12-30-2007, 11:14 PM
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He wasn't sure that he had ever had any single place he considered safe, or even a home. After Ceres had revealed the truth of his parentage, he had taken to the tombstone as a place of comfort because his mother was nothing more than a symbol to him, something that was supposed to be good and whole, the only thing anyone had ever testified to him as good and whole. But after Ceres herself had died, the clearing became a real graveyard and the small sanctuary was gone. Burying his predessor there had opened it up to all of her children and grandchildren and distant relatives and it was not a private place anymore. Besides, as the months had gone all, he had racked up far too many misdeeds to ever be able to face them now.
There was no safe place. He was too ashamed of himself to be able to find comfort in his surroundings anymore. Memories destroyed everything, even when he forgot what they were. Laruku blinked and momentarily forgot where he was; his head hurt and his stomach was still swishing with vodka and wine, tequila and whiskey. He was still shivering but didn't notice. The scarred man sat down on the bed, but only briefly before joining his gibberish-spouting friend on the floor with another blanket. And he said nothing this time because English was all he had ever known and part of him wondered if maybe he was the one spouting gibberish and the other was the one with the real words. Maybe this was another dream.
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He wasn't sure that he had ever had any single place he considered safe, or even a home. After Ceres had revealed the truth of his parentage, he had taken to the tombstone as a place of comfort because his mother was nothing more than a symbol to him, something that was supposed to be good and whole, the only thing anyone had ever testified to him as good and whole. But after Ceres herself had died, the clearing became a real graveyard and the small sanctuary was gone. Burying his predessor there had opened it up to all of her children and grandchildren and distant relatives and it was not a private place anymore. Besides, as the months had gone all, he had racked up far too many misdeeds to ever be able to face them now.
There was no safe place. He was too ashamed of himself to be able to find comfort in his surroundings anymore. Memories destroyed everything, even when he forgot what they were. Laruku blinked and momentarily forgot where he was; his head hurt and his stomach was still swishing with vodka and wine, tequila and whiskey. He was still shivering but didn't notice. The scarred man sat down on the bed, but only briefly before joining his gibberish-spouting friend on the floor with another blanket. And he said nothing this time because English was all he had ever known and part of him wondered if maybe he was the one spouting gibberish and the other was the one with the real words. Maybe this was another dream.