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indent Every so often Melisande would go places that sparked memories. The most prominent of these places was the grave of Ceres. She stood there now, the early morning wind biting at her. It had taken a lot of courage to go there this morning. It was usually where she ended up meeting her father, depressingly enough. She'd been meaning to come back and pay her respects, but she was afraid. This time, Lisi wouldn't be there. Dad was somewhere else, probably with Konane. She wanted to like both of them, she did like both of them. But to an extent, she also thought of them as children, running off and doing as they pleased, and coming back, wanting to play house. She sighed.
indent "Grandmama... it took a long time for me to get up the strength to come here this time." For the first time in a while, she was here, and yet not completely in tears. She smiled, remembering the little white wolfess, not so unlike herself, when she was alive and happy. Melisande was just a puppy when Ceres taught her about death, and she could never let go of the thought that somehow Ceres must have known, must have been preparing her... She pushed the thought out of her mind. "Everything here has changed so much since you were alive, but I must adapt. I'm trying."
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So... I suck at life.  I'm dating this for today, if that's alright, though really, any date between the 25th of last month and today is fine. <_<
Maybe he really wasn't even alive anymore. He was sure that this was what it felt like to be dead, a ghost, a plagued spirit wandering through the mists for all of eternity, completely unaware of the passage of time and unable to keep track of anything, or anyone, around him. The affairs of his own pack escaped him most days, and he was sure that someone else entirely was running the show. He hardly knew the name of any of the newcomers; they passed through on someone else's authority entirely, and he couldn't really blame any of them. When did he show up anymore? Did he answer when people called him? Maybe he ignored them; maybe he just didn't hear them anymore. Reality unraveled around him and he just couldn't be bothered to deal with it at all.
His daughter was gone now. Part of him was happy that she had decided to go back where she belonged, especially if she really had missed her brother that much. He was glad that she would be back where she was safe and well protected, but he would be lying to himself if he told himself that he didn't miss her. Then again, it wasn't as if lying to himself was anything new. Laruku had not visited the gravesite in more than a year. Truthfully, he had lost track of exactly how many months, how many moons, how many lifetimes. He was ashamed and though the hybrid was sure that it probably didn't make a difference, the symbolism was too heavy for him and there was enough weight in his head. It was all in his head.
The tattered coyote, for he looked nothing like a wolf, like his mother at all, lurked in the fog, ever unwilling to approach the clearing again. And someone was there today, an even better reason to avoid it. Who was the last person he had talked to? Ahren, probably. Stupid, painful conversations between loveless and lonely people that only left them in even more desolate a state than they had began with. If his voice rotted away in his throat, then all the better. Red eyes looked once at Melisande's form and turned away. Maybe she would hear him and come out to him. Maybe not. He would probably forget it all by tomorrow anyway.
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Totally not lame. ^_^ And yeah, that's fine. I don't pay much attention to dates anyhow. Also also, I thought I should let you know that in the Game page, it is all "post here when you want to claim a prize or post for points!" and links to the old page.
indent Melisande watched as Laruku looked at her, and turned again to keep walking. He didn't even stop, didn't even say hello. It had been so sudden, how had she not seen him coming? A pang of pain hit her in the chest so hard it almost knocked the wind out of her. She could hardly recognize him anymore, and for a moment all she could do was blink slowly. She fought off sadness and anger, and found in herself what understanding she could still muster. She didn't move, but she called after him.
indent "Laruku... come back..." She'd thought this wasn't a problem anymore. When she was away from him, he became less and less a problem as time went by. He seeped from her mind, and she was able to think again. But the moment she caught a glimpse of him, everything went crazy again. She sneered at herself inside, remembering their last conversation and her somewhat embarrasing proclamation of love. Moments ago she would have denied the truth of it, even to herself, but now, looking at him, she still felt the same way. And yet, she had no idea what to say to him, aside from what she always thought when she imagined him. "Remember when we were young... and you caught that squirrel with me? " She didn't want to cause him anymore pain, but somehow it seemed like it didn't matter what she did. No matter what, he would be in more pain with the next step than he was with the one before. So really, she could say anything.
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It was hard to only block out certain memories, so he repressed them all. They were pictures and movies playing behind fogged glass. They could just barely make out their colors and outlines, could barely hear the muffled sounds. He knew they were still there and sometimes recognized them if people pointed them out, but for the most part, they were only there in the background, out of his immediate thought and attention. He stopped when he heard his name, but did not immediately return, or even turn around to face his "sister." Did he remember? Did he remember anything at all?
Yesterday was gone. As was the day before that. Perhaps. It didn't matter. Nothing beyond the hour before mattered and nothing beyond the immediate did either. This conversation mattered now, but when it was over, it would be gone. No, he said quietly. Half-honest. He could if he tried harder, but he wasn't trying. What else was back there in that awfully dry summer? The worst weather he'd ever lived through, but the best summer of his life. It was too ironic.
Slowly, he turned his battered body around, though he took no steps back towards the gravesite. I try not to remember much of anything, he told her.
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indent Melisande tried her best to understand what had happened to the Laruku she had once known. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then looked away for a moment. He seemed so... broken. How could that be? He was not old, or sick. Was he? She remembered what the puppy she'd met had said his mother told him about Laruku, that sometimes he was not himself, and that was when he was dangerous. She looked back at the male in front of her, not really recognizing him, and decided she had to know.
indent "What happened to you?" Melisande had wondered it often, but had always been too afraid to ask. And yet, she needed to understand, and now her only fear was that he would do what he always did, and brush her off without giving her a real answer. Was anything real to him anymore? "What happened that made you this way?
"
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Laruku was a hollowed out shell with a ghost of a consciousness that still flitted around inside his skull. The demon lurked there as well, but slept more often now, except, of course, when natural sleep came. Then, the Cheshire grin and wicked laughter echoed through his head and danced through his dreams and half-pieced memories, pointing at everything with open ridicule. A personal critic with scathing sarcasm belittling and destroying everything he contained in his thoughts and dreams. It was no wonder he tried so hard to shut everything out. Whatever semblance of sanity he had left, which was likely not very much at all, was kept there by the silence he forced in his mind. The noise disturbed him.
Hollow red eyes kept a gaze on the snow-colored wolfess. He swallowed a bittersweet smile and started walking slowly towards her. The tattered hybrid still kept a good distance from the perimeter of the small clearing though and sat down several yards from the other. My father was a madman, you know, he said, finally looking away. Laruku directed his gaze upward, which exposed the gashes across his throat that should have killed him, but did not think about them. Maybe I got it from him. The truth was his mother was a little nutty too; he couldn't remember if he knew or not though, and liked to think that she was a saint anyway.
I killed a man two summers ago, he continued, speaking without thinking because if he thought too hard, he probably wouldn't remember Janus at all. His voice was airy and bland, like he didn't really know or believe in anything he was saying. He looked down from the sky and shrugged, not looking back towards Melisande. Maybe that was the downward spiral. Pause. I killed Tsunami's son too, he was, perhaps, rambling now, and had no idea why he would admit such a thing to the femme. He didn't even know if she knew who Tsunami was. Hell, maybe he didn't even know who Tsunami was. A rambling madman. I'm crazy, kid; how else am I suppose to act? Any moment now, someone would tell him it was time for his medicine.
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indent Melisande listened intently, trying to figure things out, trying to take every word and memorize it. It was the first time in quite a while that she'd gotten anything real out of him, and she wasn't going to let it slide by unnoticed. He killed a man? It wasn't rumors, then. Two summers ago? She must have been gone then, or something. She scolded herself for not being around to help him, to notice, before the downward spiral had a chance. But then, she couldn't fix him. She could only help a little, but she wasn't about to give up there.
indent "Tsunami.... ? " She was shocked at that. She'd expected something of the like, but not anything related to Tsu. Everyone had loved Tsu, she'd thought, and wasn't sure exactly what this was supposed to mean. Everyone has their reasons, she told herself, taking a breath and remaining calm. She thought about it for another moment, but still couldn't bring herself to understand. "But... Tsu loved you... and you loved Tsunami back..." Or, she'd thought so at least. She shook her head, answering his question. "I don't know what you are supposed to do, because I'm not you. I don't know what its like." She looked at him hopefully, wanting to know, and yet horrified at the same time.
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They came, the memories, just like he knew they would if he got to talking. Detached as he was from most of it now, he still hated the images that floated around in his head. His words made everything real, even if it had never really been. They could be false memories, implanted by the monster in his head, or no -- the truth was really that whether or not anything had actually happened didn't matter. His perception was that he knew they had, and that was that. In a manner of speaking, Laruku had not actually been conscious for Ire's death, but he could still remember every breath and every drop of blood, the taste of it, and of the meat. The cackling was there in his mind again. He would have been more surprised if it hadn't been.
And he didn't bother wondering why or how Melisande knew anything of the only real relationship he had ever been in. They all been in the same pack at some point, long ago, so there's that. Tsunami tried to kill me. Should have killed me, he told her rather matter-of-factly, half-shrugging and generally unconcerned. He touched the gash over his throat and continued. Maybe I was jealous. I don't know. He should have never met me; he would have been happier that way. And his kid would be alive.
Laruku eyed the wolfess again, finally forcing a strange smile. I'm glad you don't know what it's like. I hope you never know.
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indent She understood now, a little more than she ever had before. Obviously, Laruku was 'a madman' as he had put it. It was another creature that took him over and made him do those horrible things, but he was still there. He was still there to watch Tsunami's child die. Melis hadn't even known he'd had any kids, or much about anything that had happened to him after she had left the pack for a while. She only knew how happy the two wolves made each other, and wished that Tsunami was here now to make everything better again, to tell them both that it had only been a dream. But it wasn't.
indent So she knew now, at least a few of the horrible parts of Laruku's life. She'd asked why, and had gotten her answer. "If you could get better, would you?" She asked. It was an odd question, since most would automatically answer yes. Of course. And as much as she thought Laruku's answer would be different... he was still here. He was still the alpha, and he continued to live with all his demons despite everything. She was amazed he'd survived in a way, and didn't see the point of living if he wasn't going to try.
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"Better" was a funny word. Laruku could not imagine what would need to happen in order for things to get "better." There was no waiting for someone to else to make things change anymore. If the grey wolf should return a third time, it would only be to kill him because there was absolutely no other reason anymore (indeed, even his second return had been only for that reason, as far as Laruku could tell). Phasma was dead (he didn't know how he knew that though; maybe he was making it up) and his kids were dead. Satin and her children were long gone too, just like Ophelia and her unfortunate lot. There was nothing in the valley for Tsunami except ghosts where his family used to be and too many bad memories. There was no more pretending that they were still yearlings caught up in the moment and a lie, in a field of dandelions that stretched as far as the sun.
And nothing else was changing. Almost everyone he knew was gone in one form or another. Friendships eroded with time, departure, and death; trust destroyed with loss and war and alcohol. The only really good thing was that he didn't have much to lose anymore. Even the lives of his children hung haphazardly in someone else's hands (it was better than his own, wasn't it?) and he wasn't sure if he would really blink twice if someone told him that they were all dead too. They were all sure to grow up in the psychotic little monsters anyway; Andre was already beginning to, at least. If? he echoed, blinked, then shrugged his scarred shoulders again.
His mind was still drawing blanks. What could possibly ever happen that "better" was even a possibility. Laruku knew he wasn't trying anymore, but there was a strange peace sometimes in his noisy head. He accepted everything. All the turmoil and murder and horrible deeds. None of it really mattered anymore. No one was left to know or remember or care. So why should he hold on to any of it? And where to go from there? He was crazy, but he didn't care. What would getting better accomplish? Maybe, he said, Maybe not. I don't think it really matters anymore. What's 'better,' anyway?
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indent She did her best not to get frustrated, and had to look at the ground for a moment when he spoke. How could he say it didn't matter? He had an entire pack and apparently children to care for. Didn't that matter for him? Melisande thought about the meaning of 'better' when he asked. It was a good question, and she wasn't sure she could answer it as specifically as he wanted.
indent "I don't know, maybe just having the ability to be happy every so often." That seemed good enough, for now, and anyhow, he knew what she meant. "It matters to me, and to your pack... and I'm sure to your children. I met your son..." She wasn't sure if any of this was helping, and stopped, simply giving him the look of a mother who cares deeply, but can do nothing.
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Happiness. They had the right to pursue it, but also the right to ignore it. I'm not unhappy, he said idly, and it was mostly true. He wasn't unhappy because he wasn't anything. A ghost had nothing to hold on to but the past and there was nothing there for him. So he was nothing at all, empty, and that was... easy. His head was an empty and peaceful silence, interrupted now and again with the cackling laughter he had learned to ignore. It echoed in his dreams, but he didn't remember very many of them. It echoed in his nightmares too, but those he forced away rather efficiently now, along with everything else.
The pack was autonomous enough. He was a figurehead, nothing more, and no one apparently knew him well enough to oust him like they should. Laruku was secretly just waiting for it though, for the day when they recognized the demon in him and strung him up to a tree and set it on fire. His children were far away, wild little beasts living with a man that'd tried to kill him more than once. They were better off that way. The hybrid stared at her though, perhaps surprised that she had met them. Which one? he wondered vaguely. Arkham and Andre were like black and white, but it was probably Arkham if Melisande thought they cared about him.
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