Marco's Heart

[peccatore]

You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:

A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.

Comments

[pyrrhicviktory]

You don't sound very certain.

[peccatore]

"... I-- Even looking beyond... my life, on its own... Too many terrible things happen for all of it to be God's design. If you ask me."

[pyrrhicviktory]

Mm. I prefer to believe we have free will as well. To a certain extent, anyway.

[peccatore]

"To an extent...?"

[pyrrhicviktory]

Hmmm. Imagine you go back in time to the day of the press conference. But you do not get to retain any of your future knowledge or hard-earned mental well-being. You do not know how it will turn out-- you are again exactly as you were in that moment.

How do you think you proceed?

[peccatore]

"..." He frowns. "I do exactly the same thing I did before."

[pyrrhicviktory]

Mm. That is what I mean when I say "to a certain extent."

Our fate is not written in the stars. But at the same time, whenever we make a choice, we are not making it in a vacuum. Everything we have done and experienced up until that point in time factors into our decision. Who our parents were. How we grew up. Our mental state at the time. What we know and understand about the world. The decision is therefore, in a sense, a foregone conclusion. Decided ahead of time, by all the factors that make you... you. If you could have made a different choice... you would not be you. You would be a different person.

[peccatore]

Marco doesn't say anything for a good few seconds. It's clear that he's Processing something.

"... I think I've wanted to be a different person. Often."

[pyrrhicviktory]

We cannot escape our pasts. We cannot... unmake the things that make us who we are. To attempt to do so is folly. There is no version of me that would have walked away from Jayce the day I met him, just as there is no version of you that could have decided to walk away from that podium.

But... we are still free to decide who we want to be in the future. And work towards that aim. That is what it means to learn and grow.

[peccatore]

"Right. You're... You're right."

[pyrrhicviktory]

... So. Shall we go bury your parents?

[peccatore]

Marco's hands clench. It's evident that something about the idea terrifies him. Despite this...

"Y-Yes. Yes, let's... Let's."

[pyrrhicviktory]

Take my hand.

[peccatore]

Marco reaches out with a shaking hand.

[pyrrhicviktory]

[ They teleport back to the outside of house that Marco grew up in, rather than inside it. ]

[peccatore]

It looks pristine, exactly as it was when Marco was at the door. Which -

"... It's... like this?"

- seems to surprise him.

[pyrrhicviktory]

It's your mind. It can look any way you want it to.

[peccatore]

"I... guess so."

He touches a wall with the gentleness of someone who's afraid it might crumble.

"This... The town was abandoned, you know. Completely abandoned, a few decades ago. Too many earthquakes. Er, it was just unsustainable. It's... sort of a tourist spot now. Sometimes, I think I'd like to see it for myself, but..."

[pyrrhicviktory]

Maybe one day, you will. ... One step at a time.

[peccatore]

"R-Right."

... He's not sure if he should go inside, so, uh.

"How, how exactly do we...?"

[pyrrhicviktory]

... Let's go around the back. Is there a nice spot in the garden?

[peccatore]

"I... don't remember very clearly." Despite this, he starts heading that way.

[pyrrhicviktory]

Your mind will probably make something up that looks close enough, even if you don't remember it exactly.

[ following ]

[peccatore]

"A-Alright. Er, alright."

The garden looks ordinary. Maybe too ordinary; it's more like a suburban lawn, rather than something that might have conceivably existed in a rocky, cliffside town.

This visibly frustrates Marco.

"That can't be right."

[pyrrhicviktory]

Hmm. Try to think about... how other gardens used to look when you lived here...