The days and RhyDin remained long, warm and sunny, but there was a change in the air. Ladies and gentlemen stopped taking their leisurely strolls and the city's more beautiful beaches were steadily vacated. Farmers spent less time in the cobblestone maze and more at their homes, preparing for the harvest. And when the wind blew, it smelled crisp. It reminded Alain of the smell of snow, the subtle sting that shocked the senses, but winter would be a while longer. Autumn had come, and the last time it did, the Detective had hung up his pistol and asked Lisa Jefferies to marry him. There had been every intention of leaving Kael's intrigues alone and letting Mr. Howe suffer helplessly under Corwyn's thumb; the affairs of angels and demons were not Mr. DeMuer's affair.
He was a country lord, and he had wanted to move out of RhyDin as much as he could and into Saint Aldwin. Maybe he would have lived up in the mountains, spent more time hunting and fishing and working with his hands than leading his miniature state, and raised a family with a large-hearted woman who adored him completely.
He realized then and now that their love had never been perfect, that at any other stage in his life he might not have loved her at all; but she was kind, and they were in love, and that had been enough for the tired and wounded hero of the July Riots. On nights like this one he would lay awake for what felt like hours and imagine what their children would have looked like and how their wedding would have been. He would have left strange and dangerous places like the Red Dragon Inn behind, because Lisa's world was not a world full of mystery and intrigue, seedy exchanges and an apathetic eye towards violence... and he wanted her world with every part of his being. She was kind and they were in love, and that had been enough.
It was the kind of life he imagined he would have had, if New Brittany had never gone to war with itself. Owning a bar in the Low Quarter, stealing Shannon's cigarettes, talking to Amalia about the drunks the night before... Maybe he would not have fallen in love, but maybe they would've been happy, and that would've been enough, too.
Sundays were his 'remembrance' days. He went to Mass or took communion privately with a Gallican father; then he bought flowers from a seller in the temple district, or from an old woman outside of Teobern if he was in the Barony; then he spent the afternoon in the cemetery in RhyDin, or at the Holy Cross Memorial in the Barony. This Sunday it had been Holy Cross, a beautiful place in a lofty meadow within a mile of Sainte-Ouen, within sight and sound of the sea. The trees were scattered but old, thick and twisted, and the markers were more numerous than a normal graveyard, one of several, in a Barony of only ten thousand souls.
But most that were remembered here had died long ago and far away, and often their remains were elsewhere. For example, Alain had erected a little marker for Lisa, and another for his mother - Chastity and Lily and Leslie were not forgotten, but even their painful memories could grow distant over time, and though he brought flowers where they were, he left them in RhyDin. Lisa's body lay not far from them, and his mother's in New Brittany which he assumed he would never return to, but both were remembered in the Barony. He laid flowers at their graves and prayed that God keep them... but more than that, he prayed so that they might hear him. Kael had tried to admonish him for it only once, and since Alain's stinging rebuke had remained silent on this special day of the week.
Sundays were for remembrance, and they were the nights that Alain lay awake in bed and dreamed with his eyes open, and he went to sleep carrying the same dreams and was never sure when it happened.
He had been dreaming of children with his eyes and her hair, sharper than her but kinder than him. She read a book of old British poetry that he thought was pompous and silly, but the words were beautiful in a flowery way and she liked to picture what they tried to paint; so she sat on the porch at the sprawling cabin that overlooked a mountain lake in Bretland, and shook her head and smiled at the sounds of her children playing with their father. He was a monster, and he roared and grabbed them and lifted them into the air, and they giggled and squealed. He was a monster, but the silver light had all but gone out of his eyes, and the affairs of angels and demons were left to men he assumed were more foolish than him.
"Cavan! Christine! Time for lunch," their mother called, and they wriggled out of Alain's arms and bolted for the house. Alain began to turn after them, but... something caught his eye, out of the right corner, up the lakeshore where the trees were still thick. A silver light flashed off the surface of the water where he couldn't recall any water at all, only the beginning of a good hunting trail that he followed for large and ancient deer, the oldest of their bucks seeming as big as a moose. This was no forest creature, whatever it was...
He waved a hand to let Lisa know he would be along soon, and then jogged lightly into the woods to find the signal.
The idea of the light as a signal was not very far from the truth. He had picked his way through only twenty feet of strangely unfamiliar trees and underbrush that his groggy dream-mind insisted become familiar again, wishing to return to the happy dream of the family he could have raised without any effect at all. His course was chosen for him in the end, and the trees became a different kind of familiar. He was in the meadow, Kael's meadow, and he went looking for the Fallen at the pool by the tree. The pool was much larger this time, and he looked at the horizon once he reached the edge of the water and realized it would now take the better part of a day to walk all the way around.
Stars and the bright amorphous clouds of space reflected strangely through the daylight, but they were ignored. Instead he saw the other side of the mirror, the part of Alain that the ordinary world could only rarely glimpse: a man very much like him in most features, whose eyes were completely alight with a haunting silver fire, who shared all of his scars and carried two black feathered wings on his back. When extended, Alain knew they were enormous, but they were folded into place and seemed to stir whenever Kael expressed any great change in his emotions.
"Come," Kael said, "walk with me, Alain," and Alain walked along the edge of the water in perfect step with his reflection, Kael.
(OOC - Credit for the title of this story, and the whole idea behind it, belongs to the player of Jewell Ravenlock. The original story entitled "Divergence" can be found here.)
He was a country lord, and he had wanted to move out of RhyDin as much as he could and into Saint Aldwin. Maybe he would have lived up in the mountains, spent more time hunting and fishing and working with his hands than leading his miniature state, and raised a family with a large-hearted woman who adored him completely.
He realized then and now that their love had never been perfect, that at any other stage in his life he might not have loved her at all; but she was kind, and they were in love, and that had been enough for the tired and wounded hero of the July Riots. On nights like this one he would lay awake for what felt like hours and imagine what their children would have looked like and how their wedding would have been. He would have left strange and dangerous places like the Red Dragon Inn behind, because Lisa's world was not a world full of mystery and intrigue, seedy exchanges and an apathetic eye towards violence... and he wanted her world with every part of his being. She was kind and they were in love, and that had been enough.
It was the kind of life he imagined he would have had, if New Brittany had never gone to war with itself. Owning a bar in the Low Quarter, stealing Shannon's cigarettes, talking to Amalia about the drunks the night before... Maybe he would not have fallen in love, but maybe they would've been happy, and that would've been enough, too.
Sundays were his 'remembrance' days. He went to Mass or took communion privately with a Gallican father; then he bought flowers from a seller in the temple district, or from an old woman outside of Teobern if he was in the Barony; then he spent the afternoon in the cemetery in RhyDin, or at the Holy Cross Memorial in the Barony. This Sunday it had been Holy Cross, a beautiful place in a lofty meadow within a mile of Sainte-Ouen, within sight and sound of the sea. The trees were scattered but old, thick and twisted, and the markers were more numerous than a normal graveyard, one of several, in a Barony of only ten thousand souls.
But most that were remembered here had died long ago and far away, and often their remains were elsewhere. For example, Alain had erected a little marker for Lisa, and another for his mother - Chastity and Lily and Leslie were not forgotten, but even their painful memories could grow distant over time, and though he brought flowers where they were, he left them in RhyDin. Lisa's body lay not far from them, and his mother's in New Brittany which he assumed he would never return to, but both were remembered in the Barony. He laid flowers at their graves and prayed that God keep them... but more than that, he prayed so that they might hear him. Kael had tried to admonish him for it only once, and since Alain's stinging rebuke had remained silent on this special day of the week.
Sundays were for remembrance, and they were the nights that Alain lay awake in bed and dreamed with his eyes open, and he went to sleep carrying the same dreams and was never sure when it happened.
He had been dreaming of children with his eyes and her hair, sharper than her but kinder than him. She read a book of old British poetry that he thought was pompous and silly, but the words were beautiful in a flowery way and she liked to picture what they tried to paint; so she sat on the porch at the sprawling cabin that overlooked a mountain lake in Bretland, and shook her head and smiled at the sounds of her children playing with their father. He was a monster, and he roared and grabbed them and lifted them into the air, and they giggled and squealed. He was a monster, but the silver light had all but gone out of his eyes, and the affairs of angels and demons were left to men he assumed were more foolish than him.
"Cavan! Christine! Time for lunch," their mother called, and they wriggled out of Alain's arms and bolted for the house. Alain began to turn after them, but... something caught his eye, out of the right corner, up the lakeshore where the trees were still thick. A silver light flashed off the surface of the water where he couldn't recall any water at all, only the beginning of a good hunting trail that he followed for large and ancient deer, the oldest of their bucks seeming as big as a moose. This was no forest creature, whatever it was...
He waved a hand to let Lisa know he would be along soon, and then jogged lightly into the woods to find the signal.
The idea of the light as a signal was not very far from the truth. He had picked his way through only twenty feet of strangely unfamiliar trees and underbrush that his groggy dream-mind insisted become familiar again, wishing to return to the happy dream of the family he could have raised without any effect at all. His course was chosen for him in the end, and the trees became a different kind of familiar. He was in the meadow, Kael's meadow, and he went looking for the Fallen at the pool by the tree. The pool was much larger this time, and he looked at the horizon once he reached the edge of the water and realized it would now take the better part of a day to walk all the way around.
Stars and the bright amorphous clouds of space reflected strangely through the daylight, but they were ignored. Instead he saw the other side of the mirror, the part of Alain that the ordinary world could only rarely glimpse: a man very much like him in most features, whose eyes were completely alight with a haunting silver fire, who shared all of his scars and carried two black feathered wings on his back. When extended, Alain knew they were enormous, but they were folded into place and seemed to stir whenever Kael expressed any great change in his emotions.
"Come," Kael said, "walk with me, Alain," and Alain walked along the edge of the water in perfect step with his reflection, Kael.
(OOC - Credit for the title of this story, and the whole idea behind it, belongs to the player of Jewell Ravenlock. The original story entitled "Divergence" can be found here.)