Gol attempts to get used to his newfound freedom.

Chapter 61: Luck

Nighttime brought with it dreams, unclear dreams, of events that seemed long ago, but with details that were all wrong. Of what his dear sister had been put through by the distrustful people of their old village, except it wasn't his dear sister and it was neither place they had lived in. It wasn't the same, in many ways, but what was happening was, and he couldn't stop it. And he should be the one to stop it, because it was his fault, even though he wasn't certain why so many people always seemed to believe that his existence was a sin or why those associated with him should be punished for his perceived transgressions. Nevertheless, just because he didn't fully understand why such things happened, it didn't make it any easier to bear, and Gol awoke with a pounding heart and a shortness of breath even more profound than usual. He pushed himself up onto one elbow to cough and gasp for air, an act that had become so much of a ritual in his life, it almost seemed he would no longer be himself without it. Though, that was one sacrifice he would be more than willing to make.

When his breath was more or less returned to him, with quite a slant towards less, he managed to sit upright, blinking away the sunlight streaming through the window to his left and a sleep that already wanted to return. But, no amount of blinking or squinting could clear his vision of the fuzziness that had plagued him even after they had stopped subjecting him to those blasted sedatives. Perhaps it really was not so unexpected, then, that his arthritis from long ago had returned with a vengeance, as well. He tried to tell himself that the pain in his joints may just be an ache from his mistreatment, his failing vision from much the same thing, but now he was quite sure these were signs of something entirely different. The Dark Eco was really gone from him now, just as he feared. If any remained in his body, and he supposed some still may, it was not enough to make much of a difference. He had put off old age for long enough, and now it was starting to catch up with him.

Gol stood, with some effort, keeping to the wall nearby to steady himself as he made his way towards the door. He had to catch his balance when he removed his hand from the wall to open the door, a task made harder still when the pain in his joints flared up as he grasped the doorknob. He managed to escape from his room despite the pain, after which he moved on wobbly steps to the doorway ahead of him, to look out at the main room, the place quiet and empty of life. He moved next down the hallway to check out the room at the end, the door left open, but he found there to be no one beyond it, either.

He peered into this room with his good hand on the wall, taking notice of even more figurines on the dresser within. Looking once over his shoulder and confirming no one to be around, he stepped forward, his eyes catching sight of the kitten quilt on the bed. He directed a frown at this object from the past before he stopped to inspect the carvings on the dresser, depicting all manner of animals and people and even what appeared to be a replica of a zoomer, no doubt a reminder of a new sight during her time in Haven City. He scanned over these various figurines, stopping once on some kind of sea creature sporting a myriad of tentacles, and again on what could be none other than the boy's rat, and he felt all the more the sense of déjà vu, only he really was doing much the same thing as he had in the past, and it wasn't just a mere feeling.

Just as he had stayed in this woman's home long ago, even if this was not the same place and some of the figurines were new, he had bided his time wandering about and looking over the things she had carved, but this time, the situation lacked one very important thing, and that was the promise that his previous time here had held, because all he had to do then was locate his sister, and then their acquisition of the world could begin. But, thinking of how the past differed from the present would only drive him crazy, just as it had been doing. He had to get his mind on something else.

The former Sage left the room and headed down the hallway, backtracking to the bathroom to stand before the mirror, to see if what people had said about him and his change in appearance was true. It was. And as he raised a hand to his face, his changed face, he almost looked like the person he once was. It wasn't all the same, but it was closer now to that old face of his than it had ever been these last three hundred years. He had changed. By the Precursors, everyone said it, but it was true, after all, wasn't it? And if he had changed so much on the outside, how much had he on the inside? How much had the Dark Eco changed him? And why did he let it happen? And most importantly of all, why did he let it happen to his dear sister? Perhaps that's why she no longer sang and why she had developed such a frightening desire for the pain of others that he sometimes hardly recognized her. Perhaps, but how could Dark Eco change them so much? It was still not something to be feared, he swore it wasn't. If only he could learn to control it, he had believed, it could be used for so much good. Because Dark Eco was not evil. It was a mere substance, and such a thing could be neither good nor bad.

He wanted only to control it, so it couldn't control him as it had to all those who had tried to study it before him. He only wanted to learn about it, so it couldn't hurt any more people. Had his dear sister and he really gone so far off course? Had they become so lost? He had obsessed over the crimes people had committed against the two of them and lamented over the injustices of the world, but he had repaid it a thousand fold. His sister and he had gotten the revenge they so desperately wanted, even if the world never, in the end, became theirs, but the knowledge that one of their goals had been fulfilled, after all, didn't console him. It was a goal he wasn't entirely certain until now was really a goal, but he had to admit now that it was.

They wanted to get back at the world for mistreating them. They wanted to prove them wrong. That Dark Eco was something to be worshipped, not hated. That they were right to study it and that everyone else was fools. In the end, much of what they had wanted was revenge, and they had gotten that, but in a different way, in the form of the deaths of thousands of people that had done nothing to them. And they were right to say he had changed, that his dear sister and he were no longer the people they once were. It was all true, for his previous self, and Maia's previous self, would have never resorted to murder to further their goals, whatever those goals might be. A Sage was only meant to seek knowledge and share it with others. That was all, and he had intended on becoming a great one, the greatest Dark Eco Sage, at least, and he would learn all there was to know about the substance he studied, and through that knowledge, he would show people there was nothing to be afraid of. Because its mysteries had finally been unlocked.

He had failed as a Sage, and worst of all, he had failed as a brother, that he could not only allow, but encourage, his dear sister to change along with him. He wanted her to "embrace" Dark Eco, but instead, he had caused her mind to be poisoned by it. He knew Dark Eco was dangerous, and if he was going to put anyone in harm's way, it should've been him and him only. He shouldn't have let his dear sister get involved. And she only did it because she cared about him, but it didn't seem he showed the same concern for her.

As he looked upon his changed face and his twisted, nearly useless right arm, he grasped his withered limb with his good hand, but it wasn't enough to cover it, to hide from his sight a permanent reminder of what he had willingly done to himself during his so-called search for knowledge, and his legs grew weak, and he slid down the wall behind him to sit on the floor, his head hung low. And he couldn't prevent the tears that came next, to slip down the face of a man that hadn't existed in centuries, and still didn't, because it was impossible to go back to that person after what he had done.

He sat there for some time, not that there was anything else worth doing right now, silent except for the wheezing of labored breathing and the quiet sniffling he couldn't bring himself to stop. Eventually, he had no choice but to wipe away the tears he had allowed to fall all morning when he heard a door open, followed by footsteps, but he didn't bother to stand up, as long as all other evidence of his actions this morning was erased. He stayed where he was, even as he heard her clattering around in the other room, before those footsteps began to grow louder again as they approached the hallway, and Kassra appeared from around the corner. Catching sight of him, she approached, face blank, clearly unsure of what to make of his choice of sitting locations.

"Sorry I was gone so long. Are you okay?"

With the guess that his voice may still be too shaky, he simply nodded.

"Well, I went hunting this morning. The leaper lizards are slower when it's not too hot out, y'know." She flashed a grin, before it disappeared again. "I feel really guilty about having to…you know, but…" By now, her eyes were more directed at the ceiling than anything else. "Anyway, I guess Wastelanders just have to do these kinds of things, and…" She looked back down at him. "My point is, we don't have to have vegetable soup today. 'Kay?"

He tilted his head up to face her, his voice coming out in a near croak. "I don't…believe I feel up to eating anything right now."

"Are you feeling all right?" She knelt down, inspecting him from afar. "Are you sick?"

In what way? "I…" It was Dark Eco that had kept him alive all this time, and despite all it had made him do, its absence was surely why he felt this way. "I don't know."

She frowned, the expression gone a second later when she jumped to her feet. "You know what'll make you feel better? Green Eco. While I was out, I actually brought you back some. The guards told me that the…the Light Eco Sage said it would help you now that…you're so…old, and… They were supposed to give it to you when you were…back at the palace. Did they?"

He merely shrugged at the break in her rant, mind scarcely able to concentrate on her words when he had a great deal of worrying he needed to focus on right now.

"I can go get it. Do you want…?" Words seemingly forgotten, she stepped towards him, arms out. "Here." She wrapped her arms around him, and he couldn't help but gasp in response to the unexpected gesture, and he grabbed her sleeve with his good hand as she helped him to his feet. Once he was able to stand, she released him, directing a toothy grin up at him as she nodded. "Yep, Green Eco will make you feel better. Like you're as good as new. Not that I really know what it means for a person to be new, but…"

They walked out to the sitting area, Gol doing his best to get by with minimal support, even if the woman was ready to give it, and he was most grateful when he reached a chair and could rest his aching bones again, even that short walk leaving him shaky and short of breath. He watched her as she left him to head next to the kitchen, where he caught her opening a jar of Green Eco, to be used in its most primitive form. She poured a small amount into a glass, which she then brought over to him before sitting nearby to keep a close eye on the former Sage as he stared into the glass held in his hand. He had never had pure Green Eco before, only medicine infused with it when he was sick, which was just as vile as medicine was always inclined to be, but if there was a chance it would help with his weakness and his aches and pains, he supposed it would be worth it, regardless of how it might taste, and so he forced himself to drink it, the liquid bitter, and he rose a hand to his chest to gasp as the strangest chill swept through him.

Once the iciness that had settled within his chest began to fade, he turned his attention to the woman, who appeared quite pleased with his cooperation. "So…what is it you do here?" he asked.

"Oh, well, this and that," she said, her earlier solemn attentiveness replaced with the grin she wouldn't be quite the same without. Tilting her head to the side, she added, "Why?"

He coughed into his sleeve, his throat suddenly dry. "I'm just making small talk."

"Well, that's weird, because usually I have to force you to talk." She rested her hands on her lap. "So, does this mean you'll answer my questions if I answer yours?"

"Why don't you answer first, and we'll see."

She took a deep breath. "Well, where do I begin? You see, people don't usually ask me about me, y'know."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

She looked back down at her lap and started to pick at the fabric of her pants. "I guess…there's not a whole lot that I do, but I keep myself busy, y'know." Her hands steadied, and she looked up again. "I hunt, and I take care of my plants, and…when I need something, I trade stuff that I caught or vegetables that I grew in my garden. I haven't had much luck convincing anyone to take my carvings, though, but I guess that's fine, because I don't usually want to part with them in the first place, y'know. I only even consider it when I don't have anything else. But, I get by. What did you used to do?"

"I was the Dark Eco Sage."

"And what did you do?"

Eyes half-lidded, he said, "This and that."

"That's not fair. You said you'd answer my questions if I answered yours."

"I actually didn't."

She grew silent, possibly in search of some loophole in their past agreement where he did indeed have to answer her questions. "Well," she crossed her arms, "maybe I just won't answer any more of your questions, then."

The smallest grin twisted Gol's mouth. "That's a shame, because there were a few more things I wanted to know."

She straightened in her seat as her arms dropped back down to her lap. "Like what?"

He looked away, eyes closed. "I'm not telling you now that I know I'll be indebted to you if you answer."

"No, what is it?"

"Never mind now."

"No, really. You don't have to answer any of my questions then. Even if you'd be a big meanie not to. What was it?"

He returned a half-lidded gaze to her. "Is that so?"

She nodded, the picture of eagerness.

"All right, then." He attempted to lace his fingers together, only to realize how very difficult such a simple thing had become with an uncooperative right arm, and it took the assistance of his good hand to attain the gesture he wanted. Well, he supposed there was more than one way of going about things. "What about your carvings? What…possesses you to make what you make?" The figurine of the talking rat was simply ridiculous.

Her shoulders rose in another shrug. "I just carve whatever I feel like. It's just a good way to spend my free time. I like to do animals mostly, but sometimes I find people I like, or I feel like making up something new. Some of my ideas come from my dreams. Do you get any dreams…uh, can I…I've never called you by your name before. I mean, not really… Can I?"

He blinked at her. What a strange question to ask that was. She watched him with wide eyes, obviously expecting an answer.

"I asked you one question, and that was two," he said. "Now that isn't quite fair."

"They were 'yes' or 'no' questions, though. They each basically count as half."

"Is that how the rules go?"

She nodded. "Yep."

He let out a breath. "Well, fine, then, yes, I do have dreams, but often not very nice ones, and…"

She leaned forward.

"And…why do you…why do you even feel the need to ask that?"

"That's another question. You still owe me half of one."

"I…I suppose you can call me whatever you want, considering you've been calling me by nothing but absurd nicknames as of late."

She beamed, clapping her hands together. "Yay! Uh…" Her hands dropped to her sides, where her fingers proceeded to wrap around the edge of her chair. "Now I can't say it."

"You do remember what my name is, don't you?"

"Yeah, but…" Her voice grew soft. "I…have this thing…where I feel like I shouldn't call people by their real names, y'know. Especially if they're older than I am. It just seems…weird."

"And what misfortune do you think will befall you if you do?" He knew she was insane.

"You've asked too many questions."

"Come now, it's one syllable."

She opened her mouth wide, then promptly closed it and shook her head. He snorted. And people thought he was crazy.

"Do you…feel any different?" she said at last.

"Like how?"

"Different." She smiled. "It means not the same."

"I know the definition of the word 'different', and…unlike your quandary about calling someone by their name, this is something that is far too complicated to properly explain."

"But, do you?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"How?"

"In that I don't feel the same."

"Oh, you're crafty." Kassra tilted her head. "But, do you feel…better?"

Gol's eyes focused on the fireplace in front of him, but also at nothing. "I…feel sicker than I ever have. But…I also feel…" Like the person he once was. Which meant that the person he was until recently was not the same one.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Oh, it was something, all right, but it was nothing that needed sharing. He didn't have to tell her everything. He turned his gaze back to her. "I can't ever leave this place, can I? I mean, the Wastelanders would be none too pleased if they saw me, the one who recently tried to…"

"Well, I…I don't know if most people would actually recognize you, but…" She looked down. "I guess you really can't go anywhere, though. The King made me promise I'd keep an eye on you, because…" Her eyes returned to his. "You're not getting bored of my company already, are you?"

"It's not that. I just…thought I should check."

"Do you…still not want lunch, or…"

He raised a hand to rub at his forehead, the headache from last night already returning. "I really don't think I could eat anything right now." It didn't matter that he hadn't eaten properly in some time, or that he had probably lost some weight, even if he was rather thin to begin with. He really should be hungry, but if he was, he couldn't feel it. For so long, he had either been too numb or distracted by other forms of pain to notice such a primitive thing as hunger. He really was far too old to still be alive anyway. That didn't mean he was giving up, though. It didn't mean he was starving himself on purpose. He just couldn't stand the sight of food, and that was a different kind of problem, really. It wasn't quite the same thing.

Gol heard the creaking of a chair as she stood. "You know what, you really need to eat something. I'll make you some broth."

"No, I don't need anything." But, when he looked over, she was already halfway to the kitchen.

"Nonsense. You're too thin as it is." She set one hand on the counter and turned back in his direction. "I'm going to fatten you up. You hear me? You're going to end up…fat." She went into a fit of giggling, and he frowned at her. She really was beyond insane.

Gol was indeed subjected to the woman's cooking once again, though it wasn't until much later in the day, when he woke up to find her sitting again in the chair nearby, a knife in hand, and a part of him that hadn't fully woken up yet had the notion for the shortest of seconds that she had finally lost it and was going to butcher him, a thought that he tossed aside when he saw the half-carved wooden...he didn't know what, in her other hand. Upon seeing his return to consciousness, she arose to retrieve the promised broth, which she had kept warm on the stove, and as he watched her pour the liquid into a bowl, he pondered telling her the inane thought that had popped into his head just now, but decided against it, lest she think that he, too, was as crazy as she was.

Eating was not an easy thing with a disagreeable stomach and only one good arm, but he refused her every attempt at helping him, and she returned to her seat to continue work on carving the whatever-it-was, chattering here and there about the usual things, but she was less talkative than she normally was, and he assumed it was probably a result of their earlier talk, which had quite possibly had the fortunate effect of draining from her system much of her usual need to prattle nonstop at him. For now, at least.

And by now, evening had arrived, and he watched as her carving began to take more and more the form of something quite possibly feline, though whether it was some animal she had spotted out in the desert or one of the creatures she saw in her dreams, he had no idea, and he wasn't in much of a mood for asking, either. His earlier pains had been gradually growing worse the entire day, the Green Eco's effect obviously not yet setting in, and his fatigue was returning even after his earlier nap, and when he reached the point where he didn't think he could take it much longer, he excused himself to return to his room, even though the sun had just barely begun to set.

He eased himself back down on his bed, pausing in his efforts to lie down when he caught sight of, in the encroaching darkness, the figurines Kassra had carved for him and the pearl lying beside them. He reached over to light the lamp before grabbing the figurine of Maia, inspecting it as best he could with less than satisfactory vision. He'd need to start wearing glasses again. The carving was rough, crude, but the likeness of his dear sister was still there, with the long hair and the…distinctive clothing (he begged Maia to wear more, but she wouldn't hear of it), though it seemed Kassra had taken the liberty of giving her a bit more clothes. Half a smile formed on the former Sage's tired face. The carving of himself he could do without; he already saw himself quite enough as it was. But, this one, of his dear sister, was by far Kassra's finest work, and it always would be no matter how many more carvings she made.

Gol sighed and set the object back down on the table. How much longer could he get by, with a mere figurine of his dear sister the only way he could ever see her? Even the ghostly visions were gone, and as much as they haunted him, at least they were something. He was living on mere memories now, and memories faded, especially for one with his advanced age. Eventually, he might even forget what she looked like and the sound of her voice. He didn't even dream about her anymore. He had told Kassra his dreams didn't contain pleasant things, and that included his sister. He dreamt of his fervor as he worked on that blasted bomb, he dreamt of the past, long ago, when he was still a proper Dark Sage, and he dreamt of the night he had found his sister's body, but even when he dreamt of things that should include her, she was nowhere to be found, or all that was left of her was blood, no body, just blood, on the walls and floor and on him, but his sister was gone, no longer even present at her own death. It was as if she was erased from his mind as much as she was from existence. Soon, he worried, even his memories of her may be gone. And then what would be left?

The former Sage, even his old title as good as gone, lay back down, and as he closed his eyes, he wished his dreams would contain his dear Maia, the Maia he wanted to remember, when she was still alive and happy, but this was a plea he made every night, and it never happened. Because the things he desired never became his. And yet this woman, whose house they had just begun to share yet again, was here, to take care of him. She appeared when he was injured, when his sister was killed, and when he was imprisoned, always there to help him whenever he reached a new pinnacle of suffering. He had come to expect misfortune, and then there was this woman, so very much unlike what he was used to, so very different from the pattern events in his life normally took. He'd never understand her. Perhaps he'd been joking when he mused in his head that she might be mad, but he'd still never figure out how someone with his luck had managed to find someone like her. But, she didn't have the best luck herself. Maybe it was her bad luck that had given her the misfortune of finding him. Now that, perhaps, made a little sense.

Oh, it is so fun writing the two of them actually getting along. Please review.