daybreakacademy | The sound of your voice, cuts through the noise, It's all that I hear, that I need the most

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The sound of your voice, cuts through the noise, It's all that I hear, that I need the most

Who: Héctor and you
What: Héctor and his daughter return
When: After the day of the dead, month of November
Where: The Inn of Atropos, Soliel, Daybreak Academy
Warning: N/A

A - Crossing the Bridge

He would have liked to simply stay in Mexico. It was hard to shake the fear that if he left, he'd never see it again. But, with the sun rising and others needing to return, travelling along with the others seemed the best choice. And besides, Coco was with him. That was more home than anything in the world.

His room at Daybreak Academy is gone by now, but he's alright with that. He and his girl are saying in the Inn of Atropos, courtesy of Maverick's mother and her not even protesting the fact that he's dead in the day. It's something Coco has to bear with and they've got a lot to talk about, but in those night hours she's awake with him and he couldn't be happier.

He's got a lot to sort out on his own-- apparently, the veil finally dissolved sometime while he was away. This means resisting as an existing member of society, for better and worse, and negotiating his undead status is something that he and everyone he talks to is having to navigate. Still, soon enough, he'll be home. He and Coco will both be home.

He doesn't hide his room address. At least not from friends. They're all informed on where to find him, if they wish to seek him out, and he can be occasionally found in the lobby as well. He's in a good mood, eager to chat.

B - Pestering the Celebrities

"No. Ha, no. No, thank you, no."

Héctor backs out onto the street with a sheepish grin. His hands are raised. Apparently, his newfound fans have found him.

Fame, he finds, doesn't suit him, but fame is what he's found himself with nevertheless after his performance with Coco on Día De Muertos. Some are new fans, some are old De La Cruz fans come around to him, and some are more curious about his undead status than anything else. He hasn't yet managed to change back to his living self, though his energy is gradually returning. He hopes, if it comes back fully, he'll be able to slip into his skin and return to some level of anonymity back home.

Of course, that doesn't mean he isn't willing to play for people. He can be found, later, playing at a fountain in the center of Soliel, where he once heard a girl named Maya Matlin play, not far from the gazebo where he played with Peter Parker. He experienced some terrible things in this town, but there were many wonders too.

C - Dept. of Reunions

He couldn't stay from the school forever. Besides needing to wrap a few things up; telling the higher faculty that he was sorry, but, he just couldn't help them cure blight any longer and then further resigning from a job that forgot he existed anyway. It occurs to him that, with everyone remembering him again, and his own new necromancer status, he might again be able to resurrect himself if they can find a way to rid his body of the poisons. But... that's something he'll table for now. It's something to talk over with his family.

Right now, he wants to focus on his friends, the people who saved him and others about.

"Hey," He says, hovering in the doorway with a grin. "Hope you didn't think you could avoid seeing me forever."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not like that, kid.

[He waves hand. Just get that one out of the way.]

My kind. I mentioned that my sort of undead is rare, but, the thing is, when we were all trapped in the Outlands, for whatever magic reasons, we all seemed to find each other. It's how we survived, stayed sane, figured out what the heck was going on, all of that. We'd stick together and... well, we'd call each other family. Cousins, aunts, uncles. Stuff like that.

We're not really related. You've got people all over the world wandering into the Outlands and meeting a bad fate there. But you go through difficult times with a bunch of people, spend so many years with them, and you grow close to them.

[He shrugs.]

[squint!!! He's got his eye on you, man... Sounds like things check out this time, though. As unfamiliar as it is to him. The most difficult times he's had, the years spent going through them, he was alone. The closest thing to it he can think now is, of course, his fast, genuine friendship with Coco in just the past few months.]

Oh. Okay.

[He picks at the fringe around the hole, wearing it even larger.]

[His head tilts. His smile doesn't fall, but he is curious.]

Were you expecting something terrible?

Dude, a group of people suffering together is kind of still terrible.

[But...hmm. This might as well happen.]

My dad left me and my mom. It wasn't anything like what happened with you -- I don't know what his reason was and I don't care. My stepdad didn't give a shit about me, either.

[He tugs a thread free and drops it off to the side, following its drifting course rather than look over at Héctor.]

You're not even getting on my case about being a bad influence, or whatever. I guess I just still thought there's no way, even though I trust what Coco's all told me.

[He hums. He can't deny that. But he soon falls quiet to listen. He nods. Just nods. He can see what Cliff is going.]

I'm not a saint. I'm not even one of these heroes here. [He gestures in the direction of the school.] I've made mistakes. Some very selfish ones. Leaving in the first place counts as that.

But I always wanted a family. Something... something real. I waited so long and then... then I had Coco. Everything just... fit. I can't imagine any decent father not feeling the same kind of love for his child. I had to go back. I had to reach her. I literally died, and it was all I could think. I needed my family.

In any case, you don't seem like that much of a bad influence to me. No more than I am. I don't see what I'd get on your case for.

[Yeah, see. That's the thing. Any decent father... What's that? He knows Héctor isn't perfect, and he understands how hurt and angry Coco's mother must have been. But he was...good. Better than a decent father, because he never stopped trying.

He has to laugh a little at the last comment, even though it isn't funny. He leans forward even more to pick at his shoe instead.]

Carl would've thought you were blind. What wasn't there to get on my case for? Such bullshit...

[It still makes him feel angry to think about. Angry and lost, because he can't really think of what he'd done that first changed things, even if that moment was stuck there like gum on a shoe.]

Anyway... I guess I'm just waiting for you to majorly fuck up, and not try to make it up to people.

I don't know who this Carl is but it sounds to me like I've got better eyes than he does. And considering my Coco thinks well of you, I'm even more sure he's wrong.

[He says that pointedly.

With that though, he sighs.]

I'm going to screw up. Screwing up is... what I do best. Or up there, with the music, maybe. I imagine it'll be catastrophic. At the least, I'll be screwing up until the end of my unlife. But, when it comes to my family, I'll do everything in my power to make it right.

You can keep waiting. It's probably good to keep me on my toes. But I didn't climb out of my grave on a whim.

And hey. Coming from an actual dead-end foster system kid? Don't let jerks like that Carl make you believe what they say. They don't actually know what they're talking about.

[Ugh. He's Coco's dad, definitely, but the assurances hit differently when it's an adult freely admitting to their mistakes and reminding you of your own. Your values. Cliff props his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm while he waits for enough of his feelings to ease up for him to look over to Héctor again, eyes flashing and making his adjusted gaze obvious.]

No... I know Carl was full of shit. Figured it out a long time ago, so...don't worry about it. [It was just rare that someone else believed him. Believed in him, as he tentatively hopes with these crazy Riveras.] Shit, it was basically my divine right, as the 'redheaded stepchild'. Not much I could've done there.

[Mm... It's nice knowing that this was apparently another secret of his that Coco was keeping. She's a good one. He's going to miss her, even if it ends up feeling okay to accept Héctor's offer to fly him around for visits, or whatever.]

I believe you. Both about doing everything in your power and your inevitably screwing up. Shit happens sometimes. You knowing you aren't gonna be perfect now is just another way you're a better father figure than anything I ever had, seriously.

[He casts a sympathetic look on Cliff. It doesn't do much to help but, well, sometimes it was nice to be listened to.

His smile quirks a little, Cliff not arguing his inevitable disaster. He nods and then stops.]

Well... Thank you. That's probably one of the better compliments I've ever gotten.

But, that being said, I hope you find more than just me. And if not... well, the way I always saw it, I know all what not to do and all that I'd want. As a father or just as one person talking to another, that's what I try to keep in mind. For every terrible time, you're specially equipped for being way better.

[And that makes his grin rather rueful.]

[It sure the fuck is nice to be listened to, yeah. Cliff sighs loudly and looks back up to the stars. His voice is instantly kicked from its more contemplative, open tone.]

I come to you seeking beer and instead you tell me I'd make a good dad someday. Okay, man. Just disregard my deepest desires. It's cool.

[He laughs.]

There it is, you've found my terrible flaw! Not providing minors with alcohol.

But also, you're wrong. You came to me because you heard my music.

[And for that, he pulls up his guitar. His guitar, in it's gleaming white glory reflecting the moon nearly as well as this boy's eyes.]

[He's got him there. Like a fiddle, Clifford's attention is pulled to the guitar as they're both played. It's pretty -- the music and the guitar -- and even without saying anything, his admiration is clear. After listening for a bit, though, he does speak.]

Seriously the coolest guitar I've ever seen. Not that I've seen any up close before.

My wife got it for me. Way back, years ago, as a wedding gift.

[He moves it in his arms so Cliff can take a full look.]

Kind of prophetic, huh? But I've always just been really into skeletons.

[His wife... For their wedding. He can imagine how much of a slap in the face it must have felt like when Héctor walked away with it and didn't return.]

Well, yeah. Skeletons are cool.

[He thinks that's prophetic, just wait until it comes out that he's Clifford the big red dog. Actually, don't wait around for that, even the mental joke makes him a little anxious.]

Plus Day of the Dead must be pretty interesting at the Rivera household. Coco mentioned ghosts. Did they look like you, or more, uh, normal?

[He touches a hand to his ribcage, where his heart would be.]

Why thank you.

[He laughs at his own dumb joke, then hums.]

Ghosts all look different. As much as there are different varieties of undead. But I didn't see any ghosts until I died. I assume some showed up on Día de Muertos but Coco was young and Imelda didn't do any summonings when we were minding a little girl so they would have stayed invisible to us. Of course, now I see the Dead so clearly I can't even tell who's not alive sometimes.

Oh, but día de muertos! We had one here last year, Imelda and I, when we were still trying to bring me back to life. It was amazing. All the offerings... and she let me put my own photo up, just kind of tucked in and hidden. I haven't eaten much since I died as you can imagine but that day, I could get the essence off things and, ha, I definitely indulged! But it was also just... nice, you know? Being acknowledged and part of things. Remembered. It was nice knowing that it hadn't just been built up in my head.

[Listening to Héctor is strange, even if it warms his pessimistic teen heart. The ease with which he spoke of these things and his acceptance despite such wildly different beginnings -- humble, comparatively normal beginnings -- is just...amazing. Cliff is attentive, a small smile in place, happy both to learn about something so weird and...to feel like maybe someday, he could be like this, too. Not dead, ideally. He really doesn't think he could handle the attention that came with being a skeleton out in the world. But happy, loved, and feeling like there's a place where he belongs and he isn't so different, even when he's himself.]

Sorry you missed it this year... I mean, you were definitely remembered, so there's that, but we didn't have any food or flowers waiting for you. Next year's will be awesome, I bet.

Ah, it's alright. [He waves a hand.] I've got everything I wanted now and, like you say, next year will be great. Like having a second birthday! And I get to be at home, I can get a whole pile of cempasuchils and lay in them if I want to, and--

Ay, dios. My in-laws. My dead in-laws...

[There's a momentary look of horror. Then he shakes himself.]

Ah, but, I'm sure it'll be fine! I have a pretty good excuse. And it'll be Día de Muertos! Who can be mad on Día de Muertos? [Don't answer that.] But it'll still be a good time no matter what.

Cempasuchils?

[Sorry, Héc, he's laughing at you.]

Hey, at least they can't kill you no matter how pissed they are. Like you said, hard to kill a dead guy.

I think that's the part I'm afraid of to be honest.

[He deserves to be laughed at. He is also being dramatic.]

Anyway, Cempasuchils. The really big bright orange flowers. Marigolds but not the tiny little french kinds. Cempasuchils smell amazing to the dead. Everyone uses them on Día de Muertos to make paths and things, decorate the ofrendas... It's really nice, even from a living standpoint. It's got to be at least half nostalgia that draws the dead in, I think.

I'm from Oklahoma, man, I don't even know what a french marigold is.

[But he thinks...maybe he saw the kind Héctor means, from the little he saw of the vibrant Mexico City life through his exhaustion. If so, it really does sound nice. It sounds nice even if he can't accurately picture it, really.]

Only real interesting flower we got in Podunk is some blue rose. Never seen it anywhere else, not that I really look.

A blue rose?

[He lifts a "brow".]

Well, if it's not dyed somehow, or some other gardening trick, it might be magic.

There was this kind of flower in the Outlands, mi familia and I would always get excited when we found one because it had this sort of... nectar I guess that we could drink from despite being dead. Really, really, really hard to find, but then, it turned out recently it was kind of a key ingredient in helping me be like, well, this. And not just a corpse.

Your blue rose might have some kind of property to it. I'd bring it up to the Daybreak staff sometime, they might send someone out to look at it. Could be useful. You never know.

Edited 2020-11-05 15:55 (UTC)

Pff. Dude, no. The place is literally called Podunk, weird shit just doesn’t happen there. Nothing happens there. It’s just some local thing someone grew.

[Cant fathom it any other way, despite having been there when he became a werewolf and the fact that he’d been rescued by a talking bear. Totally normal place.]

[He gives Cliff a very pointed look. The most pointed thus far. You could open letters with this.]

Chamaco. I don't mean to freak you out, but nobody goes to Daybreak Academy because things are normal. I'd have said the exact same thing about Santa Cecilia until I found out my wife was a mage. This world? Is weird.

[He straightens up.]

Besides. Blue roses don't happen naturally.

Edited 2020-11-05 17:19 (UTC)

[He doesn’t need letters opened, he’s got email. And the internet tells him “fuck what Héctor says”, so that must be what’s up.]

Uh-huh, sure. You’d see if you went. I’m the closest thing to weird shit Podunk’s got, and I was there for all of a fucking half-day when I last went. [Aaanyway.] Did you know she was a mage before or after she became your wife? Because holy shit, that’d be some revelation after.

[He hums in that absolutely doubting way. The mmmhmmm of amused adults who are vaguely humoring.

But he lets it go. Kid can find out for himself.]

Before. When we were dating in our teens. I... think I was sixteen? No. Maybe seventeen. Yeah, she told me she was a mage, and, to be honest, I didn't get it. I bought her that dragons board game and a bunch of dice. Real smooth. But, after that, she more or less decided it was better to just show me her magic.

I think as far as existential crises go, that one wasn't too bad.

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