I admit, I didn't bake it myself, but I fear my skill in baking sweets hasn't quite improved yet.

[incandescentfaith]

I would, of course.

[It's sweet, and she'll try anything he makes or brings. Bad or not, he's just so earnest.

Gesturing to a table, she heads towards the kitchen. Iris, the wolf, wags her tail and trots over to nuzzle his hand.]

Sit, let me get some plates and we can have a bit together.

I hope you've been well?

[thenovice]

[He sits down as she collects the plates and reaches out to pet Iris with quiet appreciation. It's very calm and soothing in this home; it's a nice place to visit, he thinks with some sadness. Glancing up with a little smile, he nods.]

I've been doing well enough, thank you. I have been — feeling rather strange, as of late, but I think I've gotten it all sorted out. That's why I've come to visit, actually.