Topic: Stalwart

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-21 22:12 EST
Stalwart

"And when the dragon's tail is gone,
Man forgets, and smiles, and carries on
To apply himself - too late, too late
For mankind has earned deserved fate."
--Mother Shipton





The prison cell was quiet for most of the day. Disturbingly quiet. Time and time again, the guards checked through the window to make sure nothing had gone amiss. And every time, they found the returned prisoner in the same spot and the same posture.
He sat on the cell bed wrapped in his furs.
And in his hands, he held a candle and a tiny parcel of earth.

---------------

Lee shook his head and went about his shift. He'd been able to see at least a part of the camera's tale -- not near as much as he'd wanted but the bit he saw was enough.
The truth almost made him smile -- a prisoner taken away without his knowledge only to come back of his own volition. And for a minute, he thought that maybe, even the sick could be honourable. Even the forsaken could be found.

He didn't think much more on it as his shift ended -- he wasn't the thinking-too-much type. Lee was glad he didn't think too deeply on things especially while on the job. It tended to create weak spots that a prison guard really shouldn't have.

----------------

Renne knew he was being watched now -- not that he cared anymore. He almost laughed to himself at the thought.
Once, long ago, he hated being watched. he hated being seen or observed. Then, once, being observed usually meant some humanoid was out to have his head on a mantle.
Time marches on

Now he didn't care. He knew he wasn't pretty by any standard, again not that he cared much. Beauty was, to him, a useless and futile thing to strive for. So he never did.
He almost laughed again as he sat there holding two of his possessions.
The transition had been slow, so slow as to not have been much noticed -- fear of even being spotted to an almost devil-may-care mindset of "What one sees is what one gets". The transition from the animalistic wilderness to not caring how few beings in Rhy'din had the spine to look at him.
Something else had come with that though.

That change wasn't so unnoticed.

Parts of him had softened.

The wrong parts of his mentality had softened.

And the wrong parts of his mentality had hardened.

He let his mind drift backward in a careful walkthrough of his life so far. His life outside of the Homeworlds.
He'd been to a wide range of places -- places he'd never set foot in if his life depended on it to places he'd return to in a heartbeat. Precious few, those. He could count those as few but they'd made a deep enough impact.
And he had something from them just as he had given of himself.
He'd given a lot of himself into one in particular.
I loved you more than you'll ever know
Renne put his candle away and held solely to the little bit of earth scraped from the ground. He knew where from the ground this had come; could still remember every last inch of a place now gone-but-not-gone.
He wouldn't speak the name verbally yet. Not until the time was right.

Renne didn't tune out the exchange in his mind this time around.

I am a part of it. It is a part of me.
-More so than the places you have encountered?-
Yes. I was a nomad then. Nomads never remain.
-And now?-
I am confused now. Adrift now.
-You are evil now.-
I am not! I am confused. Confusion can be eliminated.
-I am with you now.-
I do not wish you to be with me. You create darkness. Anger. Evil.
-I am with you.-
Go. You are not of me.
-And a scraping of earth is?-
Yes. It is part of what made me strong. It is part of what defined me for longer than most things.
-It is gone now.-
Not gone. "Gone" means forgotten. Nonexistent.
-And you are a part of it?-
Yes. I am. I always will be.
-A part of the past.-

He turned a deaf ear as the exchange began to turn into a grim, unwanted debate. There was little to do inside this little cell but what he could do, he did with some fervour. He'd said it once and he meant it.
If dreams are all that remains, then dream he shall.
South moves North, North moves South

Renne closed his useless eyes and half-unbound the tie to his parcel of earth. His fingers then began to run through the stuff like a child encountering sand for the first time. The steady, repetitive motion provided the needed catalyst for his mind to drift down the chosen paths.
He was conscious but not. He was aware but not. He remained upright and his hand kept sifting carefully through the earth. But he never reacted to the outside world, not a sound nor a smell that might have been new. And he started to dream.
A star is born. A star burns out
The only thing that stays the same is

Everything changes
Everything changes

~<>~

*Time Marches On; Tracy Lawrence
-Blind; Lifehouse

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-23 20:16 EST
Stalwart
Dreams

"If I cannot find my place in this world, I shall make a world of my own."







He was awake and dreaming. Not that he made a try to stop it. Renne had told his hero that if nothing else, he could dream. The meaning might not have been fully understood but Renne kept to his word.
His world was slowly becoming that of dreams.
The Hunter had little hold if he went down deep enough; that he knew. But he was all the same, afraid to let his mind go down that deeply. Gods knew if he could come back up after that.
Gods only knew what could await him were he to come back up from it.

Renne let himself slowly follow it into the darkness even as physically, he never made a move outside of sifting his little bag of earth and keeping it from falling away.

The camera lens kept trained on him in its quiet nook above the cell door.

It kept trained on an unspoken darkness.
It kept an unblinking watch on one person's world as it began to unfold.

--------------------

The darkness was the deep kind. The thick kind. It was the kind of darkness that is never talked about -- the kind of darkness matched with the depths of one's hidden mind. It was the darkness he had been fleeing from since the extinction.
Now, Renne welcomed the dark.

He began to dream.

-The sun was warm against his blue skin. It was pale in comparison to the four burning stars of his origins but it was still warm enough. Flesh tingled as it soaked up the warmth so vital to survival, and he let himself smile.
He couldn't see the world around him but he knew where he was. The sea rumbled with quiet power on his right. On his left some fifty or so yards away stood a sturdy building whose walls reverberated with laughter. And beneath him, the sand supported his meager weight as he crawled.
Fear no more
The wind whispered against his hair -- hair that in this world, was still long and almost rakishly tangled. He let the wind run through his hair as he crawled onward along the sand.
His hair was still long. In this world, no shadows lurked. In this world, thunder from nature wasn't a thing to be terrified of.
In this world, no one had died.

He heard laughter from inside that building and had begun to crawl to it. Footsteps pounded on the sand and drew near. Voices called his name -- voices he knew well and loved well.
Renne crawled toward them and somewhere in the tangle of words, laughing and the sound of running feet grew a game of tag. The sun setting about an hour later both calmed out the game and ushered in a cooler air. The voices called Renne to the building and he went without hesitation.
The walls gave off their warmth -- those walls so well built for the glow of day. The smell of the wood blended with Sumatra and hot cider. Renne's hands and feet nearly tingled as they touched the smooth surface of the bar. He sat in "his" spot there as the voices overlapped.
"By George, I think he's got it!"
"I dub thee..."

He felt a stack of books beside him as the voices laughed, whispered, sang and rambled. Finding the top book thrown open, Renne's fingers brushed down the page.
Christmas came in the quiet kind of darkness.-

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-24 18:00 EST
Stalwart
And Quiet Retreats

"When I catch a moonbeam, I'll put it in a jar and then release it to blanket the world in its glow. When I find what I have lost, I'll hold it close, let it go, then hold it close again."






He was dreaming. And he wasn't dreaming. He was away from the hellish world around him and within the utopia he's sought for eight long years.
No, no. It wasn't utopia.
However, it was enough.
His dream world continued to play out around him, quietly observed by a camera lens and recorded. His dream world morphed into a strange blend of one place among many.
One time among many.

-The voices called, laughed and teased. Sometimes they asked him to cover his hypersensitive ears. Sometimes, the voices grew low and patient as they taught him things.
Soon, the smell of warm, well-loved oak mingled with the wild smell of ancient stone. Eventually, the smells were accented by a faint yet rich, sweet-spicy tang that wasn't sea water but was.
He knew those smells and he smiled.

The voices gave curious tones and asked him.
He gave a chirp and showed them.

It was the Maritime, the Homeworlds and a great fortress somehow married into a beautiful yet haunting display. Stunningly simple and straightforward walked alongside strange, eerie and alien. The warm oak melded with a pristine, smoky-white stone and the blue sky above became streaked with shots of gold and great bands of red.
More voices called out but those that spoke English didn't understand.

Renne did and he called back.

His world was plainly human and startlingly alien. It spoke of the simplistic, mundane things and of the wild, strange, insane things. Renne smiled as he heard the human voices gasp and gawk over the odd appearance of the nonhumans.
They were odd but had a kind of beauty.

They did something between walking, slithering and drifting above the ground on things that weren't quite legs, weren't quite tentacles and weren't quite fins. They stood between some nine and thirteen feet tall -- tall species, yes. The flesh of these people was like some biological light-show gone awry; changing and reflecting light like living prisms. Their hair, be it short or long, shone in much the same way as tinsel foil.

They stood in front of the humans and canted their elongated heads. Their huge, five-to-eight-inch ears perked up and their eyebrows arched.

The humans stood in front of the creatures and canted their heads.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

All Renne could do was laugh, amused by the two species so easily confused.-

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-27 16:18 EST
Stalwart
As the Floor Beneath

"Imagination is more important than knowledge."
--Albert Einstein





He'd been awoken. he was dreaming and that dream was fast becoming a secret paradise. It was his and his alone -- but not his alone. It had elements of things from other places and memories of people in it.
It was the dream he'd spoken of so cryptically so many nights ago -- a last resort. It had however, come into use, found as a necessity. It was hardly ideal but it was survival.
Everything boiled down to survival now.

Nothing could be ideal.
Ideal didn't exist in a world of survival.

He had not wanted to, but did so to get as far away from the Hunter as possible. He'd retreated into himself, into a place he'd not gone to for fear of never getting out.
He went willingly this time, no longer caring of he came back out.
And then he was woken up.
Some outside stranger shattered the dream that was fast becoming reality. Some outside voice -- human -- pulled away the shroud Renne was trying to wrap within.
Internally, he screamed in anger, frightened anger. No one had in the past been able to even read his mind, let alone get through to him when in that state of closing in on oneself.
How the hell did this human do it?

Renne started crawling laps around his prison cell and tried a light Analysis. He was careful. He had to be careful. He had to figure out what woke him up. What brought him back out into the world called Rhy'Din and its godforsaken denizens.

---------------------

It was near midnight when he'd figured it out. He'd paced the room full-on over a hundred times and even scaled the walls a few for good measure. He made no sound as he thought this out and pieced together how this human had gotten through.
It had to be something about the human's profession.
Healer of the mind -- no, what's the word?
Psychiatrist. That's right.

It was something to do with the profession.

It was something to do with how the profession worked.

Renne finally sat still on the floor and moved on to the next worrying, nagging thought.

Why was he not allowed to go back to sleep?
Sleep was his salvation -- it kept the Hunter away and it allowed for once, his world to remain whole. It reaffirmed a world where no one had died. No one had suddenly disappeared. No one played puppet with him. No bits of forgotten horror.

No lives taken by a hand that looked and felt like his own.

Sleep, that deep sleep, was his rescue away from the godforsaken reality.

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-27 16:35 EST
Stalwart
And Falling

"With his head upon my knee, there he met Eternity.
I proudly closed his eyes and then, I cried."
--Free and Green; David Kincaid






The shadows had a touch.

Renne had known that shadows could be touched -- one didn't need to see to know that. Some shadows were comforting, warm, quiet and peaceful. Some shadows were intriguing, curious, adventurous.
Other shadows were insidious, evil and things to stay away from.

...do not need to be able to see....

"Prove it then."

"I dub thee..."

Renne's mind was more scattered than ever. Were he in postmodern times, he might have been seen as one with a zany severity of ADHD. One moment, he scurried like an ant across the floor. The next, he was still and didn't move a muscle.
One moment, he was laughing quietly to himself. Allowing himself to laugh.
The next, he was crying and sifting his fingers through the bit of earth he'd retrieved from a place he wouldn't speak the name of out loud.

One moment, he was smiling like it was Christmas again.
The next, his voice let out a bone-chilling howl.
You still have all of me

-He was enraged. A predator was nearby and readying to tear him limb from limb. He had to survive. He couldn't let the predator come at him; couldn't let the predator spring the trap with the words.
The predator was in the walls.
The predator wanted him down.
The predator wanted him dead.

His eyes glowed in the dark with the fires of an animal seeking to survive. His ears slicked back and his teeth bared in futile warning. The predator was laughing.
The predator was speaking but Renne tried not to listen.

-The words. The words.-
No! I shall not hear them!
-Thunder in the sky, thunder in the sky-
It is calm. Away! I wish for calm!
-No calm. Thunder. Makers-of-thunder.-
Away with you.
-Thunder. Cold metal. Thunder-

He fled, leading the predator on a tight chase within a confining little room. Voices laughed from inside the walls -- they had to be silenced.
Talons raked across one wall. teeth sank into the flat, hard surface. The fire still burned inside and it was getting hotter. The laughter grew louder and he couldn't shut out the voice.
-Thunder. Deceit.-
No. Away, leave.
-Thunder. Alone.-

The predator was closing in on him. He moved faster and turned around to face his enemy. All he wanted to do was survive. All he wanted to do was live.-

Talons clawed at nothing. Useless eyes flared in red fury at something that was there and not-there. Silver-iridescent tears streamed down a face that no longer felt the wetness.
He still heard the predator laughing. He heard the predator come closer -- too close.
Much too close.
His teeth sank into something soft.

Two-inch talons found purchase in something soft and dry. Soft and dry grew into soft and drenched with moisture. Inch-long fangs sank into this soft thing without care. All he knew was that the laughing, the words were subsiding. All he knew was that the thunder was fading away.

He was defeating the predator.

NightRunner

Date: 2007-10-31 15:57 EST
Stalwart
And Still Trying

"Twice the battle, my friends, means twice the victory in the end."







He had become aware of his surroundings -- and of himself -- later than usual. It was alarming to say the least, but to learn why he hurt so much was cause for further investigation.
He didn't try a mental Analysis -- the danger of the Hunter was enough to put fear into him. He could however, run a physical Analysis and what he ended up finding was, to say the least, startling.

The attacks on prison walls had turned into attacks upon himself.

It was enough to have him shivering from more than the growing cold.

Beginning at about noon, Renne licked every inch of himself that he could touch to both clean himself and start an array of processes. His blood was thin and often difficult to clot without the added edge of his own saliva.
He didn't mind that he'd need to start his bathing function soon after -- what mattered immediately was ensuring he didn't bleed out. And it was about that time, when he'd made sure clotting had gone off well, his mind carefully edged toward trying to remember what had happened.
He tried to carefully determine why he turned upon himself.

----------------

It wasn't entirely successful, not that he was surprised. Still, a conclusion was better than nothing.
The Hunter had begun to develop new tactics.

He didn't know yet how he could use this but Renne, while lucid, couldn't afford not to keep everything in mind. The smallest thing could be the key to destroying this Hunter.
The smallest thing could be his key to mending whatever damage he might have done.
Remembered damage or not, it was still damage.
And it needed to be made right.