Fire on the Sea in the Sky
"Cut us low, swing us 'round
Iron shackles, tightly bound
Thresh your soul by the morning lark
Lying with your dreams in the dead of the dark
Laddie, are you workin'?"
--Laddie, Are You Workin'?; Heather Alexander
He had gotten used to the gray. He'd even gotten used to the whispering in his head. He never got used to the dreams.
The night was cold and the moon shone a cold, merciless beam through the window of Cell Five. Within, Renne began to pace in a steady yet agitated crawl. He'd hoped the fellow Jarrod was well considering both his absence and the nature of Rhy'Din itself to throw people about like a playing ball.
He thought of 'Nathan then and was torn between smiling and crying.
She had in many ways, saved him where others had broken him.
It was for her he fought to survive.
Cut him low, swing him 'round
The pacing crawl kept steady as his thoughts wandered to others. Cinder, stalwart and quietly strong. Renne smiled then, somehow knowing that at least these two were among the strong hearts of Rhy'Din.
It was for him Renne fought to survive.
Zonker, Rena, Melkor, Elie, Taryn, Jess and Merit flitted through his broken mind. The Less Crowded's walls faded in and out and he felt the bit of charred wood in his pocket. The memories. The people. They were strong and knew what loyalty meant. He thought of them with a shine in his gray eyes.
It was for them he fought to survive.
The whispers in his head quickened his pace. Agitation spread within him as he sought to block out the deceivingly calm tones. His ears flattened against his head to shut out the outside and the inside. He let himself think of the Maritime. He let himself think about the earthen laughter and wheat-gold patience.
It was still for them too that he fought to survive.
Because they had taught him, built him and strengthened him.
Even if they had become ghosts and stripped him of strength and sanity.
Thresh his soul by the winter dark
-You will hear me.-
I will not.
-You will. They are not here.-
I will have you gone. I will return to what I was.
-Before or after the Humans shredded you?-
To when I was building stronger.
The dreams came back to him. He remembered them the way they were from beginning to end. He remembered the sea-rotted corpse walking onto the land in its stiff gait. He heard it rasp a mocking pride to him. He heard its skeletal hand draw the instrument of thundering pain.
He confronted it this time in the waking world and spoke in his native tongue. Translation barriers had long ago been cut by lack of control. The world if it wanted to, could hear his words and interpret them as it will. He no longer cared.
"You are not he."
The apparition kept walking closer. It was impossible to tell if its grinning face was an expression or merely Jolly Roger'd skull.
Lying alone in the dead of the night
"I was born on the Ides."
"You come from then. I will remove you."
"I am all that remains."
"Earthen heroes lived before you were born."
Renne silenced and turned his back on the seaweed-festooned thing that stood as plain as day in Cell Five. He paced on and on around the figure as if it were a ribbonless Beltaine pole. Renne wanted the darkness gone. He wanted to live again, explore the world. And then he wanted to come back home and tell about his travels. And ask questions, further expanding his understanding of this world.
This world was both ruthless and gentle.
He wanted to understand it.
To do that, he had to survive.
Lie with your dreams on the broken sea
He thought of watching out for his family be they ghosts, living, mortal or not. Even if he had to from a distance, he knew he'd do it.
It was the price he now paid for his brand of loyalty. It was a loyalty few understood and fewer earned. It was a loyalty whose price no one saw him pay.
Strike him low, swing him 'round
Silver threads, nicely bound
Thresh the bones by the darkened night
Stand in the fire at the dead of the dark
Laddie, are you fightin'?
"Cut us low, swing us 'round
Iron shackles, tightly bound
Thresh your soul by the morning lark
Lying with your dreams in the dead of the dark
Laddie, are you workin'?"
--Laddie, Are You Workin'?; Heather Alexander
He had gotten used to the gray. He'd even gotten used to the whispering in his head. He never got used to the dreams.
The night was cold and the moon shone a cold, merciless beam through the window of Cell Five. Within, Renne began to pace in a steady yet agitated crawl. He'd hoped the fellow Jarrod was well considering both his absence and the nature of Rhy'Din itself to throw people about like a playing ball.
He thought of 'Nathan then and was torn between smiling and crying.
She had in many ways, saved him where others had broken him.
It was for her he fought to survive.
Cut him low, swing him 'round
The pacing crawl kept steady as his thoughts wandered to others. Cinder, stalwart and quietly strong. Renne smiled then, somehow knowing that at least these two were among the strong hearts of Rhy'Din.
It was for him Renne fought to survive.
Zonker, Rena, Melkor, Elie, Taryn, Jess and Merit flitted through his broken mind. The Less Crowded's walls faded in and out and he felt the bit of charred wood in his pocket. The memories. The people. They were strong and knew what loyalty meant. He thought of them with a shine in his gray eyes.
It was for them he fought to survive.
The whispers in his head quickened his pace. Agitation spread within him as he sought to block out the deceivingly calm tones. His ears flattened against his head to shut out the outside and the inside. He let himself think of the Maritime. He let himself think about the earthen laughter and wheat-gold patience.
It was still for them too that he fought to survive.
Because they had taught him, built him and strengthened him.
Even if they had become ghosts and stripped him of strength and sanity.
Thresh his soul by the winter dark
-You will hear me.-
I will not.
-You will. They are not here.-
I will have you gone. I will return to what I was.
-Before or after the Humans shredded you?-
To when I was building stronger.
The dreams came back to him. He remembered them the way they were from beginning to end. He remembered the sea-rotted corpse walking onto the land in its stiff gait. He heard it rasp a mocking pride to him. He heard its skeletal hand draw the instrument of thundering pain.
He confronted it this time in the waking world and spoke in his native tongue. Translation barriers had long ago been cut by lack of control. The world if it wanted to, could hear his words and interpret them as it will. He no longer cared.
"You are not he."
The apparition kept walking closer. It was impossible to tell if its grinning face was an expression or merely Jolly Roger'd skull.
Lying alone in the dead of the night
"I was born on the Ides."
"You come from then. I will remove you."
"I am all that remains."
"Earthen heroes lived before you were born."
Renne silenced and turned his back on the seaweed-festooned thing that stood as plain as day in Cell Five. He paced on and on around the figure as if it were a ribbonless Beltaine pole. Renne wanted the darkness gone. He wanted to live again, explore the world. And then he wanted to come back home and tell about his travels. And ask questions, further expanding his understanding of this world.
This world was both ruthless and gentle.
He wanted to understand it.
To do that, he had to survive.
Lie with your dreams on the broken sea
He thought of watching out for his family be they ghosts, living, mortal or not. Even if he had to from a distance, he knew he'd do it.
It was the price he now paid for his brand of loyalty. It was a loyalty few understood and fewer earned. It was a loyalty whose price no one saw him pay.
Strike him low, swing him 'round
Silver threads, nicely bound
Thresh the bones by the darkened night
Stand in the fire at the dead of the dark
Laddie, are you fightin'?