#dsalimbo

[hornetsprotectingtheirhive-blog]

You Are My Heaven || Stitch & Clopin [Limbo]

The minute Stitch had slipped from his fingers, Clopin had ceased to fear death. There wasn't anything that could be done to him that hurt worse than losing Stitch. Death had been a mercy and he'd welcomed it with open arms, no matter what had happened to him just before he drew his last breath. Death was where Stitch was, and where Stitch was, Clopin would meet him there.

He had to admit the killer was a pretty shitty artist though. He tilted his head, looking down at the drawing done in his own blood, the body arranged just so. The black haze that had been eating away at his ability to think had finally cleared-- and it was vaguely ironic that it took death to fan away the pain-- leaving him able to fully grasp everything that had transpired. It was hard for him to believe that there had barely been a cushion of twenty-four hours between him losing Stitch and his own death. It had felt endless.

He stood, glancing around. Someone had just stumbled upon the bodies, but he barely even noticed. He saw something else. Someone else. His breath caught in his throat. "Stitch." It took half a second for him to propel himself into motion and then he had his arms wrapped around Stitch, tumbling them both to the ground, grateful that he could touch him, even if there was a certain coldness and strange feeling to it now. The fall didn't hurt-- he didn't suppose there was physical pain after death anyway-- and he ended up on his back, hugging Stitch to him tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He didn't care if he'd caught him off guard. He needed to touch him, to hold him close. His eyes burned with the expectancy of tears but none came, even though he was certain his physical body would be sobbing right now as he pulled Stitch close. "Dieu tu m'as manqué." His hands went to either side of Stitch's face, cradling it, eyes searching his face in an almost frantic need to take it in. He could only do this for a minute though before he sat up slightly and pulled Stitch close to him again, rocking faintly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I could not-- I could not live without you," he choked.

[hornetsprotectingtheirhive-blog]

Frozen In Time || Limbo Open

Being dead was hard to process. Clopin had thought about it plenty of times-- he'd even thought at some points that it would be better than being alive-- but it wasn't. At least not now. Maybe when he hadn't anyone to care for, it would've been a better alternative, but now... he just wanted to wake up. He wanted to touch things and have them-- himself-- be solid, he wanted people to notice him, he wanted to be able to talk to people. When he'd first found himself on the strange plane in between the living and the dead, his actions had been almost frantic, screaming at passersby  trying to catch their attention until he'd gotten weary of it-- he didn't suppose your voice could give out when you were already dead and that his will had given out instead-- but no one heard him. No one responded, no one reacted. He could call them, say to them whatever he wanted, but he was just a cold draft to them. He'd noticed that. Reaching out to grab someone's shoulder, to try and shake them into noticing him, just caused them to shiver. This all just seemed like a horrible nightmare and he wanted to wake up from it.

But it wasn't a nightmare. The body he was staring down at told him that. The idea that his body hadn't been buried yet, or at least taken care of in some way, even if it was implausible out at sea, unnerved him. While he didn't strictly adhere to the beliefs of his people on death, there was nonetheless an immediacy to the burial of the dead that he understood, and now he was starting to wonder if they had been right about everything all along. He always knew that his people believed that when the bodies of the dead weren't properly put to rest, their spirits couldn't leave this earth, and were doomed to wander; perhaps even becoming vengeful mullo. His body had not been laid in the ground, had not been burned, and here he was, still wandering the world of the living. It was bizarre looking down at himself. Bizarre to see the holes in his chest, still clotted with blood that hadn't been cleaned away, shirt ripped, makeup streaking his cheeks.

He never stayed long in the freezer. Only long enough to see which new body had been brought in-- listening to the students was never reliable, since they were rather selective on whose deaths they made a fuss about-- before he got the hell out. It made his skin crawl to be near so many corpses, even if he was dead himself. He had to wonder if the rest of those that had died were still lingering on this ship. Or if he was the only one. Both thoughts were unsettling. This ship was turning into a mass floating graveyard.

To tell the truth, even if there were other people who had died still lingering on the ship, he wouldn't have noticed them. After the initial shock, he'd been sticking to Stitch like a hawk-- apart from brief interludes to the freezer to check the body count-- even if he couldn't do anything for him. He needed to watch over him. What else was there to do anyway? He couldn't touch things, he couldn't speak to people, he could only watch and wander. Even if by some miracle he happened to be in the same place as the killer when they next killed, what could he do? He couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't stop them.

He sighed heavily, stopping in the middle of the hall. A maid pushed her squeaking cart through him, rubbing her bare arms as she moved on. He glanced absently behind him as she disappeared, noting that his surroundings had changed. His incorporeal body seemed to be a little hard to control-- this was about the third time he found he'd drifted a floor or two up while his concentration had lapsed. He paused for a second though, tilting his head. Was he... no, he wasn't. Down at the end of the hall he could make out another person. The only catch was that they seemed to be about as translucent as he felt. His suspicions were confirmed when the corner of the maid's cart passed through the figure. He'd just seen his first dead person.

"Hey-- hey! Can you see me?" He started towards them.