What do we do for the dream to survive. [closed]
WHO: The Priest and Heine.
WHAT: He finds his body.
WHERE: Just outside the city.
WHEN: This afternoon.
Heine had been silent for days.
Even after Nill had came, there had been nothing.
At first, it was easy to dismiss this as Heine being his usual, broody and antisocial self. But it simply wasn't like him to not want to see the two of them--the Priest was his mentor, after all, and Nill was under both their care. Nothing had ever been so terrible that he had not dragged himself back to the church before, body full of holes and all.
But this time... he hadn't. He hadn't said a word, and the Priest could not even track him down. It had been too long. Far too long. And it began to pick at the Priest's mind--where was Heine? What could be so important, especially in this strange city...? Then the blood came, and he knew.
That entire morning, something had felt awfully wrong. More so than before, some ugly knot had formed in his stomach, and there was a great weight on his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten before, when he'd realized...
And then, it was on this afternoon, he'd found him.
The body had been on the very edge of the city, just outside the gates to the jungle, actually, with a bloody trail that led into the jungle behind it. Heine's body was slumped against the stone wall near the entrance, sagging down against the dirt and plants, eyes peacefully closed. Slashes across his face, across his whole body, actually, blood matting his white hair, one of his arms actually completely gone. His clothes were entirely red, as was his neck; it had been ripped out almost completely, including the "collar" that rested at the nape. The white cloth he usually kept around it had been ripped away.
That had been Heine's lifeline. Now it was gone. But not only that, but the city itself had dulled down whatever power it had given them--he wondered if they were rendered useless here? And he had gone too deep into the jungle, listened too readily to the call of that blood. Something had gotten to him. And not only was it just his own blood he was covered in, but also...
It was that scent that had led him out here in the first place. It was what lead the Priest to him now.
He could not see it, but he could feel. The Priest knelt down in front of the corpse and stared blankly ahead. He reached out--his hand placed itself against Heine's cheek, feeling out the structure of his face to confirm it was him. Down his neck. At the collar. It was then he realized that he was shaking slightly.
The Priest took a ragged breath and withdrew, palm upturned. He felt the blood drying on the skin, then, closing two of his fingers together and rubbing, feeling it become sticky.
"It is very easy to give up hope now, isn't it," he said softly, as if speaking to the other man. "We have endured so much already, have we not. Too much to let it all go at this point." The Priest moved then, shifting closer to Heine and then turning around, resting his back to the wall as he sat down beside him. His head bowed slightly. "But this city, it--"
He cut himself short for a moment, and his blank expression was broken with a small smile. "It takes everything from us, doesn't it." There was a sigh, as he tilted his head to the side momentarily, staring in the other man's direction, seeing nothing. "No matter what place we come from, what we have seen in our lives, in our own worlds--it becomes invalid the moment we come to this city. We are nothing."
Biting down on his bottom lip, one of his legs bent, curled upward. He folded his palms over the knee, and rested his chin down over them. "And I feel very human right now. I am feeling things that a human should feel. Egotism, of a sort, as I am experiencing a sort of sense of... well, that I have been wronged in some fashion. In spite of my insignificance, I want to be an exception. After all... I had saved you for a reason. But whatever ideas, whatever hopes I'd had for you, for your friends, it means nothing now, I should think. Just like that, it is nothing." His eyes shut. "It's cruel, isn't it. We have taken what was given to us for granted."
With a small sniff, one hand slid away, and he placed it to his cheek. Fingers rubbing beneath one eye, under his glasses, they wiped away the wetness. "Ah. How I wish there was a God at the moment."
WHAT: He finds his body.
WHERE: Just outside the city.
WHEN: This afternoon.
Heine had been silent for days.
Even after Nill had came, there had been nothing.
At first, it was easy to dismiss this as Heine being his usual, broody and antisocial self. But it simply wasn't like him to not want to see the two of them--the Priest was his mentor, after all, and Nill was under both their care. Nothing had ever been so terrible that he had not dragged himself back to the church before, body full of holes and all.
But this time... he hadn't. He hadn't said a word, and the Priest could not even track him down. It had been too long. Far too long. And it began to pick at the Priest's mind--where was Heine? What could be so important, especially in this strange city...? Then the blood came, and he knew.
That entire morning, something had felt awfully wrong. More so than before, some ugly knot had formed in his stomach, and there was a great weight on his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten before, when he'd realized...
And then, it was on this afternoon, he'd found him.
The body had been on the very edge of the city, just outside the gates to the jungle, actually, with a bloody trail that led into the jungle behind it. Heine's body was slumped against the stone wall near the entrance, sagging down against the dirt and plants, eyes peacefully closed. Slashes across his face, across his whole body, actually, blood matting his white hair, one of his arms actually completely gone. His clothes were entirely red, as was his neck; it had been ripped out almost completely, including the "collar" that rested at the nape. The white cloth he usually kept around it had been ripped away.
That had been Heine's lifeline. Now it was gone. But not only that, but the city itself had dulled down whatever power it had given them--he wondered if they were rendered useless here? And he had gone too deep into the jungle, listened too readily to the call of that blood. Something had gotten to him. And not only was it just his own blood he was covered in, but also...
It was that scent that had led him out here in the first place. It was what lead the Priest to him now.
He could not see it, but he could feel. The Priest knelt down in front of the corpse and stared blankly ahead. He reached out--his hand placed itself against Heine's cheek, feeling out the structure of his face to confirm it was him. Down his neck. At the collar. It was then he realized that he was shaking slightly.
The Priest took a ragged breath and withdrew, palm upturned. He felt the blood drying on the skin, then, closing two of his fingers together and rubbing, feeling it become sticky.
"It is very easy to give up hope now, isn't it," he said softly, as if speaking to the other man. "We have endured so much already, have we not. Too much to let it all go at this point." The Priest moved then, shifting closer to Heine and then turning around, resting his back to the wall as he sat down beside him. His head bowed slightly. "But this city, it--"
He cut himself short for a moment, and his blank expression was broken with a small smile. "It takes everything from us, doesn't it." There was a sigh, as he tilted his head to the side momentarily, staring in the other man's direction, seeing nothing. "No matter what place we come from, what we have seen in our lives, in our own worlds--it becomes invalid the moment we come to this city. We are nothing."
Biting down on his bottom lip, one of his legs bent, curled upward. He folded his palms over the knee, and rested his chin down over them. "And I feel very human right now. I am feeling things that a human should feel. Egotism, of a sort, as I am experiencing a sort of sense of... well, that I have been wronged in some fashion. In spite of my insignificance, I want to be an exception. After all... I had saved you for a reason. But whatever ideas, whatever hopes I'd had for you, for your friends, it means nothing now, I should think. Just like that, it is nothing." His eyes shut. "It's cruel, isn't it. We have taken what was given to us for granted."
With a small sniff, one hand slid away, and he placed it to his cheek. Fingers rubbing beneath one eye, under his glasses, they wiped away the wetness. "Ah. How I wish there was a God at the moment."