Night's Children: De Rerum Natura
The nature of things.
Summary: A Night's Children three shot. The loss of their brother makes the world seem a little darker. Art and Zahi, attempting to cope the morning after the Cold Fire ceremony.
AN: This little scene was meant to go into book 2 or book 3, but it didn't seem to fit in either so I decided it was better suited as a three shot. Set sometime during book 3.
Part One: Pathos
He knew the sun was filtering in, could feel it on his face. But he didn't stir from beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around his pillow tightly as he buried his head into the soft folds of the fabric. To wake would be to realize, to realize could only end in a profound disappointment. While his mind was still only partially conscious, his heart knew that this morning would not be pleasant. He understood that something terrible had happened.
His arms clenched tighter as his face buried deeper into the pillow. The sun was positively blinding now, mocking his pathetic attempts at hiding. It was burning, making his eyelids turn a searing pink in color, and he knew that he could not feign sleep any longer.
His brown hair jutted up at awkward angles from the top of his comforter, now noticeable that he had kicked the heavy blanket off of him. He inhaled the sharp, clean scent of the pillow and tried not to think about how he would always do the laundry.
The man, a boy really, curled into a fetal position as his hands clenched even tighter and his eyes squeezed shut. He didn't want to wake up. He never wanted to wake up. He wanted his lone-gone mother, Imy, or Zahi.
Art didn't want to wake up knowing that his brother was dead.
xXx
He was as mechanical as a well-oiled robot as he cautiously poured the cereal into the bowl. He was extra patient as he added the milk, making sure that it was in equal portion to the cornflakes. After he was satisfied, he meticulously drained what was left of the orange juice in the fridge into a small plastic cup.
As was his habit, he licked the pad of his thumb and slowly opened the newspaper, his coffee-colored eyes scanning the headlines. Silence reigned in the apartment, not altogether uncommon as he was always the first one up, but still something seemed to be missing. He straightened his shoulders and turned the page, his other hand absently reaching for the glass of juice. When he found it, he brought it up to his lips and took a sip.
It wasn't until he sensed the tangy taste of it hit his tongue that he realized he hated orange juice. Zahi never liked orange juice.
Trysten had drank orange juice.
Angry and confused and hurt, Zahi stood up calmly and chucked the cup at the far wall of the kitchen, where it connected and exploded in a hail of shattered glass and pulp. He then sunk to his knees, as routine faded and reality seeped in.
XxX
It's not much, but I felt like I just had to write this. Seeing as Book Three is totally in Aria's point of view, we don't really get a feel of what's going on with the other characters. Art and Zahi would be particularly effected by what happened in Nox Noctis, so I wanted to give them a short little fic.
Until next time
!nym!