Memory 2: All God's People
Reed had once heard an aphorism stressing the need to 'stop and smell the roses.' Yet when he stepped between buildings in his foray through the marketplace to examine a sudden bloom, he was faced with a treat to the senses like none other; a a glassy, ringed crystal. And, truly, it was enough to give him pause.
Though to itself it only live and die...'>
He'd recalled the first time he'd seen such a thing- and more importantly, what he'd felt from it, with both discoveries led by a fallen ally... as was his other memory he'd seen at the whim of the elevator. Or, for that matter, Cara's. It was with slow trepidation that he allowed himself to even touch the flower's 'gift' by its rings and bring it in for examination. A slow sigh passed from his lips as the flower wilted away once more, eyeing a glimmer of light off the precious gem's surface. His stomach turned at the thought of what he'd see this time; a melee, perhaps? A slaughter? Yet his heart and his brain won out, his eyes closing as he drew a deep, slow breath.
"Gods have mercy..."
And as his finger brushed across the smooth, faceted surface, it turned to cold rain upon his skin.
_____
Somehow the air always seemed to smell cleaner... livelier after a fresh rainfall, but even through the moisture he could still smell musted paper, dusty leather, aged ink... and his stomach refused to quiet its trepidation, now turned to outright fear beneath the pounding of his heart. His sight, again, had taken its leave, but for now he may as well have been thankful, though he knew all too well those scents' origin... cold, underground libraries lined with tomes; sights the tree had shown him already, while he was waiting out the fire, though he was as blind to its secrets as ever.
But the damp, limp form falling into his arms was a new addition, as was the warm, skin-crawling and unmistakable trickle of blood onto his hands. This one was yet alive, though struggling to live, let alone to stand... his mouth went dry at that chilling feeling again upon his fingers. This time his ears, too, would yield nothing, but he could feel it in his heart... there was one secret that yet remained. With the last of his strength, his frail, dying friend- for he was now certain he could call him naught else- thrust a firm bunch of bound leather and paper into his hands. Even now he understood... and he felt his memory nodding with him.
When he slumped limp and cold into his arms one last time, Reed's grip strengthened upon both this ally and his final blessing... no. His last request upon his death.
Reed's fingers tensely brushed across the pages. It would not be in vain.
_____
By the heavens, am I a monster...?
It took him a moment to realize his senses had returned; having trusted his fingertips to those last few moments, he could have sworn he had no use for sight and sound. His heart, however, had risen none; another recollection, another corpse within or on his hands. He rose to his feet.
...He was already upon his feet. Had he shrunk? And why was everything so loud? As a clawtip went to scratch a long ear, his gaze shifted to his lapine reflection in a nearby puddle... a rabbitlike parody of his former self. His question was soon answered.
"...By the heavens, am I a monster?!"
Though to itself it only live and die...'>
He'd recalled the first time he'd seen such a thing- and more importantly, what he'd felt from it, with both discoveries led by a fallen ally... as was his other memory he'd seen at the whim of the elevator. Or, for that matter, Cara's. It was with slow trepidation that he allowed himself to even touch the flower's 'gift' by its rings and bring it in for examination. A slow sigh passed from his lips as the flower wilted away once more, eyeing a glimmer of light off the precious gem's surface. His stomach turned at the thought of what he'd see this time; a melee, perhaps? A slaughter? Yet his heart and his brain won out, his eyes closing as he drew a deep, slow breath.
"Gods have mercy..."
And as his finger brushed across the smooth, faceted surface, it turned to cold rain upon his skin.
_____
Somehow the air always seemed to smell cleaner... livelier after a fresh rainfall, but even through the moisture he could still smell musted paper, dusty leather, aged ink... and his stomach refused to quiet its trepidation, now turned to outright fear beneath the pounding of his heart. His sight, again, had taken its leave, but for now he may as well have been thankful, though he knew all too well those scents' origin... cold, underground libraries lined with tomes; sights the tree had shown him already, while he was waiting out the fire, though he was as blind to its secrets as ever.
But the damp, limp form falling into his arms was a new addition, as was the warm, skin-crawling and unmistakable trickle of blood onto his hands. This one was yet alive, though struggling to live, let alone to stand... his mouth went dry at that chilling feeling again upon his fingers. This time his ears, too, would yield nothing, but he could feel it in his heart... there was one secret that yet remained. With the last of his strength, his frail, dying friend- for he was now certain he could call him naught else- thrust a firm bunch of bound leather and paper into his hands. Even now he understood... and he felt his memory nodding with him.
When he slumped limp and cold into his arms one last time, Reed's grip strengthened upon both this ally and his final blessing... no. His last request upon his death.
Reed's fingers tensely brushed across the pages. It would not be in vain.
_____
By the heavens, am I a monster...?
It took him a moment to realize his senses had returned; having trusted his fingertips to those last few moments, he could have sworn he had no use for sight and sound. His heart, however, had risen none; another recollection, another corpse within or on his hands. He rose to his feet.
...He was already upon his feet. Had he shrunk? And why was everything so loud? As a clawtip went to scratch a long ear, his gaze shifted to his lapine reflection in a nearby puddle... a rabbitlike parody of his former self. His question was soon answered.
"...By the heavens, am I a monster?!"