Topic: Only When

NightRunner

Date: 2010-01-30 15:34 EST
Only When

?The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don't know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.?
--Unknown





She walked her slow, steady and smooth walk. The sand made little sound and behind her, distinct hoofprints lasted only minutes. She went wherever she desired, meandering from a foraging spot to the coastline and down to the rocky places ashore.
The weight on her back was different, balanced differently. It was shaped differently but it didn't smell or act like anything that gave her much alarm. A Rhy'Din animal through and through, Ty'Rekh only snorted occasionally at her rider.
He was tense on her back.



He felt old.

In all honesty, Renne didn't know what physically being old or aged felt like but he imagined it might feel like this. He was tense, drawn. He felt distinctly as if he didn't fit in his own skin -- Space-Time curveball notwithstanding. He knew he'd done a lot in his life but the questions came back at him. What did he have to show for it? Had he grown any wiser or had he just turned into a jaded cynic?
Ty'Rekh was allowed to wander where she wanted. She was one of the few creatures he trusted completely -- ironic how it was sometimes, that he'd trust animals more swiftly than 'intelligent' life-forms. It was a fact though, strange as it was. He let her wander as he tried to relax in this twisted shape of his-that-was-not-his. He let her wander, forage and just be Ty'Rekh as he sat upon her back and put himself under a microscope.

He knew his life as well as anyone else knew anyone's own. The past of many years back had been reconciled -- the ghosts of Veldri Niahar'dro, Amadeus, the Glassed Sorrows and even Simon had all been reconciled. Dead and buried. This was one time he could think of the word 'dead' and not cringe in terror at it.



The ground was bare as it had been for too long a time.

He was still clumsy and unsure in this forced shape but it took a step back for the time being. The difficulty in maneuvering this 'self' became an exercise in slow, patient control as he moved about on the barren ground. Renne had several goals in mind, none of which allowed room for error. The ground was familiar, marked and he still knew the old oath.
No more death

The wooden planks were carried one by one on his back and laid out in a row. These weren't by any stretch 'impressive' or all that large; just what he could manage without crossing that line into 'backbreaking'. The physical repetition was something he could tune in to, sing a shanty and movement by movement, come closer to a dream.

NightRunner

Date: 2010-01-31 14:56 EST
Only When
Building

"I was told once, that if you laugh, the world will laugh with you and if you weep, you weep alone. If this is so, I will not weep for a world such as this."





Crawling wasn't always the most efficient way to go.

Having not yet relearned how to walk though, made crawling his only real option and for now, that was all right. The feet were honestly, one of the hardest things to get used to. Physically. It was all something he didn't really want to be stuck in for too long.
It wasn't natural.

Natural

The word was for now, pushed down, away.

The wood on his back felt somehow good as it occasionally rubbed at his skin. It was solid. He could touch it and didn't have to doubt its existence. It was there. He was there.
Renne carried it piece by piece to that stretch of ground he had bound himself to. The wood had come from an abandoned pile at the docks and as he placed each piece on the ground, his emotional act saw its first rays of logic.
He didn't know a thing about building.

The notion froze him in his tracks for a moment. The questions came in rapid succession as he laid down this most recent timber. How to do this? Could he lift everything? Could he do it by himself? What to do with it? These were things he thought about when each length of wood was laid.
Logic competed with a formidable enemy: His dreams.



Wood lay in a pattern. It was a ring of sorts, tracing an outline kept only by memory. This wasn't much of anything but it was one thing. A beginning.
As Renne commanded his body to move and get him crawling to the market, one hand checked his pocket. He had gold, yes, but it was untouchable. Beginnings were often a long, hard road to walk on anyrate.

This was one road he couldn't step off of.