Lost But Seeking

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A name. That was all that I wanted placed on my gravestone. A name and nothing else.

A name would mean a lot of things in its own simplicity. Who this person was, what this person was. For those who didn’t know the person, guesswork was always an option. Despite the numerous people who shared the same name, each person was their own distinct individual.

That was sometimes the funny thing about the world.

Though thousands of Juan’s and Maria’s exist in the world -past, present and to come- there would always be that one exception to the stereotype of the name. The one who went against convention and standards, whether it be in a good or bad light.

Most of the time, people liked looking at the bad light. I didn’t know the full extent of why, but it was always the the first thing that people looked for.

These thoughts, amongst so many, have fleeted through my mind over and over for the past day. The morning came bustling and went without so much as a glance behind. The afternoon fluttered by like a cloud floating on the wind’s wings, but never with a direction of its own. The evening was more gentle and slow, and yet even the evening shared the same aloof ignorance with its siblings born of Time.

But Time or its children didn’t matter much to me at this moment.

On this familiar spot on this side of the wall of glass, I sit. Though I was looking out at the world of my origin, rather than looking into the world of my creation. It felt safer here. There was no one to criticize me of what I had become, at least... those who thought I had become something else.

Incompetent. Ungrateful. A liability and a liar, above all.

My teeth gritted as I punched the glass. Pain shot up from my hand and to my shoulder, momentarily more painful than the sting of heartache and the throbbing headache. But the glass stood in place, not once perturbed by the slight poke that I gave it.

I know who I am. I know what I specifically am. And so I know who I cannot be, and what I cannot be.

And I cannot be a lot of people.

I never asked for them to trust me. I never asked for anything of that sort, after all that has happened up to this point. Why would I want to? It simply wasn’t practical. Or so my mind would call the statement, ‘Because my broken pride would not allow it, and it was my mind’s stupid way of trying to protect my heart from bleeding more from the pain’.

Trust? I don’t need trust anymore. I thought, swallowing the bitter taste that accompanied those thoughts. God forgive me. But then, it was crazy to ask Him to forgive someone who kept committing the same mistake all over again.

All over again. Again, and again, and again. It was like a habit that cannot be broken, no matter how wrong it seemed to others.

…

I’m going to burn for eternity for this, aren’t I?

And yet the notion had lost a bit of the novelty fear that should have sent shivers down my spine. It was as if I had accepted that fate already, that I was to be rot in the lake of hellfire after whatever amount of time it took for God to return to this world.

No amount of asking for forgiveness will do, because since the start, I couldn’t forgive myself.

“Why can’t you be more responsible?”

“Why can’t you be better?”

“Why can’t you study more?”

“Can’t you concentrate on your work?”

“Why can’t you be more...”

God gives second, third... many chances to His children. Did humans, who were created in His image, possess the same benevolence that He showered on everyone?

I used to hope. But now I’m not so sure myself anymore.

Why? Why? Why?
Why? Why?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why-

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

I had not realized that my hands were cupped against my ears, vainly trying to keep the voices from being heard. But what use was a physical block when the assault was anything but physical? It was all in the mind. Nothing could stop that.

I cannot concentrate. The world outside has more of those voices lingering at the other side of the wall, continually jeering and whispering half-truths and even more lies.

Inside me, a voice screamed, pleading the voices to stop. Stop, no more. Stop, the pain is too much! Stop, don’t you all understand a thing?

Oh wait.

Of course not.

… Who would? Who would even try taking that initiative? That first outreach of a hand, a gentle contact of touch that would be the first step to an attempt at repair?

Really, the world asked too much of me to hope.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrunk back from the glass, feeling the sobs catching at my throat before they could even escape pass my chapped lips.

I didn’t want to pin for hope. No more. My soul is weary, my heart is worn. What love I have left is torn into fragile pieces in my scarred hands, and I am afraid to give any more away.

I was going to die. (I hope it is soon.)

And I didn’t want people to love me back.

I wanted to die alone. (I hope it will be quick.)

Because I knew I deserve every last bit of pain.

And whatever pain awaits me in the hellfire to come.

Two rivulets of salty tears trailed down my face, feeling the warmth from them. It was calming, in a way. And yet, wasn’t it simply an escape that always led into circles? A never-ending cycle of ups and downs.

I could cry in here, but I couldn’t cry out there. I couldn’t bother myself anymore with it. I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t charming. I wasn’t responsible. I wasn’t smart.

I wasn’t good enough for anyone in the world out there.

Perhaps that was the main thing that stung in my heart. That I was like some object whose value and use deteriorates over time.. My very existence may have been celebrated by many so long ago. Once upon a time, perhaps.

“Ah... Ahaha...” Laughter bubbled up in a lilting yet cracked tone from my chest.

Permanent happiness is beyond my reach. Love wasn’t meant for me. Trust? I don’t need. That was verbally established in some fuzzy part of my mind some time back.

I stood up, touching the glass with the sore hand. Cold... so cold. Was this how I felt now?

No answer. But I expected it anyway. None of my own Children would dare come near the Glass Wall even if they wanted to talk to me. And the Immortals... my heart felt another pang at the thought of Azzy’s lack of presence, but I forced myself to ignore it.

I realized with more clarity that I was worlds apart from anyone. From anything. Because I was nothing of the things that Reality would accept as pleasing.

All I want now is to keep these torn feelings away from those who wished to burn the remnants of what I once had. I wanted to keep putting one foot in front of the other, because survival was the main thing that kept my yet breathing body alive. That and a purpose. I might as well be useful where I can be, right?

Even an unloved and untrusted person can work. There’s no excuse to stop someone from working.

Blinking, I find myself back on the stale comfort of my own bed. The continuous whirring of the fan coupled with the steady breathing of another person circulated about in the cold air. The room remained shrouded in darkness as I fumbled for my phone. Blinking, it took me a while to see the time flashing on the screen.

Hours yet to a sunrise I wouldn’t be deigned to greet. I tossed the phone back on the bedside table without another word.

I take a moment to let everything sink. I regard the throbbing lightheadedness I feel with a streak of indifference. Everything and everything. The world outside met my indifference with its own.

It was a never ending cycle that I was caught in. A cycle I wanted to end with my death as the finality of everything that was my existence.

Somewhere outside, the faint barking of a dog could be heard. I shifted to my side, facing the window whilst clutching a pillow to my chest.

Might as well try to get some rest again.

END ENTRY.

Danse Macabre

A/N: Spur of the moment.

*****

Something was different in the air.

A smile played on pinkish lips as the snow-haired aristocrat stood up from his study, striding towards his balcony. He peered through the transparent glass and out into the moonlit evening. There was nothing, no one to be seen out on his balcony, and yet he looked as if someone he were expecting was outside, knocking on the glass.

“Do you want to come in?” The smile on his face grew wicked.

Without hesitating, he threw the doors open. A strong gust of wind came in, blowing out the candles and tossing about the papers on his desk. The room plunged into darkness, given light only by a few stray moonbeams.

So strong, so raw...!


The emotions swirling all around nearly made him dizzy with excitement as all of it rushed in. He had to calm his excitement before it ran away with him. But these emotions...

“So delicious and positively addicting!” The snow-haired man laughed in glee, spinning around with his hands outstretched. “Like wine aged to produce the most vintage taste! Such regret that it hadn’t the time to be fermented longer, but it’s better than nothing~”

His laughter bounced off the walls, dripping with manic glee. Around and around he spun on the toes of his white boots, stepping on the strewn papers without a care.
“Oh! We should have a dance to celebrate this wondrous occasion!”

Out towards the balcony he lead an invisible partner, dancing to an unknown tune that he hummed under his breath. Under the moonlight his carmine eyes shone brightly, just as his soft features and pristine clothes made him look the very icon of elegance and holiness. But to those who knew, and knew him well, it was an ironic thought.

“It has been too long, my dear.”


He spoke lovingly, tenderly running his hand in the air as if stroking the cheek of his partner. “Too long has it been since you allowed such spirit to take hold of your imprisoned heart.”

His smile turned gentle for a moment, before turning wicked once more. “For tonight, let those emotions be yours. And you to be mine.”

As the hummed tune slowly came to an end, the shadow dance too ended. He gave his invisible partner a bow.

“Rising anger... festering hatred...” He trailed off with a chuckle. As he rose, carmine eyes gleamed with unrestrained bloodlust.

“So much, there’s so much...” He moaned. Fists shakily clenched and unclenched. He purred as the emotions filled his heart to the brim.

Desire.

Need.

What was the difference when the whispers uttered the same thing?

Sate them. Sate them!

The whispers turned frantic, and yet the urgency was charming. He couldn’t say no to such strong impulses.

“Shall we begin a new dance?” He spoke to the air, looking to his side as if someone were there. “And this time, you may lead.”

The night fell quiet once more.

…

…

...

...
Screams shattered the silence of the night, only to be pierced by a new silence as soon as the first note escaped unsevered necks. The ground slowly became wet with puddles of mingled blood, just as the walls were painted red with fountains of ruby spray springing forth from bodies still twitching in their death throes.

None escaped the wrath. None was spared the taste of hatred.

A pale, slender finger tapped against his chin thoughtfully as he sighed. Ah, the quiet hurt that flowed like a cold stream felt refreshing after that fiery rush... and yet the hate still grew and festered.

“Dearest, I haven’t seen you this excited in such a long while.” He spoke in mock tease. “Do slow down-”

“LeRoux.” The man turned upon the mention of his name by a tone as clear and cold as crystal. The snow-haired man licked his lips, feeling the thrill of such unmentionable bloodshed still rushing through his veins. Blood spattered on his clothes and hair, but he paid no heed to such mess.

“Ah... so soon to change partners?” He replied, cleaning his scythe of blood with a sideways sweep. He didn't so much as turn to face the other being. The new arrival made no reply, but the crackle of warring powers in the air was apparent.

LeRoux’s wicked smile played on his lips once more. “I’m afraid this dance has yet to have a change in pace.”


"She still belongs to me."
The silence after the screams was again broken by the screech. This time, however, it was a screech of defiance.

END ENTRY.

Dúnmharfóir na Croise ag Luí na Gréine

A/N: Must practice writing. But because I couldn't piece together a coherent idea, a friend gave me a prompt and a character to work with. The story's rather bland, but this is as much as I can give given I'm not in the best mind to think at the moment.

[Prompt] Sunset Walk
[Character] Claiomh Solais

*****

She felt out of place with the world around her. But it wasn't because of the stares her presence as an assassin cross walking in the streets gathered. Of course not! Claiomh Solais -Or Sola- took pride in her profession and the way she chose to use it for her own goals. When it came to running her own life, the opinions of others mattered little to none.

But back to the present matter.

Where to go now? One would ask in her situation. Her mind offered no direction in response. But she required none. All that she asked of herself was that she had to keep moving, anywhere to simply get away for a while. The faces of her companions briefly came to mind, their curious and concerned expressions fleeted through her vision.

“Tch.” She ran a hand through her golden hair, mussing it as she pushed aside the images. Pulling up her scarf higher to mask her face, she continued walking.

It was in this time of day that all the bustle of the civilized life began to cease and prepare for the coming of the night. Though Ayothaya was far more serene and its people were not as workaholic as those from other cities, it was still a place that survived and thrived from its people and their activities.

Sola walked pass the merchants closing for the day, giving a few a sideways glance before dodging several enthusiastic children who ran past her. One girl lagged behind them, clutching her doll fiercely to her chest as she tried to keep up with the others but stumbled a short distance from where the woman stood.

As the young girl gingerly picked herself up, the doll which had flown from her hands when she fell was suddenly in front of her, clutched delicately in a clawed gauntlet. Curiously, her eyes looked up to meet with blue eyes that looked down at her in placid observation.

“You should watch yourself.” Sola said, her mouth muffled by the scarf worn loose around her neck. In her mind, she mentally kicked herself. The girl surely didn’t understand her. The assassin cross spoke nothing close to the Ayothayan language and yet with the way the younger girl was staring at her as if she understood made Sola blink in mild wonder. Wordlessly, she watched as the girl reached out to take her doll from her own hands.

“Sunee!”

The shout made both of the girls turn their heads. A boy was quickly approaching them, genuine concern for his friend and unadulterated wariness for the stranger showed on his face. Though there was a visual lack of any weapons on Sola’s person since she had left her weapons at the inn with the sniper and his pets, an assassin cross still posed a dangerous presence. Quietly but quickly spoken to by the boy, the girl Sunee allowed herself to be half-dragged away to join the other kids at the end of the road. Not once did the boy turn to take a second look, but the girl, Sunee looked back one last time and smiled.

The blonde assassin watched the two go with a new emotion in her eyes, though the look could have been misunderstood by the few people around her.

After all, an assassin cross’ stare surely meant something unhealthy.

But as quickly as she had picked up the doll, Sola was back on her feet and continued in the direction she had been going.

She turned corners randomly, all the while her light blue scarf trailed behind her like a bride’s veil. She garnered suspicious looks from the guards, and fearful ones from a few who she had passed. She paid none of them any heed, neither did anyone seemed intent on confronting her. It wasn’t until she found herself on the small stretch of sandy shoreline did she finally realize that she was on the outskirts of the city.

So what now? Sola asked herself.

Painted apricot by the orange sunset, the sandy beach stretched on towards the thick foliage of trees. While she was confident she could handle her own in the forest, going into unsafe territory without her weapons was simply reckless.

So she looked about her area. There was no one about, save for a young couple on the boardwalk, who were jovially talking with one another. Upon seeing them smiling and holding hands made her turn away, heading in the direction of the secluded beach.

The sea breeze tugged at her golden yellow hair, tossing it about in its playful fervor. The woman did not mind it so much but there was the matter of the length becoming a liability in the future. The assassin cross tugged at a long lock, twirling it in her fingers. She had to be honest with herself, growing it any longer and she would have something always brushing against her bottom and that was annoying. Besides, she can’t fight well if her hair decided to get in the way during her fighting.

How in the world did anyone fight as well as they did with hair that could be used as a carpet? She didn't know and she wasn't curious to find out.

She regarded the lock of hair carefully “... Maybe I should get it cut soon.” Which meant taking some blades to her hair tonight and hoping that it doesn’t look as bad as her previous attempts at trimming. With a loud exhale, she tossed the lock away and crossed her hands behind her head.

With a frustrated growl, Sola exclaimed. “I’m bored! Bored, bored, bored!” Startled by her sudden yell, a couple of nearby seagulls took flight, squawking in surprise. Walks on the beach should have been fun. But being by herself and with no one to talk to was not fun.

“There’s nothing exciting in this place at all!”

No offense meant to Sidhe, the youngest member in her traveling party. While Ayothaya was a good place to relax, staying in the city for more than a week was starting to make the restless assassin cross go stir crazy. Sola sincerely hoped that the young mage had spent enough time at home and ready to travel by tomorrow night or someone is definitely going to be left behind.

Then again, their third member would be against leaving one of their own. Sola suddenly had to fight back the urge to punch something.

Hah, one of their own? Sola wasn’t sure if he understood that they were only together because of the mutual benefits they would gain from being with one another, not because they were becoming some semblance of a family he was unfortunate of losing two times. Rio, ever so gentle and caring Rio. Sola grunted at the thought of him. It wasn't below him to stoop to begging and crying if it meant his good conscience would be sated.

Pathetic, she thought. He really was a creature to be pitied.

But that was the very reason. She took pity on those who were moralistic and weak. Well damn him for making her go soft on both him and the mage.

She could leave them, many times that chance came up. Heck, she could leave now. Nothing was stopping her from accepting it yet she chose to remain with them. Once, the sniper had been curious enough to ask. But a well-thought comment and a good smack to his head immediately silenced any further questioning. The day she admits her reasons for staying around is the day she finally decides to turn suicidal and throw herself into Hel.

In other words, never.

Sola let out a sigh of frustration and continued walking down the beach. Tiny crabs scuttled across the sand, quickly hiding in small holes scattered across the landscape as she passed. At some point she stopped walking and regarded the sea with wonder. With the water at low tide, the sea had lifted away its foamy hem, offering a good view of some of the corals that normally hid under the water’s surface.

The blonde haphazardly threw her boots and dark, knee-high stockings on the sand, not too close to the water and not too far to have them stolen by the occasional Wild Rose. The wet sand felt cool against the soles of her feet and she let herself walk close to the corals, silently admiring the hidden treasures of the sea.

She spotted a beautiful spiked seashell half-buried in the sand. She bent and pulled it out, holding it up to the sunset whilst smiling at how the light hit it. The shell was glassy, almost translucent with streaks of white and purple that curled into a spiral. She noted the shells in Ayothaya were different from the ones in Brasilis, but they were all beautiful in their own way.

Out of impulse, she decided to step further out and began to dig for shells and other little sea trinkets that caught her eye. Removing the scarf around her neck, she used it as a makeshift basket.

As she gathered, a smile filled with nostalgia graced her face. Picking up shells on the beach was a child's hobby, yet one that she never grew out of. After all, she was still a woman at heart. Cute and pretty things still caught her fancy.

She remembered a time when a younger Lugh and her would sometimes chase each other to the beach. On occasion, the other two Scions would join them, and they would idle the time away even after the moon had already risen above the horizon’s line. The memories left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

As everything began to quiet down around her, so too did the annoyances began to ebb. What was left in her was a the feeling of longing and melancholy that she rarely displayed.

Sunsets tended to give her that kind of sentimentality. In some ways, she hated it, because it constantly reminded her of the things she had lost. Precious things that are memories and nothing more.

Her features softened more than what she was deigned to show others. Her blue eyes gleamed sadly in the fading light as she stared out into the sea.

Yes. So many things lost. Simply because she chose to chase her dreams. Because of her decision, many within the Jewel Clans turned against her. No matter how much she had tried, no one listened to her. What hurt her the most was that the person she considered her closest friend, her brother-of-sorts and her first and only love, was one of those people.

That day she had last confronted him was the day a wound in her heart appeared. And until now, that wound remained open and bleeding.

With her small collection wrapped in her scarf, she trudged back to her boots. Without a spoken word, she dropped the scarf beside her boots and sat on the sand with a plop.

Her fingers reached up to grasp the silver ring suspended on her necklace. “I wonder...” She trailed off. Feeling the familiar coldness against her fingers, she slipped the chain from her neck and held the ring to her face, twisting it around in between her thumb and index finger. “Did you ever regret anything between us?”

Of course, she knew no answer was forthcoming.

All those moments of intimacy, reduced to mere memories to cherish. His stern yet kind baritone, no longer would it sound the same if she should hear it again. Those lips that would give her fleeting kisses that made her heart beat rapidly, she could only imagine them turning down into frowns that resembled the last ones he showed. And those eyes, those eyes that sparkled like the shallow spring waters... They would never shine with the love they used to share.

Her own blue eyes closed, recalling the words that he had parted with before her coming-of-age ceremony. Throughout the lonely nights of her one and a half year away from home, those same words held such comfort and love that helped her see the end of her trials and secured her position as the Findias Scion.

“Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.” She whispered. She fought to keep a sad smile from her face but failed. “Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.” She repeated.

My heart is within you.

Sola suddenly let out a bitter chuckle, tossing the ring and necklace in the air before catching them as they descended. “As if that holds true anymore.” The blonde regarded the ring in her palm again, alternating her gaze between it and the ocean. In the end, she shook her head and wore the necklace once again.

She didn’t trust in love anymore, even as she yet clung to it in some way, she no longer wanted to give her heart to anyone else. Not after her betrayal of love. Not after the events that led to her self-imposed exile and her burning drive to crush the Gorias’ Scion once and for all.

There was nothing left in her for that world but hate that needed to be sated, and her despair that needed to be released.

With a groan, she buried her face in her arms. “Spirits of the Tuatha Danann damn this feeling.” She really disliked melancholic sunsets.

But it would never stop. Just as she knew that she was broken inside somewhere and yet denied that she was broken. For as long as she lived, she would always be haunted by those days of clear skies and golden sunlight.

She is a sun, if not to others then at least for herself. Her resolve would continue to burn brightly for the plans that needed her, and all else didn’t matter.

“There you are!” A male voice suddenly cut through her reverie.

She turned her head in the direction of the voice, seeing a familiar brunet approaching her from the piers. Her face easily melded back to her usual cockiness as the distance between them quickly shortened. The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon stars began to appear overheard, the orange skies slowly being devoured by the dark blue of the evening.

Ah, time for broodiness is over. She stood up and grinned as the sniper was close enough to speak to.

“Missed me already?”

The feeling of being terribly out of place pulsated beneath her skin.

End Entry.