Thanks to the four who reviewed my last chapter! Really, PLEASE review my last chapter; it's the most pivotal one so far, and I really need some comments! Please?
I realised that Oread hasn't put in her two cents since… um… ::Checks archive:: Chapter 6.5! That's a while ago, so here we are. Oh, and the hiatus-or-dead situation still holds as per last chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Diablo. I only own Murex and my false hopes.
Chapter 22.5
Broken Reflection
Celadon fell ill. No wonder, after standing there in the rain the whole time. As soon as the girl set foot on the dock of Kurast, she collapsed.
So now she's lying here before me, asleep. Her face is clammy and she feels cold, even in this tropical weather. Poor kid has everything coming at her at once – leaving that boy Jerhyn, who she must have feelings for; homesickness probably taking its toll as well, while she's at it. Falcon's death must have just got it all together and brought her back to earth. It must be hard for a girl like Celadon to have to grow into this detached, cold skin of a warrior so quickly… Oh, I wouldn't know. As far as I know – for me at least – emotions are disposable if you want them to be.
But I do feel quite bad about Falcon's death… I could have opened a portal beforehand back at Tal Rasha's; not knowing what enemy we'd be up against isn't an excuse… it should have been a reason. I could have been more careful. I could have fought better. I could have protected her better.
Just like I could have protected Naiad.
Falcon saved my life; but my own weakness contributed to her death. That girl had such a passion for life, such a fierce fighting spirit… and now she's dead. I sensed the same bright ambition from her that Naiad once had, too. It's not fair that those who deserves to live dies, but I guess life has never been fair.
A week or so ago, if I was in this situation, I would probably have willed myself to death; I would've said something along the lines of "I wish I were dead instead of them". All these people: Naiad, Falcon, Celadon, they deserve a life more than I do; that's true, but now that I've…
I can't stop now. Not until I've figured out what had happened to me before. I thought I knew everything about my past, thought I could remember everything; I was shown otherwise by those mana-leeches back at the Arcane Sanctuary. Celadon told me things before, that I did things that I did not remember doing while I was badly injured, but this was different…
I saw. I saw Naiad and Nereid, younger than I ever remembered them to be, and there was blood. A lot of it. I remember its taste – like the saccharine nectar of life, and then it became bitter and cold.
I swear, before I die I have to find out what that was about. If someone's hurt Naiad in the past, I'll seek revenge for her. I'll bring that person down as a sacrifice for her… and hopefully somewhat redeem myself of my incompetence as an older sister, a guardian.
It sounds selfish, but I know now that there's something more out there for me; something that will complete the hazy picture in my mind. Nothing can bring Naiad back, but at least this might help her rest in peace… and leave me in peace, too.
And then there are the other "memories" that I didn't even know I had, those that seemed out-of-place, where I didn't recognise anything, and the way the man kept calling out to me, kept saying over and over that word that seemed to ring in my head every time I think about it…
Oren…
I feel like I don't even know myself anymore, and I hate it.
Damn you, Falcon; why did you throw your life away like that?
Celadon hurts a lot for you. It's been nearly a week and she'd cried every time I tried to talk to her. Must you make her learn this lesson the hard way?
… Maybe I'm just blaming you. Blaming you because I know I was helpless to help you in the end. In fact, you gave yourself up to save us… I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I didn't get to know you more. I'm sorry that I never told you how much I appreciated you as part of our company. I'm sorry that I failed you, your trust and loyalty in me. I'm sorry that I, as the assumed leader, led you to danger and death.
I'll miss you, Falcon. Rest in peace.
Blood.
Magic humming arrows flying walls cracking doors breaking blades slashing clashing people screaming killing hiding dying bleeding bleeding bleeding –
Sticky on white marble and stone. Tacky on the floor. Pasty on the hands.
Oren!
Woman… Naiad's dark blue-grey eyes and sandy-blonde hair, large rounded eyes of her own unlike Naiad's narrower, more refined ones. The baby is in my arms, small body radiating the familiar aura – brilliant shade of bright turquoise.
(Bright turquoise, jade green. Naiad, Celadon. Naiad's whining, Celadon's weeping.)
OREN! Shower of blood.
Naiad older, standing beside me, small hands clinging to my robe about my waist. Crimson burned, burned in my hand, my body, my mind, my soul. Sweet smells of toxins and metal. Syrupy tastes of something like honey-sweet sea water that sticks to the roof of my mouth…
(Sea water, taste of tears. Hot tears chilled by rain, shed for the fallen.)
Shower of blood, again. No, that's not right. This one's cold… this one's a bloody storm, and oh did it flood…
(Storm onboard storm of water flesh blood tears)
Drowning.
My lungs inflate almost painfully as my eyes snap open. Sounds of splashing fluids are still humming in my brain as I sit myself up. It was a dream… that's right. I haven't had one so vivid in a long time. I rarely ever remember my dreams, anyway; though this one isn't going to fade any time soon.
Must be the stress and the exhaustion and… the grief of losing a comrade.
My eyes are adjusting to the light – it must be just a short while before dawn. I turn to the side and see Celadon, sleeping more peacefully now; beyond her, the nameless child from the Harem. In this kind of light, time seems to be standing still; everything seems to be so peaceful… if not withholding deathly promises. Like the absolute calm before the storm.
(Storm of blood drowning suffocating going under)
I can't fall asleep again, it appears.
I get up and throw a cloak over my shoulders against the damp morning chill. I walk barefoot out towards the docks, the cold wood hard and unwelcoming beneath my feet. A thick fog blankets the water, enveloping the entire dock, enveloping my entire self.
Is that someone there? A toned yet feminine physique with long, sleek hair in pigtails reaching the waist, sitting on the edge of the dock, looking out to the sea currently obscured by a silver haze.
No, it's all in my head. Falcon always watched the sunrise at the dock back at Lut Gholein; but she's dead now. Dead and gone. Such a scene will never be seen again.
We've lost the purpose of being here. We've failed in saving Falcon. We were too late.
So… now what?
WHAT? I scream into the fog, knowing full well that the densely-vapoured air will dissipate the sound before it can reach anyone sleeping at the moment. WHAT DO I DO NOW?
The haze offers no answers. My legs grow weak and I fall on my hands and knees; now the cold's sent up my arms, as well.
(Let the crimson burn burn them all to bits)
No…
That's right.
I remember now; however can I forget… Those voices, those scenes, the blood and the crimson. These questions I seek answers to. I realise… It's no longer revenge that I seek, but consolation. I want to be at peace.
Peace… the last time I had a vague sensation of peace was when I gave Celadon her bow for her birthday.
Speaking of birthday… If Naiad were alive now, tomorrow will be her eighteenth; but she's dead, too. She has been for over seven months now. I still remember… how something snapped within me, and the bright turquoise flame that had always been a part of my mind's vision, always been a part of my life force, was distinguished.
I knew she was dead before the news came by word of mouth, some six weeks later. By the time of her funeral, one without a body, was held, my tears had run dry. They accused me of heartlessness; they still do. They weren't there when I felt like I could die from the inside out.
The fog's lifted now, as the sun peeks from beyond the horizon. I make my way to the edge of the dock, still on my hands and knees, and look into the dark water.
I see my reflection with my eyes – the champagne hair still as faded-looking as ever, the double-coloured irises still look so out-of-place. My face hasn't changed much, at all.
But as I try to look deeper, all I see are bits and pieces that seem absurd and disconnected. It feels like I'm… looking into a shattered mirror. A disarrayed, broken image of me is all that my mind can see.
I don't know myself anymore; I wonder if I ever did.
Footfalls behind me. I jerk around and see a small figure standing just five feet from me. How did I miss it…?
This girl... the girl from the Harem. That's such an awful way to remember her by. She's fully dressed, in those bland grey garments – hip-length tunic, pants and sash, all grey. Her fine, limp hair hangs down to her waist, perfectly straight without a single kink. With her eyes closed and her posture passive, she almost looks like an apparition.
Then her eyes open – those thickly-lidded but bright eyes. With the golden rays of the dawning sun, they look not maroon, but blood-red.
She smiles. Her eyes glitter with liveliness, with the will to live and love.
How could I ever even think about killing this girl?
She crouches down so that her eyes level with mine – those eyes of flame and blood.
Tirral. Leaf. Rune of fire.
Eyes that declare her furious passion for life.
The leaf that survives the flames. The crisp green that overpowers a whole sea of red.
"Leaf." My lips form the word. The child's grin widens; she utters a voiceless chuckle and rams into me with a near-violent hug. My wounds protest, but I ignore them, and hug her back.
I'm not going to give up here. There's still so much to live for, it seems.
