It was a rare free night, and Halin'a's Ethaefal form didn't want-- or need-- sleep. He could wander the city, as he had so many nights before, but tonight, he had specific destination in mind. It wasn't one that he was visiting to mourn a lost loved one-- although, maybe in a way, he was.
Halin'a was going to the cemetery.
He took his time traveling, and the few people who looked at him appraisingly were quickly put off by the scimitar hanging from his side. That, and Halin'a's imposing size and his horns. As a child of Leth, Halin'a was somewhat of an oddity, but he thought he saw recognition spark in more than a few eyes-- it wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that Madame Zana had hired a son of Leth to work in her brothel. Still, Halin'a didn't stop to talk. He had a reaosn for being out tonight.
By the time Halin'a reached the memorial and cemetery, Leth was at his height. He wasn't surprised to see that the Koi vendor was still there, and he handed over eight gold mizas for a large, multi-colored koi fish, which he took to the pond. He released it with a silent, thoughtless prayer, more emotion than anything else. Halin'a stayed on his knees at the edge of the pond for several chimes, simply letting his mind clear and allowing himself to drift; not into sleep, but into his own mind. He allowed himself to think back on his previous lives-- both the one with Leth and the one before that.
His life with Leth had been the closest thing to perfect that he could possibly imagine. Safe in the realm of his god, Halin'a had little to worry about. Even when his sisters and brothers started to fall through the cracks that had appeared during the Valterrian, Halin'a had not worried-- he would not fall; that was a horror story that always happened to another soul. The problem was, to someone else, he was "another soul." Carelessness had led to Halin'a's literal fall, and for fifty-seven years, Halin'a had lived another life on Mizahar, a life he should not have lived yet.
The life before that, however, had been far from perfect. Halin'a had lived as a young human, also in Zeltiva-- though none would remember him now, not more than a century later. His family had been poor, and that had led to a shortage of funds for medicine when first his father, and then his mother, had fallen sick in the middle of one severe winter. Halin'a(he could not remember what his name had been then) had been orphaned, and with few skills besides a knack for going unnoticed, had resorted to petty theft. Pickpocketing a few mizas here and there, just enough for each meal, and sleeping in alleys, his life had gone from poor to pathetic. In the end, he'd stolen from the wrong person, and found himself thrown into the harbor at less than fifteen summers old, unable to swim. His next memory after the water closing in over his head was meeting Dira and being led to Leth's domain.
Sighing to himself, Halin'a pushed himself back to his feet; Leth still ruled the sky, and he still didn't want to go home and spend the remaining hours alone in his small apartment-- he would rather spend the hours alone in the cemetery. Morbid, yes, but there was something peaceful about cemeteries; Halin'a had always found comfort in them. |
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