Yup. This one is late. Gomen. I have been rediscovering sleep.
Kiley stalked away, then sagged. Where can you go when all you want to do is run away from yourself? She reached one of the boundary stones and rested her hand against it. It felt solid, felt real. She slowly moved her fingers, seeking to understand how everything around her could seem so real when she felt like a ghost. It was as if all of her reality was bound in that kiss, and she was left empty now, feeling the wind blow through her.
Not that feeling like a ghost should be much of a stretch for her. She was one, after all. The collected memories of a failure, placed here on this world for no reason she could fathom. She closed her eyes against the glare and rested her head on the rock. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong anywhere. Why did she feel like she needed to stop Knives from doing whatever he had planned? Why did she feel the need to protect Ace? She didn't belong here; she didn't belong anywhere. If she disappeared now, no one would care. Life on this planet would go on as it always does, missing her not one whit. Well, maybe Ace would care, but she's young. It would be easy for her to get over it. She waited, waited for the last vestiges of her self to blow away in the wind, to take what was left of her heart and spread it thin enough for it to disappear.
Sighing, she sunk to the ground, no longer able to stand. Her hand trailed down the side of the spire, skin sloughing off under the abrasion, but she didn't care. She barely felt the pain, barely felt the slow seep of blood from the roughened tips. All she had ever wanted was to be loved. Her lips ached with the memory of that kiss, but she forced the feeling away. She didn't deserve to feel that good.
And why Knives? Her mind raced, wondering what she had done to deserve such a thing. Try as she might, she could never forget what Dream Dancer had told her. Love the first person she saw? She sighed. It wasn't such a farfetched notion as she had once thought. Loving him would be easy. The hard part would be being loved in return. Maybe she should have been more specific in her hopes, but she hadn't known that they were going to be a contract, that she was going to be held to the few words she could affix to the desires in her soul. To know love. She knew it now. And knowing it, she wanted it even more than she had when it was an impossible hope. But it seemed as far out her reach now as it had back on earth.
Was it such an impossible dream? To be able to love someone and be loved in return? A litany of her faults ran through her mind. Disgusting. Stubborn. Bitchy. Temper. Independent. Skinny. Ugly. Emotionally constipated. Rude. Obnoxious. Doesn't play well with others. Mean.
Oh, yes. Mustn't forget mean. She was very good at ignoring the niceties of life, when she needed to. Manners? Politeness? A modicum of feeling for her fellow man? If it got in the way of expediency, she would ignore all such things. Someone annoys her? Shoot him. Mad? Just get violent. That's a great way to solve problems. But what was she supposed to do? Talk through things? She had never been that good with words. Besides, who ever listens? No one cares, not about her. Talking never got her anywhere.
"Heh," she laughed, then cut it off before it could turn into a sob. Life sucked. She had been a fool to think that things could be different. Love wasn't for people like her. She was strong enough to live without it, and the gods recognized that. It just wasn't her fate, that's all. Dreams, wishes, hopes…they mean nothing. All you have to do is face every day and go on, one foot in front of the other, day after day after day until she finally dies again.
She sniffed, willing the tears that had collected in her eyes to not fall. She didn't cry. She was tough, and strong, and she could do anything she put her mind to. Impossible feats were her trademark. So what if she wasn't loved? She was respected. Had been respected. But that hadn't stopped them from betraying her in the end.
She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and dashed it away angrily. Damn, she was getting soft, she thought angrily, but even the anger was short lived, flashing through her in a moment, and leaving nothing behind. A weak fool. That was her. It always had been. Strength was only an illusion, a front that she put up to keep people from attacking her weak heart.
Love. Why did something so wonderful have to hurt so much? Inside she bled, waves of pain pulsing in time with the beat of her broken heart.
That's it, she thought. I've been strong long enough. It isn't worth it. Nothing is worth this. I'll pack my things and go, find someplace I can disappear, somewhere I can drift into obscurity and maybe, finally, I might find the peace of the grave. It's the only peace someone like me can count on.
She sat for a moment, ruminating on her decision, gathering the energy to rise and leave. Turning her head, she saw Knives looking through her things. His laughter rang out across the oasis. The disregard for her privacy angered her, and she found the energy to rush over to where he sat.
"Just what gave you the right to go through my bag?" she demanded.
"I didn't know you had such a great sense of humor," he said as he kept the book away from her. A quick glance at the books on the sand told her that he had been reading the book on plants.
"Give that back," she ordered, grasping for it, almost getting it before he pulled it from her fingers. The friction pained the raw areas and she hissed, her angry eyes seeking his.