Topic: Good Night..

Lain Amthras

Date: 2008-06-10 05:31 EST
Author's Note - Timeline is mid to late afternoon on the 9th of June. This post also comes with a song. Listen here!!! ]

Lain ignored the stares she acquired while standing outside the gates of the cemetery. No doubt they were wondering why the procession was only made up of one person, and why said one person was not only carrying a large silver urn, but a few rather raunchy books, a full bottle of beer, and a lone red rose. The harsh wind was warm and it crawled over her skin like insects, combing through her loose hair and brushing it back from her face and neck.

"Miss?" came a gruff voice from behind her, and Lain turned tired, red rimmed eyes up to the old man whose face seemed to wrinkle ever deeper at noticing her expression. "It's uh....everything's ready for you, when you're-"

"Thanks..." She brushed past him and left him staring after her as she made her blustery way down the winding path eastward, towards the lone tree where her own headstone was situated. All that was left of the fissure that once was was a swath of fresher, newer green grass, within which protruded a granite stone. Before it was a gentle hole, at most, four feet deep, with dirt piled up to its left.

As she reached it, Lain stooped in a slow, relaxed way that belied her youthful appearance. She felt old, worn out, sick, angry, dizzy, and scared all at the same time, and all these emotions swirled in her chest as she came ever closer to completing the task she'd come to do.

She set the urn down next to the pile of dirt, followed by books, and the rose and opened her beer with a simple twist of now ring-less fingers. In fact, she wore no jewelry at all: none in her ears or her arms. Even her trademark guitar pick necklace was gone from her throat. As she looked down at her hands, her unfocused gaze caught sight of the bruise-like scars on the insides of her wrists, the first time she'd seen them since they had healed. A suicide attempt some would say. Now, she would be content on letting them believe that.

"So here we are again," she began, her voice raspy from tears and the stiffness of her throat. She knelt down at the edge of the hole and swung her legs into it, the floor length skirt that made up half of her black outfit swishing around her ankles. All in black, all for him. "You've died twice in my lifetime....and both times, heh.." she managed a weak smile, staring at something above and beyond the headstone. She wasn't able to look at it just yet, "and fortunately or unfortunately, I wasn't there to see either one. I ah....I don't know how I would have handled it if I had. Which is probably why I'm still breathing now.

"I brought a few more books for you from that artist guy I told you about. I was going to give them to you before....well before all of this." She reached out and touched the edges of the volumes still wrapped in vacuum sealed plastic. "You don't have to ever worry about the corners.." She brought the backs of her hands to the rims of her eyes and blinked hard, then she set her full beer aside, finding it too hard to even swallow her own saliva.

"So...there's no coming back from this one, huh.." Aka really did a number on you...Who would have thought that you'd go down before me...You were....reckless, but you weren't stupid. Part of me wonders if....if you wanted this to happen...If you really wanted to die.." Lain grit her teeth as her voice broke, and she hugged her arms despite the heavy, warm wind and the sun. It was perfect, weather-wise for her weather wise. It seemed wrong that she was doing this on a sunny day.

"I wasn't ever one for flowery words or prose or any of that stuff," she was finally able to speak again, and she dragged her long fingers through her hair, her wet eyes still training themselves away from the stone before her. Like if she didn't see it, it would be less real. Her other hand settled gently on her chest. "But....you know what you meant to me...You were my life and...you gave me something I've sat back and watched others catch and let go like fish. I said to myself 'If that ever happens to me,' I said, 'I'm going to fight tooth and nail for it. I won't ever let anything take it away from me,' and in the end....I guess I failed..."

Lain found no use in trying to stem the flow of tears as she slipped down into the shallow grave, reaching first for the books, and placing them gently in the dirt. Next came the urn, and she knelt to settle that down, upright, between the three volumes portraying lustful encounters most perverted. Standing a moment later, she smiled when she looked down at the sight. He would have wanted it like this, at least she hoped so.

"She gave you to me," she said as she climbed sloppily out of the hole, "I suppose I should have thanked her for that...at least she knew that I would have wanted you should something happen.." Straightening, she gently waved her hand and caused the loose mound of dirt to lift in one piece and float slowly into the cavity. She rubbed the air as if cleaning a counter with a rag, and the soil spread itself out, packing down into a hard, flat surface.

"I suppose you don't want me to go after her, and I'll honor that.." With a resolved nod, Lain strode before the stone and knelt down, looking at it for the first time. She could see every grain in the rock - silver, pink, black, white. The letters were the color of ebony and sharp, carved with a meticulous hand into block letters to form a name and thin cursive for the inscription. She ran her dirty fingers over the edges of each letter.

This was it. His last reign, his last casual gait through the door of the Red Dragon, his last eye roll at her, his last words to her, his last laugh, his last...

When she leaned forward to press her lips to the top of the stone, she felt something break in her chest, and she shook, her fingers clawing a hold of the headstone's edge to keep her somewhat upright. A yell of sheer agony ripped free from her aching throat as the tears she'd spent hours fighting back ran from her eyes without any sign of stopping.

"You weren't supposed to leave!" Lain heaved and convulsed without care against the stone, beating it with the heels of her hands. "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO GO!" Her cries were so loud, they echoed throughout her surroundings and in her own head. She hadn't heard herself like this in years, couldn't even remember the last time where she'd cried so much she felt like throwing up. Her coherent shouts soon became garbled screams that threatened to rip out her throat, tear her chest and break her ribs...

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was several minutes before Lain dared to move, and she found herself stiff from staying knelt in that position. The first breath she sucked in rattled in her chest, and her lips shook with a silent whimper. At least until she pressed them to the edge of the stone, and held that kiss. It tasted gritty and salty, and the insides of her lips stuck to its dry surface when she pulled them away. She brushed her dirty fingers against the top of the stone, using it as leverage to push herself up enough to grab her beer and the single rose. She sucked down her drink like she hadn't had swallowed water in days, then stuck the rose's stem into it, and in turn pushed it into the loose dirt before the gravestone. The warm wind spun the flower in circles around the inner rim.

"I'll always love you," whispered, straightening for the last time. Pain shot down her legs at their sudden use, and she was glad for something else to focus on. Lain about faced and just prior to walking away managed a small glance over her shoulder, accompanied with a lazy, two fingered salute. "G'night Big'n..." The warm wind wrapped around her like a tight blanket and ushered her at a slow but steady pace down the winding path and towards the gate of cemetery.

As she stepped over the threshold, Lain produced a ring from an unknown space that she held up before her eyes. It was made of reinforced glass, and held within it a swirling myriad of colors: gray, green, and lavender. She ran the tips of her fingers lovingly across its smooth, cool surface before she slipped the jewelry onto her left ring finger. Her hand clenched with the feeling of its new decoration, and she resumed her barefooted walk, leaving behind a piece of herself that she knew wouldn't ever be reconstructed.

Alexander M. N. Kratos "Shinizy"

He will never be just a memory.