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Author Topic: [EVENT] A Shadow, A Dream [Assault on Utopia]  (Read 15 times)

A Shadow, A Dream [Assault on Utopia]
« on: September 17, 2020, 12:13:26 AM »
Content Warning: Descriptions of grievous injury, specifically eye/head trauma.

As a boy, he had been clumsy.  Growth came in great spurts that left him unfamiliar with his own body’s dimensions; he tripped often, and almost always had scabs and bruises decorating his freckled shins.  In his earliest days, he would run to his mother, grabbing handfuls of her skirts as he pressed his face to her legs and sobbed.  Now, there was nobody to run to.  Now, he fell again and again and again.  The knees of his white trousers were grubby, one torn open, fraying threads sticky with blood.  Every time he rose, his head throbbed in protest, his movements growing slower and less coordinated. 

Still the red tide rose.  A disruptive line in his sight as blood filled the chamber of his left iris, much like when one was half-submerged in water.  When in the river.  When in the lake.  He remembered something then, a day of sunshine and an urgent kiss, cool water lapping around his waist.  Marco tilted his head, the movement eerie, his breath faltering as he was sure water was about to rush into his lungs, that he would drown with his feet planted on the ground.  Unbeknownst to him, his right eye was hemorrhaging, already dead in its socket.

And then he saw him, as ash swirled and fell like snow.  Beautiful.  Terrible.  Frustrating.  Everything.  Kaien.  As thought summoned by the memory.  It couldn’t be him though, it didn’t make sense.  Marco halted, boots scraping unsteadily against the cobblestones.

“Did you…” His voice was hoarse, little more than a rumble low in his throat.  “… did you die too?”

His mother had spun him sweet tales of death, telling him that when his time came, he would be greeted by those who loved him most, by those who had gone before.  That could be the only answer.  Dalton would be out here somewhere too, wandering, his broken bones creaking, his uniform blooming with roses where jagged ivory fragments had pierced his skin.  Mara’s pale hands would hold her innards in place.  This was their Hell.  No release of oblivion, only suffering.

What the fuck was he even thinking about?

“It’s getting dark, Kaien.”  There was an edge of gentle rebuke to Marco’s voice, as though his errant friend had stayed up past curfew.  The heel of his speckled hand had been pressed instinctively to his wounded temple, but now he took it away.  Fresh blood raced down over drying tracks, striping his pale shirt and pattering on the dusty ground.  Marco frowned, opening and closing his fist, as though confused by the sticky, tacky crimson.  So much blood.  So much more than he had expected.  But there had been more in Mara. 

“Want me - ”  Except Kaien didn’t want him, wasn’t that the point?  He was unwanted.  By his mother too, even if she protested to the contrary.  Marco’s eyes fluttered closed a moment, struggling to formulate the simple words he wished to speak.  He gave his dark head a little shake, like a dog with water irritating its ears, and felt a dazzling bloom of pain cut through the constant, droning ache from his fractured skull.  “Want me to walk you home?”
Logged


 

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