She smiled, thinking that she was getting into the groove of things well again. She'd already met her father, stepmother, and halfbrother here. How much more family was there to find? Melisande knew that all of her family was not in CT, nor was all of the place full of her family. So she'd have to go outside to find some, and others on the inside... well, she'd probably treat them just the same as her real family anyways. After all, she already had one brother who was apparently one of the few creatures not related to her... closely, anyways.
Now the femme walked along, through the more heavily wooded part of the lands. There were hardly any leaves, though, so it couldn't exactly be described as 'thick', per se. She had spotted a fallen log from high on a hill nearby, and now approached it curiously. Upon sticking her nose in, however, a little waddling creature exited from the other side. Its back was to her, and usually this would have been the perfect opportunity to make a kill. There were two things that you didn't want to take this opportunity on. Skunks, and this thing, a porcupine. Instead, she simply watched it walk away.
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He didn't really feel like moving (he never felt like moving), but he was sick of staring at the same patch of trees and still couldn't pretend well enough that everything was okay to be able to find sleep. There was no comfortable position to be in anyway; every cut and sore and bruise on his body ached every time he breathed and every breath stung his throat anyway. He should have just died that day. It had probably been the only thing left that could have made him happy, or at last somewhat satisfied. But Gabriel was right then; he just wasn't meant to be happy and he was just going to need to fuckin' deal with that.
The tattered and weary alpha walked without aim or purpose; he didn't need to have any -- things usually found their way to him, whether he wanted them to or not. The familiar scent might have come to him if he had been paying attention, but he had actually gone out of his way not to. So coming across the white femme surprised him, just not enough to evoke any sort of reaction (but then, few things did anymore). He stared at her for a moment but couldn't even find it in him to sigh. You're back again, he observed quietly. The gash across his throat that should have killed him pulsed painfully, but he was used to it already. Lisichka is too. He sat down against a tree. All the words he'd just said didn't seem to mean much of anything. They would be gone again in a heartbeat.
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Seeing him broke her heart somehow. He observed and stated that she was back, and that so was her father. She looked at her feet quietly, then back up again. What was she supposed to do? She'd made him promises before, that she wouldn't leave again. She'd apologized before. Suddenly Melisande felt like a liar, but then, Hamlet didn't seem to care. He didn't seem to care that she was back, that she had lied, that her father had returned as well. "I know," she said simply. She decided not to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. Not this time. She looked him over. He wasn't the young, confused man she'd once known. He was a confused, scarred adult now, and it hurt her to see him so. Did he have any hints of playfullness left in him?
"I missed you," she said. And then she smiled, a caring, worrying smile that she couldn't help but give him. She had missed him, it was true. She missed Ceres, her father, and then him. Her real siblings hadn't been incredibly close to her, not closer than he was, anyhow. She felt like crying. All she wanted to do was make him happy again, even if it was just a little bit. But she didn't know how to do that, and was afraid that it might not be possible.
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It was true; after a while, the promises lost meaning. They were just words, among other words, and held no significance on their own. Instead, it was better to just be there. It didn't need to be pointed out or said; it didn't need to be talked about or anything at all. The most important things were unspoken because there weren't enough words, because the most important things transcended beyond anything quite so tangible, and because in the end, it wasn't the words you remembered anyway (oh, but you still remember them all, don't you?), but what had happened and whether or not they had been there. And absences spoke just just as loudly.
And he had stopped being confused a long time ago. Things were as clear as he could ever hope for them to be, but the truth was not really a truth at all -- just an acceptance that nothing would ever change, that nothing would ever matter, and that the only things worth anything were the things he gave meaning to and most, if not all of those things were gone, claiming pieces of his shattered heart and soul and sending them off to far corners of the earth. Well, maybe one of them was back now, but even standing so close to him now, he didn't feel as if it was there. He had been numb too long.
So he didn't know if he had missed her because he had just taken everything in stride. What was really the point in missing anything? Missing people didn't make the memories any clearer and missing them didn't make it any more or less likely that they would come back. Missing people took too much effort, even for his dreams. Still haven't found what you're looking for, have you? he wondered. It was not accusing, but it was anything but cheerful. Part of him wanted to smile back at her, but the muscles in his face had grown too accostumed to the way they were. It had been so long. He didn't have the words because he really just didn't know how he felt anymore.
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indentThe first time Melisande had left, it had been a concious thing. She was looking for something, and of course she didn't know what. Then she'd returned, not having found whatever it was. The second time she left, it was more like... wandering. Like one day she floated away. Like something had led her astray - except that nothing had. She'd gone aimlessly away, and now, realizing this sad truth, her smile disappeared. There was nothing out there for her. This place was as good as the next, and at least she knew the lands and the wolves who roamed them. At least there were familiar faces here.
indent "No." She said. She shook her head. "I don't think there is anything out there to be found. If there is, then it will just have to find me, I suppose." She shrugged. It wasn't a sad statement, but just a simple fact. She was tired of finding, searching, trying to fix things that couldn't be fixed, and others that weren't even broken to begin with. She looked at Laruku's face, and changed the subject upon doing so. He seemed so lost, and yet he didn't look. He would never have admitted it, but she liked to think that he was staying here for his pack, and his duty. He was stronger than she was, and yet, he was worn. What had happened to the youth she used to play games with? She wanted to say something like 'What happened to you?', or 'Do you ever take time to have fun anymore?', but she knew that would only provoke him, at best. She didn't want to do that.
indent"What are you thinking about?" she asked, suddenly, and without her own mind's permission. It was a silly, invasive thing to ask, and one question she might or might not have liked to be asked herself. But, it already was out, and it was an honest curiosity that she'd often had about him, so she let it float out onto the air, and listened for a reply, a response of any kind. She wished he would smile.
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She had already been grown the last time he had seen her, but she was even older now, more mature, and it almost seemed like with that maturity came the same quiet cynicalism that said that the world wasn't the place they might have wanted it to be. There was nothing to be found, or at the very least, nothing that could be found just by looking. There was always luck involved and luck had always been an unreliable mistress. For some reason, it was awfully disheartening to realize that even the most innocent and carefree of children eventually learned the bitter truth about everything. Maybe it really wasn't so bad to just lie to everyone, if only they would believe just a little bit longer.
Not that it would really make a difference in the end. Laruku sat down, twitching his tail restlessly. It was ironic really, how much things could change without changing at all. Things had happened in her absence; he probably had twice as many scars as he had before; he had mostly fatherless children; he had lost his mind. And yet, nothing had changed at all, though he couldn't wrap his mind around the similarities of anything. He didn't know why he was still there. Once upon a time, his excuse to himself had been the pack -- there was no one else to lead it and no one else to pass the curse to, but more recently he had become more of a danger to Clouded Tears than anything else, so where was his excuse then? The only logical thing he could come up with now was just that he was afraid to die. He had never considered leaving. He knew there was nothing else out there to find and that nothing would ever find him there.
Red eyes continued to stare solemnly at the snow white femme, so characteristic of the Sadira line. I don't know, he answered quietly, and it was the truth. He never knew anymore. I don't even know what there is to think about anymore. Part of him wanted to tell her everything, tell her all of the awful details of his fucked up life, tell her because no one else knew (except the grey lady, you idiot) and would ever know. Part of him wanted to tell her. But the words dissolved on his tongue like candy; she didn't really deserve that kind of crap anyway. No one wanted to hear his story -- he didn't even want to hear it. And he didn't want to deal with any shock, horror, or pity that might follow. So he had nothing else to give. What are you thinking about?
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indent Melisande considered his reply before the next question was even spoken. She felt like it was partly truth that he spoke, and partly a lie. He didn't know what to think, but on the other hand he had to be thinking something. But she didn't say anything about it, after all, thoughts were private for a reason, and if he didn't want to reveal his to her, then he didn't have to. Maybe he didn't want to reveal them to himself. She was sure by now that happened to everyone.
indent What was she thinking? The question surprised her, and she wasn't sure she was prepared to have the ball she threw tossed right back. Of course, if she had been prepared, that would have made the question redundant, the answer fake. She thought about it. It seemed silly, having to pause and say to herself, what are you thinking? But, there were so many layers of thoughts, she had to sort through them to gather the important ones. There were her general feelings, of course, that she liked snow, this weather was nice. That it was good to be home, and that she loved her family. And there were surface thoughts, the question she'd just asked him, and his answer. There were instincts, her ears flicking in this direction and that every so often, her eyes turning toward any stray noise in the distance, cautiously. There was fear, there was hope, other feelings dwelling even deeper. There is something else here, she thought to herself. She loved her family, but somehow that thought didn't connect to this situation. She loved Laruku, but he wasn't her brother. "I love you." It was a random expression, and she wasn't sure what it meant. Was this some sort of weird infatuation carried over from her childhood affection for him? She had surprised herself in the realization of this, and now wondered why she couldn't have just brought up some other thoughts and blurted them out. He didn't need this, it wouldn't make him smile, make him happy. And that was what she wanted. Melisande wanted everyone to be happy, but most of all him. "I'm sorry, I suppose I shouldn't have blurted that out. I don't even know what I mean." She said it with a little sigh. Surely she would always be a little girl, just trying to figure things out.
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Whatever he thought, most of it passed by without him even noticing. They were were never coherent, merely fragments of what might have been complete ideas, complete memories. Memories. The past seemed so much more real than anything else. Even the ground and the trees and the snow had stopped feeling solid to the touch and the landscape in his mind was much more vivid and clear. The words came in pieces, just like everything else, but sometimes they drowned out what others were actually saying around him. He didn't focus on them, but they were there -- so what was he thinking? He couldn't even begin to explain. There were monsters in his head and he wasn't paying attention to anything anymore.
Her words were utterly unexpected and he blinked at her and stared blankly, but he could feel his heart seize for a moment in his chest before it thundered on, almost grudgingly. Three simple words and all the world of meaning. Only one other person had ever said them to him and that person had been the last person to try and kill him (because he deserved it a thousand times over). He wanted to laugh at her, almost, because she was only hurting herself by saying it -- by admitting to herself more than anyone else that she cared about him. He didn't deserve it and he would only hurt her in the end, like he hurt everyone else he touched. King Midas with a touch of blood. All of a sudden, he wished she hadn't come home.
I wish you didn't, the scarred hybrid said, even softer than before. I don't deserve it. His crimson gaze fell away and he turned, gazing off into the fog and the snow, And don't tell me I do because... you haven't been around to see all the shit I've done. A sigh. I'll only hurt you in the end.
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indent She gave him a sigh and a smile. The smile was of someone who is never truly exhausted, and there was sleepiness in her sigh. What could he have done? Perhaps he had made mistakes, but more likely he had done things on purpose. Maybe he had killed, maybe he had fought. Maybe Laruku had caused his share of trouble, but Melisande beleived that everyone was equal in their capacities of good and evil. Esentially, all people were the same. He was not truly worse than anyone else, she knew that. She looked into his eyes, and knew that it didn't matter what he said. She could see his soul, so open before her now, and that was what she liked, no matter what he did or wanted.
indent "Well, wish in one hand, shit in the other, you know?" Melisande hoped she wasn't hurting him. All she wanted, so badly now, was for him to be happy. "I can't help it, and... you know, I don't care what you did. You can always start over, if you really need to. I don't even want to know, unless you want to tell me."
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Laruku had far surpassed the point where he even thought it was possible for him to get hurt anymore. Sure, half of the knives sticking out of his soul had been put there himself, but there just weren't enough pieces left for it to matter at all. Maybe in the past, thinking that nothing else could happen would have jinxed him further, but now... he would almost dare for something else to happen. Nothing could be worse this time and he knew it. The world had been set on fire so many times, one more time now wasn't going to make a difference to him. Everyone he knew could die and it wouldn't matter. Not even if he were the one to slash all of their throats and not even if he drank all of their blood afterwards. It wouldn't matter. After all... it had happened already, right? Melisande could not hurt him. But he could hurt her and he could kill her and maim her and do an endless list of other things to her. He knew now what he was capable of.
He almost wanted to tell her. Almost. But what was the point? If she had really made up her mind not to care then would even the most grotesque of details sway her? If she knew he had murdered and eaten the son of the only man he had ever loved, would she still love him? Laruku didn't want her to care about him, but he couldn't bring himself to face her reaction to that truth, no matter what it was. There's nothing to start over for, or with -- what did he have left to start over with? But it seemed like a deadend conversation already. Another attempt to bring him out of the bottomless pit he had fallen in, nevermind that he wasn't even trying to climb out anymore. You can't fix me, Melisande, he said quietly, So it's better if you don't try.
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indent She cocked her head at him, wondering why he was being so stubborn. She knew he had hurt others, that she could see in his eyes, but for every one he hurt, he hurt himself as well. The pain was obvious. It was almost insulting to hear his reaction, that there was nothing to start over for. He had his pack, didn't he? He had her. But then, she understood. She came and went just like the rest of them, she'd only now returned... how could she expect him to consider her some sort of perminent entity.
indent He stated simply, then, that she couldn't fix him. Of course, she already knew that. A long time ago, she had tried to fix others. She'd talked to them, soothed them... but only a few hurts, only minor scrapes, can ever be truly healed. That much she knew. There was no fixing anyone, or even changing them, unless they did it themselves. "I don't want to change you." She said, softly, wondering what sort of a road she was going down. She breifly wondered if he even had it in him to love anymore. But, perhaps he would again, someday, and this time, Melisande would be around. "I just wish I could see you smile again."
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Could end this now. ... Or Melisande can be stubborn!
The pain he put himself through would never change the things that were cemented in the past and he was well past the point where it even made him feel better. It would never be enough and he would never forget that. He knew that starting over did not mean he had to lose sight of any of his past mistakes and crimes, but he found it difficult to just accept them and move on. Besides, the beast in his head was still as unpredictable as ever. In the weeks following the fight with Tsunami, it seemed to have stopped taking over, but he could still feel the other laughing from the back of his head. It wasn't over -- it would probably never be over until he died, and as long as the demon remained, he could not leave everything behind him. It was all a part of him.
Smiles. He couldn't even laugh at the suggestion. It had been a years already since he had had any reason to smile and any attempts now seemed more like grimaces than anything else. But he knew for some reason that the laughter and grins were all too common in his counterpart and that was another reason he just couldn't do it anymore. They belonged to someone else and smiling was almost like transforming while he was conscious and that scared him more than anything else these days. Don't, he said, though he wasn't even sure what he was responding to. I'm not worth this. And I'm hurting you, aren't I? The hybrid turned away, as if he were about to leave. Don't let me do that. Don't love me.
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indent Yeah, seems like a good place. With our stubborn characters, this would keep going in circles forever.
indent Melisande wasn't sure how to reply. A flood of emotions and thoughts went through her head. Anger, sorrow, disappointment. She felt that he was too stubborn for his own good, that it was his own fault that he was this way. He was hurting himself, and everyone around him. Why didn't he stop? On the other hand, all she wanted to do was make him happy, no matter what that took. She wanted to hug him, to play games with him, to tell him that everything wasn't his fault, and that it would all be fine. Let's escape together, she thought, and run away, and be free, in lands where everything is alright. But that would solve anything, and of course, there was no changing people. She couldn't comfort him, not this quickly, anyhow. She couldn't make him happy right now, and yelling at him wouldn't make things better. So she simply nodded her understanding as he left, making sure to keep that look on her face of 'I haven't given up yet'. "I see." She said, and let him go.
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