Spark, Extinguish
There was no one to speak to.
The sensation of teeth crushing bone was evident enough but not as evident as he'd though it would be. The temperature immediately around him elevated to levels he could find pleasing in some other world. Were it not for the distant pain of breaking bones and tearing flesh, he might have found this place -- wherever it was -- pleasant. Almost pleasant. His mind wandered, riding the waves of thoughts too fleeting to hold onto for long and somewhere, he reflected, that was the way his entire life had gone. He could find treasures. He could find what few he could call friends. He could even find enemies, or impossible circumstances. But he could never hold onto any of them. He could never hold onto any of it.
And there was no one he could speak to.
The heat flared close around and within him to a place he could enjoy, to a place he could bask in. Around the coalescing roil of heat, the sky broke, releasing a downpour that could not quench that heat. Beyond the close heat, he vacantly heard the piercing crack-roll of thunder. Somewhere, lighting streaked across the black sky. And he wanted someone to talk to.
Beyond the heat, the little coastal village had deserted, people fleeing from the sight of what they called a demon possessed by another demon. The village fled and held onto its life; individual humans making whatever choices they made to survive. To save their backs. Somewhere, Renne was aware of that -- a fear both primal and spineless -- he'd felt it before, the gods only knew. His body reveled in the extreme heat but writhed in protest. In pain.
He was alone. Again. And there was still no one to talk to.
The heat intensified again and the thunder muted all other sound. He couldn't see, so there was no use in trying to determine how the thing that was causing him such pain suddenly stopped adding to that pain. He was aware of the heat, the thunder, the rain and little else beyond. Something primeval in him woke for a moment. It warned him. It cried to him. It screamed, begging to be heeded. It warned a being beyond the capability of responding to that warning. It screamed to a being far beyond caring. His mind fled to memories as they flickered by in the unbelievable heat and the pouring rain.
His mind fled to the first bowl of stew he'd made when Archie had that cold. It fled to the Yule night so long ago. It fled to the day Artyr had shown him how to take his Stone to the final phase.
He missed Artyr. And Mordred Ravenwood. And Lilly of Lionwood. And Host. And Archie. And...
There was no one to talk to.
He had accepted a long time ago that ultimately, he was alone. After they had all disappeared...died....gone. He was alone. Renne distantly hoped Ty'Rekh had made it to her destination, hoped that someone had the good graces to care for her and her charges properly.
He wanted his spyglass. He felt the reassuring cool of his communicator's metallic band still on his arm. He felt the relief of an old tattoo on the other arm. Everything else was in his pocket but he wanted his spyglass.
Bluesteel
He wanted someone to talk to.
He didn't hear the whisper of a word/name on the wind, spoken from a voice too deep to be anything familiar. He didn't care; letting the sounds ride away with each dreamlike memory. He felt the intense heat begin to fade. He didn't want it to fade; he didn't want to become cold. But he accepted that the pleasant heat was fading, that he was once again, losing something he'd found.
He felt the rain first as the heat ebbed away. It was neither warm nor cold. He felt it drenching him drop by drop and he wondered obliviously what might come next. He didn't want to move. He didn't want anything but the heat to return and the rain to stop. He wanted someone to talk to, but none of that would come to be. He knew it. Internalised it. Accepted it. It was the way his life had been lain out -- He could find everything he desired to find. But, he would lose it.
And he accepted it, lying in the rain.
He accepted the ebbing flow of blood diluting in the sea.
He just wanted his spyglass and someone to talk to.
There was no one to speak to.
The sensation of teeth crushing bone was evident enough but not as evident as he'd though it would be. The temperature immediately around him elevated to levels he could find pleasing in some other world. Were it not for the distant pain of breaking bones and tearing flesh, he might have found this place -- wherever it was -- pleasant. Almost pleasant. His mind wandered, riding the waves of thoughts too fleeting to hold onto for long and somewhere, he reflected, that was the way his entire life had gone. He could find treasures. He could find what few he could call friends. He could even find enemies, or impossible circumstances. But he could never hold onto any of them. He could never hold onto any of it.
And there was no one he could speak to.
The heat flared close around and within him to a place he could enjoy, to a place he could bask in. Around the coalescing roil of heat, the sky broke, releasing a downpour that could not quench that heat. Beyond the close heat, he vacantly heard the piercing crack-roll of thunder. Somewhere, lighting streaked across the black sky. And he wanted someone to talk to.
Beyond the heat, the little coastal village had deserted, people fleeing from the sight of what they called a demon possessed by another demon. The village fled and held onto its life; individual humans making whatever choices they made to survive. To save their backs. Somewhere, Renne was aware of that -- a fear both primal and spineless -- he'd felt it before, the gods only knew. His body reveled in the extreme heat but writhed in protest. In pain.
He was alone. Again. And there was still no one to talk to.
The heat intensified again and the thunder muted all other sound. He couldn't see, so there was no use in trying to determine how the thing that was causing him such pain suddenly stopped adding to that pain. He was aware of the heat, the thunder, the rain and little else beyond. Something primeval in him woke for a moment. It warned him. It cried to him. It screamed, begging to be heeded. It warned a being beyond the capability of responding to that warning. It screamed to a being far beyond caring. His mind fled to memories as they flickered by in the unbelievable heat and the pouring rain.
His mind fled to the first bowl of stew he'd made when Archie had that cold. It fled to the Yule night so long ago. It fled to the day Artyr had shown him how to take his Stone to the final phase.
He missed Artyr. And Mordred Ravenwood. And Lilly of Lionwood. And Host. And Archie. And...
There was no one to talk to.
He had accepted a long time ago that ultimately, he was alone. After they had all disappeared...died....gone. He was alone. Renne distantly hoped Ty'Rekh had made it to her destination, hoped that someone had the good graces to care for her and her charges properly.
He wanted his spyglass. He felt the reassuring cool of his communicator's metallic band still on his arm. He felt the relief of an old tattoo on the other arm. Everything else was in his pocket but he wanted his spyglass.
Bluesteel
He wanted someone to talk to.
He didn't hear the whisper of a word/name on the wind, spoken from a voice too deep to be anything familiar. He didn't care; letting the sounds ride away with each dreamlike memory. He felt the intense heat begin to fade. He didn't want it to fade; he didn't want to become cold. But he accepted that the pleasant heat was fading, that he was once again, losing something he'd found.
He felt the rain first as the heat ebbed away. It was neither warm nor cold. He felt it drenching him drop by drop and he wondered obliviously what might come next. He didn't want to move. He didn't want anything but the heat to return and the rain to stop. He wanted someone to talk to, but none of that would come to be. He knew it. Internalised it. Accepted it. It was the way his life had been lain out -- He could find everything he desired to find. But, he would lose it.
And he accepted it, lying in the rain.
He accepted the ebbing flow of blood diluting in the sea.
He just wanted his spyglass and someone to talk to.