It was a sudden heart attack. Completely unexpected. He was on vacation in Northern California and we had to drive 8 hours to get there... we got there in 6.... He was in a coma upon arrival since he had had a full on cardiac arrest in the car. They had resuscitated him, but his brain had been too long without oxygen and had already acquired permanent brain damage. By the next morning, he was gone.
This has been my worst nightmare since I was 12... I now have two houses, three cars, and tons of bills to worry about, and no job. Personally, I have no idea where I'm going to be in 6 months... but I'd like the world to know that I still love life, and I am still going to work my hardest to make this world a better place. If it means I must crawl on the streets, then so be it... but I know that Life has provided for me. I will find the way. I am powerful, and my faith is powerful, and in times like this one can really see the advantage that people of faith have over people of "no faith" -- I am full of hope, love, and ambition. I am full of direction. I will survive... somehow.
My father was a good man. I have no memory of him ever being mad at me, ever raising his voice, ever having a bad mood or a negative word. I loved my dad. I still do, and I know he's still here with me, watching over me, helping me every step of the way. I love dad so much. He was my friend, my confidante, my hero... he will be sorely, sorely missed. But in the same way, he was the one thing holding me back from being the powerful soul that I am. I am no longer afraid to go out there and face the world. With no one to protect me, I shall be my own protector. So fuck you, all you hateful, bitter, cynical jerks... I am a light that burns true and strong. I am my own lantern. I am my own powerhouse of spiritual strength and don't you ever forget it. Life is amazing. Although I know I will be suffering, I am looking forward to all the beautiful artwork that will come out of it. In a way, my soul feels home. My soul feels like this has always been me, that this suffering is familiar, that once again here I am, wrapped firmly in the sweet arms of depression and the unknown, with no safety net and no veil to hide me. Well, I don't need to hide anymore. I will save this world. I will save you all from yourselves. I do not need a shelter -- God is my shelter, and I will be yours.
I love you, Dad. I will miss you. But just know that everything you have taught me, all of your wisdom, your encouragement, your kindness and your thoughtfulness, will live on in me and through my actions. You will not be forgotten, not by a long-shot, and you have left a permanent mark on this world. Your permanent mark is kindness, and all of the people you moved and changed through your kindness, all of the dreams that came true and all of the doors you opened for the people around you. Dad, I will live to be like you, and carry on your dream. I will live and be kind.
I love you. Goodbye.
I go on dates now and then... you know, just to break up the routine. Anyway, the date started out well... to be honest, it was a third date. The first time, the guy showed up at my house wearing a velvet blue coat, long hair tied back in a pony tail, sky-blue sneakers and skinny jeans. Not my idea of style, thank you very much. That look might work on sixteen-year-old boys, but not twenty-two-year-old half-men creatures who are supposed to be impressing me.
Anyway, first date bombed, but he was funny and nice so I went on a second date. It was better, but he tried to kiss me after only half an hour, and that was a little too fast for me. Slow down there, Blue Velvet. Not sure if I want to try out those lips yet. Ew. I left soon after.
Third date happened... much more fun this time, still didn't kiss, he backed off after the original rejection and now neither of us knew what we were doing. It was destined to fail.
Then last night happened. We went to dinner, got sushi, ate, only to find out that I'M THE ONE PAYING THE BILL. What the fuck? Pardon my French, but I need some warning if I'm going to be paying for a date -- not just have it dumped on me.
The way he let me know was confusing too. We ate, afterwards he said, "Thank you, by the way."
Me: "Huh?"
Blue Velvet: "Oh, I thought you were paying this time."
Me: "Uh... well, I mean, can we go halves? I don't have a job right now and money is a problem." Did I mention that he is a programmer and rents his own house and pays for his own car?
Blue Velvet: "I would, but I left my wallet in the car, and I only have a card... I have six dollars at my house though." The meal cost me $20. His dinner was more than half of that.
I don't have a job right now. I don't have money. I recently spent three hellish nights babysitting a dying dog so I could scrounge together enough money to buy myself some new clothes and a birthday present for my friend.
What kind of man lets a woman buy him dinner? Shameful. Instead of men taking care of women, we're breeding a society where men get full advantage -- they get gorgeous companionship, entertainment, sex, and then free dinners. No. Men and women are different. Men should take pride in caring for women, because we need each other, and if you buy me dinner and treat me like a queen, then I'll return the favor in all the wonderful ways that women CAN return favors. Just give me some respect. That's all I ask.
Which, by the way, I don't find sex jokes on dates cute. They're rude. And offensive. And leave me feeling uncomfortable.
To read from the beginning: The Winding Way, Chapter 1
"I am named Lucifer, Lord of Night, and I am the Master of Chaos and Dreams. I am an Immortal, and I must return to my realms to reclaim my title, or else I am Master no more."
"Master? Chaos? What?" Aden asked, bewildered. Sure, she had a book on the Immortals, but nothing so specific.
"It is unreasonable for me to expect one such as you to know anything about these matters," he sniffed.
Still stoic and aloof. Aden hated it. She gripped the book in one hand and glared firmly. "You said you need to 'reclaim your title' -- was it lost somehow?"
Finally a hesitation. The Immortal didn't meet her eyes and stared past her at the trees, at first as though he wouldn't answer at all. Then he finally said, "I was otherwise occupied."
No further information seemed to be forthcoming on the matter.
Aden gritted her teeth and tried to think through the situation. She usually didn't have problems with people doubting her abilities -- she was a student, after all, the most respected occupation in all of the Incarnate. If not learn and succeed, what else could she do?
"Look, if you have to get back to the Immortal so bad, I can help you get there," she said, almost hating herself. Why was she so desperate to help this... being? "Do you know how to travel the Incarnate?"
Lucifer shook his head slowly, still refusing to look at her.
"Well, then I'll take you to the next town, there should be someone there who knows how to get back to the Immortal," Aden said agreeably. "I mean, how hard can it be?" she muttered after.
"It will be a long journey," the Immortal said, finally turning to look down at her. The expression in his dark eyes was unfathomable. "And in all honesty, I am unsure of your intentions."
"Huh?" Aden frowned.
"I mean, can I trust you?" the Immortal stared at her, and for a moment she felt an almost-awkwardness emanating from him. "I am, Incarnate, in need of a guide. I know not of this realm, not of time nor space nor direction -- such things are not of my Nature. I know of the ideal of Trust, but not whether I can trust you."
"Do you always speak like a text book?" Aden grumbled, using it as an excuse to mull over his question. He had a point, and in all honesty she did have an ulterior motive -- by signing on with him, she'd gain valuable experience, and most likely be the envy of her peers. Plus he was an anomaly... and beautiful. There was just something about the whimsy of it all that attracted her; semester was done for the winter, and she would have nothing to do for a full two months before heading back to classes. She didn't want to sit in a chilly town and relax -- she wanted something new. Something fun.
Now how to make a creature from an entirely different level of cosmic thought understand all of that?
He beat her to it. "How about we sign a contract."
"A what?"
"A contract, young one," the Immortal intoned. As he said it, a feather drifted down, and before her eyes Aden saw it shift into paper. Another feather floated up next to it, forming itself into a pen, already dripping with ink. "These are all-binding, but do not fear. It simply states that you will help me return to the Immortal."
"Wait, I can't read this.”
And sure enough, she couldn't read it at all. It was a blank piece of paper. There wasn't even a line to sign on. She placed her fingers around the quil haltingly, unnerved by its floating presence, and snatched the paper in her other hand, holding it up to him. “Look, there's nothing written on it.”
“Written... I do not write, child.”
“What?” she choked, taken aback and even more confused than before. “Can't write? Well can't you read?”
“Oh yes, I can read, but I do not write.”
“But... how?”
“I have no need to write, young one. The paper,” he took it from her hand without asking, “is a symbolic representation of our all-binding contract. It does not need words, nor does it need your signature. Place your hand upon it.”
Aden frowned, suspicious. “What's going to happen?”
“In the Immortal, we transfer information instantaneously, since we have no concept of boundaries. Place your hand upon the paper, and you will... understand the contract.”
Aden was hesitant, for more than good reason. But here was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Here was something she had never experienced before. As a Student, it was her duty to Experience as vast and wide a range of things as possible. And when was the last time an Incarnate had a chance like this?
“Alright, here we go,” she muttered, and put her hand on the paper.
A tingling against the tips of her fingers, but that was all. Then suddenly something bloomed in her chest, something that reminded her of a flower, and what felt like a huge air bubble traveled up her throat... only instead of coming out her mouth, it continued into her head, where it expanded. Quite suddenly she felt light.
And then the emotions funneled through. Aden had never experienced anything like it -- direct feelings and understandings coursed through her, concepts and images that she couldn't fully interpret, yet which translated into overall sensations of trust, sincerity, partnership, and... severity. There was something gray and dark hanging over the entire ordeal, as though the situation was very dire. Aden wondered once again what had happened to her new companion -- what had made him Fall into the world of the Incarnate? Had he truly Fallen, or was something exceptional happening here?
Suddenly a list of information transferred through her, and she understood what would be expected of her -- honesty, loyalty, and a vow to see it through to the end. And on his side, he was offering....
“Nothing?” she blinked, surprised that she could talk while all of this was going on inside of her.
When the Immortal responded, she wasn't sure if she heard him or felt him through their strange new connection. “You are a Student, are you not?”
She was surprised. “How did you know that?”
“I am all-knowing, young one,” the Immortal replied, with no inflection of emotion. “But your just rewards will be through the Experience, so whereas I offer you nothing, I actually offer you exactly what you want.”
“Oh.” So he knew. She should have guessed -- the Immortals were as gods, after all. As close to gods as existed between the worlds of the Immortal and the Incarnate.
“How do I know you're not lying to me?” she asked suddenly, the thought having just occurred to her. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“The Immortals do not lie,” Lucifer answered fluidly, one perfect eyebrow raised. “We know what a lie is, and we can tell when someone lies, but we do not lie.”
Aden frowned. “Why not?”
“Because it is not in our Nature.”
Another vague answer -- for a fourth-year student, Aden was beginning to feel that she had missed out on some very serious information. “So then how do you know when someone else is lying?”
“Because,” he said plainly, as though stating a fact about the weather, “We know everything. It is the actions of things we have no familiarity with, since we are the containers of knowledge, not the actors of experience. That is your job, Incarnate.”
“Look, this is impossible, every time I try to get a straight answer out of you, I get a lecture!” Aden dropped her hand from the contract and picked up the quil she had set aside earlier. “I'll come along, alright? I'll help you out. And look, even though this contract is forcing me to help you, I'm doing it of my own free will, okay?”
The Immortal's eyes glinted, and for a moment she got the horrible feeling that he knew something she didn't. “Of course, young one,” he nodded. “Your assistance will never be forgotten.”
She had to reflect for a moment on just how literally he meant that.
“Alright,” she said. Then, “I can do this.”
She set the tip of the quil to paper.
Scratched in her signature. A-d-e-n P. L-o-s-t.
“Aden Lost,” the Immortal murmured, and turned the paper to look down at it. He raised a finger, and it was then that she saw his left hand, the one he had healed, how the fingers were shaped into black, clawed points. The claws were long and glinted almost metalically, as though part of his armor. He tapped his index finger against the paper and suddenly she saw a signature appear across it; elegant, long script compared to her tiny scribble. When she focused on it, however, she no longer saw the signature or the letters, but rather... somehow... felt his name.
“I do not write, young one,” he reminded her.
“Stop calling me that,” she growled, embarrassed that he had caught her staring. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and clutched the book in her hand. For a moment they stood there like that, hesitating, silent and awkward. She kept expecting something fantastical to happen since she had signed the contract, but no event or transformation took place. The sounds of the forest grew loud. Finally Aden looked back the way she had come. “The road is that way,” she said, pointing. A brisk wind suddenly skipped up, brushing at her plaid skirt and loose brown hair. She had decided to walk home in uniform, since her university clothing was no more suited for winter than the casual summer garb she had back at her dorm.
“Let us go,” Lucifer intoned.
Aden led him silently through the trees towards the road she had been following, her sense of direction more instinctive than knowledge-based. They reached the road soon and she paused again, looking up and down the dirt track, suddenly worried. Where to go? Who in the Incarnate knew how to get to the Immortal? It wasn't a simple matter of crossing a border, after all -- this was a matter of transcending dimensions. It required not just a change in reality, but a change in Consciousness -- to walk a path that was experienced as much spiritually as it was physically, which would blur the meaning of time and space. Then there was the matter of whether or not she could even enter the Immortal, or if it would somehow transform her into something that wasn't even herself anymore.
Maybe she should have thought this through before signing the contract.
Aden shook off her doubts; as a Student, it was her job to investigate, not worry. It was too late now, and she had her Experience to consider. But which way to go? Who in this world knew anything about the Immortals, other than historians looking at dusty old texts? She couldn't very well take him to her university; this was her discovery, after all, and they wouldn't know what to do with him... and she didn't want to waste time going home if it would do her no good....
She riffled the pages of her book with her thumb, then suddenly she paused.
The book. A brief foray into the world of the Immortal. She was holding it in her hand.
And all books had authors.
She snatched up the text quickly and checked the front cover, then the binding; it was an old, leather-bound thing, and no marks adorned the front or side. How could it be that she hadn't checked the author's name before? She opened it, turning to the title page... and let out a sigh of relief.
“And to think, when I pulled you out of the school's library for some vacation reading, you would have come to such use,” she told the book, straightening her glasses. “Written by Elo J. Hymn.” Luckily right below the author's name was the city and date it had been printed. Since authors usually printed their own books, and printing itself was a fairly new, bulky, and awkward process, chances were he would be found in the same city. “Krishna,” she murmured.
The Immortal was standing silently next to her, then he looked down at the book. “This book holds information about the Immortals, how did that come to be?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I do not guess.”
“Don't be so literal,” she sighed... she wondered if Immortals could be anything but literal. “Well somebody wrote it, and we're going to find him and ask him how to get you home. We're headed to the city of Krishna -- let's see here...” she stopped for a moment and rummaged through her book bag. Finally she produced a map. “According to this, we continue on this road for a bit, then take a fork about a mile or two that way,” she pointed into the forest in the direction she had been heading. Thankfully Krishna wasn't back the way she'd come; she didn't want to risk running into any of her schoolmates who lived closer to the university. She'd only been walking a few days, after all. Still, the town was awfully close to the border between the Goodlands and the Opaque. Evil was a force in the Incarnate that could not be ignored... they wouldn't be crossing into its domain, but they would be damned close.
The Immortal hardly looked interested. She turned to look up at him, curious, and her breath caught in her throat all over again -- if this was her traveling companion, then the trip was bound to be easy on the eyes. His ribbon-and-feather plated hair was the most perfect black she had ever seen, his skin flawless, his features smooth. He was ageless, it seemed, embodying all of youth and all of wise years into one perfect being. She knew she didn't look like much with her mousy brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses, but in this situation, that didn't matter in the least. Immortals were not sexual creatures. He probably could care less about how she dressed or what condition her eyes were in.
Black feathers still managed to be falling and dusting the ground around him, though she was never sure where they fell from, since his wings had solidified into metal ornaments. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps the feathers somehow melted from the armor itself.
“Let's get going,” she said, and started off down the path. “Just stick by me and we'll do just fine.”
“I know,” he responded, falling into step beside her.
Aden couldn't help but feel a boost of confidence at this. Immortals didn't lie, after all. They knew everything.
This winter vacation was going to be better than she ever anticipated.
So every day I look for that message, that whisper, that gift that we are not alone. The dialogue between our reality and the infinite is spoken vastly through the heart, and though many refuse to listen out of fear, prejudice, or ignorance, it is easy to accomplish if one just releases their boundaries. People always blame god for not speaking to them -- well when was the last time they truly expected an answer? When was the last time they heart-and-soul talked to god? How do they expect to hear something that they don't even believe in?
So perhaps, here and now, this is your message for the day: love, forgive, reflect, and listen.
"We should camp out here and wait until morning," Aden suggested, stumbling in the dark.
"Light," Lucyfer said, as though commanding her to produce it.
She sneered. "No, half-wit, I don't have any light, otherwise I'd already-"
Fzzzz!
A sudden bright, burning light shot up into the air, making Aden blink rapidly, momentarily blinded. Lucyfer reached out and grabbed her hand so she didn't fall backwards, she was so startled. She brushed him off, uncomfortable with the gesture.
"What was that?" she asked, unnerved by his lack of surprise.
"A light," he said calmly. "What, you think we Immortals do not have abilities of our own?"
She gawked at him, unsure of how to respond to that. Abilities of their own? As in, powers to do certain things? "Like what?" she asked quietly.
He smiled then; a cold, quizzical smile that was purely gesture. "I have simply embodied Light as a means to guide us. That ball of flame is actually a part of me."
"A part of...?" Aden frowned.
He didn't answer; rather, grabbed her by the wrist and began leading her forward, thrusting her before him. "Walk, human," he directed, the light hovering about her head. His tall shadow cast a long row in front of them. "Direct me to where these paths diverge."
"Uh... alright," Aden stuttered, pausing for a moment to get her bearings. She yanked the map out from around her belt and checked it, staring at the jumble of lines that ran across the pages, some of them stopping and starting suddenly for no reason. It all made very little sense, and yet when she looked closely enough....
"I believe it's this way," she said, and continued following up the path. The flame cast barely enough light to see within five feet in every direction, and most of that was blocked out by thick, gnarly trees. The grass was thick underfoot though and softened all sounds, so she was left to listen to the distant pounding of rain on the overhead foliage and the slight rustling along the forest floor. It was eerily dark and quiet. Unnaturally so.
"Walk closer to me," Lucyfer spoke suddenly, his voice hushed. "There is... something ahead."
Aden didn't ask how he knew -- she backed up instead, until she felt his hand on her shoulder. It was just firm enough against her skin to reassure her, and she continued forward through the night, careful of where she stepped in case of snakes.
Finally, after almost half an hour of stumbling forward along the path, which had become quite overgrown, the forest suddenly opened up. They stepped into a wide clearing, where the trees lengthened and broadened, turning from bent and wretched to proud and tall. The trail ended in the center of it, and from it several pathways opened and wove off through the wilderness, some paved in stone, others barely visible from the overgrowth. For a brief, spiraling moment she felt dizzy, like her sense of direction was purposefully being fooled by the place. Aden took a faltering step forward.
"Well, Lucyfer?" this was the moment they had banked on, the reason why she had brought them this far. "Which path should we take?"
The gift of the Immortals was that they contained all-knowledge. They knew the information about anything, including the proper direction to take. In this instance, they were both hoping that Lucyfer would be able to pick the correct path once he was presented with a choice. True choice could only be made by true Knowledge, after all.
But Lucyfer stood there for a long time, silent, his head bowed in thought. Several times he shifted his weight, but said nothing. Aden watched him in the dim light, shivering in the brisk wind, wishing her schoolgirl uniform was just that much thicker and longer.
Finally Lucyfer folded his arms thoughtfully. "They are not those kinds of paths," he said, his eyes closed.
Aden paused, looking him over, surprised and altogether nonplussed. "What?" she asked flatly.
"They are not... paths in that sense of the word, it seems," he said slowly, as though having difficulty relaying his thoughts into words. He grunted in what could have been annoyance. "Usually I don't need to explain anything."
She nodded, relaxing slightly. "Well, go on then, what are they if not paths?"
"Well, they are pathways in a sense, just... the direction they take is not one that involves space, or distance, or...." Lucyfer trailed off.
Aden was even more confused now, though she had a certain suspicion forming that left a cold patch in her stomach. "Well, what should we do then?"
"We ask for directions," Lucyfer murmured.
"What?"
The tall, black-clad man stepped majestically over to the border of the wood and stooped down, and Aden's eyes widened when he picked up a small object. On closer inspection, it was a frog. He held the frog close to eye level and said, "I need ask you a question, good sir."
His rich tenor seemed to strike a certain chord in the air, and Aden watched, curious and somewhat entranced, but as the minutes stretches on, she began to grin.
"Haha, look Lucyfer, maybe you don't realize this but animals don't talk in the Incarnate." She laughed, rolling her eyes. "See, you Immortals think you know everything, but there's always room for exception--"
This time it was Lucyfer who was grinning, and there was just such a sharpness to his grin that it brought her words to a stumbling halt. "What's so funny?" she asked.
Lucyfer was still turned toward the frog, but watching her out of the corner of his eye. "You should realize, my young lady, that the Immortal and the Incarnate cross and effect each other in all instances. In this case, what I can do in the Immortal realm, I can demand to do in the Incarnate realm, and it is my right... I am not bound by the Incarnate's laws." He turned back to the frog. "Are you awake now, my new friend?"
Aden's eyes widened as she watched Lucyfer's sharpened, black-gloved fingers trail across the frog's body, a wisp of extra mist seeming to swirl around it. Then she gasped -- no, not from around it, from inside of it! She was looking at the frog's... well, essence. The frog's soul.
Lucyfer grinned at her expression.
"My Lord of Night," the frog said, its voice a croaky, low vibrato. "How might I serve your needs?"
"I seek the path that leads to the Dreaming Keep. Which one will lead true?"
The frog croaked for a moment low in its throat, then the words burst and streamed forth from the mist surrounding its body. "All paths lead True," the toad croaked. Aden frowned, trying to understand its muddled speech. "Yet all shall lead False if the journeyman proves False."
"What?" Aden murmured.
The frog continued. "One must be true to one's own self and one's own judgement, and choose the path they should walk down. This path," the frog mist motioned to their right, "leads to Happiness, this path leads to Honor, this path leads to Justice," he continued pointing, "this path to Liberty, and this path to Knowledge. Choose one."
Aden stood, her feet twitching, gazing at the paths that circled them on all sides. The stone path of Knowledge, the dank earth of Honor....
"What if we choose the wrong one?" she asked.
At first the frog didn't respond, then Lucyfer prompted it and the beast croaked, "If you are True to yourself, you cannot choose the wrong one."
"True to myself... true to myself?" Aden muttered, turning back to the paths. Lucyfer thanked the frog and set it back on the ground, coming to stand next to her.
They stood for a long, silent moment, his orange light fizzling between them, giving off warmth. Aden folded her arms around herself and glanced at her silent, shadowy companion.
"You know, at times I think I almost have memories of doing this kind of stuff, in past lives," she said with a wry smile.
Lucyfer nodded absently.
"Think we knew each other in one of my past lives?"
"I have known few humans," Lucyfer said vaguely. "You do not seem like anyone I have known before."
"Huh..." she chewed her lip for a moment, tuning to look at the sandy dirt of Justice. "True to myself... how can you be true to yourself, Lucyfer, if you can't even feel? I mean, how do you choose the path that's right for you?"
"Perhaps it is easier for me, because I don't feel," Lucyfer said quietly. "It is obvious to me that I must take the path of Knowledge, since that is the way of my kind."
"Huh, I don't think that," Aden grunted.
"Don't you?"
"Nope, I think you should challenge yourself, you know? I mean isn't that the point of a path? To move along it?" Aden paused and chewed her lip a moment more, thinking. "The frog warned us to be true to ourselves. I think in that case it means be true to what you really want. If you take the path of Knowledge, you're just standing still because it's not taking you anywhere, you already know everything it has to offer. You'll just end up where you started." Aden stood for a long time once again, deep in thought. "I think we're going to have to take separate paths."
"Yes," Lucyfer agreed.
"I think I've decided."
With that Aden slung her book bag over her shoulder and headed for the sandy, overgrown path of Happiness.
"What's that?" Lucyfer called after her. "I thought you were supposed to challenge yourself?"
"This is a challenge!" she called back to him, already disappearing through the bushes. The light he had created trailed after her. "Have you ever known anyone to have reached Happiness? But it seems like the only thing worth pursuing!"
The flash of her high white socks disappeared into the trees.
o - o - o
"Hopefully it will not land you in more pain, young one," Lucyfer murmured. He didn't bother relighting his lantern -- with the understanding of all things, he had no need for eyes, especially since the path before him was not one of time and space. Yes, the path of happiness did seem to be an attractive choice, but in the end, it was only an emotion the girl was chasing. Lucyfer couldn't take that path even if he wanted to. Happiness meant nothing to a being that couldn't feel pain.
Instead he turned back to the diverged paths and mulled his options over thoughtfully. Honor and Justice were both attractive, with their grassy knooks and shrubs. Being that these were not normal paths, he was not worried about getting lost on them in a normal way. Considering his purpose, they could serve him well -- the path of Honor would certainly see that he got his revenge. The path of Justice more than likely the same, though possibly along a much more political slant. Politics in Olympus, ugh, how he tired to think of it. Very rarely was a power play made, only once in what was measurably thousands of years, if such time frames existed inside the Immortal. This time, however, he had been distracted... busy and preoccupied and lazy enough to fall for the rival Lord's trap. And now here he was, wounded and limping and barely a shadow of his old might. That would change once he set food inside the Immortal again, but such beings as the Lords could not predict the future, and as long as he was inside the Incarnate, the future blocked him from seeing the outcome of his return to Olympus.
Still, there was something empty about Honor and Justice that left him feeling somewhat unsatisfied. For eons he had existed inside the Immortal -- he had been one of its first creations when the joining between the Immortal and the Incarnate had taken place. He knew all about Honor and Justice. He knew all about Fate and Destiny and those other idealistic concepts as well. His eyes traveled back to the route of Knowledge, and then ever further to the route of Liberty, one more sorely overgrown than all the rest. Liberty, huh? Liberty was something different. Liberty was... freedom. Freedom to become whatever, do whatever... feel whatever, without consequence. Yet unlike Honor or Justice, one couldn't have true Liberty unless they had Knowledge... and then a certain choice was always required. A certain... awakening.
Could he do it? Could he choose a path that would challenge his very nature? He thought of what Aden had said and suddenly it seemed clear that it was the only path he could choose. She was right; unless he challenged himself, he would only stay put, not move forward... as the paths were obviously intended. He would need to challenge himself, and so far Liberty was the only one that presented any sort of problem.
He would walk the path of Liberty. He would see all that it offered. And in the end, perhaps... perhaps he would find a way to pacify his unsettled soul.
My mother died 7 years ago, and it is harder for me to accept it now than when I was 12. I've been to therapy, but I still have days like this one, where everything is shrouded in a gray veil, and all I can think about is her, and death, and loss. Words are just not strong enough. If I could take a knife and plunge it into my chest, it would hurt less than this emotional torment. I wish that I didn't have a body, so I didn't need to feel this pain. I wish I knew what it was, and how it all worked, and how it's possible for the emotions and the physical human body to become so blurred together; is it my heart that aches, or my muscles, my sinews, my very bones? I cannot tell the difference. This pain takes up my whole body, and I can't breathe, I can't cry, I can only sit here silently and wish to scream. But screaming still isn't big enough. That is part of the pain as well - knowing that no matter what I do, it will never go away. I can only sit here and learn to function with it. Sometimes I think that grieving should be a physical handicap.
I will never really know the woman my mother was, and I have to learn to be okay with that. I will never hear her voice or hug her again, and somehow I need to accept this. When I dream of her, it is so real, I can have those moments that my heart longs for, when we hug and talk and touch - and this life seems very far away, like a memory, or a dream in itself. And then I wake up, and I am tortured with those glimpses of happiness that are taken away from me. Why does waking have to be such sweet misery? There are times that I am afraid of sleeping, because I don't want to dream about her, and then wake up just to lose her all over again. I swear she has died a thousand deaths in these 7 years, just from dreams alone.
It's passing now. The body can never take this pain for long, and now it is going away, sinking deep inside of me where it will wait for my next moment of weakness, or some unexpected trigger. But it's only a matter of time before I feel this crippling torment again, and then I will bear it again, as I have been bearing it since I was 12.
For all of you out there who have lost your parents, I am sorry. I truly, truly am sorry.
Kakashi was first to the house. He hadn't run - because nobles don't run - but rather had walked very quickly to the rear door that led out to the gardens and gone straight inside. Once he was on the first floor, the screams became clear - and he discovered that they weren't actually screams at all. Rather, it was extremely loud cussing.
He blinked twice, turned around, and firmly shut the doors in the face of the guests behind him. "A moment please, there is a mouse," he said, making the first excuse that came to mind, and several of the women standing outside turned pale. Then the doors clicked shut and he turned the lock. Probably this wasn't the smartest idea, to lock Lord Matsuriko's house in front of all the guests, but he couldn't have them inside while Sakura briefly relapsed into "classless shinobi" mode. He caught the eye of a maid that was standing at the base of the staircase, staring at him as though his clothes were made of gold.
"Give me a minute, then unlock the doors," he said briefly before rushing up the stairs. A thousand different scenarios rushed through his mind - he only hoped that reality was kinder than his imagination.
Sakura knew she was making too much noise, but she couldn't help it - she was pissed, and startled, and she had never been one to take surprises well.
Upon entering the mansion she had immediately started up towards her room, just happy to be inside. She had seriously considered sitting down and maybe napping, since she had gotten very little sleep the night before; besides, she felt that Kakashi would have a much easier time snooping for information if he was alone. Then she had opened the door to the room, and...
"Why were you going through our clothes?" she demanded - or, more specifically, Kakashi's clothes. It was the maid from the night before who had met them at the front drive. Kakashi's clothes were strewn about on the ground, including the black hairbrush she had picked up for him. Strangely, it made her enraged to see the thing discarded so carelessly, though she knew she was being irrational. Sakura picked up the hair brush and held it threateningly before her as she would a kunai, looking at the shorter maid with a fiery expression. "Tell me - now - what you're doing here!"
The girl had screamed very loudly when Sakura had first entered the room, but now she was cowered in the corner, looking far too helpless to warrant a threat. Sakura was still considering gouging out her eyes, though. There had been someone spying on them this morning - could this be the one? It seemed likely.
Suddenly a figure burst through the doorway, so fast that Sakura barely had time to react. She swung around, brandishing the hairbrush and readying for an attack, when suddenly a strong hand grabbed her wrist and firmly removed the hairbrush from her grasp. It fell to the floor and she stifled a shriek, then another hand landed around her shoulders, and abruptly she found herself shoved into a warm, delicious smelling chest.
"So good to see you, Sakura-chan," Kakashi's voice murmured to her, ever cool and composed. Then he released her abruptly and turned to the maid, who had stood up fully upon his entrance and was trying to look dignified. Sakura stood back, ruffled and confused, unsure of what Kakashi was doing - she was still trying to figure out if she liked the hug or not. "I see you are rearranging my clothes," he murmured. Sakura could have laughed out loud at the understatement, but she didn't miss the cold undertones to his voice; this time, her sensei was being dangerous.
"I do not have much time," the maid said quickly. "I am sorry for the mess, I would have picked it up later. My name is Yumi, I am a Suna spy here to watch Matsuriko. I noticed that you arrived with the Hyuuga. You are shinobi of Konoha, are you not?"
Sakura's mouth dropped open. She stared at the maid again, taking in the black hair and the cute dress, and remembering the very un-ninja-like way she had cowered in the corner. She glanced at Kakashi, trying to get an idea of what her partner was thinking, but the man's face was unreadable. His dark, hard eye was unmoving. Although she hated to admit it, she stared for a few seconds longer than necessary, staring at his jaw line and the strong, straight nose.
"We are of Konoha," Kakashi finally said, "but we don't know anything of shinobi. You would do better to leave us alone."
The maid's eyes went wide, and Sakura tried to keep her face blank. Her mind, however, was whirling - was this girl really a ninja? What did Kakashi know that she didn't? Why did he have to look so damned attractive?
"I-I am sorry, my lord!" the girl bowed deeply, so deep that it seemed like she would touch her knees. Sakura could feel the tension build in the room as the maid started rushing about, picking up clothing and similar. She laughed in an awkward way. "I was searching for a mission scroll," she muttered to them. "But of course you wouldn't have anything like that. A thousand apologies!"
Sakura shifted slightly, and Kakashi's hand grasped her own, warm and strong. They watched in silence as the girl finished picking up, then quickly left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. They remained standing even after she left, his grip still tight on her hand, the two of them still looking around the room. Sakura knew better than to say anything - she could tell he was not in a very good mood by the stiffness around the shoulders.
Finally Kakashi turned and looked down at her, and she couldn't stop herself from returning his gaze. His face was so alien to her - she was so used to seeing his mask in these kinds of situations. Instead, the sour set to his lips made her feel like a small child. She was thirteen again, caught flirting with Sasuke when she should have been training.
"You made a lot of noise," he said quietly.
Her cheeks flamed.
"We can't keep drawing all of this attention to ourselves. And now you have made us leave our target; who knows what Matsuriko has discussed with Hyuuga during this time?"
Sakura bit her lip. "It's not my fault," she grumbled. "She was going through our room, Kakashi-sen-"
"Shh, that's not my name anymore," he growled. Sakura glanced up at him in alarm, her face turning even brighter, realizing that she was supremely messing up the mission. She was too fresh to handle this kind of responsibility - this was her first assignment undercover, and she could barely stay in role. She wasn't even sure if she still had a role.
"Kakashi-chan," she forced herself to say, dropping her gaze because she was unable to look at him anymore. "Why didn't you tell that girl...?"
"Because she is not a ninja from Suna," he said, and started moving her away from the door, closer to the window at the far side of the room. All the time that they crossed the floor, he kept a firm grip on her hand, not letting her go. Finally they stood in the corner, and he dropped his voice low - so much that Sakura had to strain to hear him. "No undercover ninja with half a brain would reveal their true identity to almost complete strangers," he murmured. "She was testing us, and if you noticed, her chakra signature was the same from this morning. She has been watching us since we arrived."
"So it was by chance that I caught her in the room?" Sakura whispered back.
Kakashi didn't answer, but rather bowed his head in thought. Finally he dropped her hand. "You will need to explain to the guests what that screaming was all about."
Sakura stifled a giggle at the sudden change of topic, feeling that the tension had broken between them. This was something more normal to her - she couldn't count the number of times she had been forced to come up with an alibi. "We could say it was a mouse," she suggested, glancing up and catching his eye. His eyebrows raised, and then Kakashi smiled back at her, which was sudden and unexpected. The expression was enough to leave her breathless.
"A mouse under your skirt?" he suggested, then tugged on the clothing playfully, catching the hem between his hands and pulling her slightly towards him.
Sakura blushed, not sure of how to react - was this all part of the game? They couldn't possibly still be watched, could they? She wasn't sure, but one thing made sense to her - she kind of liked this side of Kakashi. After a moment of hesitation, she laughed and grabbed her skirts back, letting her hand brush against his longer than needed. For a moment their fingers played together, as though unsure of whether to clasp hands or to let them fall.
Then abruptly she caught herself and stepped back. What was she doing? This was her sensei, after all. He seemed to realize it at the same time and the distance was put back in place. He grinned down at her reassuringly, though in an empty sort of way - she recognized the happy crease that his eye made. "We should return to Hyuuga and Matsuriko," he said quietly. "They are holding some sort of formal lunch soon, and then there will be entertainment and then dinner."
"Can't wait for that," Sakura said wryly, already thinking of all the embarrassing things that could happen at a meal. She prayed that she would remember the upty-million rules that Hinata had told her before their departure. At least she was dressed for the part.
The two headed out of the room, pausing only briefly to link arms. Sakura wondered if it would ever become easy.
"So you're newly weds?" a girl asked next to her, a plump young thing in a frilly purple dress much like the one Sakura had worn yesterday. Again she was reminded of Hinata's fashion advice. "That is so romantic! How long have you known each other?"
"Eh," they hadn't practiced any sort of background to their relationship, and Sakura couldn't remember much from the mission scroll. "A while now... it was by necessity," she explained, glancing at her oblivious husband. Kakashi appeared to be sulking, methodically chewing his food like a robot and gazing off into the distance. She sighed - this mission wasn't much more than idle chatting and sweating in the sun.
"By necessity! I met my husband the same way. How was the wedding? Oh I'm sure it was grand, we had ours in an old temple up in the mountains, it was so beautiful, and the wonderful food and the music and the dancing..." the girl was off, prancing down memory lane and fondly exclaiming about how romantic her husband was. Sakura snuck a peak over the girl's shoulder and found herself staring at a tall, dark-haired young man who looked to be almost Kakashi's age, his eyes the color of burnt umber. Sakura's gaze was about to pass over him when abruptly the man turned and caught her eye, giving her a definite chilly look. She turned away quickly back to his wife, continuing with the conversation, though now even less enthusiastic.
"That's very nice," she said, nodding once the girl was finished, unsure of what other comment would be appropriate.
"Oh, but you must have had so much fun at your wedding - just look at me, prattling on!" the girl gushed. "You must tell me all about it!"
Sakura's eyes went wide and she suddenly felt that the ties of her dress were a bit too tight; it was getting harder to breathe. She fought the urge to fan herself - calm down now, nothing to it, just make something up!
"Oh, well, you know," she paused, struggling on where to begin. "It was quite a... uh... a big day for me."
"I can imagine!" the girl exclaimed, then continued to stare at her expectantly.
"Well... it was... outdoors...."
"A beautiful spot, just on the outskirts of town, where there's a hot spring," a voice suddenly spoke up from behind her, and abruptly Sakura felt a body nudge closer to her; Kakashi's arm slipped around her shoulders. She smiled brightly, for once relieved at the contact and his intervention - he must have been listening in after all.
"Oh, it sounds so romantic!" the girl sighed.
"It was," Kakashi assured her, giving Sakura a slight smile. "There were hundreds of people there, the whole village showed up, and she was wearing the prettiest dress you can imagine. It was her first kiss," he added with a grin.
Sakura's face went red. "Kakashi-!"
"Shush dear, it's perfectly fine," he dismissed her tone of voice and turned back to the girl. "We had catering and musicians... haha, poor Sakura couldn't hold her liquor; she went absolutely crazy just past midnight. You wouldn't think it by just looking at her, but this girl is wild."
Lunch was over by this time and people were slowly getting up, Lord Matsuriko having split off from the head of the table with Hyuuga Hiashi and a few other of the richer guests. Sakura stood up, detaching Kakashi's arm and feeling too flustered to know what to do. She blushed in embarrassment and smiled sheepishly at the girl, though the girl was giggling from Kakashi's tone. "Don't worry, I've done similar things with my husband," she laughed, reaching behind her at the dark haired man. The man patted her hand but otherwise paid them very little attention.
Sakura cleared her throat and tugged on Kakashi's sleeve. "Excuse me, honey, but I think we should be returning to our rooms. We should change for tonight's entertainment."
Kakashi nodded to the girl and gave her a little wave, then stood up, glancing down at Sakura with a wry expression on his face. "You certainly seem eager to leave," her murmured once their backs were turned.
"I don't like discussing my first kiss in public," Sakura sniffed, her cheeks turning pink.
Kakashi almost laughed, and Sakura shot him a dangerous look, unable to understand why the man was acting so oblivious. Being married was bad enough - did he have to act so casual and uncaring about it? Why embarrass her in front of total strangers? Apparently something in her expression caught his attention, and the smile abruptly left his face.
"Come on, Sakura, you're seventeen... it's not like that was your first kiss," he said jokingly. She pulled away from him and walked faster towards the main house, not looking over her shoulder. He didn't know - of course he wouldn't know, Tsunade probably hadn't told him anything, and of course everyone had been kissed by the time they reached seventeen. Ino had certainly been kissed more than enough - even Hinata was engaged, so she had to be seeing some kind of action! Naruto, Sasuke, Ten-Ten, even Lee... they had all been kissed. She was the only one stuck in a rut. She couldn't help it that she was picky, and that Sasuke was no longer an option. She couldn't help it that no one had asked her out since Naruto on her fifteenth birthday.
"Sakura?" Kakashi's voice drifted to her, but she kept walking, furious and emotional and unsure of what had upset her so much. She needed the cool air and space to think. She needed to change out of these damned clothes!
Finally she reached Matsuriko's house and a maid let her in the side door, pointing her in the direction of the stairs that led to her room. She walked fast, and didn't look back.
His face paled considerably. Tsunade, that's who.
He had never guessed Sakura was the single type. He had always seen her with friends. She was so pretty, he had always assumed she was with a boyfriend... but apparently that was not the case. Thinking back on the many nights he had spent with ANBU in the bar, he could remember the subject of Sakura coming up frequently between Genma and a few of the newer boys. Yes, they had viewed her as unattainable, it all made sense now. His thoughts took a different turn, and suddenly Kakashi got the acute urge to ram his head against something. He never felt old unless he was next to her; she reminded him of his age. So what kind of perverted old man did that make him, stealing a young girl's first kiss?
But he could remember it. Her lips had trembled when he'd brushed them. He sighed - it was true, only innocent girls kissed like that.
So he really was her first kiss. Alright, he could deal with that. Maybe it even made him lucky. This kind of thing had cropped up in Icha Icha from time to time; he had a fairly good idea of what he should do about it. No need to worry, he told himself. Jaraiya was a master at these kinds of situations, and he happened to have a guidebook in his pocket at that very moment.
Humming contentedly to himself, he headed in a different direction across the gardens, towards one of the servants that was tending a fountain. A few gold coins bounced in his pocket, clinking merrily away. He smiled to himself.
A quick bribe would fix this situation in no time.
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