Trial of Independence
The man lay half on the beach, half in the tide, as if the tide wasn't sure it wished to release him yet. Blond hair lay around his shoulders, glowing against the dark sand, almost soaking up the moonlight. Scars crossed his back, silver white against his skin. As the tide slipped farther out, his lower back, lower body rose out of the night's sea, revealing silver scars over his legs as well. Sleep cradled him dreams he would not remember, hid away from him that he'd arrived at his destination. He'd crossed time. He was home.
Rocks rose at the far edge of the beach, black as the sand on the beach and supporting a path that wound around it, up to the ruins of a building. Greek Columns, open space, shadows, and memories waited for him there.
For the one camping in the building the war that had separated them had been over for two months. The peace he'd thought would come for himself, hadn't. He didn't have the confidence he'd thought he'd have. A hundred lovers hadn't given it to him. Sitting by his fire, he tapped the edge of his cowboy hat against the side of his knee.
He didn't know why he was out here, in the cold, nursing a little fire and his own confusion. Coming back to his roots, he thought, maybe. Back to where he'd been when they'd all remembered each other. To find some missing piece. He'd lost something in the war, and he couldn't figure it out. He reached around with his other hand and scratched behind his pony tail.
That urge to find the missing piece took him to the edge of the building, to what was once a garden. A full moon hung over the black ocean, giving light like a false kind of hope. Elbows on a part of the wall that wasn't broken, he let his eyes fall closed, chin drop, red brown bangs fall over his face like a curtain. Loneliness was something he'd come to live with, almost didn't even sting anymore, but here, here it did, because he could remember that it hadn't always been that way. Something he was missing had started here, in this orphanage. No one else really remembered enough to care.
It wasn't any better with his eyes closed, so he opened them. And there, on the shore below, lay a man, slender, blond, face down in the surf, wearing nothing except sea foam. Irvine straightened, hands on the worn stone and yell, "Hey! Hey you!"
Inauspicious way to greet someone, he silently berated himself, before he realized who was laying on the dark sand. Seifer.
"Seifer!" Irvine took off down the winding stairs to the beach, yelling every so often, hoping to see some response. "Seifer!"
Boots had never been good to cross wet sand with and Irvine found himself just about falling, landing on his knees as he rolled Seifer over, looking for wounds, for breathe. "Almasy, you better not be dead!"
Nervous, he leaned over to listen, to see if there was breathe, however slight. Seifer's face wasn't any better than the back of him had been. Too thin, scarred, not only the one between his eyes another across his left cheek, right above the thick blond beard clogged with sand. "Seifer, where the hell you been, man?"
The man lay half on the beach, half in the tide, as if the tide wasn't sure it wished to release him yet. Blond hair lay around his shoulders, glowing against the dark sand, almost soaking up the moonlight. Scars crossed his back, silver white against his skin. As the tide slipped farther out, his lower back, lower body rose out of the night's sea, revealing silver scars over his legs as well. Sleep cradled him dreams he would not remember, hid away from him that he'd arrived at his destination. He'd crossed time. He was home.
Rocks rose at the far edge of the beach, black as the sand on the beach and supporting a path that wound around it, up to the ruins of a building. Greek Columns, open space, shadows, and memories waited for him there.
For the one camping in the building the war that had separated them had been over for two months. The peace he'd thought would come for himself, hadn't. He didn't have the confidence he'd thought he'd have. A hundred lovers hadn't given it to him. Sitting by his fire, he tapped the edge of his cowboy hat against the side of his knee.
He didn't know why he was out here, in the cold, nursing a little fire and his own confusion. Coming back to his roots, he thought, maybe. Back to where he'd been when they'd all remembered each other. To find some missing piece. He'd lost something in the war, and he couldn't figure it out. He reached around with his other hand and scratched behind his pony tail.
That urge to find the missing piece took him to the edge of the building, to what was once a garden. A full moon hung over the black ocean, giving light like a false kind of hope. Elbows on a part of the wall that wasn't broken, he let his eyes fall closed, chin drop, red brown bangs fall over his face like a curtain. Loneliness was something he'd come to live with, almost didn't even sting anymore, but here, here it did, because he could remember that it hadn't always been that way. Something he was missing had started here, in this orphanage. No one else really remembered enough to care.
It wasn't any better with his eyes closed, so he opened them. And there, on the shore below, lay a man, slender, blond, face down in the surf, wearing nothing except sea foam. Irvine straightened, hands on the worn stone and yell, "Hey! Hey you!"
Inauspicious way to greet someone, he silently berated himself, before he realized who was laying on the dark sand. Seifer.
"Seifer!" Irvine took off down the winding stairs to the beach, yelling every so often, hoping to see some response. "Seifer!"
Boots had never been good to cross wet sand with and Irvine found himself just about falling, landing on his knees as he rolled Seifer over, looking for wounds, for breathe. "Almasy, you better not be dead!"
Nervous, he leaned over to listen, to see if there was breathe, however slight. Seifer's face wasn't any better than the back of him had been. Too thin, scarred, not only the one between his eyes another across his left cheek, right above the thick blond beard clogged with sand. "Seifer, where the hell you been, man?"