PART TWO: HUMANITY

Chapter Eight

| THE LAST CITY, CITY WALL MEDICAL |

A fruit falls off of a large and bushy tree beside me and is cushioned in the grass by my feet. It's colourful and shiny. I stand on the top of a hill, so high up that I'm surrounded by a sea of clouds. I have that feeling of flight again. Like I could sail atop them with a boat and paddle through the white fluff. The tree stands strong against the wind; a child swings among its branches, making me nostalgic of a time I don't remember. There's a nest within the leaves and its sticks are built from white light. I reach up to touch it, but an egg is knocked from the nest. It smashes on the ground and splashes thick back liquid over my foot. The spill gushes out and around me until the hill is surrounded by an ocean of liquid, quickly rising and rising until it covers my legs, my chest, then my head. I swim as hard as I can but the density is too hard to push through; my head is covered under the weight until my breath begins to run out and I finally gasp, filling my lungs with liquid and lurching up in my bed.

Fucking hell.

It wasn't real.

I grab hold of my abdomen; desperately breathing and with no resistance. Drops of sweat ran down my forehead, yet my skin was dry and hot. My heart drummed against my temples in a heavy beat which hijacked my hearing while I regathered myself.

Jason, my ghost, was sitting on my weaved blanket; his little red eye acting as a nightlight for the room.

He remains grounded. "I had tried to wake you."

"...Thank you," I manage.

"What happened?"

My head falls into my hands. I don't even know.

"Is this something you want to talk about? Or avoid talking about?" He adds.

"I don't know," I mumble.

He continues to study my expression.

There was a rumble of thunder outside, and the trickling sound of rain knocked against my window. I want to feel it. "It wasn't a painful memory or anything, I don't think I have any of those. It's already starting to fade away in my mind. Can we go somewhere? Somewhere outside."

"But we're nearing a storm?"

I wipe the sleep out of my eye with my long sleeve shirt. "Well, are you waterproof?"

"Yes, of course."

"So can we go?"

"I was more so worrying about you."

I start unravelling my legs from the blanket. "Thank you, but I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't see snow, so it can't be as cold as that last place we were at."

He chuckles and rises up from the bed. "No, I guess not."

My head felt a bit dizzy, but that didn't stop me from getting up and walking. The thought of getting wet or cold didn't bother me anymore. I grab my blanket that the ghost was sitting on and throw it around me. It was large enough to cover most of my left arm and chest, while leaving my right arm exposed. The look provided a certain style that was growing me. It's my most personal possession now. And a beautiful one, too. The staff must have cleaned it alongside my clothing, revealing many of the details that were previously hidden. The ghost sees me inspecting it as we walk, as he decided to pick up the conversation there.

"It's a lot nicer quality than everything else we found around that place, isn't it?" He says. "And there's that circular symbol there in the centre."

It was a symmetrical design constructed from purple and black geometric shapes, and within it was a word. "... It says, 'HARMONY'?."

The ghost tilts its shell. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Brand name? Maybe just an old woman trying to knit something with a nice message. Like something you would get as a gift."

"You should take up knitting. Might be easier than making a fire."

"You are so annoying," I laugh. "But I don't see why not. I'll learn to make little coats for you. You don't have hands, so how will you take them off?"

Eventually we arrive at a door that leads us outside. It was dark, but there were enough lights sprinkled here and there to make out the imagery through the rain. It poured down onto a gorgeous courtyard that arched around the grass. The pathways were paved around and through it; wet enough to reflect the surrounding structure of the wall within the puddles. Despite the time of night, somebody was here. A tall man standing by the railing, watching over the city. He was straining to keep his posture flawless, despite no one else being around to judge it. He wore a navy blue military uniform and the obvious scars across the back of the dark skin on his neck made me feel colder than I was. It couldn't be normal to stand out here in a storm, especially considering he was drenched. Unsurprisingly the rain had already begun seeping through my blanket and clothing too, but it made me wonder how long he had been standing there for. I had to know why.

My ghost disappears. "I'll just hide away until we are alone again."

"You're leaving first contact to me? Why?"

"Certain people around here make me nervous to talk to. I think I know who that is."

"Who?" I ask.

There was no response.

"Fine. I can do it myself."

I was about to meet a person. A real person.

Deep breath.

In.

Out.

Ok, let's go.

Stepping onto the grass made a squishy sound against my feet, and a brown mud made its way between my toes with each of my strides. I almost wanted to prance around and cover myself with it, which I think I would have done if not for the presence of the soldier. Better to not give off a strange first impression.

I stop beside him. By this point the rain had made my clothing become as dark as his. His hands were gripped behind his back, but I let mine rest on top of one another on the railing. His hair was cut short; shaved down to stubble for the beard and sides. A blue-eyed ghost floated by his shoulder, ever slightly struggling to fight against the wind. It was well aware of my presence and yet the man hadn't acknowledged me. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

I glance around us. "This weather is nice."

A small smile forms on the corner of his mouth. "Some would say so." He turns. "Where did you come from?"

"I believe I was just in the medical ward."

"So you've been through hell already, and decided to come out into the stormy night?"

"Well," I chuckle. "A storm is just some water and wind… 'sir'?"

"No need for that. I mean, look at me." He gestures up and down his dripping body, and leans up against the railing to loosen his formality. "Atlas." He extends his hand and glances at me, waiting for a response.

I didn't know what to say. Should I make something up?

I shake his hand. "Hi."

He squints his eyes and looks around my shoulders for something, but quickly disregards the thought and returns his focus onto me. "I hope I'm not making you nervous. What are you doing up here madam?"

"I suppose I'm going for a walk."

He raises an eyebrow. "A walk."

My wet sleeves had now sealed onto my body. "I guess I just wanted to divert my focus elsewhere. There's been a lot going on. And I don't really care about the cold. So here I am."

Atlas chuckles. "I couldn't agree more."

"So that's why you're here too," I guessed. "What are you turning away from?"

"It's not turning away," he corrects. "That's different. It's what you said before, distracting. 'Diverting'. I serve as a Commander for the Vanguard. Oh, and while I understand that means I share Commander Zavala's rank, this doesn't place us at equal positions. We don't necessarily have that sort of military system in place. I wasn't 'promoted' persay, I was just put in charge of many guardian operations. It's not the most a man can do; I cannot imagine what stress Commander Zavala has been under or how much the 'God Slayer' themself has on their plate - but I feel like we all share a bit of the load. You know, with… whatever they're up to." He stops himself. "I understand that I don't hold their burdens directly, but I still feel like I have a lot draining me at the moment. It's difficult to handle. And it scares me, honestly."

To watch a man who's clearly expected to be so formal and sturdy become so like myself is just... is everyone as open as this? Does he feel comfortable because of how I appear? I'm not sure. But this man's words feel real. He might not get that opportunity often.

"I don't quite know what it's like to hold someone's burden," I admit.

"That's fine. You're still young. Eventually you will find yourself carrying a weight heavier than ever before. Just make sure you share that load with your friends and family, okay? Those are the moments where I see others break. Burdens can be exploited, they can tear the individual apart and your shadows can take the opportunity to entice you. But not if you break it up, share it. Everyone can handle pieces, but not mountains. Just a word of advice I suppose. It might be irrelevant for the moment."

We look back out toward the city. It glowed through the hazed thickness of the storm. There's a moment of silence between us while I struggle to find something to say. However I get the feeling that silence, for him, is a choice.

"I like your cloak." He finally says, without looking my way.

Cloak? "Oh, thank you."

"Did a hunter give it to you?"

"Um. I'm not sure. Wait, no. No, I found it."

He smiles. "You'd make a good hunter."

I wipe the water from my face. Everything was now soaking wet; my clothes had become super-glued onto my skin and could fill up a pool if I squeezed the water out.

Atlas faces me, opening his mouth to say something, but quickly changing the output as he sees my state. "...Maybe you should head back inside."

He was right. And I'm cold. The cold wins this time.

"You know where the showers are?" He adds.

"Yes. Definitely." Nope?

"Great. A warm shower feels like a blessing and a half during a storm. Enjoy. And do get out of this cold and into a warm bed to reclaim what is left of the night."

"I'll try." I slip my hands off of the railing and begin to walk back.

"And thank you," he throws in. "I haven't really been able to talk to someone like that in a while. And, 'That', meaning anything other than the logistics of all the madness I'm caught up in. Maybe I'll see you again. Who knows for sure. Farewell madam."

"Bye. Atlas, …?"

"-Grey. Atlas Grey."

"Atlas Grey."

Luckily my ghost knew where the showers were. He was very confused when I told him about what I remember a shower as. Not nearly as fancy. Here, the steam rose up from the spraying water and into the roof vents. Bringing back the heat that had been choked out of my feet and hands. The moment I stepped in I felt the blood rush throughout my body. I could not imagine myself ever leaving this glass box. The mud and dirt quickly washed off of my feet and I drowned my face under the steady stream of hot water.

I shout out to my ghost in the next room. "You were there for that conversation, right? You heard it all?" My voice had excellent reverb throughout the bathroom.

"Yes I did!" Jason calls out through the wall. His voice was muffled and distorted, I could barely hear him. "Commander Grey! He intimidates me. I had seen him before, but I wasn't familiar with his first name!"

"He called me young! Why? He only looked about five years older than me - barely mid-twenties!"

"We're ehtortles! He's ... rounds for a…"

"What? Say that again!"

"Immortal! Neither of you age! And I don't think he knew you were also a—"

"What!?" I screech out through the medical ward. "Are you serious?! That's amazing! Oh my god!"

"..."

"Are you still there!? Jason?!"

His voice hums from within my head. "Yes I'm here. Are you sure I can't just transmit my voice to you?"

"Not while I'm in here," I mutter. "It's weird."

"How is it weird? I'm not actually here. It's just a projection of my voice. Besides, ghosts can see through walls anyway."

"Oh…"

"That was a joke."

"Oh."

He shouts out from the other side of the door again, still muffling his voice. "Can we continue this conversation after you're finished then?!"

The Story Continues... 09/09/22