Re: Croatoan [70]
anonymous
April 21 2009, 22:59:19 UTC
“…I see.”
“Do you have something you want to say to him?” Arthur takes a seat at the table, taking a sip of his green tea.
“…nothing in particular. I just…wanted to see if he was okay.”
“If you define ‘okay’ as not eating anything, staring vacantly at the ceiling, waking up sobbing in the middle of the night and breaking out into violent and terrified episodes, then he’s just dandy.”
“….”
“…I’m sorry, Kiku. That was rude of me.”
“No, it’s fine. It was a stupid question, anyway. He went through a traumatic experience. I’d be surprised if he reacted any other way, actually.”
“Yeah, but Alfred’s not usually one to take so long to recover.” Arthur props his chin up on his hand and looks at Alfred’s bedroom.
“Physical wounds are one thing; mental and emotional scars take much longer. It’s only been three weeks.”
“Right,” Arthur says, but his fingers scratch against the table.
“…I’m just curious. Do you still have the bag of herbs I gave you?”
“Eh? You mean the one with leaves in it? Yeah, I still have it. Why?”
“I was just curious.”
“Mmm. I’m sure I’ll find some use for those leaves.”
They sit on the phone in silence for a moment.
“Will you be leaving again soon?”
“Yes. I’ve found another way back into that world. I’m going to try and….” Kiku doesn’t finish his sentence.
Arthur sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “I wish I could help you,” Arthur murmurs.
“It’s like Clow Reed said, Arthur. Your story is ending. Mine is beginning. We may have intersected at some point, but perhaps now we need to go our separate ways.”
Arthur sighs. He hates it when Kiku makes sense. “…All right. I have to get back to Alfred. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“…Talk to you soon, as well, Arthur.” A click, and the line cuts off.
Arthur sighs and puts the phone back in its cradle. He leaves his mug of tea on the kitchen table and walks back into Alfred’s room, closing the door behind him.
Alfred seems to be peacefully asleep, making small twitches every now and then. Arthur looks on, his expression sad, and removes Alfred’s glasses, setting them next to the satchel of herbs.
“You don’t do much beyond sleep and stare now,” Arthur murmurs, sliding into the bed next to Alfred and curling against his side. “You’re starting to worry me, Alfred.”
He closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out. Perhaps if he’s simply here, he can help Alfred heal. ___
Arthur dreams.
Arthur knows he’s dreaming, because he’s floating above an ocean and flying alongside Ariel, who looks freer than he’s ever seen. Sometimes Ariel will turn into wind and curl around him; sometimes they laugh and fly side-by-side. That’s fine. Ariel is so free out here, and it is beautiful to watch.
They only stop when Arthur runs out of breath, hovering and gazing at one another.
“I never got to thank you for all your help,” Arthur says. Ariel wiggles and looks aside, and Arthur laughs.
“I’m glad that we can relax,” Arthur says. “Now that everything is over.”
Ariel’s smile fades, and Arthur feels his stomach fall.
“It’s not, is it.”
“Master Kirkland…” Ariel says, looking troubled. “You’ve destroyed Prospero’s book. You’ve killed Sycorax. But she’s left a very deep scar on Alfred’s mind. She -” Ariel shudders. “She invaded his mind and manipulated him,” Ariel murmurs. “And she established a link to the spirit realm through it. Though she is dead, her scar lingers on in Alfred.”
“Does this mean he can….”
“He can see sprites,” Ariel says. “But it doesn’t bring him joy as it brings you joy. It frightens him.” Ariel looks at Arthur with serious indigo eyes. “And while he has a connection to the spirit realm, he is not safe in mind or emotion. And not physically, either - the kin of those Fey he killed under Sycorax’s influence might seek vengeance.”
“No,” Arthur whispers. “Alfred….”
“You can save him,” says Ariel quickly. The tiny frame trembles, then looks away. “But there will be a price.”
“Do you have something you want to say to him?” Arthur takes a seat at the table, taking a sip of his green tea.
“…nothing in particular. I just…wanted to see if he was okay.”
“If you define ‘okay’ as not eating anything, staring vacantly at the ceiling, waking up sobbing in the middle of the night and breaking out into violent and terrified episodes, then he’s just dandy.”
“….”
“…I’m sorry, Kiku. That was rude of me.”
“No, it’s fine. It was a stupid question, anyway. He went through a traumatic experience. I’d be surprised if he reacted any other way, actually.”
“Yeah, but Alfred’s not usually one to take so long to recover.” Arthur props his chin up on his hand and looks at Alfred’s bedroom.
“Physical wounds are one thing; mental and emotional scars take much longer. It’s only been three weeks.”
“Right,” Arthur says, but his fingers scratch against the table.
“…I’m just curious. Do you still have the bag of herbs I gave you?”
“Eh? You mean the one with leaves in it? Yeah, I still have it. Why?”
“I was just curious.”
“Mmm. I’m sure I’ll find some use for those leaves.”
They sit on the phone in silence for a moment.
“Will you be leaving again soon?”
“Yes. I’ve found another way back into that world. I’m going to try and….” Kiku doesn’t finish his sentence.
Arthur sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “I wish I could help you,” Arthur murmurs.
“It’s like Clow Reed said, Arthur. Your story is ending. Mine is beginning. We may have intersected at some point, but perhaps now we need to go our separate ways.”
Arthur sighs. He hates it when Kiku makes sense. “…All right. I have to get back to Alfred. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“…Talk to you soon, as well, Arthur.” A click, and the line cuts off.
Arthur sighs and puts the phone back in its cradle. He leaves his mug of tea on the kitchen table and walks back into Alfred’s room, closing the door behind him.
Alfred seems to be peacefully asleep, making small twitches every now and then. Arthur looks on, his expression sad, and removes Alfred’s glasses, setting them next to the satchel of herbs.
“You don’t do much beyond sleep and stare now,” Arthur murmurs, sliding into the bed next to Alfred and curling against his side. “You’re starting to worry me, Alfred.”
He closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out. Perhaps if he’s simply here, he can help Alfred heal.
___
Arthur dreams.
Arthur knows he’s dreaming, because he’s floating above an ocean and flying alongside Ariel, who looks freer than he’s ever seen. Sometimes Ariel will turn into wind and curl around him; sometimes they laugh and fly side-by-side. That’s fine. Ariel is so free out here, and it is beautiful to watch.
They only stop when Arthur runs out of breath, hovering and gazing at one another.
“I never got to thank you for all your help,” Arthur says. Ariel wiggles and looks aside, and Arthur laughs.
“I’m glad that we can relax,” Arthur says. “Now that everything is over.”
Ariel’s smile fades, and Arthur feels his stomach fall.
“It’s not, is it.”
“Master Kirkland…” Ariel says, looking troubled. “You’ve destroyed Prospero’s book. You’ve killed Sycorax. But she’s left a very deep scar on Alfred’s mind. She -” Ariel shudders. “She invaded his mind and manipulated him,” Ariel murmurs. “And she established a link to the spirit realm through it. Though she is dead, her scar lingers on in Alfred.”
“Does this mean he can….”
“He can see sprites,” Ariel says. “But it doesn’t bring him joy as it brings you joy. It frightens him.” Ariel looks at Arthur with serious indigo eyes. “And while he has a connection to the spirit realm, he is not safe in mind or emotion. And not physically, either - the kin of those Fey he killed under Sycorax’s influence might seek vengeance.”
“No,” Arthur whispers. “Alfred….”
“You can save him,” says Ariel quickly. The tiny frame trembles, then looks away. “But there will be a price.”
“I’ll pay it,” Arthur says. “Tell me.”
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