Rishid


outcast

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He is halfway and he twists his hands in self-torment, and what-have-I-done, and how-could-I-haven't; and down in his realm a network of nameless tunnels look like stone but hide a thousand massacres,

Not his realm, if he must call things by their names, rather the realm of a family that he happened to belong to. It was too late to ever turn back from it, anyway, since he stood on the pillar for the most sublime values the clan of the Tomb Keepers had defended for millenia, and wasn't that ironic.

A line passed down from father to son in blood, and he had nothing like blood in common with...

... he will not go there: there, he's been too many times to reckon and the outcome was settled beforehand.

Arcane life breathes from the quiet square corridors; upwards, out of the main tunnel to the world of dutiful desert yonder; he has been busying himself to give the entrance to the lair of a legacy a more dignified aspect, and he has succeeded, and he cannot wait until sister Isis returns home and sees it.

She travels the world, you see, she was always meant for great wisdom, and he has always a kind thought to dedicate to her.

But now, there is no use for Rishid try to unravel his thoughts. He is a man that knows well the workings of his mind; and now, he is unsettled... Halfway.

Unchained, he lets his subconscious dash to every corner of existance while he sits on a more or less comfortable underground chamber of a living-room.

All of his making.

The in-coming light, the threat of a darkness reborn.

In the dim glow of the ancestral torchlight (for all his housewifelike penchant for redecorating the tomb-home; the torches he will not ever touch), each and every corridor mocks him in a way that he feels to scar. Because they are empty. Because the greatest shadow to ever haunt the lineage, once banished, is back...

He brought it back. He let it in; and, coiled, it draws to it all the precenses in the tomb as it sleeps...

... in the contiguous room.

Rishid himself is come to terms with his choice, but he cannot still grasp the full meaning of it being back... And he tucked him in like he once had his little brother he never called such; golden and sun-scorched like no member of the Ishtar clan has ever been... Because this man, this crazy (un)familiar man, is smiled upon by Ra, a deity Rishid reckons busies itself no more in this world. (Because he does believe some gods remain in the memory world they forged.)

He stands up-

-he walks to a threshold between two rooms and two eras, and that act drains him of will to judge.

Lying on the bleak sheets, he is too golden, but Rishid would not say he is radiant, unlike his younger brother. Like he draws in the darkness in the angles, he also seems to borrow every light that dances around in the chamber, and so, lying motionless like that, the contrasts- the games of light and shadows- are enhanced and purified.

He does not know how long he remains just there, looking at features that somehow should not be so blank. Until his eyes flicker open-

-a shade of unexpected violet; and it is truly the seventh day when god decided to rest, and leave it all to mankind and-

their eyes meet, and Rishid ceases to draw analogies; and he is not sure of why that connection feels so intense...

The Other Malik does not speak at all; and to take in such resignation is, for Rishid, like drinking the sourest poison. He doesn't think that the game of cat and mouse that took place not too many months past, during the infamous tournament, has reverted. He is too good a man.

All he sees is raw nonchalance, and as the Other Malik's eyes close again, Rishid unadvertedly draws a distinction.

Master Malik he has guarded since childhood. Even now, when he is away tasting the outer world like he always dreamed, the older Tomb Keeper worries with brotherly affection. Even now, when he knows that a simple word -master- marks the abyss of a bloodline between them.

As for this man... the man of eyes like a wary cobra. This man owns nothing in this world, not even a name...

In a twisted way, him and that shadow child, they are both castaways. But Rishid has always had a thing for analogies.

So he will be Malik alone for Rishid, if that be the only act of kindness he is able to have towards him.

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A/N: Shadi is not narrating any more for now.

Still exploring Rishid- so simple he's complex. What do you think?

I must thank the awesome people who review :) And I must also thank those who read, and those who favorite this story or alert it. I appreciate it guys, and do know always that comments make me improve.

We'll be back to Ryou next chapter :)