momento mori

Jefferson Soul · 01-13-2011, 09:58 PM

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Colibri, Whisper Beach! The thread we've all been waiting for!

He had never considered himself lonely, but a soul set aside a separate entity from all the rest, an independent, a loner. The creature when first birthed as Jefferson had spent months on end alone; his own company had been those he now supposed to be the enemies of Maluki, those directly inflicted by the madman's streak of terror. Surely they had lost siblings, children, friends to the wicked, duel-eyed Clouded Tears boy; surely they had understood the feeling of loneliness, knowing it best once the eldest Soul boy had taken from them their loved ones' innocence or lives. He left behind him a trail of misery and terror, one ostracizing to any in its wake, and in the midst of loneliness those creatures only knew revenge. That had been true of Miriette, of Heath, of Gael once upon a time. He could not blame them. He could never blame them.

But even in those months he'd spent alone, grasping this new, blank state that was the name Jefferson, he had not known loneliness. Not once had the monster yearned for companionship, for a place to call home. In those seconds in which he woke up from the darkness that was Maluki, without the slightest memory in the least, he had felt peace. A few blessed seconds of numbness, of ignorance, of innocence. His head had started surging next, a blasting pain in his skull from an obvious strike to the head, and a searing hotness within his eye—was it open? Closed? He could not tell. There was no vision. At the time he'd had four legs, four able limbs. Not long after, he had lost one in an accident that had truly not been his fault in any way. He was the sinner, he knew, deserving what came his way. Jefferson did not understand it at the time. He did not know what it was he had done—but one was not born years old, bleeding from a sightless eye with innumerable scars and bruises of varying ages and depths. He was born in such a way. He was born Jefferson, even from the beginning. That, he had known from the start.

But he had never considered surrounding himself with others. Tragedy and error seemed to follow in his footsteps like a walking storm, a boisterous gale that blew down all he passed through. His collapse on Phoenix Valley borders had been accidental, never intended. He had not wanted to be a member, having planned to leave as soon as he was physically able to move again on his own, and yet it had never happened. He'd found Iskata, he'd found Laruku. They knew of this Maluki, this creature that ravaged in the back of his mind somewhere, and so Jefferson remained. There was an identity within him.

Since then, they had died. All who'd known him, the Maluki they spoke so highly of, were dead. He was all that was left; the monster had outlived them all. Haku, Iskata, Laruku. Cercelee was gone. His siblings were gone. He was alone.

For some time he wandered the pavement, his limping gait staggering over the faded lines and cracks. For some time he laid there, mid-street, among the snow and cold and wet. He wandered the beach next. Why was he here? He was not lonely; no, of course not. The pack knew of him, needed him. Geneva and Pripyat and Addison, back home. Bindu had looked up to him. Miriette and Gael had reappeared as of late. He was surrounded by so many, so many faces he himself had somehow united, as if the brute himself were of some sort of guiding light and importance. It was not the case. That would never be the case.

He gazed into the sea. It had tempted him once, but not since. What was it like, to escape life? Did loneliness follow into the next dimension?

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