Changing Tides

*****

Seven days, sixteen hours, forty-five minutes and two seconds.

Time didn’t mean much to him, but he certainly liked to keep count of it often. There was something almost soothing in counting something that existed for so long, and that never waited for anyone.

He let out a sigh, if only out of that need to act humane with every breathe that he took. He lifted his head to the expanse beyond him, though his eyes saw nothing as his mind wandered down the road of memories.

In that moment so vividly remembered, he understood what pain was like. It had been a testament to him, to those that have witnessed, and perhaps to those who have already known, that they weren’t living in a wonderful, stable world as they thought.

Carmine eyes skimmed over the long, pale and jagged line on his right forearm, ghosting a finger over the healing scar. It was the most noticeable one out of the many crisscrossing across his pale body, and perhaps the only one that would be the most evident. There was no pain now, not even a single itch that lingered from when he had sustained it. Why should it? He wasn’t meant to mull over distracting thoughts such as pain.

In the seemingly endless room of greyish white, the only object that stood out was the lone green couch that he sat on. The monotone color stretched on beyond what his eyes could perceive, broken only by the steady turning of the phantom gears far into the distance. They made no sound, nothing to crack the lonely silence hovering in the air.

He turned to look at the rumpled pillows on his left, a thick baby blue comforter draped haphazardly over them. Both lay untouched since the morning his one guest had left for the waking world. While he was -and still is- known widely for being an unfeeling guardian of the realm, he did try to keep those within his domain comfortable. That was if they deserved such treatment.

Seven days, sixteen hours, forty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds.

Then again, calling the recent arrival to his domain a guest was a bit of a stretch. She was primarily his prisoner, made such because of her own actions. But even if she is above him in terms of rank, his duty knew no authorities. Neither did he, in a sense.

The first night had him watching her scream, pacing the room like a caged animal desperate to kill something and yet at the same time trying to control that urge. Her dark hair that was usually decently tied back into a ponytail was all mussed up and limp, having lost its glossy sheen. She looked like a mad woman, but not truly insane as sanity quietly gleamed through her teary eyes. The first set of pillows didn’t survive the night, and he watched her destroy them like a petulant child picking off the petals of a flower one by one. While he hadn’t much concern whether or not she would exhaust herself ripping apart his few pieces of property that she possibly could, he always returned after with a new set to replace whatever was destroyed.

Exhausted from the rampage, she would collapse without a word on the sofa or the floor, curled into a pathetic ball whilst quietly sobbing herself to sleep. Luke would move then, and see to it that she was nestled comfortably in the sofa and draped the comforter over her.

He wasn’t deluding himself, that much was understood. He didn’t harbor any intimate feelings, nor any hate for that matter. Everything was to keep things in order, and that included mundane tasks. Patience was one of his virtues, and very much the redeeming one he had.

The nights went on with her slowly coming down from her despair and rage, albeit in the process a lot of things were broken and replaced. Even he had to admit that he was no exception to the many things damaged.

At least under his watch, she wasn’t as murderous as her emotions were capable of. It took days, but he managed to keep her stabilized, at the very least enough to keep her from falling further into the despair of her own making. He had never known that such a task was also taxing on his own person until he realized that he had been sleeping more than he was used to.

“Stress and anxiety are excellent triggers for destructive tendencies.” Luke muttered to the silence around him. He slowly slid sideways until his body made contact with the comforter and pillows. He made no move to make himself lie more comfortable, simply lying there while his eyes looked on at the ever unchanging landscape.

The silence in his realm was almost alien after his guest’s constant raving and destruction. He blamed it on his ability to adapt too quickly to changes.

Luke had to let her out eventually, since she couldn’t stay within his domain for too long. He did trust that she would be on her best behaviour. Because if she were anything less, then her world -this world that he was tasked to protect- was doomed to be barren from its very birth.

Luke stifled a yawn, feeling the dull onset of exhaustion nagging at the forefront of his mind. But he chose to ignore it for now. He needed to stay awake, not until Haizek, his ‘guest’ and Creator, had returned from her duties in that other life. He mentally frowned at his need to indulge in these mortal needs. Never did he understand why these were necessary like Haizek had argued long before.

Even that android somewhere in the lower realms acted more human than what it really was. The green-haired guardian couldn’t fathom why she would insist on creating beings of one kind but giving them features that were a complete opposite of their nature. But that was all he could do. Think, ponder but never fully understand everything.

“You shouldn’t be here. Luke suddenly stated. He looked towards his quiet visitor who sat atop the armrest on the other side of the pillow pile. “-- Azrael.” He didn’t appear alarmed at the sudden presence at all.

The older man shifted in his seat. His dark hair was pulled away from his face, neatly tied back into a long ponytail. His pallor was paler compared to the guardian, so much that it gave off a feel of death around him. But the irony of it was, the paler man’s eyes reflected more life than the other ever did show.

“She’s doing alright at the moment.” Azrael’s mild baritone was amplified in the expanse.

“You shouldn’t be here still.” Came the bland response.

Azrael raised a delicate brow at the man. “Is it because you want to kill me?” The older man looked like her, talked very much like her, and yet the emotions behind the words were one of the few things that differentiated him from her.

Where in the world did he get that idea? Luke however, didn’t indulge the thought. “You know very well I can not do that, Azrael. Though I am capable of forcing you back to her when the need arises.” He replied monotonously. “It is your duty to be with her at all times-”

“Amongst the many that I am well aware of.” Azrael cut him off impatiently. “Luke, I just came here to talk with you. At least let me stay long enough for that.”

Luke pushed himself off the pile and sat with his carmine eyes boring a hole into Azrael’s own dark gaze. “Then say your piece and be off.”

Azrael frowned but thought better against arguing with his friend and comrade. By far, Azrael was the oldest, but he was a respectful individual even when he was irked. The man cleared his throat and began, “I know well enough that I failed in curbing the emotions earlier on. But you have to know that it’s getting difficult. Even without LeRoux to stir up trouble directly, other things have a hand in making problems for me to keep up with.” At this, Azrael’s face shown with genuine remorse.

“I’m sorry that it had to come to you stepping in.”

Luke didn’t even so much as blink as his mouth opened seconds after the dark haired man had spoken. “Such apologies are rendered invalid to me. It is my duty to act as the defense mechanism for all threats that would come. What you did was to lessen what I was to remedy.”

In some ways, Azrael couldn’t understand if Luke had meant that as a compliment, what with the apathy that was always present in his voice. But knowing the young man, he decided not to prod the issue further.

“Isn’t it cold out here? Doesn’t it get lonely?” Azrael asked him after a while.

Luke allowed himself to sigh. “I mentioned it once, I mentioned it a thousand times. The cold doesn’t bother me. Loneliness has nothing to gain from me.”

Azrael didn’t seem particularly pleased with that answer. But Luke wasn’t done yet.

“Besides, I get unheeded physical contact and frequent visitors during the moments where I am not in pursuit of that damnation in white. How would such things bother me then?”

“You have frequent visitors?” The thought made him curious.

“Somehow a few of the Children have figured out a way here.” Was Luke’s only reply.

“Well being immortal does sometimes have its downside. With everyone living as long as they have, it’s only natural that they wonder about the other, older beings in this world.”

Luke disapproved of this, though the only physical hint of it was a slight furrow of his brows. “We’re the ones who will live until the end of our Creator’s days. Immortality is ingrained in us, not bestowed. Those Children could have their lives ended at any time. You should know this, Azrael.”

Azrael shrugged. “With our Creator, what’s the difference?” He asked with a pointed look at the other, daring him to prove his words otherwise.

“-- Apparently none.” Luke conceded to that.

“It hurt, didn’t it?”

Luke found himself unable to quickly reply. But in the end, the silence shook with the sigh he breathed out. Not looking at the man beside him, he answered, “Yes. Yes it hurt.”

“Belucci, you’re...” Azrael trailed off, seemingly contemplating something before his eyes shown with renewed determination. Luke merely tilted his head, a silent gesture that he was listening.

To which Azrael obliged. “Even if you are like this because of what you are, it doesn’t mean you have to limit yourself to just that.”

“I was created with the intention of being apathetic to pain and emotions.”

“You’re not a soulless machine, Belucci.”

“I am.” Luke stood and pocketed his hand into his green jacket, staring off into the distance.

“Azrael,” Luke turned to face him, “Remember that we are two different beings. Emotion is a factor of your creation, thus you cannot function without it. This is how you understand the world you were created with. I, on the other hand, simply cannot function with such hazards hampering my decisions.”

Azrael wisely held his tongue, but his eyes spoke what he couldn’t say. And Luke ignored it for the most part.

“Do not try to change what has been set into stone.”

“But you have the choice.”

“If to develop emotions is change for you, then it is impossible to achieve it with me.”

Azrael shook his head. “No, I don’t mean it like that.” The man said, “I’m just saying that--”

“I think it’s about time you returned, Azrael.” Luke cut him off. The older man stared hard at the other, but he did not argue. He knew when he had already pushed things to their limit with the other.

Azrael stood, glancing one last time at the guardian. “Thank you for listening to me.” The green haired youth didn’t even bother with a verbal reply. A nod of his head, and that was all.

In the next blink of an eye, there was no one else but the guardian. Luke wordlessly approached the couch and sunk into the seat, his face betraying none of the inner workings of his mind.

Seven days, seventeen hours and forty-nine seconds.

Luke couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His breathing evened out as his eyelids fluttered close, pulling a pillow to his chest as his mind fell into the dark dreamscape.

And then all was still. The cogwheels in the distance seemed to slow their turning, but never completely stopped. The stillness of the surroundings was stirred slightly by a passing breeze, much too soft to be noticed by the slumbering man but it made the tips of his apple green hair twitch and sway.

Perhaps he had tried too hard to deny that he was a being fashioned from one who was flawed and who found beauty in the workings of her own flawed race. Exhaustion overrode his senses, dulling them enough that he did not stir when white separated from white from his realm’s surroundings. Spots of red began to appear on the white that was slowly approaching him, only upon closer inspection it was found to be the linings of the entity’s clothes, and a pair of crimson orbs to be his eyes.

He didn’t dare utter a sound. Even with Luke’s awareness at weak levels, the man was still sharp.

Like an archangel in repose, you are a beautiful sight to behold. A sly smile formed on those pale lips. With a furtive sweep of snow white hair behind his ears, he bent down and brushed his lips on Luke’s slightly parted ones. A sin, one to be added to his list, but one he deliciously savored.

Such a pity that we are what we are. But this is what makes it all beautiful. And it will only become more beautiful and interesting in the following sunrises and sunsets. Went LeRoux’s thoughts as he disappeared before Luke could fully awaken.

Do keep me entertained before the final curtain falls upon us all.

END ENTRY.