The wind shrieks past his newest post ruffling his hair, snatching at his cloak, his clothes, his balance. All it would take is a moment, the space of a heartbeat and he'd be just another failing body, another exhale into the blue. Why stand so close? So very close to the edge. So many easy explanations and none of them really real. He eyes the drop feeling himself leaning ever so gently forward, feeling his center shift ever so close to a slip. So dream-like, so unreal and he can feel the wind, the rain but if his own warm breath weren't being blown back into his face - If he couldn't see his own precious breath, he wouldn't know he was breathing wouldn't know he was alive.

The rain soaks him, slicking his hair to his head running into his eyes. The feel of it trailing down his nose - it's like what he thinks tears should feel like. There isn't a sound of anything. The rain and the wind scream around him as he watches the depths below swallow it all. It could be his reflection - an emptiness he'll never fill.

"Wake up", Kurama's hand on his shoulder a gentle smile on his face. The room is warm and bright the computer a blue glowing on the desk. If he stuck his hand out, he feels he could push it through this scene as though it were something like water, like loss. The window shows nothing but darkness. The sleek black sound system whispers some human song - "now you're hiding in the trees…" It wails as sadly as the breeze that knocks you free of the ledge. "Hiei, what's the matter?"

The wind shrieks past ruffling his hair, snatching his cloak, his clothes, trying to save him - to stop him. It only took a moment, the space of a heartbeat and now he's a flailing body sinking rapidly through the blue. His eyes are watering wide as his arms. In dreams you always wake up when you hit the ground or just before. What does it mean to fall while awake? If he's a wake… If he isn't, if life is just a dream then hitting rock bottom ought to be the sign to wake up, right? His eyes widen marginally as the ground becomes apparent, growing rapidly. Why is everyone so afraid to die?

The bed is warm, the ceiling is white - the human realm? 'Die?' A question he asked himself. Why is everyone so afraid to die? Why when they fight wars, run into fires, drink-smoke-fuck themselves to death. What's there to be afraid of? The coverlet is soft and fine, he's naked beneath it. The stereo is still on sunlight watery against the far wall. "What if al the world you think you know is all an elaborate dream? And when you look at your reflection is that all you want to be?"

Blinking - perched upon the ledge above an endless abyss. Stretches and he's back in Kurama's room where the stereo plays the song again - the repeat icon blazing. Looking closely it's not hard to see where the edges quake. Not hard to see the mistakes in perspective. "This isn't real." A life in a shell, a soap bubble dream, friends and family and some kind of home. Taking a deep breath he opens his eyes, wide and watering.

There is a warmth in, on his belly where the woman's hand lingered the rest of him freezing, frozen as the cloth he's trapped in flutters by his face. The black rock falling away it's ice-made veins blending into the snow and ice and sky. Deaf to his own infantile shrieks the wind a solid whistling as he rapidly descends. He blinks - a hand reaching out to snatch his cloak, to snatch him back. Sighs as his eyes slide upward toward the sky, one foot already stepping into space.

It's so damn quiet here, its so damn quiet surrounded in blue. A lifetime in a bubble swallowed by the snow, his body hits cartilage spine shocked loose brittle head smashed open a pool of red over blue to black. Eyes open he falls back knowing he never should have made it. Canyons of steel and glass streak pass to pierce the heaven's belly - he hits…

He hit's a high as bright as his mother's eyes.