STEEL [P]

[Lyric Shikov]

    The cool night tasted like the edge of a blade, smooth steal, burning lungs and throat with each breath of air. It had been too long since he had last tasted something so pure, so real and the contrast to the laboratories was a tangible one. The Menagerie was alive with autumn noise; insects fought to be louder in the absolute darkness of a new moon, cooing and crooning in the shadows where they lurked unseen. A storm hung upon the distant horizon, layers of clouds lit violently by the occasional strike of lightening. Lyric was too far to feel the fury of the thunder; he concerned himself with the distant tempest briefly before continuing on his journey, edging through the unfamiliar territory with a sure foot regardless. 

    He had trespassed there often enough to have memorized his destination. He knew where Rory lived; thus he cut cleanly in that direction, deft in his ability to bypass guards and civilians alike through sheer determination. The hour of the night helped him, as well as dumb luck. His hands shook; his body could go through the motions but his mind could not follow as skillfully. He was somewhere else, somewhere very fall away mentally. He paused to rub his eyes on the corner of a street--then remembered that to stop was a mistake, that he must continue. He felt exhausted; his muscles trembled but that fatigue was nothing compared to the fatigue of his consciousness. He swayed. 

"Perhaps his apathy is a survival mechanism. This subject--although not the most animalistic that we have encountered--is quite feral. He does not appear to think in the same fashion as many, nor does he exactly experience emotions in the same degree. Even his relationship with the subject Aurora Stonerue could be described as "barbaric" in nature. He is possessive and controlling, not particularly affectionate.

"What does it matter? Just run the experiment." Pain, then, pain like white hot electricity. It seared him. It scalded him. He had been placed in boiling water and now he was dying, he was being wrenched from this world by the gloved hands of a vindictive god, with syringes and scalpels and--

He was jarred back to awareness by the nearby sound of footsteps and idle conversation--the scouts. Lyric forced himself to step forward, still shaking, into yet more darkness. It was the dumb, weary travel of a man who had no more fuel to burn aside from what remained of his inner spirit, or strength. Lyric would have scoffed at such notions mere months previously; now he could not deny the fact that a man's will could--and would--often due more for him than any semblance of fitness. He refused to be caught again, especially by the Nakoma. He would not be found. With each haphazard step the voices grew fainter and fainter. 

Endless second after endless second, with eons drawn between each, began to fade. His breath came quick and faint as he found what he had been looking for. He could not make the climb into her room and so he knelt, biting his tongue to keep from groaning, and picked up a hand full of pebbles. 

The first went wide, far from the grimy window. The second hit, but barely. By the third Lyric had gotten a decent aim and he continued until he was depleted of projectiles. He leaned against the wall opposite of her building, casting shrewd glances toward the dim street. He continued to breath quickly, his eyes alight with something unnamed, some emotion that did not have an exact definition. A combination of things, perhaps, from anger to hurt to bewilderment. Lyric did not know how to explain; he did not even know why he had found himself coming here, to her, rather than the safety of Carna. He could not remember the last time he had been safe, he had been free, as relative as that term may have been. Lyric found himself doubting his intentions; should he not have gone to Carna? 

But he could not. He seemed incapable of that journey. Lyric had been tortured by thoughts of what she must be thinking. He had disappeared so quickly after showing her romance and it destroyed him bit by bit on the inside; of every single damnable thing the Keepers could have done, this was the worst. They took him away from her. Lyric had made promises to make things better, to be there more often... and then he had disappeared. A part of him rationalized that it was not his fault and that it could not be avoided. The larger majority of him blamed himself. He should have done something differently. 

He closed his eyes, waiting impatiently for an answer. Was she there? Was she awake? He could not bear the silence. 

"Aurora? Are you there?" Perhaps it would have been better if he had asked whether or not she were still willing to associate with him, to talk to him. The amount of faith he was placing in her remained tremendous; he risked everything in those moments, awaiting her answer. He risked his freedom, even his life. What if she did not answer? What if she left him in Nakoma territory, in the state he was in, without help? More than that, what if she refused to come with him when he asked? Lyric's throat was dry with worry and dehydration both; he could not remember the last time he had spoken instead of screamed, or drank water instead of serums. 

Do not close your eyes, he commanded of himself, terrified of what he would see if he did. The absolute darkness before him was of no solace, however. He felt disembodied, able only to see the darker outlines of shapes. He could be dead, for all he knew, and this was what the afterlife really was. Darkness. Memories. He found one last rock and threw it soundly. He heard the chink of it against the building and he hoped desperately that this one would draw her to the window. His feet slid out from beneath him and he collapsed, sitting child-like against the wall as though it had been intentional. Really, he was giving up hope. In reality it could not have been more than a few seconds; but in his mind the span of time seemed colossal. 

[AURORA]

Most inhabitants of the Menagerie dreaded storms. Even when they were mild they often created floods and left people dead. It was the reason people said, ‘It’s raining cats and dogs’ which, before her life in the Menagerie, a wide eyed Aurora had taken literally and would look out her window on rainy days in fear of seeing the canines and felines dropping from the skies. Now, it might be ‘raining shifters and retros’ - for often and inexplicably storms and rain also took lives in the dome. She understood now the reason behind the adage.

Aurora was one of the few that, despite the often deadly repercussions - loved storms. They comforted her, the soft rolling crashes she felt more than heard were like a lullaby and the rain always made her smile. The freshness it left on the world in the mornings was as if it had washed away all of the bad memories, all of the regrets of yesterday…

This was not how she felt now.
Lyric had left. He had left, and not returned. Each night was the same as the one before it, her mind and body bastioned against the onslaught of the memories of a night too sweet to describe and too loving to bear. She had promised to be with him forever … and he had left.

Aurora had not panicked at first. The few days they had spent together in that terribly dark basement while Lyric healed was branded in her memory forever. Even their parting was sweet as he took her back to Nakoma and promised to see her soon. The days had marched by until the weather had changed and still no Lyric.

Now she lay on her holey mattress, her finger caressing the tally marks she had cut into the back of her sketchbook - counting the days since she had last seen him. They covered the leather, the lines becoming deeper each time she had added to them with a determined slice.

She would wait. He promised. So she would wait.
Between idle hours of the evenings she sometimes would replay things in her mind, and questions would emerge unbidden. Was he angry with her? Was he dead? Did she do something wrong? Had he finally grown tired of her? But they were small irrational fears in the face of the unwavering confidence she somehow blindly maintained. He would come back. He promised. So she would wait.

Every night she eventually fell asleep after hours of wakeful anticipation. Each morning when she woke it was with a resilient heart that maybe it was the next night that she would see him. During the day while she worked in her garden, she kept an absent eye to the skies in hopes that perhaps he would send a message through a friend as he had before, but nothing.

She would not waste the time either. Instead of giving into her tendencies to hide herself away from her few friends, barely eat, and only sketch - she was determined to be strong. Her porcelain skin had fried to vermilion the first long day that she had spent in her garden, and she was exhausted every night as she waited up for Lyric, but she suborning ate well, socialized, and worked to become stronger. He would not be happy with her if she did not take care of herself - so she would for him.

Aurora dreamed. It had become harder recently. Harder to maintain the her ardent faith in him, harder to get up in the morning, harder not to blame herself … but the strength was there in her heart even if it did not show in her pinched brow as her eyes flashed under closed lids, visions of what might of happened to Lyric dancing in her head.

There was an interruption, a ticking sound that caused her to stir. With a soft sound from her throat Aurora shifted and sat up. Tick. A smile played over her lips as she realized and instantly knew. Lyric. She didn’t even bother with shoes.

Seconds later saw a stealthy Aurora shadow hurrying outside to the darkness, her large ebon eyes easily spotting the crouching figure. Her teeth seized the inside of her cheek to keep herself from speaking or crying. Finally! Finally!

She could not keep herself from collapsing next to him on the ground, her arms around him. In that instant she knew two things: something was wrong, and for that instant? She did not care. Her lips covered his mouth and throat with gentle kisses. All of her words, I missed you. I knew you would come back. I love you. Needless.

His arms were weak around her but flexed as if to crush her to him. She finally pulled back enough to look into his eyes and allow him to speak.

[Lyric Shikov]

He feared that she would not come; in the quiet darkness he was utterly alone, as alone as a child in the womb. He felt the cool slickness of rain against his skin and it was not unalike rebirth with rain, washing his sins free. If she would just come... he would do better. He would strive for a brighter tomorrow, where the rain would clear and the sun would flit optimistically unto her face, a blessing in and of itself. Please. Just one more try. It was all that he asked, all that he needed. He could get it right. He could do good by her--

He heard the whisper of wings before he saw her. His head jerked to the side and he half-rose to greet her--only to be knocked back by the ferocious crush of her slender body against him. He had always wanted to think it but he had never allowed himself to do so, hesitant of anything so cliche. But she was an angel. She was his angel and he was holding her again, his hands greedily staking claim to her shoulders, her hair, her hips, her face. He could not stop touching, kissing, affirming the fact that she was real and concrete and not some fever dream. He had had enough of them in the past weeks to know that reality was not always so tangible and that this could easily be too good to be true.

Lyric forced the cynicism from his mind just as he forced the burn of tears back. He crushed her against him, his face against her hair, breathing in the scent of her. It brought to mind a thousand things. He remembered her smile, her laugh, the way she fit against him despite her wings. He used all of his strength now in greeting her, in meeting her again. He used whatever was left of his vitality to say through actions that he loved her, that he was so apologetic for his absence. When she pulled back to gaze at him Lyric still had not found his tongue; there was too much to say and no language adequate enough to say it. "Rory." Simplistic, tragic. He said her name just like every other time, a sort of tradition that could not be broken. He did not bother with pet names, with declaring her his dove. She was his Rory and that was enough. "I'm taking you away from here," he told her quickly. "I have explanations but for now you have to trust me." 

He waited, breathless, to see whether or not he still held her trust. From her greeting, he believed so. Lyric still required the verbal reassurance, the agreement, that would state the fact that he always had her trust despite the fact he did not deserve it. He struggle to stand, weak but not so weak as to be unable to do so. His eyes did not stray from her. They remained locked, fascinated, as though he looked upon a beautiful thing he would only see once. "Do you need to get anything before we leave?" He did not know where he would take them. Not the Speakeasy--it was too frequented by Carna and Nakoma both, unfortunately. His head hurt with the remembrance that he would have to deal with such concerns soon, but not yet. Now they were merely running, like convicts. 

Soon I will be one, he thought dryly. 

[AURORA]

Aurora took the deepest breath she had ever taken in her life, and let it go in a satisfied sigh that lasted just as long. Breathing him in, and letting go of months of anxiety and worries that always ended the same - his return.

Her sweet smile only left her face once she allowed the realization that Lyric was not okay sink in - and immediately she inspected him. Her hand lifted to his face, her slender fingers caressing his stubbled skin tenderly. His eyes, his beautiful eyes were clouded with pain and years had been added to his face in lines from pain and exhaustion. Her heart broke.

Rory, when he said her name it broke again. I’m taking you away from here. She’d known. Somehow she’d known that this time it was going to be different. This time … as he stood she stood with him, careful not to hinder him. She smiled once brightly when he asked if she needed anything. She wanted to reply that all she needed was right there, but a more sensible - less childish mentality that she had been working to adopt rose to the fore, and realistically they needed what she’d horded away over the last few months.

Rising on her toes she kissed his lips sweetly in reassurance. Explanations could wait, he was not safe in his current condition. When he swayed she gasped and moved as if to catch him, but his hand shot out to steady himself against the wall and he managed a wink.

She nodded and pecked his lips once as she simply whispered, ”I will only be a moment,” before disappearing around the building.

Inside she snagged her pack, tossed her few belongings in along with a sack of hard earned veggies from her garden, slipped on her boots, and crept back outside. The relief on his face when she returned made her want to cry, and she tucked her wings tight to her back with practiced precision as she came within reach again. When she did, he snagged her in another crushing embrace - his chin resting atop her head for a endless moment before they moved away from Nakoma and into the night.

END THREAD