Chapter 8: Disappear

Because no other words come to mind, because if we can't solve this problem we may as well attempt at the other, because I couldn't seem to move my feet away, away from here, quietly I ask: "How do we... you... what do we do for... for—for him." He's still... alive. I-I think. Oh, Vivi would be heartbroken if all of the work she pushed for this boy meant nothing in turn; no—she wouldn't be heartbroken—she'd forgive him. Of course. Is he gone? Is he not?

"Hmm... I well. I have a feeling that he's still in there sommmmewhere. The question, I'mmmm guessing, is how we get him back together again. Hmmm... Llana, try calling his name. I'll work on backup plans." Quagsire, winking so casually, gnaws at me without his lips so much as twitching.

"E-Ehhh? I-Is that such a... a wise idea, Qu-Quagsire? I mean he's—"

"Yes yes I know," he goes on, head bobbling, "I know, it sounds awful. Reaction to his name offers only the... worst of circummmmmstances. Hmm? But it's... just a thought. If I say it, I'm sure I'll be a goner; but you're... you." His fingers waggle in the air about my face. "It's only an idea. If it doesn't work, I'mmmmm sure you won't... well." The punctuation on the corpse in front of us is staggering in texture.

Slowly, I focus my breathing. If I can't breathe I may as well turn around and run now. Hand nestled over pounding heart, heart nestled under pounding head, head nestled beneath pounding soul: I sigh. "You don't think he'll... harm me?" Although—well—Tim cannot go against his... friends. Perhaps if Kyo is like him, then he can... and this is a blasphemous question.

"Don't know. Sorry. But I don't..." Gently he clears his throat; softly he says it again: "Mmmmaybe it'll help if you try his name. Er... Just try it? I know I'mmmm not divine, of sorts, but if you need help... you can count on mmmme." The glistening in his gaze, although feverish, provides the truth in his muttering.

Sigh. "Um... okay... I-I'll try... we-we'll see how it goes."

I shuffle forward; Quagsire's lingering figure stays snug just beside me. Cough. He nods. Encouragement. Deep breath. I sigh again. Come on. Come on. Don't look into his eyes—no—it makes me feel self-conscious. "He-Hello, there?" No response from the shivering mass in front of me. Unfortunately, though expected, nothing from the corpse either. I can... wish. "Ky—"

The eyes in his head shift toward me.

"Ky—"

Oh, now the words won't come out! Roland, why did—why did you—Llana, say it already! Say it!

"U-Um..." Focus, focus. Don't be shy... "Ky—ohhh..." Close enough, I suppose. Those orbs of his glitter in recognition of that sound; chills bump like bruises along my body, like that stare punches me, he's punching me, he's hurting me now. But he's—he's not. Least... not at this time. Not—

pmmmph... pmmmph.

Oh goodness he's moving. I nearly scream. Quagsire's hand squeezes against mine, I try not to go lightheaded like the bumbling fool I so wish I could be.

Pmmf. Pmf-pmf-pmf-pmf. Pmf-pmf. Pmf!

Crusted blood peels from his grisly hooves. The stare in his gaze staggers toward me, aligned by his step. Where he moves, a whiff of filth follows. I try not to choke. Truly—truly I'm trying. Bile rises up in my throat—no—no—no—get back—get back, get back, get back.

Otherworldly measures hold the vomit down my stubborn esophagus.

Sputtering. "Llana. Ooh—easy, Llana. Let's try for a step back, mmmhmm?" Wordlessly I follow the man; later I might wonder if I'd follow Kyo, had it been him, all the same.

A game of whispers spears betwixt us then.

"Qua-Quagsire... Quagsire... what's he... what's he..."

"It must do with Timmmmm... with his precarious little situation."

"O-Ohh... I'm scared, I'm scared... I'm sorry—I'm just—I don't want another to... how do we—how do we..."

"I wonder if Timmm would hinder or harmmmmm at this timmme."

"Wh-Wh-WHY?"

"He followed us."

Oh. By now I'm not surprised. He must be a shadow of mine. Rustling behind our backs—leaves scraping by us—the sharp cold of claws rippling just above my shoulder—soft fur quickly replaces it. His hand. Again with his hand.

Tim's quiet rumble saturates us in place. "Llana. Hello... Quagsire. Nice to see of you. It appears a friend of yours has gone quite under the weather, and once again it's the fault of my own. Sincere apologies. Llana, I believe that"—the hand of his on my shoulder tightens, squeezes—"if you were to speak with him again, calmly, softly, like you have as per usual, you may see a difference in his attitude."

"O-Oh, may I? Are you sure?" I'm sorry; I'm sorry; quietly I bite at my tongue; but I can't help questioning him, whether his recent help has saved me and others or no.

Soft sigh. "I'm as sure as I am that I love you."

My body goes rigid.

"Ye-Yes... of course, Tim. I believe you..."

This isn't the first time he's confessed this. I doubt I will ever grow soft to the whisper of his deep, dark tones uttering those words—for anyone—for me—but I can expect now. Yet have I to even begin my understanding, be his words muddle clear as love, and still these words are true. I know they are. If they weren't—he's had more chances than he's Zoey to kill me. He could kill me right now. He's supposed to kill me. Kill me. It's how this... should work... no? Prior to our meeting our magics of sorts soil the earth; and afterwords we meet, and one of us is to die; only then the other goes as well. I can't even remember who first told me this. It's been too long; too many have repeated and fluctuated those depths.

Because Quagsire proffers no other ideas and there is not much of a chance I'll think up anything better, I go again at my trial. "It is nice to s-see you again, Kyo." I bite my tongue; don't stutter, don't stutter. "It's a very... very ni...ce day today, no? It's... warm... outdoors. And we all"—don't look at the corpse don't look at the corpse—"are waiting for... for you to join us."

Is that something? Does that count? Surely whatever has been going on and occasionally stirring within Kyo is stronger than little monsters like the rodent creature and its ilk. Stronger. I cannot even begin to guess how much of these I can take. I did—once—manage to unravel the demise of a munna. But was she even that strong? Am I still so weak?

Tim's fingers gently squeeze my shoulder.

At a point, I begin talking again. I'm not quite sure what I'm saying: still the keldeo nods, nods, eyes thick and bleary. The glass in his gaze that stares back at me cannot so much as hold a reflection. But when I nod, he nods, and though I've stopped with the sense he continues his nodding. Good, good. Good... oh, goodness... why did he end Roland? What overcame him to... what vile force came in and...

It's not completely gone. I can wipe and he can nod all he wants, but there's smudges like prints of fingers gouging after him. I didn't... didn't expect so much ink as it was to come off of his once-blue gaze; anything at all, even pebbles of bits, is enough. Gently I sag against Tim, his thick and soft fur swooning all about me, surprisingly soft, without blood... without the chill of his claws...

"Good job, Llana. Hmm!" Quagsire's hand returns round my wrist; he squeezes and gently pulls me away from... from him. I know Umbre has called him a beast—few times—mostly joking—but I cannot bring myself to. He's still... I don't know. But Quagsire pulls me back and the cruel kicking, throbbing in my heart begins to ebb. "Let's go lead, mmm, you-know-who back now, mmhmm?" Gentle pulling, forceful leading. I follow back behind without so much as another thought.

Tim watches us clasp by the half-collapsed keldeo. His own gaze, glittering black onyx—black it has been and black shall it always be—pinches from where he stares. His tongue, small and pink, slowly glides out, runs over his lip, disperses. He's tall and fearsome just by the way he holds himself at times, only now he's practically torn just as much as the emotionally-crashed one who... ki-ki-ki-killed the other by our side.

Staring back, one hand on Kyo's head and the other reaching toward him, Tim and I play a dumb little game, that waiting game: who will look away first.

It's me.

I stepped in—a—piece—of—Roland—and looked away. I wanted to cry. Really bad. Really hard. Tim saw me cry when Elijah died, he saw me cry when in front of my very own eyes Mina's wounds forced her over dead. He may have been there when I found Burr's remains; and we all were present at the time of... of Gaurdio's... What does he think when he sees me... what does he think when my eyes overflow? What did he think when he killed the boy I had loved, and what does he think now... now that he wants to... help me?

Quagsire's fingers swoon over with fresh bubbles and gently scrub away the goo. I nigh go sick again.

We lead Kyo back. The walk is silent, the walk is cold, I shiver more than I wish I would. Tim, from my other side—he then Quagsire then me then Kyo—continuously pierces that cold gemstone stare of his toward me; I fend myself off, look at Kyo, look at Quagsire, look at anything that isn't him.

I didn't cry because of him. And I didn't cry because I was disappointed in him. He's... changed. Somewhat. This more or less wasn't the will of his bidding. He didn't... search out Kyo and... it was... it was just as it happened. Perhaps it shall end; for now only time will tell; but I wish and I wish for Vivi's poor soul; perhaps one day he shall waken and see her again.

After a time, as the stone cut beneath the foot, Tim is the one to ask: "Where, may I know, are we heading?"

"Mmh? You didn't know?—oh yeah, you didn't know." Big breath. "Llana, please don't go shy on us, the others are waiting ahead somewhere, but we're about to enter..." And pause.

I stir. I murmur, "Quagsire, we are about to enter..?"

"Hmmm? I changed mmmmy mmmind. It's a surprise."

"E-EHhh..." Um... "Sure."

Kyo stirs as well. If but for a moment. "A good... surprise?" His whisper is pained and does not turn up again in the banter.

"Yes, Kyo, yes! A good surprise, hmm-hmmmm!"

I sigh. "Ho-Hooray... W-Wonderful..."

Quagsire laughs. A soft laugh. "Poor Llana." Gentle squeeze, and a softer laugh. A laugh for all of us, one we all must need by this point. Kyo, for his state of mind and of what he has done. Tim for what he caused and his wishes to end such deeds only for their return. Himself for perfection and a silent blessing to Mary's good health. Me for... I worry. I worry a lot. I don't want them to... to keep...

Tim asks me what is the matter and I try to ignore him, only then I feel guilty, so I tell him, really them all, very quietly that it's just I miss Roland. And I'm scared for Jen. And I'm scared for Olive, the "liver" not a "dier" whom the n-n-now dead one ssss-ss-sso wished to seek. Who may still be out there as we all are now...

Silence, then. Blissful, beautiful silence. I learn then that walks are unbelievably slower when they're taken walked instead of ran like prior. They seem to stop with time, stop with the shadows and the fear—and the night just outside the roof of our trees and their leaves. It's not as... not as scary. But that may be for the males around me and their powers that far surpass mine. Although mine are surpassed by all, so... but that is fine. I am... d-different. My thoughts wander; I smile time to time; I think and hope the best for dear, sweet Zoey.

Then the speck of golden yellow comes barreling through the bark. There is a call, a very happy call, and the big yellow face, scaly and clean, comes bringing us grins. "Guuuyyssssss! Have you seen? Have you seeeeeen? Just ahead, it's just ahead! Oh, my gosh, guys, I didn't even think—and yet—it is! Come, come, come!"

His wings flutter with impatience. And because he is dear to my heart, and the poor thing's face is too sweet to soil, I hold my tongue and go after him. The others follow; after Bay, after Bay and his precious, smiling face.

"It's really, really awesome! I know you'll love it as much as I always have!"

"Bay," oh I can't help it, "Bay, what is it?"

"Come, come! Man, Mynisscah is gonna love you! Just, she doesn't know yet, so be nice to her..."

"Ba-Baaayyy?" What is he—what is he—I pant, I pant, go after with a sudden new burst of speed. His joy is infectious, and it has bit me more than I could keep track.

There it is. I can tell by the halt and dressing of grace and stead Bay takes to walk soon after. There's a hollow, trees crunched and buried about it, some up and living and some logs far gone. Bits of sap fill in holes and reflect the sun's undulation. There's leaves like parts of a roof; the place is positively, warmly spacious. Still the corners stuff with berries and nuts and bushels; our group has come and huddled toward this big middle area.

And in front of them sit yellow little mammals, white-topped faces and bellies with the back black and soft. Big eyes; one pair brown, another blue, another dark just like—just like—him. I try to bite my lips together, try not to tremble in their presence.

Softly I whisper from the side of my lip, "Bay, is this your... your family?"

Giggle. "You got it! I dunno how we're gonna tell Elijah's mom about his managing to get a girl, at least for some time... and how we'll..." He smiles, though it's a somber one, through the silent wording of his best friend's... end. Oh, Bay...

Just as softly I try to explain the whereabouts of today. "You-know-who gone mad" and "Roland's head" and "Quagsire and I tried but" and "too late, too late" and "Tim." And he's quiet again. And how can I blame him? Slowly like behind a cloud, again his smile flickers, no matter how small and how forgotten it will come to be.

"I'll tell the others for you. Jen should... wait a little bit, at least. Now please. We've all met them... um... go speak with his parents. With his sister. They'll love you." His voice has trembled off into a whisper, yet still it's a strong whisper, one promising light and redemption again one day. And off he hops, and I try not to cry.

The one with the blue eyes is the one to come and greet me—the one with the brown has already wandered off somewhere. But she, with the small one with the dark eyes holding her hand, she only bits taller than me, she offers this gentle, flowery welcome. "Why, hello. I believe... you must be... Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry but I seem to have misplaced your name... though Bay talked of you and dear Eli bunches..."

Wrinkles bunch by her eyes, little smile wrinkles. "I'm... I'm Llana. The, um... the one who's... supposed to... 'save everyone,' I-I guess." I sound so quiet. So still. It's surreal. I never thought... for the life of me, I never thought...

"My name is Mynisscah. Yes, it's a... bit of a mouthful. Ah," she goes off into a little, tinkling laugh. "They called you small and cute, little friend-saver. Dear, you look to be falling off your toes." Her nose bunches in a way similar to Vivi's own. I blink. "Would you wish to rest now?"

"I-I..." Splutter. "In a moment, please. I... believe I have words to share with you. But—ah... how could I... um..." Splutter, turn. "Who is this little one?"

Big eyes, like her big brother's. Little smile; huge, fluffy body. She holds onto her mother's hand like it is the most precious thing in the world. "This, dear, is Nayomi. Naaaayomi... and Eliiijah... and Myniiisscah. And Daaaarubi—their father, you see. He's pent up on foraging and being ready in case things get out of hand..." Again another little smile. She bends over. "Here. Nayomi, could you do Mommy a favor, please, and say hello to Llana?"

The tiny thing's mouth paws open, only no sound ensues.

Another warm motherly smile. "She must be nervous. Apologies, Llana. She's an awkward little girl, heh. But she's so warm and fun to hold. A sweet little one." As if her mother summoned the words, the little thing lifts her tiny fingers and paws at her mother, who then proceeds to scoop her into the air. "Very sweet..."

"Um... Miss?"

"Oh, please, just Mynisscah... or, well Minnie is fine, too, dear."

"Er... Mi-Minnie, um, I believe Bay wanted me to let you know that..." How do I... oh, this is s-so embarrassing... "I was... um... with Elijah. F-For a time. He's sweet... a little cocky at first, but... charming. Sweet."

Gently she laughs. "Yes, dear Eli was always that way..." Her blue gaze encircles mine, waiting—I was with Elijah—I was with—was—was—was.

I try to settle myself. Try to convince myself this is right, and it would be wrong to lie. And she's so sweet... but if Elijah wasn't around here with Bay, and a girl he apparently liked at one time was with him, then... "I'm... I'm sorry. Elijah... he was protecting me... he... the monsters... E-Ehh... H-He died a ve-very noble death, M-Miss. I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

And then I fall to my knees and sob in front of the woman who was the mother of the boy I loved. These thoughts, vile little things, ask me, ask me, was it my fault he died? Would he have lived if I never grew close to him, never felt wordless beauties with him—would he have lived, then? Would Tim have bothered? Only I don't know, because it was this way, not any other, a-and while I'm thankful for the time we shared, here I am, bawling. And she's right here... right here...

Whispers. I can't tell how I caught them.

"Mommy, see? I told you... I was right, Mommy... I said that... I had a... a dream... and I said he..."

"Yes... yes you did, dear. I'm... only sorry it was true."

"It's okay, Mommy. I'm all cried out, anyways... I already cried for Brother..."

"Yes... Dear, yes..." Soft coughing. "I could only expect as much... seeing Bay here without my son. I... I understand."

Crouching in front of her... I don't know... I don't know. I don't know what to say... I feel... I feel like... I feel awful... oh... I recall when I did see Elijah, once, after I found the passing of Burr and Mina and by some stellar extent he showed—dead yes—a ghost of sorts—but he found me... for just some time. Stella was there; I can pin reason to her. But he didn't deserve to... deserve to die... especially not like that, not by sabotage and not by Tim, such cause not even evident until some time after his passing...

For a fleeting moment, I do ponder on that—Nayomi's dream. But it's quickly swept away. I don't know. I don't, truly—it could mean anything. I wish Elijah wasn't dead. But he is. I can't change that. Tim can't change that—I ponder if he'd even want to, saying that I... I did love him. I loved Elijah before his... his passing.

Kind fingers pat upon my head; fluffy footsteps sound in her departure. "Nayomi, you can stay here if you'd like... I only need to let your father know..."

Oh... It's not like it's tru-truly my fault, I suppose... no matter if it feels like it, and I want to think so. And either way, as I keep chanting, this mantra in attempt to keep me alive, he is dead. He can't come back. Nothing shall change from this glossing over of the event. I thought I'd let it go... yet it's easy to send it back.

Tugging in my hand. "E-Ehhh... Lluh... Lluh...umm... mi-miss, who's dat?" The fingers squeeze, pull, alert my ears to the sloshy footsteps. "Is it a friend?" I try to nod.

"Yes... yes... she's very special... special to me." It's surprising how hard it is to stifle whimpers and silence hiccups. "She is a friend. Yes... I-I think you'll like her..." and then here I go, mumbling in my royal tone, off to sob in the dirt in front of me. That is, until her shadow follows me, tiny droplets from her pelt hitting me like rain, like tears, and her body plops down beside me.

Perhaps I'm not looking but I can tell she smiles. "Why, hello there, little one! You're... oh gosh... Nao... Nayo... Nayon... no no, Nayomi, that's right, isn't it!" Little child giggles follow her statement. "Yes, that's it. Heh. So now you've met Llana. She's a... a... very emotional one. Excuse her crying. She's good at that. But she's so cuuuute tooooooo!"

Her body stuffs itself behind mine, arms hooked round me, head on my shoulder. "Least, I think she's cute. And that's what matters, isn't it! That I think she's cute! Hwah! And I do! And I... and I do. What do you think of Llana, li'l Nayomi?"

"Uh—um! She likes Brother!"

"Hmmmm? heh—hehhhh! Yes, she reaaaally liked Brother! He was a good egg, that Brother... heheheheh..." Zoey's sly fingers slip down my spine. They clasp by me, hold me close. "Yes, those were nice and different times, when she liked Brother...

"But these are nice and different times too, Nayomi! It's real nice to've met you today. You have no idea how much happier it made Bay! Eheheh... and, er, he told me about... what happened before you got here, but... hey. It's... it's a little better here, at least for now."

When I manage to glance upwards, Zoey tiny smile meets my eyes; she giggles, just softly. Bright ocean orbs swim just in front of me, she just by me—then Nayomi's tugging fingers, again found in the palm of my hand. I turn, scales shifting, and her big dark orbs, so like to Elijah's, meet mine.

"Are you talking about the monsters?"

We splutter. Zoey raises herself, squeaks, "What? Yes? Yes! Um... I'm guessing you poor guys've been around them longer than us..."

"The monsters aren't scary... they don't come near." And Nayomi's big, murky orbs wash upon us, her soft head tilted, little smile suggesting there's something we have yet to comprehend about her. About... Elijah, even. We knew him for so long and yet for so short... Whatever the little thing has hidden in her gaze, she won't share it, won't say it. "They just stay away. That's it." And she blinks. It's simple.

Zoey and I exchange glances. "Cool." She shrugs. "That's, um, real cool, Nayomi. Cuz the monsters are kinda scary, see? Our friend Jen can tell you about it... she's been worried about this guy, Roland, who's been worried about his li'l brother, Olive... and then this all kinda pooled together into a... mess. A little oopsy. So that's real cool that you aren't getting disturbed by the meanies. That's... nice."

We look at each other again. A bit of blush has wound its way upon Zoey's cheeks. I may look similar. Bewildered. I wonder... or perhaps they don't pose much of a threat, so there's not quite enough reason to...

What did Elijah do to get himself killed? I-I understand Burr and Mina were disturbing the d-darkness or whatever, Gaurdio was protecting from... from... Roland—Roland didn't... oh, what will we tell Jen? What about his brother? What about any of it..?

"Olive."

Oh. Of course she's interested in someone mentioned as younger. Her age. Perhaps. I never met Olive, but... I suppose they could be of similarity. I try to look into her big eyes when I tell her, "Yes. Olive. I believe he's a sweet boy. You could be friends... once we, um, find him. Roland was searching for him—the brother—older brother—only..."

"Only..?"

Children... ah... "H-He was... he was... I—ahhh..." I can't say it, can't say not, not again, not again...

A soft presence cups my lips. White fingers. "Hey, um, Nayomi?" The white fingers lead back to a thin, white arm. "You see, Roland, he was going to save his brother, but," the arm leads back to the body pressed against me, "I'm afraid that can't happen anymore." Sigh. Her rumbling whispers tremble, following her bloodstream from heart to body to arm to fingers, the fingers situated upon my lips. "See, the monsters... like us. They like us a lot. So we have to make them go away, but we can't do that forever."

Perfection is illusion.

"But it's okay. You're okay, and we're okay right now. So don't worry!" She smiles as her fingers leave my lips and squeeze my shoulder.

Nayomi's big eyes follow our movements; she stops, bewildered, when we rest upon each other. When we stop. "Why don't you stay? It's safe here. You should stay."

Those big orbs of her, wobbly, glassy, full of thoughts that reflect what once went on in Elijah's head: they won't leave us. So warm that it's nigh stifling. So quiet its silence coats me. And I feel bad, suddenly, like a bloody stab to my heart with a claw, a very specific claw of a specific timburr. I feel bad that we have to leave, have to go on. But if we stay and intrude upon her mother's home, perhaps there is safety, but even after the awkward sense and feeling of guilt—at least I will feel it—afterword... there will only be more monsters. Stronger? Could they... do that?

Tim wouldn't be pleased. N-Nor would I.

Zoey wouldn't be pleased if I wouldn't. Vivi would follow in our steps. It's palpable how gleeful Bay is, how much he'd rather die than walk in the darkness. Still he stands, dear Bay; and beside him, although scared, would be Jen. Is there any other path Vivi or F would tread? Because I can't even see Umbre trying to enjoy a void where not even he would feel at home, I know he wishes to end it as well. Espa by his side. Their child alongside them, their child coming... And so long as it's not safe, Ember wouldn't feel safe; neither would Cheeka, especially not Cheeka.

How ma-many more will die before it is over? No, no... shh... I cup my head in my hands, hiding beside Zoey... shivering... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... to everyone...

"Aw... Llana, you're scarin' Nayomi... you poor things." Her gentle voice drops. The waves by the shore go slowly... sloping... somber... "It's okay, Llana... stop, please. It's like... you're blaming yourself for things you had no play in. Heh. Tim's like your twin, in a way... and it's okay... it's okay... it's okay..."

Softly... softly... Her voice cocoons me, voice warm and sweet, her saltwater accent for once without sting. And I try to stay calm... I try to find joy in the fact that she is here... and those still alive, they are here... while those who never... made it... the-they are still there, only above...

I'm thankful for them...

I wonder if Gerald likes them... I-I know Stella does... but I want to know if Gerald is friends with them... with my dearly departed friends who now share space with them...

Perfection is illusion... but that doesn't mean I want it to be that way... not always... not always...

Sad stuff... a little bit ;w;

I don't know why, but I'm craving some F time... only other important character things are supposed to happen first, so I guess I'll have to wait.

F: well gawsh, can you get any more disappointing? Like, can't I have some screen time? Like, gawwsh.

Jen: Y-You were in chapter one with me...

(oh, and no, Jen doesn't know yet that Roland's... you'll be able to tell when she does!)