uh....no title, this is weird even to me
He sits, looks out over the sea. It would be warm here, for the sun is shining, if it were not for the ever-present wind that comes up from the water. There is the smell of brine and heath in the sun. And the wind brings with it a mist that dries everything cold and rough, stiff with salt. I am standing in the grass, knee deep in it with the stalks brushing against my calves. He turns to smile at me, and a sound I have never heard before comes from him. He is laughing, with his head tilted so that his hair falls back from his face. It is an easy laugh, deep and rich, startling with its abandon. I smile in instinct, an unexpected facial jerk upwards. There is something not right here, but I know not what. He speaks.
“I can hear it.” He laughs again, the same sound as before, seeming as delighted as I am with the sound of it. His voice is as warm as the laugh that came before it, finding it’s equilibrium at last. “It reminds me of something I might have heard in my childhood. Not that I ever was a child.” The smile fades for an instant. “It is hard to even imagine such a thing, when all one has ever known is the service.” He shakes his head, tossing away any memory of what he has seen in his mind with a twist of the neck.
He flicks an ear at me and walks away, tail whisking in the grass. His shoulders catch my eye. The scars are gone. His back is as smooth as if it had never been marred, light chasing its way down his spine. And I know that this is a dream. I do not wish to wake up, for there is something that I cannot remember that awaits me in consciousness. I struggle with all that I have to stay asleep, to remain in this, this tranquil unreality that seems as solid to me as life. For all the time I have known him, he has had the ritual scarring of his people. And now it is gone, as if it had never been. I listen, out of habit, for the sound of his feet on the turf, knowing full well that I will hear nothing. Some things never change.
He stands at the cliff edge, the sun behind him, and his silhouette almost too bright for me to stand to look at. He beckons to me, the light racing over his arm in an arc of fire as he calls me. I tread the stones that line the walkway to the cliff’s edge, stepping from grass onto rock that is crumbling into ruin. Beaten by the elements, by the rain and the sea, and forces that have been at work since probably before the thought of us was even conceived. I walk to him, not uncomfortable with the height as I would be in wakefulness. He grasps my upper arm and steers me around to his side. “Look there.” He points downwards at the rocks that are alternately drowning in and rising on the surf. “There. The shards of my immortality.” He looks for a fraction of a second longer, and then laughs for a third time. This time not the natural laugh of before, but a forced bark, harsh and cynical. “I should think I would rather like to join them.”
“Alexis…” He silences me with a wave of his hand, the sun blazing golden over the fur on his arm. He tugs something out of his belt. The sun whickers on the flat metal of the dagger of his house, the crest on the handle a sigil of his bloodline. He closes his hand over it almost absently, curling his fingers loosely around the blade. He grins at me, white teeth a flash in the dark of his face. He tightens his grip and jerks the knife free. Blood wells up to run in rivers down his wrist. He grimaces in chagrin, glancing at me sheepishly. “I might have overdone it.” He wipes the blade off on his pants, and lays it on my palm. I do not even feel it when it breaks the skin. I am staring straight-backed into his eyes. He folds our hands together. He is not smiling; his face is very hard to read. “And now in my brother, I will live forever.” He lays the knife against my stomach and wraps my hands around the slim death of it.
He steps to the edge of the cliff. Stretches up into the sun. And I know what he means to do.
“Alexis...” I say again. “No.” He leaps into the horizon’s termination. He hangs there in the sky, swan diving in slow motion. And then he is gone. I step to the edge. I do not even remember looking down, but I see him, lying broken against the rocks; curled like a child with those now sightless eyes open upward. Staring blindly into the sun.
I wake with a start. Now I know what I could not remember in my dream, that Alexis is dead. That he has been for almost three days now. I turn over and press my face into the pillow. Crying into the stifling darkness. Something heavy gouges into my ribs. And even without turning on the lamp beside me, I know it is the dagger. There is no way that it could be here, but it is. Alexis carried it with him always, and I did not see him the day he died. But now it is here in my hands, and I do not care how.
My brother is dead.
I loved him with a strength that cannot be expressed, even between a man and a woman. The blood that sings in my ears is now the same that he felt in his veins. An entire race fell to ruin by our good intentions, but I will make it my oath to sire a house that will remember them.
My brother is dead, but I will live for the both of us.
“I can hear it.” He laughs again, the same sound as before, seeming as delighted as I am with the sound of it. His voice is as warm as the laugh that came before it, finding it’s equilibrium at last. “It reminds me of something I might have heard in my childhood. Not that I ever was a child.” The smile fades for an instant. “It is hard to even imagine such a thing, when all one has ever known is the service.” He shakes his head, tossing away any memory of what he has seen in his mind with a twist of the neck.
He flicks an ear at me and walks away, tail whisking in the grass. His shoulders catch my eye. The scars are gone. His back is as smooth as if it had never been marred, light chasing its way down his spine. And I know that this is a dream. I do not wish to wake up, for there is something that I cannot remember that awaits me in consciousness. I struggle with all that I have to stay asleep, to remain in this, this tranquil unreality that seems as solid to me as life. For all the time I have known him, he has had the ritual scarring of his people. And now it is gone, as if it had never been. I listen, out of habit, for the sound of his feet on the turf, knowing full well that I will hear nothing. Some things never change.
He stands at the cliff edge, the sun behind him, and his silhouette almost too bright for me to stand to look at. He beckons to me, the light racing over his arm in an arc of fire as he calls me. I tread the stones that line the walkway to the cliff’s edge, stepping from grass onto rock that is crumbling into ruin. Beaten by the elements, by the rain and the sea, and forces that have been at work since probably before the thought of us was even conceived. I walk to him, not uncomfortable with the height as I would be in wakefulness. He grasps my upper arm and steers me around to his side. “Look there.” He points downwards at the rocks that are alternately drowning in and rising on the surf. “There. The shards of my immortality.” He looks for a fraction of a second longer, and then laughs for a third time. This time not the natural laugh of before, but a forced bark, harsh and cynical. “I should think I would rather like to join them.”
“Alexis…” He silences me with a wave of his hand, the sun blazing golden over the fur on his arm. He tugs something out of his belt. The sun whickers on the flat metal of the dagger of his house, the crest on the handle a sigil of his bloodline. He closes his hand over it almost absently, curling his fingers loosely around the blade. He grins at me, white teeth a flash in the dark of his face. He tightens his grip and jerks the knife free. Blood wells up to run in rivers down his wrist. He grimaces in chagrin, glancing at me sheepishly. “I might have overdone it.” He wipes the blade off on his pants, and lays it on my palm. I do not even feel it when it breaks the skin. I am staring straight-backed into his eyes. He folds our hands together. He is not smiling; his face is very hard to read. “And now in my brother, I will live forever.” He lays the knife against my stomach and wraps my hands around the slim death of it.
He steps to the edge of the cliff. Stretches up into the sun. And I know what he means to do.
“Alexis...” I say again. “No.” He leaps into the horizon’s termination. He hangs there in the sky, swan diving in slow motion. And then he is gone. I step to the edge. I do not even remember looking down, but I see him, lying broken against the rocks; curled like a child with those now sightless eyes open upward. Staring blindly into the sun.
I wake with a start. Now I know what I could not remember in my dream, that Alexis is dead. That he has been for almost three days now. I turn over and press my face into the pillow. Crying into the stifling darkness. Something heavy gouges into my ribs. And even without turning on the lamp beside me, I know it is the dagger. There is no way that it could be here, but it is. Alexis carried it with him always, and I did not see him the day he died. But now it is here in my hands, and I do not care how.
My brother is dead.
I loved him with a strength that cannot be expressed, even between a man and a woman. The blood that sings in my ears is now the same that he felt in his veins. An entire race fell to ruin by our good intentions, but I will make it my oath to sire a house that will remember them.
My brother is dead, but I will live for the both of us.
posted by silver at 5:11 PM
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