The days spent protecting Brigadoon were long ones - Melan had suddenly come to realize that.
He and his comrades were considered to be the best defenders of their kind, and as such, they were only to be dispatched to handle extremely dangerous situations. So far, nothing of the sort happened. Aside from Kuston, whose ampoule was still missing, there were no more Renegades to run loose.
Melan was not sure how to feel about that. It seemed like he spent every day of his life locked in battle after battle, and now there was simply no threat to handle. He supposed he could engage Erin and Pyon in a sparring session, but the next moment he shot down the idea.
He was near the peak of his strength, so additional training was of no use to him. Though, perhaps it would better serve as a distraction. Yes, a distraction was what he needed. It would keep him from thinking about... her.
About Marin...
Melan took a slow breath as he shot over the sprawling golden city below him. It reflected the sunlight and would have blinded him if he had not taken care to not look directly at it. He smiled fondly at the thought of Marin simultaneously admiring the buildings and complaining of its glare.
Marin...
He dipped lower to escape a rough patch of turbulence that threatened to unbalance him. He sighed. Melan couldn't help but think of the old days where all he needed was his close comrades and - equally as important - a purpose to keep him going. He thought his purpose was found in being a powerful, loyal guardian of Brigadoon...
Perhaps he was mistaken.
For whatever reason, he wasn't content like he used to be. He yearned for more, though he could not understand why. Or maybe that wasn't accurate.
Melan was afraid he knew exactly the reason for his newfound discontentment.
Marin...
He wasn't by her side, where he belonged. He could no longer offer his protection - the one thing he could truly give. He could no longer enjoy her companionship - of simply sitting side-by-side with her as they observed the surface of Brigadoon from the earth.
Melan's eyes became downcast. She had offered him the opportunity: to either stay on Earth with her, or for her to follow him. Melan had to refuse both.
He had to.
Everything he did was for her. Everything he did was for his home. He was torn in two directions and was not given the luxury of time to choose between one or the other.
Love or Duty.
Whatever his choice, he would have been incomplete. Melan was doomed either way. He was a Monomakia, he simply was not meant to achieve personal happiness.
Shaking himself from his rapidly spiraling thoughts, Melan initiated a dive. If he continued to cease paying attention, he would simply fall out of the sky. Better to sort out his muddled thoughts on the safety of firm ground.
Scouting out a building to land on, he smoothly descended and landed on a rooftop with a soft clack of his feet. He settled down at the edge and watched the citizens go about their daily lives.
It seemed almost unreal that just a short while ago, his home was on the verge of being torn apart both inside and out. He looked at the sky, almost expecting to find the surface of the earth etched across it. Of course, like every other time since the Day of Pasca, the sky was completely normal.
Why?
Why did he leave?
Why did he hurt Marin?
Pyon and Erin, though sympathetic, could not offer much in the way of comfort. Not because they didn't want to, but they simply could not relate to his plight. A strange agony that seared him through on the inside.
They told him that this was the way it had to be, that they needed him for the next ceremony to keep their worlds from tearing each other apart. But, Melan reasoned to himself, wouldn't he have time? Even if it would be rather slim, wouldn't he have time to transit from Earth to Brigadoon after the gates opened back up? Enough time to prevent Mutual Collapse?
Wouldn't he?
With unanswerable questions floating through his mind, he slowly laid down on his back. The stone beneath him was warm, and Melan slowly found himself in a drowsy haze. He allowed himself to drift.
Marin...
Melan desperately wanted what's best for her; if the cost was that he would no longer be a part of her future, then he would pay it regardless of what he desired. However, a small part of him stubbornly rebelled against the idea. He could easily see himself remaining on Earth, intertwining his life with hers.
He pushed back against that fantasy - for that's all it was - and tried to make a return to reason. He couldn't risk Mutual Collapse plaguing both their worlds again. He also couldn't bear the thought of taking Marin with him, resulting in untold pain to her family when they realize they would never see her again.
His lone departure made sense. Him leaving her behind made sense. He couldn't be selfish about that - it was simply the right thing to do.
...Wasn't it?
Melan noted with a start that he had begun to cry, his tears sliding down his cheeks. He irritably wiped his eyes dry, got to his feet, and took off from the ceiling with more force than necessary. He climbed, and climbed, and climbed until it was freezing and the atmosphere was noticeably thinner.
He stayed suspended there for a time, numb and confused, which morphed into a sudden rage. He could only be angry at himself for reasons he did not know nor did he care to determine them. Melan was ready to blast a hole into anything unfortunate enough to cross his path.
Melan began to fly in the direction of the badlands - a place where he can be as destructive as he wished; it was far enough that no one could accidentally stumble on him while he was in that state. The winds buffeted him as he tore through the skies. Clouds gathered and thickened the closer he got to his destination.
A pillar of stone rose high into the air. Melan slashed through it, watching the stone crumble where he made a clean cut. A plume of dust rose as thick pieces of rock crashed and shattered on the ground.
Over and over and over, he crashed through and slashed patterns into the formations. He was covered in dust when he finally stopped and eyed the destruction tiredly. He admitted that it was slightly cathartic and helped to expend extra energy, but it brought him no closer to calming the dark storm within.
Marin...
Melan lifted into the air gently. It was going to be dark soon and there was no reason to stay in the wastelands any further. Melan rose and shot off towards the direction of the city.
He wasn't interested in getting any rest - not when he would be tormented by dreams of her. It always seemed so real: the warmth of her skin, her scent, the motion of her breathing. He would hold her close and not let go for as long as he could.
He never said anything. There was no point; everything he wanted to say, she already knew. There was also the matter of her being an apparition in his dreams.
Melan was bothered by one detail: Marin could never bring herself to look at him directly. Sometimes she would surprise him by touching the ribbon on his arm she had gifted him with. Otherwise, she would recline against him and cease to move for what seemed like hours.
Something about that disturbed him. It was as if she was intentionally ignoring him. He always hated when Marin was upset with him; he hated it when he was the sole reason for her misery.
In the past, he would have done everything in his power to make things right between them - to see her smiling at him again. However, this time Melan had no idea what he could possibly do to make her happy again, short of doing the impossible and brute forcing his way through the sealed dimensional gates between their homes.
No, he would have to be content with seeing Marin in his dreams, even if she would barely acknowledge his presence.
It still hurt him deeply.
A/N:
Alright, here we have ch. 2!
I hope you guys liked it okay - 2/3 of it was written while I was a little buzzed at 1 AM in the midst of an inspiration burst. I was also battling mild writer's block, which is why the chapter might have either jumped around slightly or the pace was a little fast.
Anyway, please leave a review if you're so inclined! I can try to answer questions to the best of my ability or accept critique on this piece.
- Winterbornbree