Echoes of Bitter Comfort
A Wakfu fanfiction
Spoiler warning:
This story and its description contain major spoilers for the second season of Wakfu.
Description:
For those doomed to be forgotten repeatedly for eternity, raising Yugo was a great comfort... and a source of pain.
Content warning:
Mentions of character death.
This story and its description contain major spoilers for the second season of Wakfu.
Description:
For those doomed to be forgotten repeatedly for eternity, raising Yugo was a great comfort... and a source of pain.
Content warning:
Mentions of character death.
There were two great banes of Qilby’s and Shinonome’s existences.
One was the endless, grinding repetition of life on their planet. One too-similar life and one painful death after another, an inescapable cycle of boredom and trauma.
The other was being forgotten.
Every time part of their family died, it was time to be forgotten again. A blow less cruel than losing a sibling forever, but one that repeated itself endlessly for millennia, driving deeper and deeper until the scars it left threatened to go numb.
Each time they were forgotten, they had to rebuild the broken relationship from scratch. Remembering precious moments and heartfelt conversations the other participants forgot, and giving love to their forgetful siblings while having to re-earn those siblings’ love in return.
And Yugo’s love was always so easy to regain.
Sweet, trusting Yugo loved everyone on sight. Barring active antagonism or threats, he made friends instantly and forgave offences almost as fast, and he was always so eager to help.
His pranks kept the oldest twins on their toes when they might otherwise have gone numb to the world, and while neither Qilby nor Shinonome ever asked, they each suspected – accurately – that the other served as a consulting prankster, conspiring with the child to take their twin by surprise.
When Yugo and Adamai inevitably grew up and went off on their own journeys, Qilby and Shinonome looked forward to the stories they’d tell upon their return, and sometimes accompanied them on their quests, seeking new adventures to infuse fresh colour into their increasingly grey and stale lives.
But there was a downside to the softness of Yugo’s heart. Too often, it caused that heart to stop beating.
Were they not supernaturally forced to remember every moment of their lives, the Keepers of History would have lost count of the times when they wept over their little brother’s corpse, wondering how he could have thrown his life away for so little.
They knew he would return. And when he did, he’d love them just as freely when they were strangers as he did when they were people he’d known his whole life.
It still hurt to be forgotten.
But at least, with Yugo, it was a little less painful.
One was the endless, grinding repetition of life on their planet. One too-similar life and one painful death after another, an inescapable cycle of boredom and trauma.
The other was being forgotten.
Every time part of their family died, it was time to be forgotten again. A blow less cruel than losing a sibling forever, but one that repeated itself endlessly for millennia, driving deeper and deeper until the scars it left threatened to go numb.
Each time they were forgotten, they had to rebuild the broken relationship from scratch. Remembering precious moments and heartfelt conversations the other participants forgot, and giving love to their forgetful siblings while having to re-earn those siblings’ love in return.
And Yugo’s love was always so easy to regain.
Sweet, trusting Yugo loved everyone on sight. Barring active antagonism or threats, he made friends instantly and forgave offences almost as fast, and he was always so eager to help.
His pranks kept the oldest twins on their toes when they might otherwise have gone numb to the world, and while neither Qilby nor Shinonome ever asked, they each suspected – accurately – that the other served as a consulting prankster, conspiring with the child to take their twin by surprise.
When Yugo and Adamai inevitably grew up and went off on their own journeys, Qilby and Shinonome looked forward to the stories they’d tell upon their return, and sometimes accompanied them on their quests, seeking new adventures to infuse fresh colour into their increasingly grey and stale lives.
But there was a downside to the softness of Yugo’s heart. Too often, it caused that heart to stop beating.
Were they not supernaturally forced to remember every moment of their lives, the Keepers of History would have lost count of the times when they wept over their little brother’s corpse, wondering how he could have thrown his life away for so little.
They knew he would return. And when he did, he’d love them just as freely when they were strangers as he did when they were people he’d known his whole life.
It still hurt to be forgotten.
But at least, with Yugo, it was a little less painful.
Author's note:
If you want to read my original stories, you can find them here.
And if you'd like to help me publish new stories faster, please consider supporting me on Patreon, so I can spend more time writing and less time doing other things to make money.
If you want to read my original stories, you can find them here.
And if you'd like to help me publish new stories faster, please consider supporting me on Patreon, so I can spend more time writing and less time doing other things to make money.