Drowning

[Rhuryc]

OOCPlease do not post here unless you ask me first. I'll be awfully upset at you if you don't ask.

Whisper, Whisper, in the dark, Hear the echo, see the spark, For when hope fades, And the skies grow dim, You need only remember me, Remember him. 1 Winter, 511 AV "Never forget," That was what he said. A voice. A sound. A collection of notes and tones, shallow and dark, shaped behind the wiles of a twisted man. He was a shadow in the night, incomprehensible, and here, now, he remained as such. A formless figure, a shapeless mass, only blackness of the mind. And yet in this place he belonged. This was his realm, his world. The ground morphed to his will, the sky to his whim; nothing was what it seemed and yet, everything was as it should. He stood within the nothing. He watched infinity go by in the blink of an eye, leaving in its wake a sense of solitude. Of feeling. A sense of truth. A thousand years past. Then a few seconds. The formless gained form. He sat at the window of their small apartment. All he could see was more of the city, streets filled with the throngs of passersby, all colluded to some nefarious, consumer intent. More grey. The people brought brown. A few added a splash of color, intertwining like a spilled canvas; greens were lost amidst a darker palete, while reds and yellows clashed in an uncomfortable way. He could only stand it for so long. His eyes found their way up. The horizon made sense. As stark a contrast as could be, the sky found its horizon in good humor. Blues and light tones, a mixture of orange and pink, the cloudless dusk took his senses by storm. Beautiful serenity. And then it was gone. Voices played about the walls like a discordant song. The young boy turned his head back to the bleak room. There was no color. Just the grey of his home. Two beds, one large, one his, and a plethora of useless trinkets adorned the hold, but the interest lay beyond the closed door. He could not see them, but he knew their faces. Two men. Both his family, both his curse. They were arguing again. Arguing over him and his mother. What would she have wanted for him? The tune was familiar. A subtle jolt of hostility concealed by concern. He knew it for what it was and despite this, he remained powerless to stop it. For now. "Never forget," The voice ripped through the scene and sent a physical distortion that tore it asunder, leaving the world back without form. Without life. Forget what? "Forget what?" His own question echoed into nowhere. He twisted and turned, he searched, but he found nothing. He was here now in full, his body suspended within the darkness without light. Where was here? Questions bubbled to the forefront of his mind, a queer curiosity that replaced his fear, his hesitance. Who are you? The world pulsed. Solid ground slipped beneath his feet, ground he recognized. It was a cave. A chill kept the air in its grasp, stealing each breath with its icy grip. In the distance he could hear metal scraping against stone, a commotion he knew all too well. He began to walk. Strange, his boots made no sound. He followed the torches, the flickering lights that beckoned him forward until he reached a bend and heard the commands. Kill. He could not stop now. He raced around the corner and halted as he came upon himself, a shade of the past, an image he had forgotten. His fist impacted flesh. His knuckles were covered in blood. And yet he did not stop. Another strike. Another. He felt his rage overcome him and he screamed, he yelled, nothing more than a guttural roar, a ferocious rage that would not subside. The corpse below him had stopped squirming long ago. Something wet rolled down his cheek. Tears. One dropped with every swing until his hands ached, until the blood that ran down his hands was his own. Only then did he stop. Only then did he see the man he killed. His family. His uncle. Kinslayer. He rolled onto his back and screamed. He called into the night and begged for mercy, for forgiveness. To Tyveth he prayed. To the gods he pleaded. He was met with silence. Lonely child, why do you cry? Spread your wings, learn to fly. I'll be here always, To forgive your sin, So find your way home, And never forget the will within.

[Rhuryc]

Find me, upon the clouds, Where sunlight pierces shroud, You need only hope, Only pray, For together we are bound To the light of day. 1 Spring, 512 AV Never forget. He had forgotten. Here again, this formless place, he existed as a perception, a point of view to witness amorphous shapes and silhouettes. They passed but he remained. They shifted and changed. A woman, a corpse, faces he knew but did not recognize, memories he recognized and did not understand. And in the distance a voice. Not far. He felt himself drift - was he moving? A gentle tune settled upon his lips, hushed and calm, a sweet melody he had learned to forget. When did the world grow so cold? This was wrong. A fire burned before him, surrounded by chilled stone and worked metal, tools, a hammer lay in his calloused hand. From outside he heard the clamor of crying children. The song of desperation. He raised his own arm into the air and brought it down just as fast, the raw, echoing clank resounding in his own skull. Again he struck. And again. Ages passed between each cadence, or were they hours? He did not know. His mind was bent on the mold beneath him, the dull edge of a blade. Unworked, malleable. His hands gained a life of their own, shaping, hardening, working the steel until it cried for reprieve. His instrument was finished. His face burned with blood. Her blood. He drank deep in the crimson fluid. It sustained him, it fueled him. She screamed his name, she begged for him to stop. The pleas fell on a merciless heart. Men and women stopped to watch. They stood in horror, paralyzed by fear, incapable of action as the world ruptured around them. And he remained strong. How could he not? Passion and rage, it fed his desires. He needed nothing more, he wanted nothing less. Before the end he had only one regret: that there was so little blood. That was not him. He was nothing here. And so nothing he remained. The stone walls shifted back to their colorless visage and he was left to dread upon a memory not of his own. There was a harshness that darkened his heart. It felt all too real. All too familiar. Closer now. His body floated ever onward toward the ephemeral song. The voice drew him. She was beautiful. This other woman. Her golden hair framed her countenance perfectly. Warm, green eyes gazed down at him with all the love in the world. That was the first and last time he saw her. He knew her name. Like a gentle kiss on the wind, he felt her warmth as it left, snuffed out, passed on and out into the world in faded beauty. Tears fell. In sorrow and loss, she wept and so did he. Soon, she grew still and he kicked with life, calling out, screaming in agony, but no one could understand him. He drew closer. Gently rock, gently sway, Feel my love, Let me guide your way. For when we part and courage fails, Bring unto me your ails, Bring unto me your heart.