VI - Change
That may or may not have been an understatement, but Gabryl was suffocating under the intensifying heat. The ring of fire that caged him, forcing him to face the giant Heartless head-on, made the situation just slightly more hectic. His wings were sore, and those claws would swat him from the sky at a moment's notice. He would have to fight this out on strength alone. Gabryl's survival hinged on the fact that he could hold out physically, maybe until help arrived, or if the beast tired out.
It took a step forward, growling, towering above him. Gabryl realized that the last option seemed far less likely.
"Yeah, you- you damn bird!" He called up to it, growing delirious. Pushing himself onto his knees, then his feet, Gabryl winced in pain. The gash left by the smaller Heartless was exposed, and stung from air, blood making dark spots in what remained of his pant leg.
Disregarding his pain, Gabryl limped, and lunged for his scythe. It lay on the ground only a few feet away, but taking too long to get there could mean getting his path blocked. Not looking up once, he hit the ground once more, this time with his arms extended. The metal shaft was firmly in his grasp, but the Heartless had a hold on it too, between two talons.
"Let…go!" Gabryl pulled and yanked at it, but the creature was stronger. Balancing on one foot, it held Gabryl and his useless weapon up, opening its maw in preparation to eat. It was glad to have such a helpless prey, and the possibility of a fresh heart. At least it would be disappointed.
Thrashing his good leg, Gabryl glared at the Heartless and spat. There was his rage, his motivation, what he needed to rely on. Logic would not help him out of here, after all; he was in a new world where more things were possible. There had to be more than one way to get out of Hell. And so Gabryl made one up. His darkness welled up, his Reaper instincts, until it focus directly into his left fist. Letting go of his scythe with that hand, the darkness pulsated and throbbed in his wrist, then knuckles, until his fingers were coated with the sleek, opaque solution of dark energy. Like countless times before, his gauntlet formed around the digits, his own claws of their own design protruding from the tips. With the routine sensation of them forming, Gabryl did not even have to look, before he plunged them into the underside of the Heartless' foot.
It shrieked in pain; the weapons Reapers were equipped with were beyond deadly, and meant to penetrate things much tougher than flesh. Black liquid, some alien blood, spurted out, and the Heartless wailed, tossing Gabryl aside to tend to itself. He smirked in triumph before landing flat on his back.
However, he would not have long. It was just a small wound, no matter how painful. Gabryl scrambled up, crawling a good distance before getting to both feet. He had been thrown away from he fire, which he noticed was pretty far, and Gabryl knew that he had likely received some brain damage from it. He assumed that was why he could not think straight. That and the severe loss of blood and general trauma in other places.
Suddenly, a familiar, monstrous roar shook the rocks under him, telling Gabryl that time was up, and he better be two steps away from the inn or his comrades. Facing his fear once more, Gabryl turned and saw the Heartless descending, meekly landing on only one foot, limping towards him in the same fashion he had been using to get away. This time, the beast would not take the chance of more pain, and began smoking at the mouth. Gabryl knew that this was not a good sign, and that long-range fighting had him outmatched. Hardly a match to begin with. He tried to turn and run, but there was too much heat in his leg. Burning, stinging…wait, no, that was the wrong leg.
Ignoring his impending doom for a second, Gabryl looked down at his thigh, expecting to see a new injury. To his surprise though, was a glow emitting from beneath his clothing. It was a round shape that he remember putting in there hours ago.
"What…Keychain?" He jammed his hand into his pocket, retrieving it, and almost dropped it. The trinket was blazing hot, enough to burn it if he did not keep moving it from one hand to the next. "Why are you…oh, shit." A loud cawing broke his fixation, and Gabryl looked back up at the enemy he had almost forgotten; its neck was arched and jaw dropped. Orange flames were swirling, and being spewed out of its mouth. Not one, but three or four fire balls were homing in on Gabryl. He could not escape these, and he knew it. All Gabryl knew to do was brace himself for the impact, and hope that having his skin fried off was not enough to kill him. Desperate, he held his hands up, crossing them over his face.
The flames came, engulfing him, leaving only a silhouette behind a red, blazing veil. The pain, the feeling of your self being charred up and reduced to black ashes, was something that Gabryl expected. It never came, however, and this confused Gabryl, who finally built up enough courage to lower his shaking arms. Swirling masses of orange and red was all that met him, giving off immense heat, the air around him quivering in waves and the heat enough to suffocate him. The inferno that had been sent to destroy Gabryl had stopped, frozen, right in front of him. No, it stopped around him, affecting all outside of the diameter of his height. Gabryl checked around himself with a very stiff neck, only standing up straight when he was sure that the fire would not lash out at him. He had thought he would die exactly how many times in the past couple days? This particular encounter was just too close for comfort.
Then, he noticed a different feeling. It was pain from heat, but different, in that it was afflicting his palm, and only that. Gabryl realized that this did not make a lot of sense considering that his hand was closed, but he looked at his clenched fist, opening it- his Keychain was bright orange, searing his skin. Cursing, he quickly pinched the end of the chain and held it up that way to avoid any more injuries.
"You doing this, little guy…?" He inquired the object. As if in response, the blaze receded from behind him, an noticeable gush of cool air bursting on Gabryl's back. The fire had moved. "Okay.," He spoke, to himself this time, "I hope that wasn't a coincidence."
And as if on command, the fire pushed itself forward once more, coming down over Gabryl's head and going no higher than his shoulders. In fact the entire blaze, which had once covered him completely, had condensed itself into a large, floating sphere. The Keychain had not just saved Gabryl from being toasted, but could manipulate fire itself!
With the wall of red gone, the Heartless, still in its previous spot, could see that its meal had not in fact been properly cooked. Finally disgruntled by this point, it opened its maw and began to cook up another fireball. Gabryl promptly freaked, realizing that if he had no idea how he had stopped the attack the first time, it was very unlikely he could do it again. Brining up his Keychain, he shook it, swung it in a small circle, even blew on it to try and cool it down. Anything, he hoped, that would activate some power to stop another attack.
Apparently, he did something right eventually. In the middle of Gabryl's attempt at wringing out any existing heat from his Keychain, burning his fingers in the process, his own conceived fireball hovered up a feet, gradually, until it was twice as high up as Gabryl was tall. Gabryl saw the Heartless ready to strike, and frantically waved up at his creation, shouting expletives and jumping on his undamaged leg. Fortunately, it listened, and zoomed off, hastily, without even having to speed up. It simply fired itself off, in a perfectly straight line, arcing only when it came close to the Heartless. Gabryl's successful counterattack flew right into the monster's mouth, connecting with the other fire, and exploded on impact. There was no time for reaction, and the volatile collision tore the Heartless to smoky pieces, which in turn went up in blacker smoke moments after.
Gabryl watched in shock and awe, not noticing his Keychain die down in color and temperature. He was occupied with the glorious sight of his enemy being blown to bits, which gave him a calming satisfaction. Knowing you were not being hunted down anymore has a tendency to do that to you. He smiled a little, before falling backwards, grunting when his backside hit a rock, and doing it once more when his torso flopped down hard. His chest moved up and down, going to a steadier pace only after minutes had passed. That was when his eyes began to shut, and he saw a shadow flying overhead, blocking out the sun for a split second. He helplessly flailed his arms, but need not worry, as the figure above had already saw him, and made his way down to carry Gabryl to a place to rest.
The Inn at the outer limits of Twilight Town was not usually well-lit, mostly due to expenses and lack of working lighting fixtures, but during the night following the Raid there was no extra effort given to keep the halls and lobby illuminated. Said lobby was dark, the candle-burning chandelier pushing some shadows away, while the only electrical-based lights were the LED clock and a computer screen on Ansem's front desk. He was busy filing the usual bills, and Leyla had pulled a chair up to the opposite side, leaning onto the desk on her elbows, lazily complaining about her day. Ansem used the opportunity to get a word in when she paused to take a breath mid-rant.
"You know." He chuckled, bringing his hands form his keyboard. "It is shame he made it out alive, I'm losing too much on giving out rooms."
Leyla sighed, digging a nail into the wooden arm of her chair. She had tried to put it off as long as she could, but the number one thing on her list of things to ramble on about was the new blood, and how deceiving his abilities were compared to what appeared as utter hopelessness.
"I mean shit. I found him how many days ago? Didn't know how to fly or probably even fight, then the kid takes down a Tailbunker?" She was plenty shocked, but angry.
"Perhaps he just has some misplaced potential." Ansem commented, closing out his programs with a few clicks. "I recall you being quite the timid one when you first showed up."
"Yeah, well." Leyla spat, standing, and crossing her arms defiantly. "I had help! Good help, at least. Luke was always there, then you got Medea in, and…" She paused, searching for another name in her memory.
"Mm?" Ansem inquired. "Not as if much has changed. Gabryl can educate himself here with the same group of friends you did, essentially."
Leyla was visually displeased with his choice of words, and turned around quickly, head bowed. She mumbled, or just growled, for a few seconds before pacing to the other side of the room. Ansem watched her fade into the shadows, and rolled his eyes. She was becoming much harder to handle, and he would not be able to keep up such a pleasant persona for her at this rate. He could sympathize to only a certain extent. As he made his way towards the stairs, she stomped back into view, arms uncrossed and stuck to her sides.
"He isn't my friend, for one."
"Of course."
"No. And it won't be the same. He's stupid, I wasn't. I…we had potential, not this kid."
"You keep calling him that, though he must be around your age-"
"Stop that. Don't ignore the problem."
Ansem sighed and started to climb the staircase. In a rare case, he was getting the smallest bit annoyed, and was glad he did not hear a second pair of footsteps behind him. Leyla remained on the ground floor, picking at the wooden railing. There was a periodic, light, cracking noise from sound of her nail between his steps that told him she was still there.
"I'm not ignoring the problem." He called down to her, though not loud enough as to wake his customers. "The dilemma is that you haven't warmed up to change yet, and it is having a negative effect on all of us. Particularly you."
The soft sound of wood splints being peeled ceased when he stopped speaking. Ansem had to look back down just to check that Leyla had not left. Her shadowy form was still visible from the light of his desk lamp, that he left on. Content, he crossed the balcony, heavy eyes only widening to check that he had reached his room. His hand grabbed the doorknob, and he turned it, only to hear Leyla rushing to the other side of the lobby, closest to him. She whispered up to him.
"I'm going out."
Her hushed voice made it hard to read her tone. It was like she was just trying to be silent, but there was something held back. That was hardly surprising, but Leyla was often more reserved, and never came close to cracking when it came to digging up shells of emotions. These after-hours outings had become an expected occurrence, though he had no idea where she went. Ansem heard her go for the door, solemnly, and he peeked his head over the railing.
"Don't talk to any strangers."
"Man, he bleeds a lot."
"Wasn't very warmed up to fighting, was he though? Give him a couple more times in the field and he won't go off like a hose."
"Ew…still looks nasty. Remind me to watch out for those things."
Gabryl felt something disturbing the wound on his left leg. Tugging at the limb, the sting of air hitting the open gash, it was all discomforting, but not something to go unnoticed. First of all, last his memory could recall, he was in the middle of a desert. Where he was felt much more comfortable, soft, and air-conditioned. The latter felt best on his burned portions of skin.
"…Hey." He said, tiredly, propping himself on one arm. Slowly, his eyes opened, so he could see the source of the voices, and his surroundings. It was his room at the inn, most notably his itchy bed, laying perpendicularly on it with the bottom part of his body hanging off. The pillows his back was supported by felt infinitely better than any rocks though, and he was thankful. Gabryl tried to pull himself upward, but felt that his leg was being held. Medea looked up at him from his damaged shin, she was sitting on a chair at the edge of the bed not against the wall, a roll of medical gauze, his leg on her lap and wedged beneath her elbow at the knee.
"Careful Gabe." She said sternly. The pet name did not seem to imply any motherly nature, as she was holding his leg fairly tight. Raimyd, seated at the room's table, tossed a balled-up mass of bandages on the bed. Gabryl picked it up and looked at it, wincing. It was decorated with blotchy patterns of dark red ad brown, his own blood. That was from the last attempt to fix his leg, not too long ago.
"Ya know." Raimyd droned, putting his feet up on the mattress. "I figured we start to bleed less once the healing picks up."
Gabryl was clueless and he had just started talking.
"But, like, you're gushing the stuff. Haven't you been dead for a while? Never get in a fight?"
It was a stupid question, but of course Gabryl had been involved in fights. His form of weapon meant he would always deal with reaping hearts from stabbed, impaled, or otherwise run-through victims. It was inevitable that a knife knick him or some piece or machinery take a small chunk out of his arm. Long as he disinfected it and left his injuries alone for a couple weeks though, it was fine. Not every day giant birds try to eat you though.
"Enough, Rai." Medea said, not even looking up to acknowledge his rudeness.
"What? I mean if I stabbed you, barely anything would come out-"
"I said shut it."
"Wait, wait, wait." Gabryl intervened frantically. "How long…was I asleep? Do…do I have anemia now?"
The other two rolled their eyes, and Medea started wrapping the fabric firmly around his leg. Raimyd got up and came to the bed, tossing the old bunch of bandages into the plastic garbage bin.
"Nooo." He said. "We can't die conventionally, right? I'm just sayin' that your body gets accustomed to the change after a while. Doesn't work the way it used to. Bleeding less, yeah. You sleep less, too. Eventually we really turn into the 'undead', heh."
"That doesn't sound too…great." Gabryl did not care much for turning into a zombie.
"No biggie." Medea rationalized, pointing to the half-covered injury. "Look, it's already starting to work. I swear we could see down to the bone before. Something like that doesn't get better in a few hours."
Gabryl tried to lift his limb, feeling some strength return but unable to bend his leg without experiencing some pain. He figured that some connecting muscle was torn.
"I'll just stay off it for…a few hours? How long was I sleeping, anyway?"
Medea tightened the gauze, then clipped it with a small metal pin. She wiped her hands off on her pants and got up. Raimyd turned his head towards the clock, running some numbers in his head.
"Uh, les'see. Came back around noon, and it's just real early in the morning now, so." He gave up out of exhaustion. "Hell, it's tomorrow."
"…Thanks." Gabryl said, flatly, checking the clock himself. He could tell it was dark from the window, but he had only assumed it was the night of his fight. Apparently it was a good while later, a quarter past three in the morning. Almost a full day since he took off before. "Uh, think I'd prefer to get up, had enough sleep for today."
He shifted to a more composed position, and Raimyd offered his hand to pull him up. Balancing on his right leg, Gabryl limped towards the door, stretching his arms. Medea had opened it already and was standing in the silent, black hallway.
"Thanks guys." Gabryl said, a little meekly. He was surprised how used to this new crowd that he had gotten that he would ahead and be so polite. "Feel kind of restless. Might go outside or something."
"Aight man." Raimyd replied, walking alongside him. His own room was in the hallway parallel to the one they were in, across the balcony in the lobby. Medea waved goodbye as she headed in the opposite direction. "Got your chain?" He added on, smirking. Gabryl smiled to himself.
"Couldn't forget it now." True enough, he was aware of the piece in his pocket continuously since his waking up. It was in the side of his trousers that had not been shredded, so there was no worry of it falling out of any holes.
"Cool. Would suck to lose you like that after a day like this."
"Don't worry about it. Feel like I could take on an Angel anyway." He waved his hand through the air in a meek punching motion.
"I'm sure they'd do more than just cut you up a little, heh."
"Yeah, but I think I'd rather die then have to get cut up a hundred times more like this."
Gabryl lurched forward with an misplaced limp, and they both chuckled.
"Could be worse, meh." Raimyd said off-handedly. It sounded like some hypothetical, reassuring comment, but something in his tone made Gabryl curious.
"Mm? Ever get hit worse?"
Raimyd shrugged. They turned the corner into the other hallway, and slowed. His room was only the second one on the right.
"Guess you could say that. Happened not too long ago, actually."
It was still dark, with no one around. Raimyd scratched his arm through a tight sweatshirt, and crossed his arms over his stomach. Being in a building where a large amount of people stayed did not restrain him from pulling his shirt off. Gabryl had to adjust his eyes to his pale skin, but the abnormality that he was meant to see stuck out immediately.
His left arm, from his shoulder to the back of his elbow, was undoubtedly scarred and burned. A rim of brown, charred skin surrounded the area of a large, sickeningly white patch of what used to be the dermis. Raimyd winced a little, as did Gabryl, when he flexed the arm, showing it off. It was en eerily unnatural looking injury, and the fact that Raimyd looked at it so calmly, made Gabryl think it was not even real.
"Shit, Rai, I…where did that come from?"
Raimyd looked his critical burn over a few more times, brushed it off, and looked up.
"Yesterday, when that Heartless snuck up on us. Pushed you out of the way, remember?"
He did very well. If it was not for that, Gabryl's whole body would probably look like that arm.
"…Y-yeah."
"Can't believe it, too. We should've seen that thing coming a mile away. Kills me. Ugh. Someday we'll find Keychains with a GPS on it or something…"
"You should probably cover that."
"Huh? Oh, right. Was gonna when we got back, but Medea insisted we take a look at you. She didn't want to just leave you alone, but she wanted someone to talk to."
"Oh, sorry. Didn't it hurt a lot, though?"
"Somethin' like this? Nah, the nerves got all burned off. Just bugs me a little around the edges."
Raimyd pulled a key from his pocket, and clumsily guided it to the keyhole on his door. He pushed it open with a creak, and tossed his sweatshirt in. The thump it landed with made it seem like he just threw it on the floor.
"Have fun." He said, walking in. "Don't hurt yourself anymore."
"Aheh, sure." Gabryl said back. Before he could close the door, though, he felt the need to add on. "And uh, hey, thanks for taking a bullet for me then, I guess."
Raimyd looked over his shoulder, and blinked.
"No problem, it'll get better. Besides, I'd rather get a few hundred burns then get killed."
He closed the door, having said his farewell. Gabryl stood for a minute, bounding on his foot to keep some pressure off the other. Raimyd had saved him from being fried and took such a hit, yet held no ill will towards him for it being his fault. Was he being kind, or did he seriously not care about the third-degree burn that had gone to the bone? Regardless, Gabryl and his little claw mark suddenly felt very insignificant.
Insignificant enough that he felt like he was not even in enough pain to limp anymore. After all, Raimyd showed no signs of agony or a want to apply anything that would repair his arm. Sure, they had said Reapers heal faster, but being injured like that had to hit your pride at least a little. Grating his teeth together, Gabryl took full steps using his left leg, evening going as far as putting extra weight on it. It hurt, but then again it could have been worse, and he found enough humor in his situation to grimace. Pride; now there was something he needed to build up. Without it people like Leyla would keep hating on him.
Gabryl could just forget about that now, though. He knew a good place to relax, and going outside meant he could just fly, without having to punish his leg from loss of confidence. It was a physical relief, and calmed the mind as well. At this hour in the morning, there would be nearly no one out. Sure, some cars might be headed towards the train station, in an attempt to catch a ride to work, but the sidewalks would be empty, especially in the park and near the Chapel. That was where he intended to go.
Birds chirped and cawed, their black, darting figures almost lost against the dark purple sky. Gabryl kept his eyes glued upwards as he floated towards the Chapel Hearts, not worried about crashing into anything. He held some slight disappointment that no one was around; he could go for one of those ice cream bars. The night sky was slowly morphing into that of the morning, indicated by a pinkish-red splatter on the horizon far away, past the Chapel, dispelling the darkness. The sun would rise directly behind the clock tower. At least it would not get in his eyes while he sat up there, pondering over his experiences and maybe taking a nap. Sure, he felt energized form his prolonged sleep, but it still did not feel quite right to be up at this hour. Happy not to take the dusty, old, and most likely unsafe stairs, Gabryl took his time flying up. A chilling breeze blew right into his face shortly before he reached the ledge under the clock, and gave him a soothing sensation that almost made him fall backwards. The seasons were changing quickly over the past few days. Less than a month and it would be winter.
Gabryl let himself rise above his destination before landing flatly on one side of the uppermost level of the tower. He walked carefully around the corner, to let his legs dangle off the ledge like he had two days ago with Raimyd. Only problem was that he would not be as alone as he thought he would this time around. It surprised Gabryl to see a person sitting in his place already, hunched over, long hair blowing in the persisting autumn breeze. Gabryl heard the person sigh before he could even tell who it was, and ironically it was that sigh that enlightened him a moment later.
"Oh, hey." He said to Leyla, clearing his throat and leaning on the wall. He felt like taking a place next to her would be too bold.
She sighed again, heavier, probably because he had bothered to say something rather than just jump off the building.
"Why," Leyla began, monotone, pausing to take a deep breath of the cool air, "here?"
Gabryl rolled his eyes, feeling strangely used to her brand of insults. He started to walk over.
"Seemed like a nice place."
There was no change in her expression. Her orange eyes were deep, and Gabryl expected they were thoughtful in their own way. She eventually turned, barely, not moving a strand of hair that laid over her lips.
"Was a little more peaceful, until you came."
"I'm sure it was."
Taken back by his response, Gabryl kept his gaze downward, to his right, not letting any eye contact happen between them. She was trying to put him down, yeah, but for some reason Gabryl felt like he could put up with it, or even say some shit right back at her. That energy he felt before was still inside him; he said before that he could take out an Angel with that surge of strength. Leyla would have to do for now.
Leyla huffed out of discontent. eyes narrowing. She looked forward sternly. Gabryl decided to push the conversation on.
"Do you have some sort of problem with me?"
She still kept her increasingly hostile, yet reserved, stare on the buildings in the distance.
"What," Leyla said in an unnaturally flat voice, "ever gave you that idea?"
Gabryl brought himself to sit quickly, landing on the ledge with one of his knees folded to his chest. He rested an elbow on it, and looked directly at her. Leyla caught the challenging expression, and remained half-turned.
"If you're this way all the time, I doubt you'd be keeping the friends you have now."
He hit a nerve. Leyla's left hand gripped the stone that they stood on, grating the hard surface with her nails through the leather glove. Gabryl felt his blood run cold, realizing that he may have gone to far and just pissed her off too early. No build up; angering her right now was way too irresponsible. Yet, Leyla controlled herself.
"…and it is having a negative effect on all of us. Particularly you."
She really had not always been like this. Leyla was not always the most pleasant person, but she was fully aware she had become more intolerable in the past few days, possibly even before that.
Gabryl was thinking less, and acting more out of fear of being scolded, or mutilated.
"I didn't do anything- at least on purpose. Am I messing up now? Tell me that. Let me fix it or something." He was beginning to clench his jaw just as much as Leyla had. "Don't you think I'd rather not have to deal with this shit? Rai and Medea took me in fine, the hell is up with you?"
Leyla opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sharp croak form the back of her throat. She had no idea what to say anyway, but hoped her brain would impulsively put together something. Gabryl, however, was a lot quicker on the draw.
"If we didn't see each other much then it'd be different, but…we're almost friends or something, aren't we?" Gabryl felt a muscle tighten in his neck, frightened over use of the word. "I mean, through everyone else. We live close, apparently hang out in the same places, same sky over our heads right?"
His head was thumping very fast. Too many things being said at once. Gabryl paused to catch his breath, and he saw Leyla hunched over further than usual, biting at some of the material of the glove on her other hand. He was afraid he had said too much, or too harshly, but was constantly reminded how spiteful she had been to him in the short amount of time he knew her. It felt so unforgivable.
"I…" Was all she could get out before Gabryl continued his rant.
"Was it…that guy? That guy who died before you-" He scowled, "attacked me? I had nothing to do with that! He was your friend or something right, and you take that out on me?"
He was shaking. There was no feeling in one of his hands, and his feet were numb. Some wind blew, brushing both of them, and it sounded louder than the previous gusts. Neither knew if it really was or if it was just the silence between his outbursts.
Gabryl has hardly noticed how Leyla seemed to deteriorate into some curled-up mess as he was shouting. Like a child being yelled at, afraid to say anything. He would say she looked like she could be sobbing if he did not know they were unable to. The tip of her thumb was in her mouth, damp from chewing and minor sucking. He was genuinely surprised that Leyla would even allow herself to look that way in front of him, as she had appeared as this intimidating, authoritative, generally violent figure. None of that was there now. He had succeeded in breaking down the person who had been messing up his new haven, but it really did not feel as good to him as he thought it would.
"I didn't mean to do anything, don't act like I did!" He said, voice beginning to weaken. Gabryl noticed how clammy his forehead had gotten, and knew that he would not be able to say anything more without repeating what he already yelled. He just wanted to make a point, not seem insecure.
Which Leyla had not begun to see him as. She knew he was right. Nothing was really his fault, except for being someplace at the wrong time. Bad timing and incompetence- she stopped her train of thought and took a deep, shuddering breath. It concerned her that said breath had been too loud, or just obvious, and would make him think she was weak and helpless just because someone had raised their voice at her. No, she was better than that and knew it. Normally she would be shouting right back at him, but some semblance of feelings or bits of emotion were block everything. It literally made her sick, especially since she knew none of it was real.
"Y-yeah." Leyla stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence. There was too much going on in her head, she felt feverish and distant. Gabryl noticed how flushed her cheeks were and gulped.
"…Yeah what?"
Leyla bit on her thumb harder, wishing the pain would snap her out of her bemused trance.
"You- you weren't meant to be there."
Another breeze tussled the trees below, cool enough to soothe Leyla's cheeks and keep Gabryl from passing out. The confrontation had a heavy toll on both their minds.
"Mmisn't fair fer you." She continued, gnawing further on the leather. Thinking she sounded too kind she removed it and revisited her words. "Isn't fair for either of us. Them either, those other guys."
Gabryl hunched himself over, like she had before nearly curling up. There was suddenly a lot more guilt pressing on his back; he thought that he was too timid to ever make accusations like that and live to reflect on it.
"No, look, I really don't-"
"Shut up." Leyla snapped. She had no intention of letting him apologize after that spontaneous lashing. Nothing stopped her from offering her side of the story. "You just said I overreacted to everything, and wouldn't drop it. Yeah. But…there's more to it than that."
"I figured." Gabryl said, half to himself, scratching his head. The mood had somehow lightened. "All of you guys seemed to like him anyway, and I guess you didn't want him replaced."
"Brilliant."
"Well you're not very subtle in the first place."
Neither said anything for a while. Orange and pink light from the sun started to creep over the Chapel and its tower, above them, and render a few stars unseen. People could be seen in the park now, couples walking and health fanatics jogging in sleeveless shirts in the autumn chill. It made Gabryl rub the one leg that did not have the pleasure of being warmed by bandages, revealed by burned clothes. The sound of birds became much more evident, as did the cars engines that drowned them out.
Both sat in darkness even with the awakening town, the Chapel Hearts aligned perfectly with the sun and a shadow showing no signs of disappearing until noon. It made them feel colder, and farther away from the people, much more than any normal day. Each had reasons not to return to the inn, and not to leave from their spots. Perhaps some pride, or the human want to have each others company. All they felt was that they were stuck.
"Was he, uh, was he really that special to you guys?" Gabryl said, an hour of the atmosphere bored him senseless.
Leyla glanced at him, then in the opposite direction. She breathed deeply again, like she had when disturbed by his shouting.
"He was. Really. We don't exaggerate anything about him."
Gabryl could not find words to form a response, he suddenly felt as if he would be disrespectful if he was not careful. He watched the trees, crowned golden by the enveloping sunlight, begin to rustle, signaling more wind. He braced his bare arms against the cold by crossing them, feeling the bumps forming. Leyla turned to him again, wondering why he had not responded, to see him in this shivering state. Staring at his mouth, expecting words to come out soon, she saw his jaw twitch. He was cold and his teeth had just begun to chatter in the slightest, so she looked away. There was this strange level of reverence she had gained for him in a short amount of time. Something in her did not was to tarnish it.
Gabryl noticed her head turned abruptly when his teeth first clacked, and realized he had stopped speaking in his wane. Using a hand to stroke his cheek for warmth, he decided to make what embers remained in the conversation to heat up.
It seemed appropriate to address the obvious.
"Were you two, close?" He asked.
"Heh," Leyla chuckled, in a single short sound, "closer to each other than anyone else, I guess."
"Oh." Gabryl said, looking off to the side. He had started to get that idea-
"No, idiot." She shot at him, seeing his blank expression. "He was my brother."
Gabryl smacked himself in the head mentally. It was rude of him to make the assumption, really, but it was surprising that she read him that well.
"Can't expect romance to even work in the first place…never mind." She rolled her eyes, and placed her hands on her lap. "We were close, though. Um." She cleared her throat. "We uh, died in the same accident."
Gabryl kept nodding, legitimately interested. Leyla was taken back by the attention she was receiving in recalling her sibling. She had no exact idea why she was opening up so much, but it helped. There was definitely a weight lessening its hold on her, so she would go with it.
"He was older, like a year, helpful. That kind of stuff." Yeah, was not get that personal with Gabryl. "Medea and the others always liked him. Nothing really not to like I guess."
Her audience nodded, taking in her words like ambrosia. Gabryl has getting that warm feeling of acceptance in his stomach again, and it was comforting. Then he remembered that he was still very cold and a mental warmth would not be doing anything to help him.
"He just…tried doing too much about a year ago." She saw Gabryl shaking, which was actually easier to spot than Gabryl had thought. "…And uh, yeah, he left the other morning and I went after him and, yeah." Leyla pulled the silver Keychain out of her pocket, and let it hang in front of her eyes. "We shared it. I was stupid that day. He left without it, and I went after him. How did I not die? And then you're there, with the same chain, heh." She gave an almost scary laugh with a sarcastic smirk.
Gabryl watched the Keychain too, dangling in the breeze. This was something he realized for a while; both the brother and sister would be dead if he had not been there, who knows if Leyla would have run into someone else in time. After all, that Angel had been right on top of them.
"I guess we should've just both died, just like how it started."
They both stared into the park. Leyla had been recalling her brother for longer than it felt like. She had some trouble remember things, likely she was too clouded by grief to bring up those memories immediately.
Twenty minutes later, more wind convinced Gabryl was going to catch pneumonia. Leyla finally had to pay mind to his shivering as she went to pull her hood up.
"Cold?"
"What was your first clue?" He said, sniffing.
"I bet he had something that fits you." Leyla told him, standing. "You can borrow some pants or something, at least." She motioned to his legs.
"Oh, th-thanks." It felt weird to him that the stammering was genuine.
"I mean damn it, I've seen more of you in the past two days than I ever wanted to in my life…" She put her hand over her eyes as he stood up. "Yeah, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
Gabryl nodded, and tried to straighten his icy limbs. It was difficult and he had forgotten he had a limp from his gash. As a result he tripped, floating gently by his wings, a foot still touching the ledge of the tower. He glared at the ground, nauseated, realizing he was more accident-prone dead than alive. Leyla joined him in the sky, transitioning to flying without a hitch, nearly walking into the air.
"How am I even alive." Gabryl asked to himself, out loud. Hell he could tell he had caught some terrible cold already by the mucus sloshing around in his forehead.
"Well, you're already dead once." She grabbed his arm and yanked him up, albeit a touch violently. That was the kind of joke from him she could laugh at, if she felt close enough to show such an emotion. She was still beating herself some for smiling just barely before. "I don't know, learn from your mistakes or something."
"Yeah, 'stop falling off buildings' was something I never got quite right before I died either."
"Is that some kind of ironic joke about you?"
"Maybe."
Truth be told Gabryl just said something he thought was funny and went on with it. If it made him seem more interesting though, then who was he to complain.
The pair ascended and flew back towards the inn, taking the same path Raimyd had escorted Gabryl on a couple days back. The high viewpoint had such an amazing effect, from seeing the patterns roads made and the now ant-like train, to the mere, long shadows cast by the buildings. This time Twilight Town was just waking up however, changing in different ways, the color scheme alone from the rising sun making it look like a new place.
"Gabryl, one more thing, then I'll cut the depressing crap."
Oh boy he was glad to hear that.
"Yeah?"
Leyla sped up, coming right to his side. She pushed her flowing hair out of her face, on the other side of her head, and made what seemed a serious attempt to coax a truthful answer from him. She was even the slightest bit refined in her speaking.
"You said you were there when Lucre died, right?"
"I um, saw it, yes."
"Did he, before that happened," her eyes met his for a second, as if to sincerely ask, "say anything? Like, mention me or anyone else or just, something."
Gabryl felt bad about his answer, but also felt horrible in his realization that she really had no idea what went down when her brother was killed. He was just an eyewitness to the event, maybe a grave robber to some extent, but that was it.
"Oh, eh. Not really, no. I didn't really get to know him or anything…I just kind of saw it."
Any ounce of hopefulness hat had managed to fill Leyla's face went away.
"I was just watching. I found the Keychain when it happened, but we never really spoke. I would have, it's just…"
"No, don't worry." She said. "Might be better that way, or something. I don't know."
He tired to usher in some of that good, morbid humor again.
"Besides, if we had the time to have a conversation, that Angel would have had time to kill me too." He gave a small smile, wanting to cheer her up without sounding like he was taking humor out of the worst kind of situation. Feeling his secret, that black Keychain he found on the smeared concrete, did not make him anymore lighthearted.
"…Yeah." Leyla said, coughing. "Yeah, you're right. If you guys ended up talking I wouldn't know anything."
Gabryl nodded, and stretched his back, folding his arms behind his head.
"I don't want to be a placeholder or anything, though. I appreciate being let in."
"Don't worry, you're not about to be the next Luke."
Her head was turned when she said that, and the wind at this height, at their speed, muffled her words mostly. Gabryl was unable to tell if she was trying to be funny. He pretended she had not said it.
"Mmhmm. Nice to make friends after all this time. You guys are tight, wish I had that before."
Leyla remained turned to her left, even though her neck was cramping up. She felt a little overwhelmed. Not by how peaceful she had managed to be with someone she previously despised, and maybe a little form talking about Lucre, but mainly from what Gabryl had said. Friends. Collectively. She looked ahead to the inn, homing in on it. That was where they all lived, collectively, she and her friends, and her brother before. Now he was here, not taking his place, but starting something new. With all her might she would remember that.
She did not look at Gabryl in the eyes again that day, and went directly to her room upon arriving. Leyla finally fell asleep around ten in the morning, sprawled uncomfortably on her bed, words having repeated themselves on her lips, not leaving, until she slept. What she had been told before was correct, though accepting proved difficult.
"He's my friend now, damnit, he is."
