3. She Was Beautiful
The fire would not start.
She knew it.
He knew it.
He knew it, and yet he still tried. It was pretty pathetic. She watched him from the shadows and glared at him with sparkling amber eyes. He looked up and glared back. She didn't dare smile, even though she wanted to.
"What are you looking at?" he barked.
"You, trying to start a fire."
"Well, excuse me for having a broken arm."
"Hey, you said you didn't need help."
His sentence dies halfway up its throat. Three hours with this kid and he already wants to bang his head to pieces against the wall.
...
When the rainstorm dulled, there was silence.
The silence was brutal. It hurt more than the rain and the rock that had met with her head and not liked it. He had finally managed to get the fire started. She didn't know how long it had taken him. He'd been trying when she arrived. He'd tried for another three hours. The rainstorm had lasted forever.
Really, it wasn't the silence from outside. More like the silence between them. Their mouths were both clamped shut. They had a bit of a history, as you can imagine. After all, he's wanted for the attempted murder of her best friends. It's not like they're supposed to be acting all chummy.
Amazing. The birds are already singing again. Nature is quick to forgive herself. She bounces back easily, see? Because she's forever. She knows she's forever. But even something that has eternity inside her hands knows that she still has no excuse to waste time. Problem is, the two limited beings sitting inside a dark cave don't realize that. Do they?
The stone is cold on her back and her legs. And it's painful, too. There's a lump the size of a tomato on her head. Probably looks like one, too. She's watching the shadows dance from the fire. They move gracefully and effortlessly. Then she shifts her gaze to him and the clenching of his jaw. Something's wrong with his arm. It's all mussed up. There's a patch of red blood near the shoulder and a strange angle near the elbow. She worries about the elbow.
And she worries about the five she left, crouching in that godforsaken valley.
...
"We need to get down there."
"You need to. I'm going..." He shifts his weight uneasily. "...nowhere."
"You can die alone and cold up here, for all I care." They both know she doesn't mean it. "I'm leaving."
She slips and falls not three seconds into her..."departure."
His laugh hurts more than her broken bum. But at least the silence has been broken. That's a good thing, isn't it? Even if it means crashing onto a wet rock. As if she wasn't already wet enough.
After a frown...
Or two...
Piper's back on her feet and angrier than ever. She storms down the mountainside, dedicated to not falling. Then there's the patter of his footsteps against the soggy ground. She can't help but smile.
...
"Hello! She's gone. We can't wait for her forever."
"Stork! Are you suggesting we abandon her?"
"No. I'm saying we temporarily abandon her. That rain was the least of our troubles. The Condor will start rusting, and then where will we be?"
"In the same situation we're in now, just with rust," Finn grumbled. Radarr chirped condescendingly. Finn smirked.
Aerrow sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright. Finn, Radarr, and me..." He sighed again. "...will go and look for Piper." He sighed again. "Junko, Stork, you guys stay with the Condor. Maybe she'll come back. Who knows." He sighed again. "And then-"
"Dude, you sigh one more time, and I swear, I will punch you. No joke."
"Alright, alright."
...
Climbing a mountain, like many other things, can be likened to going through life.
It starts off easy enough. It gets harder. It gets a lot harder. You discover things along the way.
You never want to do it twice.
But the mountain will end. Sort of. Perhaps the more accurate way to say this is that, eventually, the flat land will begin. And you'll step down and resume your journey. What is after life? Do we want to know? It's like flipping to the back of the book to read the final chapter before reading the others.
Problem with flipping back to read the end is that, even though the story's already been ruined, you don't understand the finale. I guess it would be the same in life. Even if we ever find out what life after death is like...or if it even exists at all...we'll be unable to understand it. Because we have not done enough living to understand dying.
Plus, ever flip to the end only to lose your current place? Wouldn't that happen in life, as well? We're so caught up in seeing beyond the walls nature put up for a reason, we lose our true meaning. The saddest human being is not one who cannot find what he is looking for, but the one who is looking for something that doesn't exist.
But hey, what do I know? I'm just a story teller who's ego is so big, she can't refrain from tossing these things of her own on in.
Going down the mountain was a good thing for those two people. It helped them know each other without saying a single word. When she turns back for the first time, he's got a strange expression on his face.
He's in pain, that much is obvious.
But she's told herself she won't care.
It's harder than it sounds, for a caring soul like her.
...
Junko throws metal around, and Stork worries.
That is the full extent of their relationship.
Junko throws metal. Stork worries.
That's as close as they get.
Generally, they don't interact. Other than Junko lugging Stork around bridal-style should the Merb need it, they have little to do with each other. So imagine their boredom when they end up being left behind to "guard the Condor." Stork doesn't mind. Junko does.
"I never get to do anything," he huffs.
"Be glad. It's a dangerous world out there." Stork puts another bolt where it should have been.
"You think everything's dangerous."
Stork pauses, then tosses the wrench aside. "Look. If you want to leave, then leave. I'll stay here-"
"...alone..."
"...alone." Stork pauses. He doesn't like that word: alone. He dreads it. Alone is when the bad things happen. So when Junko begins to lumber after the others, he does not hesitate to lumber after Junko. It was inevitable.
...
She and he were standing side by side and staring at the very big smoking hunk of metal. She and he were staring at it so hard, it was a surprise it didn't catch fire again. It had landed, as I said, face first. With its ass on fire. She said so. He sniggered.
She would have slapped him but didn't.
"They're not here," she said after a long silence. The air broke and shattered at their feet.
"I noticed."
"I'm glad you noticed."
He winced before answering. "I'm glad, too." She tilted her head to one side in concern. There was no use hiding it, it just happened. She told him maybe he should sit down, rest a while, while she tried to find a first aid kit. He does sit down and she begins to walk away, but not before he asks her a quick question, because he's a probing soul.
"Why are you doing this?"
She pauses and says nothing. She doesn't have to. He already knows the answer.
The answer is silence.
...
After the rain, the world looks new again. All sins are washed away. The grass will grow greener, the trees will sling water to the ground when the wind blows, and everything will look bright and clean. Then, a few days later, you'll poke your head out into the big wide world and realize nothing's changed. It's as brutal as ever. Times change, and people stay behind.
It's like war, really. The battle's over and the world looks new again. You see it through new eyes. You realize you're lucky to be alive, unless you're dead, in which case you realize nothing. You'll think, "Gee. I've taken so many things for granted." You'll make resolutions, promises to yourself. Empty promises. Humans! We aren't as strong as we like to think we are. Eventually, we'll snap back into that horrible routine. It's a little sad.
War kills everyone. Even those whose hearts continue to beat and lungs continue to breathe. There are some whose physical bodies are gone. Their souls are taken away. But they are the lucky ones. Those who are unlucky lose their souls and keep their shells. They walk around, broken.
It takes something powerful to put them in that state. It takes something equally powerful to shock them out of it.
You can't put a soul back. But you can replace it with a new one. You can make a new one.
You can put love into a shell and make it feel again.
...
The evening was broken into three parts.
One: Pain.
Two: Anger.
Three: Realization.
But part three comes much, much, later. It comes after the evening, when the dawn arrives. I just can't bear to stop at two. Two is a lonely number.
It begs for three like a lonely shell begging for a soul.
...
Part one. Enter the girl with amber eyes. Piper.
"I can't believe they've gone." She's looking over his shoulder. "I think it's just dislocated. Maybe I could pop it back into the socket."
He doesn't say a word. Just blinks once, very slowly. She takes that to mean he's fine with whatever she says. She sighs and stares at him a moment longer. "Ready?"
"Whatever."
Shhhh-thong-k!
Then comes a stream of words I don't think I need to write down. You can guess. I know, I know, it doesn't make me a very good storyteller. But one must have priorities.
When she's done, and he's wiping the sweat off of his brow, she rolls up his sleeve and sees the cause of the large blot of blood. His elbow is still bent at an odd angle. Maybe it's broken, maybe it isn't. Where are Stork's X-ray Peepers when you need them?
Cleaning up the skin wound is harder than popping his shoulder back into place. He won't sit still. He keeps on flinching and jerking away. She doesn't dare scold him. Even without his sword, even with a busted arm, he could choke her until her breath is gone and faded into the air, along with the rest of the squeezed out breaths. It's her turn to ask a question.
"Why haven't you killed me?"
"Why would I kill the one thing that can get me off of this terra?"
"What if it hadn't been me? What if it had been...Aerrow?"
"Then I'd have wrung his filthy neck and left him to rot in that cave." He glares at her. "Any more questions?"
She so wants to say no.
"Yes."
"Oh, lord." She wipes away all the blood and slaps on the gauze. She may be kind, but she's also human. She knows how to be mean. Piper. Someone...or rather, something...in the back of her mind, keeps telling her to leave him here. He'd run after her, for sure, but he doesn't know this terra. Not like she does. He hasn't seen the map. Or so she thinks. "Ask, then." He jolts her from her thoughts.
"I am grateful, I suppose, that you haven't killed me. But I don't expect you to like me, either. Just...After this is all over. Will you go back to trying to kill us all again?"
"Look girl." He answers quick. "I've got no bone to pick with you. My quarrel is with your commanding officer. If you happen to get in the way..." His shrug says everything. "Well, I'm a soldier. I do what I need to do."
"You're a killer," she spits, before she can stop herself. Then, she grabs his arm and jolts the bone back into place.
"AAAAH!"
She likes the scream.
The scream is good.
...
Part two. Enter the man with a splinted arm. Dark Ace.
He's annoyed. "I shouldn't have let you in my cave," he grumbles.
"It wasn't yours."
"Squatter's rights. Finders keepers." He looks at his patched up arm and grimaces.
"If I hadn't gone in there, you'd still be lying on a cold cave floor with nothing but a horribly made fire to keep you company. I suppose you'd die proud, though."
He groans softly. She still can't help but pity him. It's just her nature. You can't do anything about your nature.
Part two is pretty short. Part two lasts for a few tiny moments. They're angry because they're scared. Even him, the Dark Ace. He's scared of a young lady sitting on front of him with blood on her dark tinted fingertips. His blood.
...
Part three comes late. It comes after a very long intermission.
Part three. Enter the truth.
She stands and he stands and they say nothing. She just leads him down the hill and into the sea of grass that is so beautiful to walk in. It tickles her bare shoulders, that's how tall it is. Strokes her chin like the finger of a parent, praising his daughter. "You did good." It'll never happen, but she can dream. She's looking for her family, her friends. He's following her because she's his way out of here.
The truth is this: He needs her. She doesn't need him. She wants him. Piper wants him to follow her. She wants the company, and she wants something else that not even she knows.
When night falls and the others are still nowhere to be found, she starts a fire with her staff, which she always keeps tucked behind her belt. He doesn't say a word. She doesn't say a word. Dark Ace is silent, Piper is silent. But nature doesn't need words. To her, it's just two human beings who lie side by side in the tall grass, so near yet so distant, their hearts miles apart. Two stupid humans.
Humans are stupid, and humans are blind.
She was beautiful. He saw it in the cave and he sees it now. She's a pretty girl. More than pretty, she's exquisite. But beyond those perfect eyes is a soul he's only beginning to comprehend. He goes to sleep thinking about how this is going to end.
...
4. When the Stars Die
When the stars die, they go to heaven. They are the epitome of innocence.
When the stars die, they die in a burst of beautiful flame. They disappear and their pieces become the universe.
When people die, they go to heaven and hell. Some go to one, some go to the other. Actually, this is figuratively speaking. Like I said before: We don't know what's after the after. There are walls for a reason, you know? No, I just mean that humans are a little more diverse than stars. We come from all walks of life and all corners of the sky.
We don't get along. It's only natural.
The natural sequence to an unnatural beginning, as someone once put it. Sometimes we forget who we are, and that's never good.
...
Three days after their chance encounter in a mountain, they were still searching. Well, she was. He could care less. April was calling out to March. They were beginning to meet each other. It was a blustery morning. The wind tore at voices and made them speak, regardless of their own personal wills.
The silence was swollen, bulging, ready to overflow into emptiness.
Words lingered at cracked and dry lips, words that begged to be spoken.
Two begs for three, shells beg for souls, and hearts beg for love. Words beg for sentences. Sentences long to fly through the air and meet ears. We all want something. Even those we don't think can yearn, do yearn. She yearned to tell him he wasn't forgiven, even though he already sort of...was. He yearned to scowl. But he didn't scowl. He kept his face a picture of nothing. Blank canvas.
Blank canvases long for paint.
She'd paint something on that canvas.
...
The thing about Vale is that it's tragically beautiful. Beautiful because, hey. It's vast and green and the sky is bluer than you could possibly have ever imagined blue to be. Tragic because it was once even more glamorous. She's like the showgirl who has lost a tad of her charm from being hurt too much.
No one walks on her surface. Not for hundreds of years. She's home to some birds and a squirrel or two. Home to a few fish and the green that gathers at the surface of still water. Home to trees and grass and dirt and rock. Bushes. Stones. Snow.
No humans.
They took her heart and dashed it to the ground.
They tore out her gold and her crystals and raked up her land.
In a phrase, they stole her soul and left her empty.
It hurts to be deceived. Vale knows what it means. Her rivers carry memories of poison and dams. Her mountain caves echo with the pangs of every pickaxe and ton of dynamite. Her earth still bleeds. When you kill the land, it doesn't grow back. It stays dead forever. Nothing there grows without first realizing that it grows in blood. When Piper and Dark Ace strode through the meadow, they didn't think that maybe, beneath their feet, were bodies.
I don't believe in ghosts, but in the case of dying hearts, maybe they do come back.
Not to haunt...to remind.
...
"They could be looking for us, you know," she suggested. Five days. Five days of eating berries and drinking water. It was getting painfully painful.
And the silence. That hurt, too.
"Looking for you, maybe. They probably think I'm safe at home, right now." He looks at his arm. It still hurts. But not as much. It was very early in the morning. The sky was rosy and the stars were heading to bed. But the sun was a late riser; he wasn't quite up yet. Stretching. But then he'll toss his head back into his pillow and moan. "Five more minutes."
This is part infinity. It lasts forever. Enter the world.
Enter the dawn. And this dawn was not splattered with blood. No, this dawn was a knife. It cut into the souls of two figures, sitting on a rotting log, staring at the sky and hating yet appreciating the person beside them. She wouldn't abandon him. She would never forgive herself if she did. She knew he was just using her to get off of this terra. But Piper being Piper, she can't bring herself to shake him off.
He doesn't want to be with her. He doesn't like her. She may have patched up his arm, but she can't patch up his heart. She can't change him. No one can.
The knife pulls out and wipes itself on the clouds. Turns them red. They soak it up like sponges, eagerly, hungrily.
And the stars, they go to sleep, to wake up another night and wash the sky with silver.
...
When the stars die, they go to heaven. Because they do.
They get along pretty damn well. They stand side by side for millions of years and never squabble.
We can't even stand side by side for five days without hating each other. It's true for me and it's true for Piper and Dark Ace. They don't like each other, but they don't want to let go either. It's human nature.
Human nature is something irreversible. I guess you just go with the flow and hope for the best. Especially when it comes to hating. And loving.
Don't forget loving.