[You’re walking across your bedroom towards a window, looking out at the sunset. As ever, the sun burns a dark red color in the sky, slightly obscured by the ever present ash floating through the air. You know that as the sun sets, this means that the mists are not far behind. You notice someone moving towards your right, the figure moving onto the balcony closest to the garden. You step out there as well to see who it is, and you see a man in his late thirties there - Kelsier. He turns towards you as you make your way there, giving you a smile.
As you stand beside him at the stone railing, he turns and looks over the balcony - not at the grounds of the mansion you’re staying at, but towards the wilderness, the area illuminated by the setting sun. “Does it ever look wrong to you, Vin?”
“Wrong?”
He nods. “The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sun.”
You give a small shrug, a bit puzzled. “How can those things be right or wrong? That’s simply the way things are.”
“I suppose. But I think your mindset is part of the wrongness. The world shouldn’t look like this.”
There’s a frown on your face as you respond. “How do you know that?”
Carefully, he reaches into his vest pocket to pull out a piece of paper, folded into squares. His touch is gentle as he opens it, then hands it to you. You’re just as careful as you handle it - the paper is old and worn enough that you’re worried you’ll tear it or make it crumble if you’re not very gentle. You see a faded drawing on the paper - some kind of plant that you’ve never seen. It looks too delicate to you, like something that could never survive in the world you live in. The stalk is too thin, and the leaves aren’t sturdy, either. Towards the top of the plant are a collection of different colored leaves, too bright to be familiar to you. It’s much different from the brown, red or orange plants you’re used to.
“It’s called a flower,” Kelsier says. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories. - things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.”
“Plants that smell?” You ask, incredulous. “Like fruit?”
“Something like that, I think. Some of the reports claim that these flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension.” You only look at him, confused, for a few moments. You’re trying to picture something like that, but you can’t. “That picture belonged to my wife, Mare,” he continues in a softer tone. “Dockson found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would return. He gave it to me after I escaped.” You look down at the picture again as Kelsier continues to speak. “Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times. She collected things like that paper: pictures and descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination - along with the fact that she was a Tineye - is part of what led her to the underground, and to me. She’s the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn’t use him in my crew at the time. He wasn’t interested in thieving.”
You fold up the paper, taking care to be gentle with it once again, as you ask, “And you keep this picture still? After… What she did to you?”
There’s a moment where he falls silent, before he gives you a thoughtful look. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough knowledge. Yes, I keep the flower. I’m not really sure why. But… Do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much - pain, frustration, anger… and I still loved her. I still do.”
“How?” You ask him. “How can you? And how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?”
He shrugs before answering. “I think… I think given the choice between loving Mare - betrayal included - and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession - but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”
“That sounds foolish.” You answer almost immediately.
“Is happiness foolish?” He turns away from looking at the sunset to look your way. “Where have you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?” You don’t answer the question. It’s so obvious that you’re sure it must be rhetorical - of course you’re happier with him. He continues on. “I don’t know if Mare betrayed me. She always claimed that she didn’t.”
The two of you talk about her a little more, about whether or not it was likely she betrayed him, and what happened after Kelsier was sent away to the Pits of Hathsin - a place where criminals are essentially sent to be a source of labor until they’re killed.
“But you didn’t die,” You say, both a statement and a question. He shakes his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky…” He sighs, after his words trail off for a moment. “I know. I’m insane.”
“Actually,” You say, your voice barely above a whisper, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.” The sun finishes setting, and the mists start to appear, growing in the air, translucent and lengthening.
“Mare wanted children.” He says, suddenly. “Back when we were first married, a decade and a half ago. I didn’t agree with her. I wanted to become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn’t have time for things that would slow me down. It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t have children. The Lord Ruler might have found and killed them. But he might not have - Dox and the others survived. Now, sometimes I wish I still had a piece of her with me. A child. A daughter perhaps, with Mare’s same dark hair and resilient stubbornness.” He looks down at you again. “I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.”
You frown. “I’m not spending any more time locked in this mansion.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will. If we try to keep you in much longer, you’ll probably show up at Club’s shop one night having done something very foolish. We’re a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just… be careful.” You nod. “I will.” For a few minutes, the two of you stay silent as you watch the horizon, seeing the mists gather and grow now that the sun has set. Kelsier breaks the silence eventually as he stretches.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.”
“To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.” You respond.
[It's a very different world than the one he knows, where flowers are something Tsumugi grows in their garden.
"Is happiness foolish?" Even if it lasts for a little while? Even if it ends... Kumon quietly agrees with Kelsier, though he's never experienced the exact same thing. How could he, when his entire world is so different than theirs.]
... Have you gotten to see some flowers here?
[So much of the Prism experience is so terrible, but at least there are flowers here.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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... Yeah, but I wouldn't wish any of them to go through all this.
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...I'm going to let us out, but - I should warn you that it might not be as pleasant as that.
[just as a heads up.]
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He braces himself and nods. He's seen a few rough memories already, but it he's hardly used to it.]
Got it.
1/2
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As you stand beside him at the stone railing, he turns and looks over the balcony - not at the grounds of the mansion you’re staying at, but towards the wilderness, the area illuminated by the setting sun. “Does it ever look wrong to you, Vin?”
“Wrong?”
He nods. “The dry plants, the angry sun, the smoky-black sun.”
You give a small shrug, a bit puzzled. “How can those things be right or wrong? That’s simply the way things are.”
“I suppose. But I think your mindset is part of the wrongness. The world shouldn’t look like this.”
There’s a frown on your face as you respond. “How do you know that?”
Carefully, he reaches into his vest pocket to pull out a piece of paper, folded into squares. His touch is gentle as he opens it, then hands it to you. You’re just as careful as you handle it - the paper is old and worn enough that you’re worried you’ll tear it or make it crumble if you’re not very gentle. You see a faded drawing on the paper - some kind of plant that you’ve never seen. It looks too delicate to you, like something that could never survive in the world you live in. The stalk is too thin, and the leaves aren’t sturdy, either. Towards the top of the plant are a collection of different colored leaves, too bright to be familiar to you. It’s much different from the brown, red or orange plants you’re used to.
“It’s called a flower,” Kelsier says. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories. - things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.”
“Plants that smell?” You ask, incredulous. “Like fruit?”
“Something like that, I think. Some of the reports claim that these flowers grew into fruit, in the days before the Ascension.” You only look at him, confused, for a few moments. You’re trying to picture something like that, but you can’t. “That picture belonged to my wife, Mare,” he continues in a softer tone. “Dockson found it in her things after we were taken. He kept it, hoping that we would return. He gave it to me after I escaped.” You look down at the picture again as Kelsier continues to speak. “Mare was fascinated by pre-Ascension times. She collected things like that paper: pictures and descriptions of the old times. I think that fascination - along with the fact that she was a Tineye - is part of what led her to the underground, and to me. She’s the one who first introduced me to Sazed, though I didn’t use him in my crew at the time. He wasn’t interested in thieving.”
You fold up the paper, taking care to be gentle with it once again, as you ask, “And you keep this picture still? After… What she did to you?”
There’s a moment where he falls silent, before he gives you a thoughtful look. “Been listening at doors again, have we? Oh, don’t worry. I suppose it’s common enough knowledge. Yes, I keep the flower. I’m not really sure why. But… Do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much - pain, frustration, anger… and I still loved her. I still do.”
“How?” You ask him. “How can you? And how can you possibly trust people? Didn’t you learn from what she did to you?”
He shrugs before answering. “I think… I think given the choice between loving Mare - betrayal included - and never knowing her, I’d choose love. I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it. It’s the same with my friends. Suspicion is healthy in our profession - but only to an extent. I’d rather trust my men than worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”
“That sounds foolish.” You answer almost immediately.
“Is happiness foolish?” He turns away from looking at the sunset to look your way. “Where have you been happier, Vin? On my crew, or back with Camon?” You don’t answer the question. It’s so obvious that you’re sure it must be rhetorical - of course you’re happier with him. He continues on. “I don’t know if Mare betrayed me. She always claimed that she didn’t.”
The two of you talk about her a little more, about whether or not it was likely she betrayed him, and what happened after Kelsier was sent away to the Pits of Hathsin - a place where criminals are essentially sent to be a source of labor until they’re killed.
“But you didn’t die,” You say, both a statement and a question. He shakes his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky…” He sighs, after his words trail off for a moment. “I know. I’m insane.”
“Actually,” You say, your voice barely above a whisper, “it kind of makes sense. Finally.” The sun finishes setting, and the mists start to appear, growing in the air, translucent and lengthening.
“Mare wanted children.” He says, suddenly. “Back when we were first married, a decade and a half ago. I didn’t agree with her. I wanted to become the most famous skaa thief of all time, and didn’t have time for things that would slow me down. It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t have children. The Lord Ruler might have found and killed them. But he might not have - Dox and the others survived. Now, sometimes I wish I still had a piece of her with me. A child. A daughter perhaps, with Mare’s same dark hair and resilient stubbornness.” He looks down at you again. “I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.”
You frown. “I’m not spending any more time locked in this mansion.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will. If we try to keep you in much longer, you’ll probably show up at Club’s shop one night having done something very foolish. We’re a bit too much alike that way, you and I. Just… be careful.” You nod. “I will.” For a few minutes, the two of you stay silent as you watch the horizon, seeing the mists gather and grow now that the sun has set. Kelsier breaks the silence eventually as he stretches.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.”
“To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.” You respond.
The memory ends.]
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"Is happiness foolish?" Even if it lasts for a little while? Even if it ends... Kumon quietly agrees with Kelsier, though he's never experienced the exact same thing. How could he, when his entire world is so different than theirs.]
... Have you gotten to see some flowers here?
[So much of the Prism experience is so terrible, but at least there are flowers here.]
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Shale's garden and the greenhouse... They're nice.
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Yeah... I've been leaving some in the backalley with Shale's help. Where I'm from, flowers are sometimes used to honor the dead.
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[she means that as a compliment.]
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Thank you?
[He thinks?]
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It is a good thing.
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