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sparkindarknessThey survived that battle, and I survived writing it. Now, it's time for damage retrieval, memories and healing.
Methinks that the process will be long, and painful. And I don't care how much easier it is to write Darrne than Rick, I'm trying for Rick (and maybe one from Ghost/Ahrimadan now and then) because at his current low point Darren nearly hurts to write.
That being said, this is Darren's PoV. Besides, I don't think Rick is especially shiny and happy at the minute.
I sit in the dark, alone but for my tortured thoughts; unfeeling but for my unbearable pain.
I knew it was a battle without victory. Someone had to die. And I had to hurt.
I had to kill my sister, the woman who made my childhood a wonderland of joy. I always loved her, more than anyone else in my family, she could make me smile, even after my Pathlighting, she could still make me laugh. I remember unicorns dancing in the garden, pegasi riding the air and merfolk sporting in the pools. Any dream I loved, every fantasy from old stories, every wonder from film and literature came real under her hands.
Or I could have let Kat kill Rick. We’ve been together such a short time, but the thought of loosing him... no. I can’t fight the darkness without him anymore. That eternal grin; the sheer joy and energy he spends every moment living. Sometimes I rage in envy at him, how can he love life so much? But it’s so many little things I love; his clear blue eyes, the shine of his golden hair on the pillow when I open the curtains in a morning. The way he tries to bury himself to avoid the sun before noon. Even the annoying little things, his constant array of spirits, the hours he spends talking to a thousand entities I can barely sense. His constant sniping with Ghost and Ahrimadan. How far gone in love do you have to be for flaws to be endearments?
Or I could have died. Sometimes it is my fondest wish... but I cannot stand leaving Rick behind. I do not want to move into the next life without him, even if I do not remember, I could not stand it. Nor could I stand their suffering. It would have destroyed a part of Kat, the part of her that lives in wonder and fantasy, for her to have killed the baby brother she once cradled in her arms. And Rick? I can see it in his eyes; the mere thought of the pain my death would cause him is enough to make me weep.
No good answers. No victories. Only pain and death. Always pain and death. The days pass and all is not well. Kat’s face haunts my sleep, her suffering is etched on my soul. How can I do that to any being? Even without the wards, my control should be better than that, it has to be better than that! I remember the sheer joy of destruction, of the pain I was causing, even to Rick. I remember my laughter echoing around me. It felt so good. So terribly good.
The days pass and the wounds are long healing. I can’t forget her death. Can’t forgive myself for what I did to her, for being physically and mentally able to do that to her! Worse, I don’t think Rick can either. His smile is weaker than it was, and I feel a tension when we touch. He fears me now... maybe even hates me a little. I think now he knows what I am. Too late. Too late for me to break away, too late to run. Too late to spare me more pain.
Ahrimadan has grown, not physically, but he looms larger in my mind. I remember his disgust at my weakness. I remember his fear at my power. I remember his joy at my cruelty. He’s not the cat with a morbid sense of humour any more. Now it’s hard to forget that, in truth, he is a daemon.
Rick’s spirits seem to have fallen silent, at least to my ears. Rick walks around with a desolate, haunted look. I vaguely remember my power ravaging the spirit world, at the time I didn’t care - no, I did care. I just enjoyed doing it. Revelled in the dissolution of so many ephemeral beings, I fed on the awe and fear of the creatures of darkness that dwell in the ether. Rick spends many hours trying to fix the damage I caused. I’m sure I’ve seen tears in his eyes more than once in his work. I think I hurt him badly. I think he might hate me for it. Another wound unhealing; another knife in my heart.
I sit alone in the dark, praying for light that will never come.
Methinks that the process will be long, and painful. And I don't care how much easier it is to write Darrne than Rick, I'm trying for Rick (and maybe one from Ghost/Ahrimadan now and then) because at his current low point Darren nearly hurts to write.
That being said, this is Darren's PoV. Besides, I don't think Rick is especially shiny and happy at the minute.
I sit in the dark, alone but for my tortured thoughts; unfeeling but for my unbearable pain.
I knew it was a battle without victory. Someone had to die. And I had to hurt.
I had to kill my sister, the woman who made my childhood a wonderland of joy. I always loved her, more than anyone else in my family, she could make me smile, even after my Pathlighting, she could still make me laugh. I remember unicorns dancing in the garden, pegasi riding the air and merfolk sporting in the pools. Any dream I loved, every fantasy from old stories, every wonder from film and literature came real under her hands.
Or I could have let Kat kill Rick. We’ve been together such a short time, but the thought of loosing him... no. I can’t fight the darkness without him anymore. That eternal grin; the sheer joy and energy he spends every moment living. Sometimes I rage in envy at him, how can he love life so much? But it’s so many little things I love; his clear blue eyes, the shine of his golden hair on the pillow when I open the curtains in a morning. The way he tries to bury himself to avoid the sun before noon. Even the annoying little things, his constant array of spirits, the hours he spends talking to a thousand entities I can barely sense. His constant sniping with Ghost and Ahrimadan. How far gone in love do you have to be for flaws to be endearments?
Or I could have died. Sometimes it is my fondest wish... but I cannot stand leaving Rick behind. I do not want to move into the next life without him, even if I do not remember, I could not stand it. Nor could I stand their suffering. It would have destroyed a part of Kat, the part of her that lives in wonder and fantasy, for her to have killed the baby brother she once cradled in her arms. And Rick? I can see it in his eyes; the mere thought of the pain my death would cause him is enough to make me weep.
No good answers. No victories. Only pain and death. Always pain and death. The days pass and all is not well. Kat’s face haunts my sleep, her suffering is etched on my soul. How can I do that to any being? Even without the wards, my control should be better than that, it has to be better than that! I remember the sheer joy of destruction, of the pain I was causing, even to Rick. I remember my laughter echoing around me. It felt so good. So terribly good.
The days pass and the wounds are long healing. I can’t forget her death. Can’t forgive myself for what I did to her, for being physically and mentally able to do that to her! Worse, I don’t think Rick can either. His smile is weaker than it was, and I feel a tension when we touch. He fears me now... maybe even hates me a little. I think now he knows what I am. Too late. Too late for me to break away, too late to run. Too late to spare me more pain.
Ahrimadan has grown, not physically, but he looms larger in my mind. I remember his disgust at my weakness. I remember his fear at my power. I remember his joy at my cruelty. He’s not the cat with a morbid sense of humour any more. Now it’s hard to forget that, in truth, he is a daemon.
Rick’s spirits seem to have fallen silent, at least to my ears. Rick walks around with a desolate, haunted look. I vaguely remember my power ravaging the spirit world, at the time I didn’t care - no, I did care. I just enjoyed doing it. Revelled in the dissolution of so many ephemeral beings, I fed on the awe and fear of the creatures of darkness that dwell in the ether. Rick spends many hours trying to fix the damage I caused. I’m sure I’ve seen tears in his eyes more than once in his work. I think I hurt him badly. I think he might hate me for it. Another wound unhealing; another knife in my heart.
I sit alone in the dark, praying for light that will never come.
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Re:
Date: 2003-06-25 09:18 am (UTC)Make it better? Um... *plys boys with Eddie Izzard comedy*
'Tis not working...
Re:
Date: 2003-06-25 10:20 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-06-25 11:28 am (UTC)*plys Ahrimadan with catnip*
Ahrimadan: Whoa... this doth be most trippy...