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 Posted: Tue Mar 30, 2010 7:19 pm
 The night had been uneventful, for the most part.
Not that he was complaining.
Legs crossed on the grass, the ebony constellation leaned comfortably with his back against an aged oak, hands working deftly with string while his mind wandered. He paid no mind as to what he was actually creating, and the images came one after another, becoming more complex with each creation. Eventually, Kliment grew bored with the pasttime, and allowed his hands to drop limply into his lap, his head lulling back against the trunk of the tree.
It was a beautiful night. The clearing in which he sat gave perfect view to the wide expanse of the sky, dotted with bright stars like blotches of paint on a dark canvas. They joined in clusters here, separated and stood out there, but altogether, they reminded him of a dark, sparkling veil, gently placed over the night with a soft sigh.
Night was his favorite time.
It may have been a silly notion, but to Kliment, the darkness brought much more comfort than the bright, cheery embrace of the light. He enjoyed the gentle glow of a firefly, or of a flame, as much as the next person, but his eyes had grown too accustomed to the darkness to truly be able to appreciate daytime for what it was worth. His sight had never been the same after his extended time in the hypnotizing, void black.
Chest rising with a sigh, he raised an arm to his forehead, peering upward and toward the moon. He was alone again, he knew, but the fact had bothered him more now than it had ever before. Had he grown so used to the company of others that he needed it, craved it? He didn't dare seek out his friends, all of whom were more than likely asleep at this time. No, it was best to remain complacent, be thankful that he could simply sit under a tree, and play with string all night.
A simple life; Kliment had never asked for anything more, yet he always found himself running headlong into danger for the sake of others. He didn't feel any sense of entitlement from his self-sacrifice, nor did he feel he was any better of a person from it. Some told him this attitude was what made him admirable... admirable? He shrugged the thought away. There was nothing "admirable" about Kliment, the dark creature who lived in the shadows and played with smoke and string. Sometimes, people could be so perplexing.
When he felt himself nearing sleep, he shook his head once, quickly, and smacked both palms against his face. "Must stay awake," he murmured, groaning against the sting. "Gods, Kliment, don't just let yourself fall asleep anywhere. You'll be bait for bandits in no time." Although he considered himself to be very capable, he had been victimized before, and knew all-too-well the repercussions of doing silly things like sleeping out in the open. Nowadays, he slept on his side, ready to wake at the slightest sound. Still, arrogance brought disaster.
His shoulders lifted, then sagged. With a sigh, Kliment stood, stretching out his limbs and enjoying every second of it. He had been sitting for hours, and to be "sore" was an understatement.
"Really," he muttered, lifting his chin to stare through half-lidded eyes at the sky. "A really, really beautiful night." He should have been thankful for the company of the stars and the moon, at least.
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Posted: Wed Mar 31, 2010 9:46 am
 They were tiny suns, Corwin thought, tracing erratic patterns in the night only to ghost away and begin again in a new place. He leaped into the damp grass, his hands cupped, and opened his hands. Nothing. He was terrible at catching fireflies, even for fun. It probably had something to do with his technique. He had tried catching them in the air, but he found that he wasn't very good at tracking them in the dark. He also kept falling on his face, so he had a little dirt smudged on one cheek, as well as all over his elbows and knees.
From far away, Corwin would look like a strange spirit, his glowing markings twisting and dimming, uncovering and being obscured by his ungainly attempts at catching fireflies. He didn't really want to catch anything, it just seemed like something to do. Sometimes it got lonely at night, wandering from place to place. There were rarely travelers to lead home, lately, and the world seemed so big. He felt cold all of a sudden, and would have sat in the grass, if it hadn't been wet. The damp grass was making his temperature cycle rapidly and uncontrollably, which he detested.
He scampered out of the field and kept on his way, angling himself by the moon. He walked along a dirt path which he had already walked along many times before. In fact, there was a distinct place in the path which was more worn down, because Corwin always took the left side. He kept his lanterns close to him, relishing the glow, and tried to use his warm hand to dry himself out a little. Every so often his heat would flare up and he'd burn himself, but gradually he was regaining control, until he was dry. Corwin used his cool hand to soothe some of his burns. He hated water; it made it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to maintain his control. Being attached both to a tundra and a scorching flame, at those times, was painful to say the least.
Corwin sighed, running his cool hand and then his warm hand through his hair. A calming gesture he repeated all too often. Still following under the moon, Corwin's path took him through a large clearing. That was his favourite place to walk, because he could see everything far into the night, and it was like the universe was wrapping him up in a blanket of stars.
Corwin climbed the small incline up to the clearing and, from where he stood, could see a slight flash of gold. It was close to the tree. Perhaps a scarf someone had lost, or more fireflies? Eager to resume his previous activities in a place less moist, Corwin made his way over. The nearer and nearer he got, the more it looked... not like fireflies, but like a familiar shape. Was it a beast? No, it seemed slighter than that, less forbidding.
Corwin paused a little ways away from the tree, wondering who was there, and if he should approach. He took a few more tentative steps forward, teetering on his toes and rocking back, wringing his hands. It looked a little like someone he knew, perhaps. Did he? Well, the only way he was going to find out was probably by approaching.
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Posted: Thu Apr 01, 2010 11:03 am
Yellow eyes widened in surprise when something caught his attention - bright, yet dim, like the soft glow of a fire not in its prime. Or perhaps it was because of the unmistakeably-blue hue of the twilif's body, which had reminded Kliment of the very night itself. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips, and he extended a hand in greeting.
"Corwin," he said quietly, as to avoid startling the boy, "well met. It seems this would be the most appropriate time for us to meet." He was referring, of course, to the fact that Corwin reminded him of a firefly, at the moment. The way he glowed in the night likely put others at ease, and aided his hobby of guiding those lost in the night. Like a beacon, almost.
Kliment knew one thing: he vastly preferred the warmth of another to the cold, impersonal glittering of the stars any day.
Ambling toward the twilif, Kliment tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make him out to be completely inept at social situations. He wouldn't deny that he was thankful to already feel at ease around the few people he had met; he needed all the help he could get to keep a conversation going on his side. Hopefully, Corwin was as talkative as the others.
Gesturing around himself, he knelt down to one knee. "Are you hunting for fireflies? I haven't caught any, myself. They seem to prefer other clearings."
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Posted: Thu Apr 01, 2010 10:04 pm
((Just wanted to say real quick, Kliment extended his hand in greeting? but then ambled towards Corwin, so... I wasn't sure if Corwin was meant to be close enough to respond. If he was, then he didn't ignore Kliment on purpose!))
A wide grin broke across his face immediately upon recognizing Kliment. He waved furiously in the night, his little fingertips glowing and leaving afterimages of light; a little too excited, maybe, but Kliment was nice to him when he had been more alone than ever. He hadn't even asked for anything in return. Corwin never forgot a kindness. "Kliment!" And then his words failed him, and he just rubbed the back of his neck shyly, suddenly aware of how much dirt he'd gotten on himself trying to catch fireflies earlier.
"I was trying to catch them, yeah... But I'm pretty bad at it. Every time I think I'm close, one of the lanterns gets in the way, or my aura blinds me. It's easy to be seen across a field, but not very easy for me to see through this mess of light, sometimes." Corwin smiled and ran his cool hand over his forehead, then used his left hand to try and swipe off some of the dirt. He wasn't used to spending time around others, so he seldom realized how messy he was without external influence.
"Really? Other clearings? I can't really tell one from another, to be honest... I've been walking for so long now, just going from place to place, looking for others." Corwin really didn't know where he was most of the time. He could usually follow the path to get back home, and if not, he knew other ways.
Lately, Corwin thought that perhaps it wasn't just lost travellers that could use a hand at night. It seemed like a lot of spiritkind wandered as he did, if not for the same purposes. Perhaps those were the ones he should be helping. Not as an act of charity, but... if it was cold out, and one had a nice warm fire, should one not share it? That's how he felt, anyway, as he sent a balmy breeze Kliment's way, the scent of a bonfire borne by his exhale. Corwin wondered what Kliment was doing in this particular clearing then, if there was any significance to it. He grinned up at Kliment, his eyes shining in the night.
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Posted: Tue Apr 06, 2010 7:13 pm
[Oh! Don't worry about that. It wasn't a "handshake," just him extending a palm in some weird greeting he does. xD If it was really important, I wouldn't have moved past it so quickly. <3 No worries!]
Unable to suppress the pleased curl of his lip, Kliment observed as Corwin went on about his night. He was certainly dirty; it was a good sign, something Kliment respected in others. If they weren't afraid to get dirty, then they weren't afraid to live life. He hadn't picked up on how self-conscious the boy was about it, however. When Corwin told of his plight, his brow furrowed.
"Ah, yes... your light would make it difficult, wouldn't it? That's a pity." His tone was laced with an undertone of sympathy, but not overly so. He was never one to express emotions as vividly as the next; the action always managed to embarrass him, like he wasn't supposed to react so strongly to things. Was it an attempt to protect himself from others? He had no idea. Although he'd resolved to strengthen his bonds with others, he was struggling every bit of the way.
When he spoke again, his tone was strangely soft. "Well, Corwin, you must be... lonely. Would you like me to help you capture a few fireflies?" He slowly stood and rubbed his shoulder uncomfortably. "Ah, that is, if you still wanted to try. I wouldn't want to impose, if you had other... plans."
Gods, he was terribly lonely, too, even though he'd never find a sufficient way to voice it. And there was Corwin, looking disheveled and alone, saying he couldn't find anyone to lead around. Didn't the child ever take a break? Worry crossed his features, and he worked his jaw slowly, thoughtfully, as he recalled when he'd first met Corwin. The world certainly was a strange place.
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Posted: Wed Apr 07, 2010 11:16 am
"It's not too bad! It makes the game last longer," Corwin grinned, his flame aura swirling tightly against him. His eyes glowed softly, a little like molten metals, set brilliantly against his dark skin. His skin was not dissimilar to the night sky itself, though one devoid of stars. Corwin noted Kliment's pleased lip curl with joy, which made him warm the space up around Kliment even more. A pleasant, balmy night.
Then Kliment's tone changed, and Corwin could feel the ebb of cold inside Kliment. He didn't want to let it take hold; he felt like Kliment wasn't nearly as set on being cold as Etoile was. So long as Kliment wanted to fight loneliness, Corwin could stick by him and help. Just being around Corwin when he was happy should improve someone's mood; he warmed from the inside out. "It is pretty lonely out here, even though it's not so bad. I like it. But I would like it much better if you helped me catch fireflies, tonight." Corwin smiled and reached one hand out to Kliment, simulating fireflies by making his fingertips glow on and off, patterned after a flickering insect.
There was something about Kliment that made Corwin feel deeply comfortable. Corwin was never good with words, and he never knew how to communicate what he really felt. It was hard, when he didn't have to put things into words often; he could feel his moods and the moods of others, could understand either their loneliness or their pleasure. It was easy for him. But he was often afraid that by complimenting someone, or telling them that they were important to him, would scare them away. Corwin felt that he really wanted Kliment to know he understood what it felt like, that kind of shadow inside. But how could he? The understanding wasn't intellectual. Instead, Corwin reached forward and brushed Kliment lightly, shyly, with his warm hand. Just that one brush, and he laced a tendril of his heat into Kliment. It was like a hello to Corwin, but far more eloquent than he ever was.
"Whatever we decide to do... If it's okay, I'd like to spend time with you. Even if we run out of energy too fast trying to catch fireflies. There are a lot of things hidden in the dark for us to explore!" Corwin glowed again, smiling up at Kliment. His heart was filled with hope and heat, because he felt that maybe... maybe he wouldn't be any better at expressing himself with Kliment, but he felt like Kliment might understand him anyway. He would certainly try to learn about Kliment, and how to understand him. He wondered what life for Kliment was like, if he was awake at night a lot.
If he was, Corwin could visit him whenever. It was cold and lonely walking alone so much, but it had to be done. How else would he find Spiritkind like Kliment?
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 4:11 pm
Had it gotten warmer? He was feeling increasingly comfortable, as if the night had shifted to beckon and nurture feelings of safety and encouragement. He rolled a shoulder, deciding tonight really wasn't that bad.
Lonely... everyone got lonely. It was impossible to truly get used to the feeling, although he'd thought he had a while ago. Yet, Kliment would often find himself searching over his shoulder, hopeful, imagining a face that might smile and stay for longer than a few hours. He had come across many creatures in his lifetime, but few had lingered long enough to become true friends; others had become known as such through circumstances and life-threatening 'adventures'. It was too easy to build strong bonds when one's life was in danger, and his protective instincts kicked in far too often, he felt.
Fireflies - no, they weren't true fireflies, but just as lovely when simulated from fire itself. He didn't know the extent of Corwin's abilities, but he felt the boy must have already gotten the hang of manipulating his own body to some degree, and looked amused by his display. "Just like the real thing, yet very different," he remarked. His look softened. "I'd be happy to help."
His voice trailed off, gaze flicking down toward the warmth that seemed to gently pulsate from Corwin's hand. A simple gesture, but to the emotionally-sensitive Kliment, it spoke volumes, and he quivered. It baffled him that something so warm would send a strange shiver down his spine; perhaps it was the feeling it brought into him, the words he knew were difficult to voice, easier to express in other ways. He bit back jealousy, envy, knowing full-well he had no way of communicating such things so subtly. How easy it would be, if he could show someone how he felt with a touch of his hand.
Lost in his own thoughts, he looked away and felt his face heat up. Of course, of course there were things that could be said so easily with one's touch, but he had yet to feel comfortable enough with anyone to want to express such things. To be an adult, yet to be so painfully bashful... was it something others expected when they looked at him? Or did he appear menacing with his dark features and scarred body? No, he doubted that. His size wasn't very impressive, even for a Constellation, and - he hoped - he had an air of kindness, patience, that permeated around him wherever he went.
Listening to Corwin, he could feel his loneliness. Knowing how that could affect someone, he couldn't let him go about the night alone, and nodded his consent. "Even if we get tired, we can find something to do," he promised, quiet to the point of an almost-whisper, yet with the sincerity he strove to be known for. Corwin expressed an honest desire to get to know him, and could practically hear the thoughts swarm the younger one's mind. Curiosity was something that was never outgrown, and it followed him wherever he went. It seemed unlikely that it wouldn't be the same for Corwin. A kindred spirit.
"Come," he said with a start, once again coming out of his thoughts. He had started to walk, but lingered long enough for the other to follow by his side. "What you said is true; there are many things in the darkness that are often overlooked, things few have seen. Tell me, Corwin, do you travel mainly by night?" He tilted his head to the side, looking down at the mixture of darkness and fire. Such a strange combination, but with a beautiful outcome. He, too, had many questions, but felt it impolite to bombard Corwin with them. Being easily overwhelmed, himself, gave him caution that he tried his best to adhere to. He drew out a short breath.
"Oh, and... I apologize in advance if I bother you with too many questions. To make it fair, you may ask me as much as you like, as well." Hesitation, and then he nodded once, decisively. "I don't mind, so ask away." It would be a learning experience he rarely had the chance to take part in. Was it his demeanor that seemed to push others away from attempting to learn more about him? Well, whatever the case, he would rectify it before he did the same to Corwin. He wanted to learn more about others, to open up to them and be opened up to.
Why did all of this have to seem so difficult?
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Posted: Sun Apr 18, 2010 11:58 am
Corwin watched Kliment carefully, shyly. He tilted his head up, looked past him to the stars, and back down. Kliment's touch of bright colour reminded him of his own balance. What did Kliment do, all these nights? Corwin placed his warm hand over his chest and sent heat into his own heart. It didn't work like he wished it did; his own heat couldn't cure his dark. They had no neat divide within him. It often felt like he was struggling to hold himself up under the weight of both, constantly shifting, constantly threatening to pull him under.
Not that he considered his situation so dire. It merely made him a little tired sometimes, and a little awkward when it came to social interactions. Corwin meant well, but lacked the skill to follow through. He noted with delight that Kliment looked amused by his simulated fireflies, then, happy the Constellation didn't use the opportunity to point out his youth or childish tastes. When Kliment agreed to spend time with him, Corwin's markings flashed brilliantly, mirroring his unbridled excitement, but they faded to a lesser glow once he'd gotten control of himself. He kind of hoped that when he aged some day, he really would have better control over himself. When Kliment began to walk away, Corwin followed him close behind, happily.
"I don't sleep at night, I can't. Too cold." Corwin looked up at Kliment again, walking with him. He was brimming with curiosity, but he just trained his wide, sincere gaze up at Kliment and smiled a little, before looking down again, keeping the air around them warm.
It was a nice night, again. Corwin felt good about their walk. He was glad to spend the night with company again. It made it easier to deal with his lack of memories. What could he remember? Just Hevn, starlight, cold and heat. Being torn between two choices. Idly, Corwin kept his warm hand over his heart. "I don't mind questions... It helps me think about things. Some things I just don't consider on my own. Can't change if you don't find reasons to," Corwin smiled. To him, change meant growth. "So if you're...are you really sure? I can ask questions?" Corwin pressed his cool hand against his forehead, dropping his warm one, and then pressing them both anxiously against his thighs.
"If you are sure..." Could Corwin start with the questions which interested him most? He always asked about the past; what the moonfolk remembered of their past, and the things they had seen. Since he remembered so very little of his own, he was trying to understand why that might be. However, he thought perhaps this time he would ease into the questions. It might make it easier for both of them to communicate. He didn't want to alienate Kliment, and he often felt at odds, so perhaps this was a good opportunity to do his best. "Well... I can volunteer something, too. I don't remember if I explained, but I carry the day and the night. Fire and ice, heat and cold; they fight for space inside me. But I want to be heat, and I want to keep my friends warm. Anyway, that is what I'm good at-- or trying to be, anyhow. I'm not very good at it yet." Corwin sighed with a wry smile, though he was clearly optimistic about the future. "So what I wondered... was... what do you have inside you? I mean..." Corwin pressed his cool hand to his forehead. He just couldn't get words out right, and he kept pausing. He took a deep breath. Relax. He returned to making the sweet night air into a lovely warm breeze. "You're good at something, right? What do you like to be good at?" Corwin almost laughed; he finally got his words out!
This seemed like it would be a growing experience for the little Twilif, and he was happy for it.
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Posted: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:47 pm
As they ambled along slowly, Kliment cast a patient look down at Corwin, feeling the gentleness of the twilif through the balmy, warm air around him. At times, it would fade, perhaps from distraction, and he showed relief whenever it returned. He wanted to point out what a wonderful gift the boy had, being able to emanate such warmth, but he knew all things in life came with a price. Judging by the way he held both ice and fire in his body, it was no surprise to him to hear that the two were constantly at odds within him.
Yes, he thought, eyelids growing heavy as he pondered the give-and-take policy of life, nothing was free, and nothing was easy. Even children had to bear the weight of things beyond their control. Lipping at a stray bit of hair near his mouth, Kliment spat it out and wished he could ease that burden. Somehow, somewhere, the answer to every problem was hidden; for some, it took ages to get there, and others... well, he had never been that lucky. He didn't know what it was like to have an easy life.
At Corwin's seeming inability to express himself in an articulate manner, he only smiled fondly, knowing the feeling well. He had never been good at talking, especially about himself; now that he was grown - matured, he hoped - he found it easier to do so, patience and understanding being only two things he had learned in his lifetime.
His eyes drew down again, to the ground, lost in thought. He had been asked such a question before, and always found it difficult to answer. What was he truly good at? Was he good at anything, really? It wasn't modesty so much as self-doubt that drew his brow down into a frown, the lurking darkness in his mind that made him second-guess himself and deny any worth. He tried to keep it out - he tried so hard - but it was always there, telling him he wasn't worth it and wasn't going to get anywhere in life. A pained look overcame his visage, and he shook his head abruptly to wipe it off.
"Something I am... good at," he finally spoke, mumbling the words as if they were an incantation to some forbidden spell. Absently, his hand twitched toward the string in his vest, but he rejected it and instead ran a hand down the front of his vest, fingering the edges where one end would connect with the other down the middle. When he realized he was taking too long to reply, he looked at Corwin, embarrassed.
"I'm not... really good at much," he confessed, a hand raising to slowly rub the back of his neck. Yes, that was it. He wasn't really good at anything. "Sneaking about and being alone, I suppose. Smoke... I can work with smoke. And then there's always my... well, my string, but that's hardly worth mentioning. A-a waste of time, actually." His voice trailed off before he could add, 'Don't know why I do it,' because he knew why he did it; it was his hobby, the thing that kept him from feeling lonely when he knew he always was just that. Loneliness was his constant companion, yet offered no company.
A creeping blush threatened to burn his cheeks when he thought about it more. He really wasn't good at anything, was he?
"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eye tiredly without actually feeling tired. He didn't know what it meant. "I suppose I'm not the most exciting companion, am I?" Then, because he felt it was necessary, he added, "And... and just to let you know, I'm not..." He swallowed, hard. "I'm not looking for sympathy or anything of the like. I just lack any sort of natural talent, and so... that's just how it is. Manipulating smoke is probably what I'm best at."
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Posted: Thu Jun 24, 2010 3:12 pm
Corwin felt partly responsible for the look on Kliment's face, as he seemed to sort through his mind for an answer to the Twilif's question. The smile Kliment offered him, however briefly, was a balm on Corwin's irritation at himself for having caused his friend discomfort. He wasn't about to offer Kliment sympathy, or pity. What Corwin felt then was an overwhelming desire to bring to light things which he thought should be more factual than anything else. He simply shook his head, when Kliment said 'sorry'. Really, what did Kliment have to apologize for? For walking with Corwin, for keeping him company, for being kind, for allowing Corwin's invasive question? If anything, Corwin should be apologizing to Kliment. Instead, he tried to sum up everything he had felt about Kliment's declaration, but it squeezed out in a kind of jumbled mess in no accurate order.
"I think you're worth more than you assume," Corwin said. Just that, and he thought about it a while. It was hard to watch the pain on Kliment's face and feel as though he could do nothing. Idly, Corwin reached up and tugged on one of Kliment's hands. "What you were saying, with string... It's maybe more interesting than you would suppose. That's how I try to reach inside and find the warmth in darkness; I thread my heat through. So string isn't uninteresting to me. Besides," Corwin kept adding, his little face serious to an alarming degree, "You can do all kinds of useful things with string. You can mend things, tie things, attach things. With string, you can make rope. with rope, you can bind. String is always useful, in my opinion. It's something you can touch." Corwin's hand dropped, and he looked up at Kliment to smile. If only he could understand what he represented to the little Twilif. Corwin hadn't forgotten that first kindness, and never would; when he had arrived, and lost Hevn, he had been so disoriented and alone. Kliment was the first one, and nearly the only one, to treat him like a being and not a silly infant. Corwin could never forget that kindness, nor, he suspected, repay it.
"Smoke, and string? Those are two whole talents, you know. I'm not even very good at one thing!" Corwin laughed. He put too much weight on growing, and believed that once he was all grown up, he wouldn't be so weak or so confused. Unless he learned better, he was probably due for a shock. Although he was sure to experience many things before he grew. He was already surprised at the life he found in the night. Still, Corwin couldn't help but rethink that pained expression on Kliment's face. He just wanted to ease that, a little; if he could build a lantern and offer it to Kliment to stave away that darkness, he would do it in a heartbeat. Corwin ran his warm hand through his hair. "Can someone be good at being alone?" Corwin wondered, mumbling, and then louder, "What kinds of things do you do with smoke, with string?"
"Where do you suppose the fireflies are at?" Corwin asked, a little shyly. Perhaps facts were more neutral ground where both of them could find a resting place if his original questions were too personal. "If you get... sleepy, let me know? We can always rest. The fireflies will be here another night. Either way, don't expect to get rid of me very quickly," Corwin laughed, and stirred the cool air with his fingertips, pressing his cool hand against the glass of one of his lanterns. "You remind me of a story," Corwin murmured, reaching up and pressing his little hand against Kliment's again. Sometimes, Moonfolk took his gestures as an invasion of their privacy. Corwin deeply regretted those situations; he was simply no good at expressing himself, and being able to communicate with his warmth or cold made him calm down. He felt at ease, walking with Kliment. It was apparent. Corwin's face, which was normally taught with the concentration it took to ward off the night's chill, may as well have been the picture of peace. He wished that he could trap the moment, like catching a firefly, and keep it with him.
He couldn't understand, or know, that the friendship which Corwin worked to build now was the reason that Hevn had parted ways with him. Corwin had warmth and care in him, enough to spill out and over everything he touched. Kliment made it a little easier for Corwin to be himself. Kliment made the darkness into something comforting, instead of something to be feared. Perhaps if Kliment worked in smoke, Corwin did not need to be so afraid of the darker side of himself. What could he do, with his ice, if he embraced it? Corwin's heat flared hotter, though still at an agreeable degree, as he considered the choice. Kliment's link with the dark and the night was one he needed to explore to understand; he had only ever known the darkness which chilled him to the bone, but it seemed as though perhaps the night could be home. Maybe he would understand a little more, with Kliment's gentle patience. Corwin thought of the story of red thread and smiled to himself, squeezing Kliment's hand. His hand was loose around Kliment's, since he wasn't entirely sure Kliment would be comfortable with the touch. It was an innocent gesture, but Corwin was far too used to being pulled away from to take it for granted.
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Posted: Thu Jun 24, 2010 11:22 pm
He tried not to make it apparent, but all through their searching, Kliment had been stealing discreet glances toward Corwin, hoping to find clues in his face and demeanor to determine how he was feeling. He had grown used to judging body language, finding words to often be too difficult. It wounded him to see that his words had such an effect on the boy - it was as if Corwin was taking in everything he said and insisting on attempting to share the burden, to find true empathy and experience it himself. That wouldn't do; there was only so much a young heart could take.
His heart skipped a beat when he felt something brush his hand, his face quickly turning down to see what it was. His expression softened immediately when he saw only the twilif's small hand tugging his, and he didn't flinch away like he thought he might. "Something you can touch?" he asked quietly, looking ahead. Something substantial... was he suggesting that things that couldn't be seen or held weren't as useful? No, that didn't suit him. He didn't know Corwin particularly well yet, but he felt that the boy valued unspoken gestures just as much as he did. It was that silent, shared thing that stuck out in Kliment's mind, and he found great appreciation in the knowledge. He relaxed, and didn't realize that his fingers had curled around Corwin's.
"Don't sell yourself short," he said a little firmly, squeezing Corwin's hand slightly. His voice still retained that gentleness he was using more and more often; even when he meant to be firm, he sounded like he was attempting to console more than anything. "You are a treasure, boy. Even if you do not have complete control over your internal warmth and cold yet, you can make me feel at home, and... you are comforting. Your presence is so warm, but, at the same time, holds a coolness that I can recognize in myself. It proves to me that you are not only well-rounded in abilities, but also in mind and spirit. Your kindness attracts those around you like an inviting flame, but does not burn too brightly to blind one to any deception you might attempt to bring forth, which -" He wagged a finger at him, getting caught up in his speech, "- also makes me trust you. It would be so easy to abuse what you have, yet you don't. You're sincere. I know you have the inner strength necessary to overcome any adversities you may face."
It occurred to him that he had not only talked enough to make up for a week of silence, in his case, but he had sung Corwin's praises, an action that would have made himself embarrassed beyond belief, had it been directed at him. He always made it a point to avoid doing to others what would have made him uncomfortable, yet there he was, talking like it was so natural, like it came so easily. But with Corwin... well, it did. And he didn't understand why.
"Silly things," he said suddenly, hoping to clear his mind by answering both of Corwin's questions. "That is, I do only silly things with my string. It's a bit of an embarrassing hobby, but I do like it. I don't consider myself an artist, though. And smoke... well, I would show you right now, but it might make finding our guests difficult." Nonetheless, he snapped his fingers, a tiny puff of smoke rising from them. "I use it to travel, or simply to create a diversion to escape, should I require it. I have practiced to manipulate my own body in conjunction with it, but it can be quite strenuous, if used too often." His voice grew quiet, then faded completely. He debated how to answer Corwin's quiet question, about being alone.
The one thing he failed to mention, he did so on purpose... for fear of rejection.
I can kill with them, too.
"I think I'm pretty good at being alone, myself," he answered honestly, with a small, quiet laugh. "Whether I want to be or not."
When mention was made of the fireflies - the purpose of their walk, which he did not aim to disappoint Corwin by failing to find - Kliment sniffed the air, testing their location. They were close to their destination, what he had suspected would be a good place to find the sometimes-elusive creatures, and looked about to decide if he was right. Once he was certain, he knelt down next to a line of tall grass and looked to Corwin, holding a finger to his lips. He spoke softly, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he raised his free arm toward the grass.
"Fireflies like to gather by the water, among other places. My favorite place to see them is by the water, because I think it's -" he sucked in a breath, recalling, "- beautiful. They're insects, but they produce such light, like... like... I don't know. But I like it." With cat-like precision, he crept to the edge of the grass with Corwin in tow, carefully parting the grass to reveal the small pond that lay beyond it.
Surrounding the pond were lights. They moved about in lazy patterns, some resting on long blades of grass that curved over the water but did not break. Against the night sky, they were bright, the air around the pond alive with a soft, balmy atmosphere. Kliment stepped through the grass, leading Corwin by the hand to the edge of the pond.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, content again. When was the last time he had stopped to admire the fireflies? When was the last time he had taken a walk with someone and simply talked about something, anything? He could count on one hand how many he would trust enough to do such a thing, or feel comfortable around to do so, but it was his own fault. He was like a closely-guarded safe, refusing to let others in unless he was certain they were trustworthy and kind; even then, they had to know how to tread around him, what to do or not do, things he generally didn't disclose. Indeed, it was his own fault he had so few friends, but he would take a few true friends over many false ones.
His tail flicked, the gold band clinking against the scattered rocks. When he lifted a hand, fireflies scattered, but did not fly far, apparently content to watch him from a slight distance. Others hummed around them, and he watched them in guileless fascination. Perhaps they looked at the two of them as simply being part of the night, which wouldn't have been so strange. Kliment was like the darker part of night, the quite shadows. Corwin was two parts in one; the balmy, warm summer night, and the cool winter night. That was how he saw it, in any case. He envied that in Corwin, but also sought to help the boy learn to better control his conflicting powers. What could be done? He hadn't planned that far ahead, hadn't thought of what life would be like if Corwin had stuck around, yet... already, he was beginning to wonder what a regular day with the boy would be like. Thinking of ways he could help him that required more visits than one.
Presently, he looked down at Corwin, eyes glittering in quiet, brimming excitement, the childish feeling he hadn't experienced in a long, long time. He wasn't even aware that he, too, might as well have been glowing. "You said I reminded you of a story?" he asked with an encouraging nod. "If you'd like to share, I have a story for you, too."
[ OH MY GOD THIS IS REALLY REALLY LONG. U-UHHH, I'M SO SORRY. OTL Corwin makes Kliment want to talk a LOT. I'm sorry I'm sorry AAAHHHH I'M SORRY. OTL OTL OTL ]
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Posted: Sat Jun 26, 2010 8:16 pm
He wasn't going to pull away?... Corwin felt like he was a star again, he felt happier than he could explain. He had never felt so good that someone hadn't done what he expected. Corwin felt a little bubble of sadness burst inside him somewhere; how many times had he been pulled away from, in the past while? And his gestures had been so much less significant; Corwin had never wanted to reach out so much as he did with Kliment. Kliment didn't pull away. "Things we can touch just seem to compliment the things we can't, is all. But..." Corwin's voice faded out. He looked up at Kliment, and just smiled. Those secret aspects of Kliment and of Corwin, those things that lurked beneath; those were what made Corwin so happy to be with Kliment, he suspected. Being able to reach up and touch Kliment was enough to make the little Twilif's gem gleam, his markings brilliant. Corwin looked down at them, out of the corner of his eye, and tried to hush them a little. It was hard, to contain himself.
He listened carefully, as Kliment spoke. Corwin's blush manifested as an orange glow, almost like embers, across his night-sky skin. A treasure? Corwin couldn't help but smile and cover his mouth with his free hand, ducking his head as if he had been mischievious, as Kliment wiggled a finger at him. He didn't know how to respond to such kind words; all he felt was a desire to show Kliment a similar kindness. Corwin didn't know how, so he started somewhere small, with what he felt. "It's... easy to burn bright, looking at the flames in others; all I have to do is pull them up to the surface... and I think... maybe with your help, a calm chill would be possible, too. There is so much in you, and so much under that... I would explore forever and never find the end, I'm sure." Corwin did laugh, then, but it wasn't a mocking sound; it was one born from the sheer joy of believing in himself, because he believed in his friend. And unspoken, the sentiment that Corwin would be happy to learn from and about Kliment, as long as he could. The night had never seemed so much like home. Corwin's heat and cold, without him noticing, began to attempt a sychronization with what would make Kliment most comfortable. It was like trying to match a heartbeat; Corwin, without realizing it, was controlling his temperatures.
Kliment said that he did silly things with string, but Corwin was delighted by the silly, the strange, the seemingly insignificant; he took so much pleasure in moments that, although they would never last, were beautiful. Or even just entertaining. Not everything was sublime. Corwin covered his mouth with his free hand when Kliment snapped his fingers, his eyes wide and glimmering. It fascinated the Twilif; he felt, somehow, like a descent into that smoke would be comforting. What a strange feeling to have... He had lived in darkness so long that all it had taken was Kliment's kindness to turn the darkness into a true comfort. He was still afraid of the chill of being alone at night, and having no home to return to... but for tonight, he wanted to think about only the present. He didn't want to flesh up the past, or feel its pain. So he pushed the thought out, and reached up with his free hand, as if he could hold the smoke. Kliment seemed... Sad? What was the emotion, behind his smoke ability? Corwin had no real perception of what Kliment was thinking, but he could feel the cold tendrils in response to the silence.
"Sometimes it seems like being alone is much easier than being with others... especially for me. I don't think... it's not the same when I'm near you." Corwin blushed again, and chewed his lip, running his spare hand up through his hair. Had Kliment not let go yet? Corwin wasn't yet willing to break the touch. The simple connection made him excruciatingly happy."Ahhh.... you're not others, I mean. That's... I feel right, here. Better than right. It's as if I could say nothing, and hear everything? There's something in you that I can speak with, without saying a word. I think that both silence and speaking are perfect with you. I don't feel that with anyone. I forget my words, or I get lost in what I wanted to say, or I get scared that if I say what I mean, it won't be enough." Corwin looked up into the night sky. Now he was talking a lot, too! It just kept pouring out, and he was surely embarrassing himself and Kliment, but he couldn't help it. Please, he thought, let this be enough.
Corwin's heart skipped a beat when Kliment lowered into the grass and held a finger up. Corwin held his breath. He watched Kliment intently, his little brows furrowed. He squeezed Kliment's hand lightly, in excitement and acknowledgement. By the water? Corwin had never known that! No wonder he couldn't find them on his own. He sucked in a quiet, long breath, when Kliment parted the grass. They were beautiful. They were so much more than beautiful. It was mesmerizing. Corwin was constantly divided, watching Kliment's graceful movements and trying to absorb the fireflies around the pond. They were like little wishes, he thought. Little wishes sent off into the sky, and then they circled back down and gathered here. Maybe if they caught one, it would come true for the person. Corwin felt fluttering, as if he'd swallowed a firefly himself. He pressed his free hand over his mouth to avoid letting it escape as laughter. When Kliment's gold band clinked against the scattered rocks, Corwin smiled wide. What a beautiful sound... and the fireflies, if they were wishes, must have known how much Kliment and Corwin belonged there. How much Corwin was at home there.
"They are... I can't remember, or picture, anything more perfect. It's like this place is made for just this moment... " Kliment's glittering eyes, his excitement... Corwin felt like Kliment was like him, fire in the shadows, with all the light he could feel from the Constellation. Corwin could not even remember feeling sorrow, feeling the night bite without sympathy. It had been so unyielding for so many nights; Corwin slept wherever he found shelter, which was sometimes a field, sometimes under a tree. And he didn't remember any of it, because the look on Kliment's face purged him of those memories, however briefly. "A story?" Corwin began, as if speaking from a dream, Kliment and the fireflies glowing around him, "Yes, you remind me of a story, and... I'd love to tell it to you, Corwin said, "There's probably nothing I would enjoy more. Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised, here with you." Corwin's voice was extremely quiet by the end of that sentence, and he still sounded a little charmed.
"The story is a little twisted around, but I'll try my best to tell it..." Corwin took a deep breath, and began.
Often, this story is told from the other side, that of the humans. However, the story I want to tell you is more about Yue Lao, a lunar god, who lived up there with the stars and the darkness, and he never came down. During the day, he slept away; not because he disliked the sun, but because he had no place in it. It was more comforting for him to be nestled amongst the stars, studying and learning. He had one great hobby: weaving the stories he dreamt up into tapestries. Yue Lao, with his careful hands, wove darkness into thread. He wove the light, he wove the stars, he wove every cosmic breath and every blade of grass. He wove joy, and sorrow, life and death. Yue Lao was so skilled and gentle that even the most elusive sentiment found a home in his weaving. He needed no loom, nor tools. He wove with his fingers, in order to tell himself stories to pass the time. Yue Lao could not remember his birth, and he was reasonably sure he would live forever. What else was there for him to do, stuck up in the sky, curled up in the moon? Yue Lao had friends, of course, the stars closest to his home. Despite watching the humans and animals on earth, he was never able to speak with them. The distance was too great. Yue Lao was only able to dream and observe and weave.
For a very long time, that was all he did. The sun goddess would make fun of him, sometimes, for being so quiet. Indeed, Yue Lao did not really speak to anyone. He had never heard his own voice. Alone with the stars, whose company comforted him, he did not feel the need to speak. Humans and animals would never hear him. One day, though, and no one really knows how this came about, Yue Lao made a new friend. A bird with red feathers, flame-licked, made its way all the way to the moon. Exhausted from its flight, it slept there during the day, until the night fell. Yue Lao found the bird there. He was startled at first, and then apprehensive, and then worried; was the bird alright? He had never seen anything like it before. The bird lifted one wing and saw Yue Lao standing there, observing. "Who are you?" the bird said.
"Who am I? Who are you!" Yue Lao answered, and laughed. Then his eyes went wide, and he covered his mouth with one hand. He had spoken! The bird trilled a few notes, and took flight, flying around Yue Lao a few times as it answered.
"Well, you're clearly rude, but I have better manners than that. I am Phoenix; I come from the Cinnamon Woods down by the Empress' castle. I flew up here looking for a token of my love for her... She said that birds would fly to the moon, before she would love me." The Phoenix huffed and his flames grew dull. He was clearly troubled.
Yue Lao had listened in patient silence, astounded by this new aquaintance. Finally, he answered, "If you need proof, then of course I will help you. Here, take this ring, I made it out of the thread of starlight itself," Yue Lao removed his ring and gave it to the bird. "All I ask is that you return to visit me," Yue Lao added.
"I'm sure I'll return! Thank you for the gift. I will bring back stories of romance." The Phoenix flew back to earth and did not return for some time. Yue Lao grew tired and despaired that his friend would not return. In order to keep busy, Yue Lao gathered fistfuls of the smoke which covered the shadowed part of the moon, and wove thread into a veil. Finally, on the last day of Yue Lao's labour, the Phoenix returned. It seemed more tired than before. "She said it was a beautiful ring, but that any old silver ring was not very interesting. I have no idea what I'm to do!"
Yue Lao listened carefully, again, and did not hesitate to offer, "Well, my friend, what if I gave you this veil made of the smoke which covers my home? It is of the finest quality, for I made it myself. Surely, she will find comfort behind its soft darkness."
"Truly? Thank you so much, my friend! I will return to thank you again! Perhaps this will prove to the Empress just how much I adore her. I must return home, to the Cinnamon woods, again." Before Yue Lao could answer him, he had flown off with the veil. Yue Lao sighed and rested his eyes for a while, thinking.
"I would love to see the Cinnamon woods," Yue Lao murmured. For a long while, he did not weave anything at all. He was feeling strangely tired. All he dreamt of when he slept was the fire plumage of his new friend, and the Empress that he loved, shrouded in the cloth of Yue Lao's own home.
Finally, the Phoenix returned for a second time. "Ah, my friend, it was terrible! She cast the veil aside, and claimed I found her ugly and wished to hide her face. 'Who,' she said, 'would wish to appear like the homely moon, hiding its face away'!"
Yue Lao frowned, this time. How could this Empress cast aside such valuable gifts? Not to mention insult his home. Especially when his friend clearly cared for her. Yue Lao sighed and sat down heavily. "Come back in one day, and I will have a gift for you. I am sure she will like this gift." The Phoenix thanked him and flew back down to earth. It was overcome with gratitude for Yue Lao, and so it picked up some of the discarded Cinnamon Bark as a gift, for when he saw Yue Lao again.
There was only one thing left which Yue Lao could give. He drew a thread from within himself, made from the sadness he felt, looking at the cold stars around him. Of course, they were still his friends, but he missed his new friend. He wished that there was more time to spend with him, but the Empress was a pressing concern, and he knew that. It was just that the stars could not speak back, and sometimes it was lonely, sitting in silence. The thread which Yue Lao drew was not right, but it removed from him all the sadness he was feeling. All that was left was a warmth and a longing to see the Phoenix again. That thread came out strong and flawless, a soft cord which would never tear or break. Something wasn't quite right, but Yue Lao did not know what it was. The gift was near perfect when Phoenix arrived.
As soon as he arrived, Phoenix dropped a stick of cinnamon bark down for Yue Lao. Yue took a deep breath. The cinnamon bark smelled delicious. "What is this?" Yue Lao asked.
"The bark of a Cinnamon tree, like the ones I make my home in. You've done so much for me, I thought I would bring something for you."
"Thank you... Truly. I think that this will complete the gift I have prepared for your Empress." Yue Lao took the cinnamon and crushed it into powder. He blew into the powder, and it became a red smoke through which he drew the cord he had made earlier. It was beautiful. With deft motions, almost faster than the Phoenix could see, Yue Lao wove the cord into a heart pendant made of string. The pendant was attached to the cord, still, which made a full loop, allowing it to be worn. Yue Lao placed the pendant around the Phoenix' neck. "I believe this will win the heart of whoever you desire," Yue Lao said, and bade the Phoenix farewell. Yue Lao retreated back into the smoke of his moon; he could not bear to watch his friend depart, again. He comforted himself with the soft sighs of the stars, and dreamt, and dreamt.
Yue Lao had no concept of how long he slept. He woke to a trilling song and the scent of Cinnamon. The Phoenix blazed above him, circling around Yue Lao. "Did she love the gift?" Yue Lao asked.
"I did not give it to her," the Phoenix answered. "It told me secrets, when I was flying back home. Secrets about the universe, and the heart of a God. I had no idea who you were, Yue Xia Lao. Why did you not tell me, these things you held inside you? The starsong, the shade of the moon, the twist of longing and the comfort of a companion? All these things, and you did not even tell me one of them."
Yue Lao was silent for a while. He was exhausted, his heart still suspended from the Phoenix' neck. "I..." Yue Lao's eyes closed, again, before he could answer. Did the Phoenix understand, then? The care for him, the silence he had endured, living on the moon; the longing, most of all. For life, and for warmth. The Phoenix trilled again, waking him.
"Are you ill? Have you fallen ill? I think you drew too much of yourself out, when you made this trinket... it tells all of your secrets to me, and what will you have left, if you have no secrets?Take the pendant back! Be well, again..."
Yue Lao smiled. "Well, at least I have had your companionship. It will not be so bad, dreaming forever. I am so tired... There is no way to replace that, once given. It belongs to you." Yue began to sleep once more. This time, the Phoenix could not wake him. He slumbered on the moon, the Phoenix flying around him and singing until his throat was sore.
"Yue Lao, I will find a cure for you, and when you wake... I will share my secrets with you. I promise. I will circle the endless sky a thousand times, ten thousand times; however many it will take, to find you a cure." The Phoenix, flustered, pecked at the heart-charm with his beak. He unwound it and tied it to Yue's ankle, so that he would always find his way back, no matter how far apart they were.
True to his word, the Phoenix left in search of a cure; it is said that he looks, still, and that in his search, he ties others with the red thread of Yue as well. The thread that will never break, though it may stretch from one side of the sky to the other, or tangle around a hundred lives. It will always connect two together, who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance.
Corwin took a deep breath, and shivered. How had he told such a long story? He looked at Kliment, shyly. Had he understood? Ah, he must have talked the Constellation's ear off! Funny, more details came to him than he remembered being told... But looking at Kliment, and the fireflies around them, he felt like the story may as well have been telling itself.
((OH MY GOD OTL OTL OTL I AM SO SORRY it's HUGE! I wrote everything myself except for ... the last paragraph of the story uses the Chinese proverb this story is based on @_@; ))
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 11:25 pm
While Corwin was telling his story, Kliment couldn't help but stare. How hadn't he noticed it before? The shy brilliance that appeared as a warm glow, capricious in its appearances, not unlike the occasional flicker of a flame. He had seen it before; the way a candle would burn quietly, only to flare up and dance, casting erratic shadows across the wall. The movement had always made him feel less alone, like the hesitant touch of a friend or lover. It made it a little embarrassing to think of it in such a way, but Kliment felt he was steadily growing past that. Weren't they friends?
The feeling in his chest made him question that sentiment. He grabbed at it, closing his eyes to listen to the tale. It was ridiculously easy for him to compare himself to Yue Lao, to understand the loneliness he must have felt. He hadn't meant to take the story so personally, but when he heard of the phoenix, and of the way he flew to the moon, he couldn't help but think of Corwin. Again, he felt the familiar ebb of embarrassment heat his face; what would his friend say, if he knew he was comparing the tale to their lives, their friendship? He hadn't met Corwin that long ago, but he had never opened up more to anyone in his entire lifetime, as short as it seemed. He couldn't even remember giving so much of himself to Da --
His eyes became half-moons, and he pushed the memory away. No. He would not think of others while he was with Corwin. That wasn't fair, and...
Then he remembered how sensitive Corwin was to others' emotions, and he tried to think of something to ease the burden on his own heart. The tale was a sad one, so he supposed he was safe to feel that way as Corwin told it. The ending, while being bittersweet, still managed to hold some hope for the two, but it made Kliment wonder about his own life. The possibilities for him. Would he ever find eternal companionship? Was... was love even a possibility?
He had heard it before; in order to love another, you must learn to love yourself. Kliment had never thought much of himself; ever. Self-sacrifice was his personal mantra, something he stuck with no matter what. When had he ever looked after himself in favor of another? He honestly could not remember. Yet, he refused to look at it as being out of pure kindness; no, he just didn't value himself. He searched for self-worth in helping others, because it gave him a purpose.
To give up everything for everyone on a whim wasn't a... a life, though. He could feel it burning inside of him, a desire to dedicate his life to one person, to selfishly love them and only them, and receive their love in return. To feel worthy of such a thing, and perhaps, some day... love himself.
When Corwin's story was done, and he looked up at him, Kliment had no real words. What was he to say? That he felt so strongly about the story, as if Corwin had been looking into his mind, that it seemed as if it had been about them? No, he didn't want to make the twilif uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was push Corwin away. No, he wanted to draw him closer, keep him there...
He shook his head, surprised at his own selfishness, then knelt to one knee, holding their hands in front of his face. Now at eye-level with each other, Kliment sought out words that would properly describe how he was feeling.
"Corwin, that... that was a beautiful story. I don't really have words... I mean, I'm not sure how to say what I..." He smiled suddenly, a true smile. "Good thing I'm... talking to you, because I don't have to voice how I'm feeling. You can feel it, can't you?"
With that, he took Corwin's hand and held it to his own chest, over his heart. He didn't have the courage to voice it, but god, he wanted to feel warmth in his chest. He was tired of the cold, and felt guilty for putting Corwin through it, but he was resolved to open himself up to Corwin. Corwin, who gave and gave and never asked for anything in return. They were so alike, and it didn't make him happy to realize that. Did that mean that Corwin held the same lack of self-worth as him?
"Corwin... Corwin, I'm sorry," he said. And then he embraced him fiercely.
"You're lonely, too, aren't you...? Forgive me, I'm so stupid, I... so caught up in myself, I never realized how alike we truly are. Please," he pleaded, "please never think of yourself as any less than anyone else. You are so much more than that, so don't... don't ever think that, just because you seem to be alone, you truly are. I -- I want to be there for you."
His story had caused him to realize something in himself, although he had yet to truly understand it. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want to let Corwin go. He didn't want to let him disappear into the night, as he had allowed so many before. Again, he felt completely and utterly selfish, but... perhaps he wasn't alone?
Letting Corwin go, he fell back onto the grass, rubbing his face with both hands, as if it would help clear his head. What was he doing? He was scaring himself. He had never wanted to keep someone close and to himself so much in his life. How would Corwin react?
He glanced up at him fearfully, fingers digging into the dirt. More than anything, he wanted to dig a hole and bury himself.
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Posted: Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:31 pm
To keep himself calm, Corwin had been pressing his hand against his chest. For some reason, he felt so invested in what Kliment took away from the story... True, it was not the first time the basic story had been told, but so much of it had really come from his own heart that he was terrified Kliment would cast it aside. Corwin felt like he was being gripped by ice, watching Kliment's eyes slit, feeling the cold slip into his dear friend. His friend, of course, and yet the way Corwin looked at him, the way he wanted to reach out and ease that pain no matter what it took, he felt like he wanted to be closer. Could he ever ask for that? Would Kliment -- could he ever allow that?
Ever since Corwin could remember, the night had been his chains. It was impossible to explain to another the kind of pain associated with feeling no heat. The ice inside him took over, gripped him, wrung him, shattered whatever it could. Although he loved so dearly to smile, seldom was he free of that pain. And yet, with Kliment, he felt as though he could offer a pure smile, one which was not tainted by the memory of that pain. He also felt as though Kliment understood it. Loneliness was hardly dissimilar to the feeling. Corwin was used to falling asleep, alone, once day had broken and warmed the earth, sleeping until all the heat was gone. He didn't sleep in any one place. He pretty much slept wherever he could, and wherever he felt safe. He wasn't in much danger; it was a terrible idea to grab Corwin unpleasantly at all. Although he wasn't very strong yet, his skin could superheat or freeze by touch. It was, thankfully, under his control at last, though he wished he had some way of really using his elements outside of his body. He didn't have much faith in himself; he felt little, and useless, largely.
All he did at night was look for those who had become lost, so that he could guide them home. Lately, he had been doing that more figuratively. He had been keeping others company when they could not sleep, or when they were lonely; their hearts wandered, but their bodies were right at home. He hadn't known much about shepherding lost hearts; they were so distinct in their desires. Corwin knew, though it pained him, that he could not lead those individuals home. Like Yue Lao and his Phoenix, Corwin felt that the only way to find their home was to follow their red thread. Corwin wasn't able to find that for them, though he wished he was. He kept them warm, they kept him company, and he would spend night after night that way. He never saw the same face twice. He never stopped feeling the night's constrictions. Until Kliment.
Corwin regarded Kliment, his eyes shimmering, his heart beating a little faster than he would have expected. Corwin wasn't afraid of the night, with Kliment. Corwin had begun to want the night, to respect and ...to love it? The night, because that was where Kliment was, and he wanted to be wherever Kliment was. It was enough to make him sing, as tuneless as he might be. It was a joy that wanted to bubble up and overwhelm him. It made the night seem powerless, or if not powerless, then full of potential. Corwin closed his eyes briefly, brows furrowed. He couldn't feel this way, if it meant that it would just be taken away. He couldn't expect anyone to allow him around, with those feelings. He would be a nuisance. The desire to be with Kliment, and the knowledge that Kliment may not want him around, tore him asunder. How could he feel so selfish, wanting to be near Kliment all the while? But he did, and it hurt him, to be so selfish. He wanted it more than anything he could think of. He wanted to ease the constellation's heart, wrap him up in the gentle warmth that Kliment made him feel. He wanted to share these things with him. Could Kliment know that, the effect it was having on him?
He opened his eyes again, and searched inside Kliment, almost without thinking about it. There was a coldness there. Corwin set aside his own thoughts, and regarded that coldness. What was it from? His story, or...? He could see the confusion, the conflict inside his dear friend. To Corwin, small kindnesses did not go unnoticed; despite this being their first major outing, Corwin felt like they had been here hundreds of times before. He felt so indebted to Kliment, for the kindnesses he had been shown. And finally, Corwin's heart paused a beat as Kliment opened his mouth to speak. Corwin smiled gently as Kliment began to reply, and then... Kliment smiled. His smile...his smile made Corwin's heart stop, he swore. It was enough to make the sun rise. Of course he could understand what Kliment was feeling, now. He could feel it, as if it was his own; was it? What Kliment felt, what he felt, they were so similar. Corwin would have doubted his abilities, if it wasn't for Kliment's next gesture. Corwin blushed furiously when Kliment pressed his hand against his chest.
Corwin could feel the cold, immediately. He could feel the same chill the night put in him, or that's what it seemed like. For another to have to bear that coldness... Corwin was mortified. Kliment shouldn't have to bear that burden; Corwin had fire, he had light. That was what he used to battle it. But Kliment... Corwin wanted to thread his own heat into Kliment, to draw out the warmth Corwin knew was buried inside him. Kliment had his own heat, if only Corwin could show him. He could feel it there, almost like a band of gold, or the fireflies around them. It was a wonder, the hidden layers to Kliment; Corwin wasn't even strong enough, to reach all the way down. Strong or brave enough; surely Kliment would feel it, if he kept on reaching. Maybe some day, he would be able to find the depths of Kliment, so that he understood even better. Corwin wanted to understand Kliment as easily as he understood his own self, and then some.
"Ah...!" Corwin squeaked out, as Kliment pulled him into an embrace. That had never, ever happened before. If Corwin had blushed furiously before, he lit up like a bonfire now, his markings flaring and his skin growing warmer. It felt like being part of the sun. Corwin felt like if he could just hold on tight, for long enough, he could draw enough heat into Kliment to keep him warm, at least a little while... So much contact held so much potential. Corwin had to struggle not to interrupt Kliment, not to disrupt him. He wanted so badly to explain himself. Except Kliment pulled away, and all at once, the cold came rushing back. The chill that bit at him, and made him want to curl up, though he would never be able to sleep through it. He thought he would never feel relief. Being so close to Kliment, he had. However briefly. It was selfish, he knew, but he wanted to be close again. He wanted to finally reply to Kliment, finally tell him.
Tell him what? Corwin was at a loss for words, and he felt his face burn, trying to express himself. Finally, he did all he could do: he went to Kliment, and curled up by his side, using his chest as a pillow, his hands spread across Kliment's chest. Corwin warmed Kliment's chest, drew the heat out and pulled Kliment's cold into himself. It was easy to draw the cold out, no more than inhaling a winter breeze. Moving there, pressing close to Kliment, was what terrified Corwin. He was invading Kliment's space without his permission, he was being so bold. What if Kliment was repulsed by his gesture? But no words would serve to communicate what he wanted to say: He drew Kliment's cold into himself, so that he could thread more heat into him in its place. Just a gentle transition... Corwin looked up at Kliment, his hand still pressed to his chest, and drew a warm aura around them. His power flexed so easily, and yet he didn't even notice. "I was lonely, and I didn't understand it. I didn't know... there was any other way. I had one purpose, and that was to guide lost souls home. Knowing you, seeing you here... I know, or I think, there's something else I can be a part of... and I feel terrible, wanting that of you. Just to be close. I'm... I'm not sure if I am as valuable as you make me believe I may be, but I'd be willing to try. Could you somehow bring yourself to let me be with you? I mean-- I just mean, close. Close to you." Corwin closed his eyes, then, afraid to look into Kliment's, and afraid to read Kliment's emotions. Had he misspoken? Corwin felt like he had expressed himself poorly, again. It was terrifying, to say these things. Corwin was amazed they even left his head. He had learned that to ask for something was to risk having what you had taken away. To expect something often led to disappointment. He tried not to expect anything, bracing himself for the worst... and yet, he would enjoy this touch. If Kliment should withdraw, he wanted to be able to remember it forever. He wanted to have it locked up inside him, like a beacon. When he felt worst, he would have that, those shining words and sincere smiles. Kliment's bangles, his string, his smoke. Kliment was an ember, burning in darkness, giving off more heat than anyone would suspect. Kliment drew Corwin in. Mesmerized him.
Corwin drew from his depths, drew one thread of heat that had never been tainted by cold, and threaded it into Kliment's chest. He lay his head against the place he had warmed, and rested there, murmuring, "If you would let me.. be close to you... that's all I want. I won't... ask for anything else, if you'd let me." He furrowed his brows, and took a deep breath. While he rested there, Corwin's skin almost seemed to glow. He was more powerful, and he didn't realize it; every kind word, every sincere gesture Kliment offered him sustained him, warmed him, taught him that there were deeper secrets still. And, finally, "If you let me... I'll always be near you. Neither of us... We don't have to feel that way any more." Corwin said it with hope, his voice wavering from his nerves. He cast his heat out into Kliment, and lay still, listening, his hand pressed against Kliment's chest. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and shivered, despite the heat. Please... please don't make me go back to the cold. I would give anything to stay with Kliment. Anything you ask. Directed at no one, or maybe at the fireflies... if they were tiny wishes, he needed them desperately to grant this one wish. He very nearly held his breath, waiting. What if Kliment pushed him away?... He was awfully close to him...
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