Apr. 15th, 2008

cloakandclaw: (perched)
Much like the days when he first got to this place, he finds that the trees by the lake soothe him. It's a stubborn door that refuses to open, even under the threat of emergence by a planetary elemental: there's nothing he can do about it. No stranger to disappointment and to captivity, he knows he has little choice but to wait it out. If this is where he's destined to be, then... he will have to do his atonement from a distance and remain separated from his beloved.

Tonight, he's crouched on a low oak branch overlooking the lake. It suits him; it suits his mood; it suits his need for silent observation. The night is crisp and chill, but it doesn't bother him: he's neither warm nor cold. The neutrality of temperature he felt on the boat he took to the western continent is nothing new but being home again served to reinforce it for him. Still, he refuses to give thanks to Chaos, who he still likes to see as an unwelcome intruder to his solitude.

To his thoughts of the past, and of Lucrecia, and of home: does Chaos share his thoughts? Feel what he feels? He doesn't know: his memories of time in that form are very poor indeed. It's almost as if he wasn't even there.

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August 2011

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