An Absence of Spirit
Author's Note: Certainly not as fluffy as my last one, this story is both Lucius' and Ivy's perspective, respectively, after the village discovers Noah has injured someone. You could sense her panic in that scene, so I wanted to cover that, but I also wondered what Lucius must have been thinking.
On a side note, did anyone else totally think he was dead?! I honestly didn't expect him to still be alive, lol. Oh well, enjoy!
Lucius Hunt was on the verge of unconsciousness.
It was a wonderfully hazy place, where reality and the subconscious co-mingled to form a sort of detachment between body and spirit. He would have gladly allowed himself to slip into the darkness, that peaceful oblivion, if not for one thing.
He could hear her.
Her cane as she pounded the ground outside, her feet as they sped towards him, her short panicked gasps as her heart already realized what her mind could not accept. He struggled to maintain awareness, struggled to see her as she entered so that he could comfort her and tell her he was okay. It was going to be okay.
She stumbled into the cabin, almost falling to her knees.
Be careful, sweetheart.
He could hear her calling his name, over and over, as she neared him. Each cry was tinged with a panic that he wished with all his being he could take away from her. This was one instance where he did not curse her blindness, for perhaps she would not find him and he would not have to experience her anguish.
The second this thought floated through the transoms of his mind, she ran into him. He let out a barely imperceptible grunt and suddenly she was on top of him, clutching him. He was losing his grip on consciousness more quickly now, the sharp pain numbing to a dull coldness. He could still hear her screams, though. They tore his heart to shreds; the heart that he thought had already been torn by the knife of a madman.
Don't cry, he pleaded with her. Please, please don't cry.
He also wanted to tell her that the way she held onto him so fiercely, it was hurting him. But not to let go, never to let go. He would have given his very soul to wrap his arms around her in return, to comfort her and reassure her. His eyes filled with tears that had nothing to do with the pain, for it still quickly faded. The tears were those of the utter sorrow, the complete helplessness of being confronted with a suffering loved one that you could not even begin to comfort. Mainly due to the fact that you were the one who was the source of that suffering.
All this was enough to tear his heart from his chest, but it was when he heard her cry about his loss of colour that was his undoing. It took great, supreme effort, but his lips formed her name although no sound came out. Again and again he mouthed her name, but it was useless without noise. Sound was the only thing Ivy could respond to, and he was not even able to provide her with that.
Suddenly, more people entered and he could feel Ivy forcibly torn from him, could hear her anguished cry over and over that his colour was gone. She couldn't see his colour.
I am right here, Ivy. I will come back.
And he let himself be swept away.
You know. You know, you know, you know.
I do not! I know nothing. NOTHING.
Ivy Walker's heart and her mind waged war within her, only to be interrupted by the short, quick bursts of her lungs, as her feet took her along the path etched into her soul.
The cane was barely guidance now, useful only if a being were to cross her path, for she knew no trees or shrubbery would get in the way. The trek felt as though it was taking much longer than usual, although she was certain her rising crescendo of panic may have had something to do with it. The rapid thud of her walking stick against the soft grass echoed the rapid beat of her heart.
Finally, she came in contact with something solid and, after a bit of flailing around, managed to stumble into Lucius' workplace. Immediately she determined he was not there, as there was no colour to permeate the inky blackness of her vision. Still, she called his name. Perhaps he was in a different room. Perhaps he was taking a short nap.
Lucius never slept during the day.
He would have come to her the second he heard her voice. Would have grabbed her arm to steady her, would have held her within his embrace. Done the things he stopped doing so long ago, only to begin again with the dawning of their relationship. She tried unsuccessfully to smother the growing terror that grew in her heart as she moved further into the cabin.
Within moments, she had stumbled into something solid. Her keen hearing picked up a small noise, reminiscent to that of a groan. Without a second thought, she fell to the ground, cane forgotten, hands searching.
And finding.
Oh, God.
Within moments, she was slick with blood. Her hands were her eyes as she brought them up his body to his face, into his hair. His lids were closed, his mouth slack. She brought her head down to his, could not feel his breath on her face. Could not sense any response to her touch.
And she could not, for the life of her, see him.
Oh, dear, dear God.
This sent her into a frenzy. Lucius was her rock. He was always there, she was always able to see his colour, his presence. And now she knew he was here, knew it was his body she clutched, and yet he was missing. He was present, but not. The terror rose and grew until it choked her, grasping her soul and squeezing like a vice.
Where are you, Lucius? Come back to me.
She knew she was screaming, could feel the rawness in her throat and hear the ringing in her ears, but she did not know what she was saying, what noises she was emitting. When they came to pull her away, she could feel her heart being ripped from her body. She could not leave him. She would never leave him, even as she felt him leaving her.
Come back.