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Sometimes, he wondered what real serenity was. The sun was gone, and the sky was a deep blue, lit by the light reflecting off the half moon and those from the distant stars. The sound of crashing waves was joined by a chorus of summer crickets, and the rest of the world seemed to sleep soundly. Watching from several dozen metres beyond the reach of the falling white foam, it seemed easy to believe that everything was right with the world. Everything that had ever troubled him was far away, years away in a place that no longer existed. The empty night was peacefully numbing, and it was easy to believe that he was a just faceless ghost with no name and no past, no scars. He was just a spirit, a pair of eyes in summer evening, and it felt okay.
But he could never maintain the illusion for very long, if it was really even an illusion. It was, quite simply, too beautiful, too perfect, and he had trouble investing faith in that. He had long since settled for simple contentedness; faced with the serenity that might be considered actual happiness, he didn't know how to accept it. The hybrid knew he wasn't really unhappy anymore; the neutrality had become familiar. Did the glittering ocean imply happiness? Did the glow of the moon? Or the bigger question -- was the silence in his head to be trusted? Would he really ever be able to tell whether he'd conquered the memories of the past? Sometimes it felt like he had, but there was never confidence.
An owl called from somewhere in the night. Laruku felt like singing, but it had been too long and he had forgotten all the words.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ The dreams had started again. Ahren couldn’t remember when they had begun, but each night he woke from another ghost, another could-have-been. It was becoming such he could no longer trust himself. The last time, he had been hurled from the first attack—the one that could have cost his life. Except in that dream, he was unarmed, and no one was there to stop them. He felt the teeth sink into his throat and he woke with a strangled scream, woke and coughed until he was coughing up blood and then he fell to the ground and cursed heaven for what it never was.
_____ He hadn’t slept in three days. Each night he was left alone, desperate for any contact. He would speak to himself, wandering in the shadows of the forest and the ruins of the city. He did not look worse for the wear—the mechanical things that he did kept him alive, kept him looking better then he felt. Even the scars, the damnable scars, were slowly fading. They would never be gone completely, oh no—but some were looking better then others. That meant something, but Ahren did not quite grasp it.
_____ Something had changed again. Ahren was aware of this. He had walked to the ocean somewhere in the fog of waking life and now stood there, a fading phantom, and realized he hated himself.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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Oftentimes, the loneliness of the forest seemed overbearing. Lack of contact made everything seem less tangible, more questionable. When your own senses couldn't be trusted and there was no one around to confirm or deny anything, the lack of confidence was maddening. Those were the days filled with the most uncertainty, and sometimes, it felt as if he would ever see anyone again, no matter how far he roamed, as if the concept of "others" had only ever been a concept, and the memories he had were nothing more than wild hallucinations and dreams. To be the last person on earth was a miserable thing, but it rendered him mute more than anything else. When there was no one to hear your voice, was your voice really there at all? The quiet in the woods extended to his head where the voices seemed to have faded and died. It was an unearthly silence.
Occasionally though, the crushing sense of loss and isolation led to a vague belief that said this truly was an ideal situation. There was no one left for him to hurt, and no one left to hurt him. The scars didn't exist if he didn't look at them; he didn't exist -- just the rest of the world. A floating consciousness in an empty landscape was at peace. It was a strange kind of enlightenment and though it could still be associated with illusions and fakery, the feelings it encouraged were not the same. Sometimes, he felt like he had been forced to evolve beyond misery. Beyond it, there was nothing, and nothing was acceptable. Peaceful. Serene. Maybe it was enlightenment in a way. Maybe this was what a religion was. He didn't know if he really believed in it though, but he didn't know if believing in it was really necessary either.
They shared the forest, but the forest was large, and thus had not seen each other in many weeks already. Ahren stood behind him, and Laruku turned to face him. Maybe his slim coyote face showed his near-acceptance of the world; maybe it showed nothing. He didn't look at himself anymore and didn't know what he looked like anymore. The other looked tired. The hybrid found that he didn't know how to say hello anymore.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Through suffering came enlightenment—the dead men had told him this, in their silent voices. The trees argued otherwise, suggesting that this was a flawed idea, and that there was no way out. Becoming close to nature did not make one close to God, as they had far too long lived in the wild. Everything became common, eventual, expected. Why hadn’t they died back there, in the ashes of the place they had once ruled over? Misplaced former kings, emperors, here they were nothing and no one. Ahren had learned that was his place all too long ago, when he had been cast out with a quiet hand.
_____ He saw Laruku, but he did not really see him. For the past two days, he had been seeing people who were not there. It had started with fleeting glimpses, shadows out of the corner of his eye. They grew in size and form as the hours burnt along, and they never spoke. Sometimes he called out to them, and sometimes he screamed. He was all too aware that something was going to break soon, something inside that had been built out of rusty wire and colorful string. It had happened before, and he knew the signs. To see the end of the world would be nothing new.
_____ Ahren did not move, and he did not speak. He couldn’t. His feet were lead and his mouth was full of iron.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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So, like. Laruku isn't behaving anything remotely like how I thought he would. x_x
It was ironic, of course, that two men so consumed by their own loneliness when faced with one another, have nothing to say. As the lyrics had all seemed to leave him, so did the simplest of words. A greeting, long-rehearsed lines of smalltalk, any simple phrase to acknowledge a presence. Spoken language was, perhaps, useless to the last man on earth, but even if his voice had withered away, where were the words that facilitated his thoughts? Even if the long passages of rhetoric and prose were gone, the verses of poetry, the essays and philosophy -- where were the rest of the words? His mind was filled with silence, but he could not miss the voice. In its place were images, mute.
He laughed.
And it was not a malicious or sinister laugh. It was not mirthless; it was not loud. It was a small chuckle, a momentary smile, a profound acknowledgment of grand, longstanding stupidity. He was lonely. He was not. He was alive. He was a ghost. The world did not make a shred of sense and simultaneously did. He was on the verge of a grand breakthrough, but he could not understand it. Irony was the deadliest thing of all. It gave life to things. This is how it works, he sang, suddenly and perfectly, You're young until you're not. You love until don't~ You try until you can't~ -- he turned back to the ocean -- You laugh until you cry~ You cry until you laugh~ And everyone must breathe~ Until their dying breath... The momentum died down as quickly as it had come. Perhaps he didn't know the rest. Perhaps he'd never known the beginning either.
The world was silent again, but suddenly, he had something he missed.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ A frail and tempered piece of colorful string, perhaps blue, perhaps red or yellow, snapped. Inside of his chest Ahren felt a great rush, and suddenly it was like there was something filling his being. The noise from Laruku had brought something to a head, and that was all it took. Ahren’s mouth opened. “Last night I heard the screaming, loud voices behind the wall,” he sang strongly, his eyes hazing over with a faint and distant memory. How familiar was this? How many times had they been in this position before? Had it been Laruku or Matinee that had been there to sing with him so many times? It felt like his heart was healing, a terrible pain worse then it had been when it shattered.
_____ “Another sleepless night for me, it wont do no good to call…always come late, if they come at all,” he ended with the final note fading from his throat. A girl had sung that for him once, a blue-eyed girl on the deck of a ship. He shivered, and looked down at his feet.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
lyrics © "Behind The Wall" - Tracy Chapman
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No one had ever really sung with or for him before, and he usually stopped when others happened upon him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd-- Yes, he could. But he couldn't remember what he'd sung. Really, he couldn't remember what it was that had just come out of his mouth, and if he squeezed his eyes shut now to try to find the rest of the verse, he knew he wouldn't be able to. The melody was already gone, replaced by another -- Ahren's song was in a different key, had a different mood, had a different everything. His voice was different. Laruku wasn't sure what he felt about it, and then, once more, before he could even try to begin understanding where any of this was coming from, more lyrics were breathed into the quiet night air.
I'll be there, as soon as I can... but I'm busy mending bro-ken pieces of... His own voice had become softer, The life I had before... Except these lyrics were wrong. He wasn't trying to mend anything anymore. And he was already there. So he laughed again and finally, actually, spoke. I don't know what I'm singing, he said, still facing the sea, I haven't done it in a long time.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ Very slowly, a smile washed over Ahren’s face. It was thin and it was sad. He looked up, studying his companion’s back. Excuses, promises, everything they had ever given each other. That was what he heard, what he saw. His hands began moving, and he slid the crossbow from his back because it felt too heavy, and everything felt too heavy. Even the crashing waves and the soft voice were too heavy. He shut his eyes.
_____ Somehow, he had moved forward. His voice dropped, low, almost broken. “What ever happened to the young man's heart, swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart…” It hurt. It hurt believing that they were responsible for everything. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. His hands reached forward and pulled the hybrid close, and Ahren hid his face in Laruku’s hair. This much he understood. They needed each other in some way.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
lyrics © "45" - Shinedown
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It was these fleeting moments, these dandelion seeds and fireflies floating through the summer breeze, that seemed to exaggerate time. They were brief, instantaneous, and immeasurably small, but somehow, even squeezed between months and years of tragedies, they held their own ground. It was these fleeting moments that he still dreamed about some nights, when the air was warm and there was no rain. His mind registered surprise, and it might have actually connected to show on his face. His eyes widened, and then there was warmth -- a body next to his own, radiating with heat, with life, with some kind of emotion, even if he couldn't read or understand it yet. It was shockingly nostalgic, more than he might have cared to admit, but tonight, he did not immediately think of someone else. This was Ahren de le Poer. And tonight, that seemed okay.
He placed his hands over the other's and leaned back; he closed his eyes and saw nothing, no flashbacks, no memories. This time, there were no images, only words, only music. Still livin' in a world we know, still livin' in a world we know, ho~ld on there, and then life goes on. His voice faded again, but he held on for several more moments. Fleeting moment after fleeting moment. Maybe everything really did add up in the end. The hybrid let go and sat back up again slowly, glancing again at the ocean. And then he looked at the sky and the half moon and the stars, the constellations. He didn't remember what any of them were. He didn't remember any of the reasons why they might have been relevant. He couldn't even tell by looking which way north was. Laruku could still feel the warmth on his body where they had touched. He howled at the moon, and for once, didn't think at all about his wailing coyote voice.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ They both were haunted by the memories of those fleeting long-lost loves, so long ago. Nights where the rain chased them into a barn, where the stars were wheeling ahead, where ghosts danced through long-burnt forests. His eyes opened slightly, and he saw nothing but darkness, starlight, moonbeams. The vibration that passed between them was soft and it lulled a monster to a dream-like world. Then the connection was broken and Ahren was left alone, watching a peculiar sight. It was noise, as always, that meant so much to him. A cry against the darkness reassured him that something had indeed changed, as he had realized not so long ago.
_____ Impulse, instinct, it drove him to echo the call. His wail faded against the moonlight and he stared at the ever constant, ever cold moonlight. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice still cracked, on the verge of breaking. He sank down to the sand, feeling the pulse in his arm pounding, demanding, the ape on his back, the dragon in his blood, the desire he had never truly been to escape. He craved that more then anything in the world and he hated himself for that.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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It felt terrifying for some reason, their voices melting together in the night. Though they didn't quite match, it wasn't an awful harmony either. That wasn't what really bothered him though. They had touched for all of a minute, briefly, a tiny fraction of the night, but the second the warmth faded away, that moment already seemed like forever ago and the empty space between them was absolute zero, a frozen vacuum that hurt to cross. It was only then that he finally thought of the grey wolf and all of the emptiness that had been left between them. That distance, the physical and the emotional distance that stood between them now, was not a distance he could shrink anymore. He pushed it away. There was no place for that here tonight. His voice died on the wind as another wave crashed on the shore. The air did not feel so warm anymore.
He turned around to face his friend, expression strangely empty after all the emotion that'd just been released from his chest. He'd forgotten his own laughter already. Ahren's words reminded him of his own. The last two years had been filled with endless apologies. I'm sorry. Laruku did not pretend to know or understand; indeed, at that moment, what he knew and what he understood at any given moment seemed completely arbitrary. The breakthrough was slipping away already, and he could see the fire in the pit already. Red eyes closed again briefly, trying to call back whatever had been there. The words were gone again, but so were the images. Blind and deaf and mute. Lonely and cold. He reached and put one hand on the other's waist, and then he licked his damaged eye.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ There would forever be a ghost on the horizon, a shadowy memory of what had been and what could never be again. They had long since evolved past that point, even though they were flawed mutations of their former selves. Ahren knew with dire certainty that he was not all right. He had never been all right. For all his preaching, for all his methods, in the end it all came back to the heroine and the girl that had left him one terrible night. She had taken a part of him with her, and he hated her for that. In the end, he had only ever had himself, he had only ever had the needle, he had only ever had the things that helped his escape.
_____ Something warm touched his face and Ahren started, looked up and stared at his companion. He did not move to touch the eye, knowing it for what it was, and instead felt rather then saw his vision blur. Something wet fell from his eyes and he hurriedly whipped it away with his right hand, feeling as if that action alone might save him. “I don’t want to be able feel anything anymore,” he nearly whispered, the truth of the matter bared on his arms, his eye, his soul.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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Yes, you do, the coyotewolf told him in similar whisper. The only escape Laruku had ever had had been in his mind. The worst substance he'd ever put in his body was tequila, but the pieces of his heart had been scattered all around the planet all the same. A scavenger hunt that he would never even seek to start because it had been too long and he didn't want to know what it felt like to have all the glass shards still in his chest anymore. And yet, and yet the growing hole that'd been left in its place could still feel. He could feel the coldness that the breeze carried, and he could feel the quiet, ever subtle aching that had manifested again in the very back of his skull. A blinded eye and a broken mutter. They were so goddamn similar.
Laruku needed to feel. Tonight, it seemed like not feeling was worse than the cold. His hand had become warm where it was touching Ahren's side. He didn't think anymore. His mind hurt, and all of a sudden, a thousand other things too. His throat, his eyes, his ears, his chest. He licked the blonde's cheek and shifted his weight against him to push him onto his back. Warmth. Feeling. Feeling. It always seemed to happen this way though; the moment his body warmed again, his mind froze solid, and he was gone.
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THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOVED
______THE THINGS THAT I'VE LOST
THE THINGS I'VE HELD SACRED
______________THAT I'VE DROPPED
_____ There was a mounting pressure in his chest, and it was crushing, pushing, demanding. He gasped for air, choked on it, and shut his eyes. A solitary whisper in the dark made him ache and want to fall into the nothingness of being. And he did, gradually. He fell onto his back and he sank into the earth, covered in the blanket of stars and emptiness. The pressure remained in his chest but spread to his spine, to the lowest part of his back, and he exhaled in a profound breath.
_____ Nothing would ever be all right. But they would survive. They had survived this long and they would survive still. They should have died in the fire. They should have never left that place. Ahren kept his eyes shut and felt nothing, everything, absolution, regret—but he felt warm for the first time in months. In the end, when they had finished and Ahren finally opened his eyes, he saw the stars and in their indifference found some vague sense of comfort.
I won't lie no more you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget
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