[Mono mulls that over. "We don't get each other for long here." He's been here for about two or three months, and it's actually on the much longer end of how much time he's been able to have with someone at a time. But that it's not long enough--that's true. That's always true.
He makes a curious little noise at that last part. Not always good for him? Well, sure, he was a toon in real life (as "real" as this city can get), but it didn't seem to stop him. In fact, his cartoonisms followed wherever he went, wherever he touched. He and Mono were having so much fun. Was it bad?]
Mm. This world often responded to him with more reality than he was used to experiencing. He...saw things that he never would have where he's from.
[Like witnessing deaths. Or seeing his dynamite pulled from hammer space lead to very real explosions with very real carnage rather than harmless cartoony scorch marks.]
I think we all have, but. It's different for all of us.
Wait, hold on, so the people--when they come back, do they... come back whole, or...?
Ah-haha...well. They'll be fine! They're still themselves, no weird zombies, no demons (...) none of that stuff. But whatever killed them, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...doesn't always heal right away.
He'd assumed at the time that Yakko's knowledge was all secondhand, or it didn't bother him. Maybe he was wrong. And maybe, though Mono is intimately familiar with death--wearing it like a shroud, clinging to him like the breeze of displaced air as he moved--Yakko wasn't. Like the youngest of the children he ever knew, it still scared him to see something die. Because he wasn't meant to be real.
This is so hard to think about. He just misses his friend.]
I spent all day looking for him, [he murmurs into the crook of his elbow, in that scratchy, miserable way.]
I'm sorry. Do you want to find something we can do to remember him? Some sort of memorial? No, that sounds too serious, he'd hate a stuffy memorial.
[Coda thinks for a moment, their hand moving to the outside of the thigh nearest him. Not touching, still respecting his space, but getting a little closer, ready to offer comfort.]
We could start a water balloon fight in his honor. That sounds just about appropriate.
[Mono eyes the hand. He does want that touch, that comfort, but he feels so unsteady and it's dangerous to rock the boat. He's not quite as badly shaken as he was when Gil had decided to take the initiative and just scoop him up and hold him against his chest, but he's still heartbroken, and he doesn't know if he wants to start crying again. It's not as if it felt like a bad thing before, but it's exhausting.
But touch is nice. Even if it might always make him just a little antsy. He unfurls an arm, placing a hand down that pushes slightly towards Coda. Asking for permission that he already has.]
Um, I... what's a memorial? 'N a water balloon?
[He doesn't know what he wants to do, to be honest. If he wants to do anything. He's used to just... having to move on, no pizazz, no glamour, no ceremony. It might be nice to do something, but what? He can't imagine anything that'll make him feel better.]
A memorial is something you do after you lose someone. It's not really for them, but you do it in their memory, for you, and it makes you feel a little better. Like...some people lay flowers at a gravesite, as a way of symbolically leaving the deceased with a little beauty. But Yakko's not dead, right? And what he'd want for us is to go out there and make a little chaos, have a little fun.
[Maybe he'll break into that museum again. It wouldn't be the same without him and his physics-defying stunts, though, and... he was always much better at having fun than Mono.]
Yes, sort of. Water balloons are little...balls full of water that burst when you throw them at someone. When it's hot outside, it's really refreshing, but it's also chaotic and fun.
[He does! His experiences with them are limited to television and pictures, the definition of them as vehicles, and breaking into an old box of deflated ones in an abandoned store once, but he knows them.]
Oh. [It's a play fight.] Yeah, I think... Yakko'd like that. A lot. Bet he'd make a cannon...
[They did hijack some "historical" cannons from the museum, among the hijinks of their escapade. It's how they skipped finding the stairs to the second floor indoor balcony. He'd also fully pulled out a comically painted carnival one from his pocket to get to the third.]
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He makes a curious little noise at that last part. Not always good for him? Well, sure, he was a toon in real life (as "real" as this city can get), but it didn't seem to stop him. In fact, his cartoonisms followed wherever he went, wherever he touched. He and Mono were having so much fun. Was it bad?]
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[Like witnessing deaths. Or seeing his dynamite pulled from hammer space lead to very real explosions with very real carnage rather than harmless cartoony scorch marks.]
I think we all have, but. It's different for all of us.
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Wait, hold on, so the people--when they come back, do they... come back whole, or...?
Ah-haha...well. They'll be fine! They're still themselves, no weird zombies, no demons (...) none of that stuff. But whatever killed them, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...doesn't always heal right away.
He'd assumed at the time that Yakko's knowledge was all secondhand, or it didn't bother him. Maybe he was wrong. And maybe, though Mono is intimately familiar with death--wearing it like a shroud, clinging to him like the breeze of displaced air as he moved--Yakko wasn't. Like the youngest of the children he ever knew, it still scared him to see something die. Because he wasn't meant to be real.
This is so hard to think about. He just misses his friend.]
I spent all day looking for him, [he murmurs into the crook of his elbow, in that scratchy, miserable way.]
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[Coda thinks for a moment, their hand moving to the outside of the thigh nearest him. Not touching, still respecting his space, but getting a little closer, ready to offer comfort.]
We could start a water balloon fight in his honor. That sounds just about appropriate.
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But touch is nice. Even if it might always make him just a little antsy. He unfurls an arm, placing a hand down that pushes slightly towards Coda. Asking for permission that he already has.]
Um, I... what's a memorial? 'N a water balloon?
[He doesn't know what he wants to do, to be honest. If he wants to do anything. He's used to just... having to move on, no pizazz, no glamour, no ceremony. It might be nice to do something, but what? He can't imagine anything that'll make him feel better.]
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Right?
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[Maybe he'll break into that museum again. It wouldn't be the same without him and his physics-defying stunts, though, and... he was always much better at having fun than Mono.]
Are water balloons a game?
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[Does he even know what a balloon is, though??]
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Oh. [It's a play fight.] Yeah, I think... Yakko'd like that. A lot. Bet he'd make a cannon...
[They did hijack some "historical" cannons from the museum, among the hijinks of their escapade. It's how they skipped finding the stairs to the second floor indoor balcony. He'd also fully pulled out a comically painted carnival one from his pocket to get to the third.]