Amazing Grace
Twenty Thousand Ghosts
"No one of our age has ever taken power."
"Which is why we're too young to realize certain things are impossible. Which is why we will do them anyway."
--Ioan Gruffudd, Benedict Cumberbatch; Amazing Grace
Renne did not notice the weather tonight.
He noticed precious little, actually.
When he returned again to that spot, the imp found himself going back and forth between the statue and the very place Archie had spoken his last to Renne on a cold, snowy day in March.
Renne traced the path, his mind racing a thousand paces faster than he thought it could go.
He thought about the strange but welcoming, even familiar voice without a body. It had been at the Red Dragon a few times now and he still puzzled upon it.
Yet too, his mind kept returning here, to this barren stretch of land where a world was built, torn down, promises were made and lies were told.
The Hunter's voice whispered mockingly within his head as he paced the grounds he knew so well.
He spoke back, trying to justify two years of uncertainty, emptiness and even guilt.
Renne finally sat down at the place he and Archie had spoken last, crossed his legs and sank into a meditative state. His mind whirled inside and in this meditation, it didn't slow down or show signs of calming.
-Humans. Why defend them?-
Some are...
-What? Still honourable? Still worth the loyalty you display? Truly, Life-Form, you are delusional.-
I am....sick. I know this. Yet there are a few.
-Name them and justify.-
Why?
Laughter. Then a calmer tone, laced with sarcasm.
-To...Analyse.-
Renne sat and sank into his memories, reliving the past few years of his life, clear as day. He relived his past, investigating it through what he knew and even tried investigating through angles he didn't entirely understand.
'Chee.
-Explain.-
The clipped words reminded him of the Analysis process and into it, he easily fell. Such a process was easy for him to come to -- it often let him question actions or people he didn't dare question on the outside.
Calm. Patient. Strong.
-He is?-
Yes.
-Query. He has no Deceit?-
He does not.
-He vanished for time.-
Yes. Possible solution.
-Explain.-
Curiosity. Need of exploration.
-Possible.-
Renne made no sound as the Analysis delved further into more dangerous waters. Each step into the flames, the Hunter was behind him. Goading. Laughing. Howling. Screaming.
-He spoke Untruth. he Betrayed.-
Not the Golden-Haired One.
-No. The Dark One.-
Formality was adopted. he and the Hunter stood like metaphorical duelers; pistols drawn at one another in his mind.
The analogy was grim. And hauntingly appropriate.
-Renne crouched before the menace that was the face of a disease. He didn't smile, frown or show expression; merely answered the thing's interrogations like a Vulcan under a Klingon professional.
The sky above him was dark and pelted a fiery/icy rain; the ground beneath wasn't sand or stone or dirt. The ground was hard, almost uniform in its parts and his fingers trailed across it.
He sat upon a ground of bullets.
And the Hunter struck him across the face.
"Weak creature. Trusting Humans! Even after the dark days and the Dark One showing his true colours! What shall it take thee to learn, thee are on thy own?"
No. This Life-Form is not alone.
"Explain!"
The Golden Haired One. Bon-Mate. Quiet-Elf Uncle. And now, the new ones.
"They shall show in time."
Not them. Not the Golden Haired One.
Renne struck his adversary back and sifted through the ground made out of bullets. He felt the searing yet cold rain, knowing what it was now. And he didn't care.
Turning his back, he crawled toward the sound of a raging ocean; thunderheads on its horizon. he listened to it and wondered.
More thoughts were soon put under the microscope.
The Hunter stalked after him.
"Thee survive alone. Always alone."
No. Not alone. Enough time, lost to penance.
"Thy hands are clean. Justice."
Not Justice.
"Ah. Humans, not Just creatures, are they?"
Most are not.
"Still, some are?"
Yes. And with Mercy.
Renne turned and struck the dark thing again.
When the dark thing fell back, he found himself holding something soft. Really, he didn't remember getting it out of his pocket but that right then didn't matter.
He knew what it was and clung to it.
The rain stopped.
The bullet-made ground no longer felt so much like bullets.-
When he rose out of the meditative state, he was cold. He was exhausted, weary. Yet he felt a smile faintly touch his face as he rolled, then tried upon shaking legs to stand up like a man.
Today, he wanted to learn to walk.
Today, Renne did not want let Archie see him cry.
Twenty Thousand Ghosts
"No one of our age has ever taken power."
"Which is why we're too young to realize certain things are impossible. Which is why we will do them anyway."
--Ioan Gruffudd, Benedict Cumberbatch; Amazing Grace
Renne did not notice the weather tonight.
He noticed precious little, actually.
When he returned again to that spot, the imp found himself going back and forth between the statue and the very place Archie had spoken his last to Renne on a cold, snowy day in March.
Renne traced the path, his mind racing a thousand paces faster than he thought it could go.
He thought about the strange but welcoming, even familiar voice without a body. It had been at the Red Dragon a few times now and he still puzzled upon it.
Yet too, his mind kept returning here, to this barren stretch of land where a world was built, torn down, promises were made and lies were told.
The Hunter's voice whispered mockingly within his head as he paced the grounds he knew so well.
He spoke back, trying to justify two years of uncertainty, emptiness and even guilt.
Renne finally sat down at the place he and Archie had spoken last, crossed his legs and sank into a meditative state. His mind whirled inside and in this meditation, it didn't slow down or show signs of calming.
-Humans. Why defend them?-
Some are...
-What? Still honourable? Still worth the loyalty you display? Truly, Life-Form, you are delusional.-
I am....sick. I know this. Yet there are a few.
-Name them and justify.-
Why?
Laughter. Then a calmer tone, laced with sarcasm.
-To...Analyse.-
Renne sat and sank into his memories, reliving the past few years of his life, clear as day. He relived his past, investigating it through what he knew and even tried investigating through angles he didn't entirely understand.
'Chee.
-Explain.-
The clipped words reminded him of the Analysis process and into it, he easily fell. Such a process was easy for him to come to -- it often let him question actions or people he didn't dare question on the outside.
Calm. Patient. Strong.
-He is?-
Yes.
-Query. He has no Deceit?-
He does not.
-He vanished for time.-
Yes. Possible solution.
-Explain.-
Curiosity. Need of exploration.
-Possible.-
Renne made no sound as the Analysis delved further into more dangerous waters. Each step into the flames, the Hunter was behind him. Goading. Laughing. Howling. Screaming.
-He spoke Untruth. he Betrayed.-
Not the Golden-Haired One.
-No. The Dark One.-
Formality was adopted. he and the Hunter stood like metaphorical duelers; pistols drawn at one another in his mind.
The analogy was grim. And hauntingly appropriate.
-Renne crouched before the menace that was the face of a disease. He didn't smile, frown or show expression; merely answered the thing's interrogations like a Vulcan under a Klingon professional.
The sky above him was dark and pelted a fiery/icy rain; the ground beneath wasn't sand or stone or dirt. The ground was hard, almost uniform in its parts and his fingers trailed across it.
He sat upon a ground of bullets.
And the Hunter struck him across the face.
"Weak creature. Trusting Humans! Even after the dark days and the Dark One showing his true colours! What shall it take thee to learn, thee are on thy own?"
No. This Life-Form is not alone.
"Explain!"
The Golden Haired One. Bon-Mate. Quiet-Elf Uncle. And now, the new ones.
"They shall show in time."
Not them. Not the Golden Haired One.
Renne struck his adversary back and sifted through the ground made out of bullets. He felt the searing yet cold rain, knowing what it was now. And he didn't care.
Turning his back, he crawled toward the sound of a raging ocean; thunderheads on its horizon. he listened to it and wondered.
More thoughts were soon put under the microscope.
The Hunter stalked after him.
"Thee survive alone. Always alone."
No. Not alone. Enough time, lost to penance.
"Thy hands are clean. Justice."
Not Justice.
"Ah. Humans, not Just creatures, are they?"
Most are not.
"Still, some are?"
Yes. And with Mercy.
Renne turned and struck the dark thing again.
When the dark thing fell back, he found himself holding something soft. Really, he didn't remember getting it out of his pocket but that right then didn't matter.
He knew what it was and clung to it.
The rain stopped.
The bullet-made ground no longer felt so much like bullets.-
When he rose out of the meditative state, he was cold. He was exhausted, weary. Yet he felt a smile faintly touch his face as he rolled, then tried upon shaking legs to stand up like a man.
Today, he wanted to learn to walk.
Today, Renne did not want let Archie see him cry.