3rd of Winter 514
Common | Thoughts
Turning onto the docks, Haji grimaced, tugging his cloak closer to him non-compliantly in light to a buffeting wind blowing in from the sea. The air was cold but near the water it was colder, he hated winter, hated the chill its season sent into his bones, biting, nagging; doggedly chasing after him in the ceaseless effort bring him down in vain with the flu. Still he stayed by the waters despite its freezing spray and offset of cold winds lulled, entranced to do so by way of the calm enchanting blue of water and gentle waves.
Walking along the wooden planks of the aforementioned docks, Haji did what he always did: wander. Admiring the boats docked there, he was careful not to get too close lest the owners try their hand in striking up conversation. Lapsing into boredom barely five chimes into sightseeing, Haji settled himself down near a small ship–no more than a boat really in his eyes, small and useless, but, he had to admit it was prime, for adventure, seeing that its sailor didn’t fall to an angry wave in the process.
Life, it was fickle, he thought smiling at the water below. We all live in death’s shadow, one mistake, one misstep and sometimes not even that, be somewhere wrong time wrong place and time’s up. He liked that about death, it wasn’t fickle, it was final, the young, the old, the well and sick, everyone was ripe for the taking. Indecisive, indiscriminate, fair yet so unfair, yes, death, Dira, terrified him. And yet he longed to brush her, escape her and live another day just to do it all again.
Gazing out at the water, he felt a calm seize him like the current, with the lapsing of the tides with its predictable inhales and exhales, for the first time in his life, Haji felt at ease, at peace. Born into life alone, and abandoned with the paranoia gene working right out the womb, Haji had never been one to…relax. Born and raised in Sunberth the word and the term, the fanatical pursuit for which it stood was incomprehensible or at least to its full merit at the time.
It was nice, he admitted, but not to last, for nothing did, he liked it that way, it kept things interesting, unlike this city. Syliras he realized in the short few days he’d been here lived up to its name as safe and peaceful…too, peaceful.
“No one dies here, where are the murders? Someone should learn to drop dead from a miraculously stab wound every so often.” He complained speaking aloud, “Peace is supposed to be a figurative term, one everyone aspires to achieve, not actually accomplish.” He laid back, legs still dangling off the edge and covered the midday sun shining defiantly amidst its bright blue background in which it dominated with a palm. “Boring, everything here is...too…controlled.” He balled his hand as if in the attempt to capture the sun. The light of the rays crept out of from the fists perimeter, failing he dropped his hand, laying his arm across his abdomen and tilting his head back further stared at the sky in its clarity. “For in peace there is order and in order there is peace…always a catch. Chaos for freedom and vice versa, life is such a crappy…” He frowned trailing off becoming lost in thought when he couldn’t think of a word to finish the sentence.
