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 image by deadair @ flickr.com</style> round all the pieces up, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
___ Everything returns to where it once was. The rain strikes the hunter with a familiar sting. He catches Aylin’s words like they are unfamiliar moments in time, ones caught in a string of old memories. He is not thinking about the storm that has chased them for days now, not thinking of the one that threatens to break once more. He is thinking of days gone by and their glory--how all that fades in the face of what he now knows. Aylin’s words pass by hardly noticed. It is the faint sound of her laughter that stirs him from his twisted reverie and the memory of blood and snapping bones. He thinks about who he was raised to be and who he is now. Who is he now? Manhattan senses his unease and nudges his hock, urging him to move quicker towards shelter and take Aylin’s heed. The rain, she reminds him with annoyance, wishing he could have just listened to the mare at his side. She has been so good to him, remained his unwavering light, but he cannot help but let his mind drift. Perhaps it is where they are, here in the old country where castle stones stand in grave-like ruins for all the dead. Perhaps it is the time away from his family, so long now gone. Or perhaps it is Roanne in his heart, telling him of kinder days than the ones he has ever before known. Knox strides forward with a sudden urgency and stands before Aylin. Manhattan’s hackles raise in anticipation of what her master is about to say. She knows him better than she knows himself, she thinks--at the very least, his temper and his inability to know when to stop. The rain, she says again, her projection of a storm a clear message when paired with the exhaustion in her voice as it rings in his thoughts. But Knox is not listening to her, not now. “Aylin,” he starts, his blue eyes searching the depth of her green ones, hoping that they will match his sympathies even now, even before he speaks. “Have you ever thought about… going home?” And with that, Manhattan turns from the scene and drifts from the pair, seeking shelter on her own and settling in the distance, just close enough to see her master and his light. But still, she averts her gaze. This is not something she can bear to witness: the shadows of his thoughts leaving the containment of his mind and spilling out into reality, crossing over the innocent figure of Aylin. Manhattan will not be responsible for this, for her master’s insensitivity. And she will not stand by to watch it happen. — knox</style> |
