DH AN: Sorry it has been so long for this fic to be updated. I refuse to blame it on the words "College Freshman", because of my vigorous work on it since March. (Still that is no excuse.) I do hope you enjoy Chapter Seventeen: Genius Led to Madness.
I did use a passage from a religious volume, but have chosen not to cite it out of my tolerance of religious diversity. If you would like to know where it comes from, please send me a message.
Enjoy.
Chapter Seventeen: Genius Led to Madness
Keimo, still dressed in the purple robe, quietly stepped upstairs, padding to Mhera's room on the tips of his toes. He cracked the door open enough that he could slide through. His intent was only to remove the robe, and hang it in his sister's closet.
However, he caught himself gazing in the grand body-sized mirror that stood just beyond the door. His straight platinum blond hair fell just past his shoulders; and if it were not for the fact that he held his mother's emerald green eyes and straight hair, anyone who had seen his father in the same attire would have immediately done a double take. Keimo did take highly after his father, but because of masculine pride, neither male was inclined to admit it.
He smiled, recoiling at the familial smirk greeting him in the mirror. He stuck a hand into the robe's outer pocket absent-mindedly; almost yanking it out as his hand cautiously brushed against unexpected metal. His hands wrapped around the metal object as he shut his eyes, feeling his mind begin to wander.
When his eyes snapped open, Keimo was no longer in his sister's room, but on a hidden catwalk above the floor of a warehouse. The sunlight and shadows mirrored each other in intensity, number, and size. He watched silently as two dark-robed figures stepped into the room. That number was soon reduced to one. Sounds of purposeful footsteps met his ears, and upon turning his attention to the source, he was sent recoiling with shock as he saw what met him.
Another robed figure slowly processed into the room. Keimo saw a worn spot near the base of the right sleeve on the robe of the processor, which he immediately felt for on his own person with his left hand. Blinding light blasted into his eyes from the processor's general direction, something on them was bouncing light into Keimo's vision. However, it only happened once as Keimo soon ducked his head forward to avoid being blinded by the light once more as shaft and processor met several times more. The watcher took note that the first figure stood silent and still as the second quickly closed what little distance there was between them.
"Remove your ranks, Arlomhe." The order came crisply from the processor's lips. Keimo watched mutely as the second swiftly obliged, reaching the right hand over to the left side, undoing the clasp that held a lightweight gold-streaked bar of silver metal, letting it gently fall into their left palm as they caught it with ease. Placing the acquired object into an outer pocket, they then repeated the process with opposite hands and sides. The second mutely removed the first bar from the outer pocket, and placed the other one into their left hand as they waited for another command.
It came, as Keimo was taking note that the addressee was as tall as the chin of the addressor. "Present your ranks." The voice of the addressor held anticipation, Keimo was certain of this. He silently watched as the ranks changed hands, soon gasping as the memory became quite clear, and he was able to see the faces of its occupants for the first time.
The faces were similar…far too similar for Keimo to believe he was a victim of a trick of the eyes. It…she…my…sister-Mhera-but why 'Arlomhe'? It makes no sense…why would she go under an alias? Keimo was slightly puzzled, and loathed the circumstances that rendered his questions unable to be answered…Mhera was out of the house and the other one who would be able to answer was in some sort of coma…Keimo's wandering mind was then brought back to the memory, as he watched mutely when the addressor took a different set of bars from an inner pocket on the robe and set them gently in the addressee's open left hand, slowly closing the fingers around the bars with an oddly gentle, "Consider it."
The scene around Keimo gently dissolved and was soon replaced by the familiar whitewashed walls of his sister's bedroom. He sank to his knees feeling the shock of the action despite the turquoise carpet's shock absorbing qualities. Panting, the slightly frightened twenty-year-old quickly stood; flinging the robe off his person and onto the hanger that was set aside for that exact purpose, pocketing the metal bars as he left the robe hanging.
Keimo slowly paced out of Mhera's room, toward a rather small room at the end of the hallway. He cracked the door open, marveling at the angle with which the moonlight graced the lone object in the room.
A piano reflected the moonlight at interesting angles, causing Keimo to smile. He gently stepped over to the ebony piano stool, taking a seat. He sighed, rubbing his fingers across the keys without triggering their pleasant sound. With a final sigh, he began to play Beethoven's "Fur Elise", a melody that always seemed to calm him, as well as remind him.
He once knew a girl named Elise, a girl he had feelings for. Sadly, he had waited far too long to express them. She was killed in an accident involving a drunk driver, after walking home from an outing on a Saturday night; turns out that the drunk driver was a classmate who shouldn't have been drinking anyway. Keimo shook that aspect away. He smiled as his fingers danced across the keys, producing that familiar melody, reminding him off the fact that she always smiled…if the expression was not on her face her clear brown eyes showed it for her. He smiled at his fond memories, and soon found himself playing the intro to "Memory" to his surprise. Now it was no surprise that he would change pieces in mid-melody, but surprising that this one was the one to follow.
Nonetheless, he quickly faded into the music as if in a trance, quickly switching back to the familiar "Fur Elise" seamlessly. He heard a door open and gentile footsteps approach then recede to a chair in the back of the room.
"You are very talented." The voice paused for a few seconds. "How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was twelve." Keimo sighed, not seeming to take note that there was someone in the room with him. "Why do you seem so intrigued?"
"Shouldn't one be concerned with matters which involve unknown information about their offspring?"
Keimo forced himself to look as soon as that question was asked, suddenly stopping himself when the voice started to softly recite an eerily familiar set of verses.
"Although alone you may find yourself, remember with you I will ever be. When loneliness makes fit company, remember with you I will ever be…" The visitor's voice dropped rather low.
Keimo found himself starting to say the second stanza. "When darkness seems to bring you woe, know that with you I will go. When you feel you walk this path alone, know that with you I will go"
The visitor then joined in, with soft assurance on the third and final stanzas. "When you feel that you have nothing left, in me you shall find quiet rest. When you find your trials cease their test, in me you shall find quiet rest."
The visitor continued on to the final stanza after Keimo stopped speaking because of the fact that tears were clouding his vision. The visitor was breaking down and almost in tears as he spoke softly. "And even when I am long gone, in you my hope shall always live. Within the simple joy of life, my hope in you shall always live." The visitor hesitated, gently placing a hand on the boy's shoulder after purposefully stepping forward. "You should realize that I miss her more than you can ever know."
Keimo was almost sobbing softly at this. There was a piece of writing from one of the many theologies he had studied that read: For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope. There were times when he was inclined to believe that small piece from the myriad of writings he had read, many times his memory showed this one. A higher power of some sort had been at work in his life. It was certainly a miracle that he was able to get to the nearby city when he had left during the night…ten years earlier…to the day. Even more so when he stumbled on his "brothers" who thought he was crazy for leaving a family that had at least one blood relative who showed they cared for him…it was something that all three would have done anything for. But the catalyst for the way his life had taken shape…how could he find hope in that?
How could he find hope in the double-edged twist of fate, ignoring the fact that the circumstances were beyond anyone's control. But he could clearly see that there was more benevolence than spite that came from that instance, but remained saddened that time could never fully heal deep wounds like that. Keimo hesitated before asking a question that he would regret if he asked it the wrong way.
"How hard did … her…passing…affect you?" Keimo was fighting back tears. His visitor sighed, setting a hand on his shoulder.
"Words cannot describe how it affected me… for I never allowed them to." The older man exhaled with soft force. "You have another matter you desire more knowledge of…a matter that I may be able to help you with…?"
Keimo then remembered the metal bars he had pocketed earlier. He removed them from a pocket. "What are these?"
"Objects that mean nothing now," The visitor replied swiftly. Before Keimo could amend his question, it was answered it for him. "But they were something that I took great pride in seeing displayed on one who I had groomed for that purpose." The visitor's voice was melancholy, guilt-laden.
Keimo sighed. That did not really answer his question but perhaps he was asking the wrong thing. "What happened after…you asked her to consider?"
"How do you know of that?" The visitor asked with both coolness and shock present in his voice.
"Objects hold memories." Keimo supplied as he let the metal bars rest in his palm.
The visitor conceded to this explanation, asking nothing further. "What you hold in your hand…those are a set of ranks presented to your sister when she was almost fourteen." He sighed, "Mind you it was a very high rank, but only fourth highest. What I can only assume you saw…was when I offered her one higher."
"The rank that was third from the top?" Keimo asked
"No." His visitor said softly. "I offered her the place she rightly deserved…the one that was meant to be hers from the start." The visitor turned his head away. "She knew this."
"And…what happened next?" Keimo sighed softly.
"She returned two hours later. I had no doubt that she had given a bit of thought to this…If she accepted…my expectations of her would be higher than they ever were… if she refused-" He stopped himself there.
"Mhera refused…didn't she…?" Keimo knew he had taken a possible step too far by supplying the name, but it was a step he had to take.
"Yes." The visitor's muscles tensed out of self-directed anger. "And I regret what followed." His muscles did not, would not, relax. His next words seemed a bit forced, whispered, laden with self-conviction. "I regret everything that followed."
Keimo sat on the piano stool, hands now away from the keys and in his lap, right over left in deep thought. "If…I had chosen to stay…?" He hesitated as the questioning tone found itself into his voice once more.
"I cannot really pass an accurate judgment on that, but given how it was at the time of…your leaving…it would have been hard on you, because I would have been hard on you." The visitor paused, "Fate never saw fit to give me that challenge… for that I am thankful."
"As am I." Keimo murmured softly.
"You always had a sensible head on your shoulders, what you lacked was the sense to put it to use." The visitor was smirking by virtue of tone alone. The self-amused tone left his voice, replaced by one that can only be achieved though surviving several sobering, life-altering experiences. "Of course,…I was no better."
Keimo could feel the visitor tense, the speaker's voice once again providing the information. "A Madman some would call me. I had everything ran to my exact demands, ensuring they were followed to the letter. I had no tolerance for errors. I would not stand for them while chasing my ill-sought desires, not even from my prodigy-a child at the time-…one whose errors were to be nurtured and given a gradual release rather than the neglectful, immediate ones I demanded. To an extent, I feel correctly classified. Not to mention the numerous other…instances brought to fruition by my hand."
Keimo breathed in deeply. "You truly regret everything." His voice was but a whisper.
"Yes." His visitor sighed. "For I was a hard teacher, unwilling to accept anything less than my prized pupil's best; your sister had more than her fair share of self-discipline, continuously ensuring that I would not be disappointed." The visitor breathed deeply. "And she was quite well-compensated for her…ordeals...never did the compensation equal what was done." The visitor's voice dropped to a whisper. "But, yes, I truly regret all that has caused her harm." His voice began to shake most unnaturally. "Remorse has been a constant unwanted companion ever since I made that fool's proposition."
Keimo's head almost immediately snapped up. "What proposition?"
"Nothing."
"Don't tell me it is nothing; you said-"
"My room, first bookcase in, second shelf, black one inch binder, first tab; that is what will answer your inquiry, as I cannot bring myself-" The visitor's voice reached a soft crescendo with staccato-like separations between each word of his next phrase, "-to speak of it more than I already have." A soft silence filled the room for almost half a minute, after which the visitor added, "Everything else in the volume is equally as perusable, in fact I insist you do so. It may answer the questions you have asked better than I. I may have been meticulous, but it was all for good reason…of course that good reason soon gave way to manipulative madness."
Keimo gave a condescending nod. "Very well." He was then taken aback when his visitor's tan hands most unceremoniously struck ten very inharmonious notes. Despite that, the hands were correctly positioned on the ivory keys, ready to switch to the ebony half-step keys when required. Keimo watched in awe as his visitor began to strike the keys harmoniously, left hand producing a haunting set of repeated notes and his right adding the accentual notes that were as essential as the bass melody. Melancholy; that was the only word that drifted into Keimo's head as his visitor played. He remembered it, but from where; that was the answer that eluded him most.
This was certainly not the first time he had heard it, and…he had heard it on the same piano no less, but not by the same hand nor at the same tempo…it had been played slower and lighter before, proof that it was indeed a different set of piano hands masterfully striking the soothing melody out.
In almost an instant, the visitor's hands were no longer majestically producing the haunting melody as they had gently drawn themselves away from the keys. "You are able to play by ear, correct?" The visitor's voice grew soft.
Keimo needed no second heeding as his left hand began the haunting set of bass notes with years of training behind his fingers. His fingers played the somber melody as his mind remembered, slow and delicate. He closed his eyes, letting his ear guide him in the melodic rhythm, not noting that the presence of his visitor had vanished as Keimo lost himself in the haunting melody.
DH: This chapter wasn't Whoever Knew You either…but it was one that took about a few months…three about… please review. Maybe I should try Not to write Whoever Knew You and see if I get it. Sure hope it was worth the time. I had fun so I guess that is what matters most.