Lyric Amachi hadn’t known what time it was, not until his familiar had landed against his side and asked him what the plan was.
“Plan for what?” He had asked.
”For the coming year! We can’t just sit here all the time, moping. Brooding. It’s a waste of a perfectly good life, it is, and I, for one, am tired of watching you rot.”
The new year— the future. Had that many moons passed since the last? He hadn’t been paying attention, nor did he want to, either. There seemed no point anymore; life did as it wanted, regardless of how hard he tried. Families were lost, love was forgotten, and passions were crushed— merciless and relentless. If the world wanted to take, it would, and Lyric had learned quickly that whatever was worth having was also worth taking. He had lost everything along his travels, and that was fine. That was adulthood, wasn’t it— reality?
So, he had stopped paying attention and focused on existing and getting through the days individually. Seasons had melded into one another, days became nights, and his hooves had taken him far from his origin point. Tempo, as he always did, fretting and worrying (and sometimes nagging) the former dancer throughout their journey, came with him. Lyric had become skilled at tuning his voice out, and he had expected that to be enough to send the bird far from his side. While Lyric wandered, Tempo followed, and Lyric wondered why. Didn’t the bird want his own family? His own life? A part of him had once felt guilt for how he was ruining both their lives, but that feeling had long since passed, replaced by the unnameable feeling that had taken root in his chest.
“Lyric!”
Tempo’s squawk was particularly shrill, cutting through Lyric’s listless musing. The stallion shook his head, dismantling Tempo from his side with a gruff grunt. Tempo took to the air, cawing irritably before taking his place on a nearby branch.
”We used to have dreams,” Tempo sighed. “You wanted to learn different styles of dances. Find a home somewhere when you met the right partner. Have a family. Now we just…” Tempo gestured around them with a wing, followed by a shrug. “Lyric, it’s not all over. Plenty of soquilli have gone through worse, you know, and they’ve had happy lives. I don’t want to see you just give up when there’s no reaso-“
“Enough,” Lyric huffed loudly. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. Normally he wouldn’t, but the startle of the passing year had jostled him from his usual stupor. “It’s fine the way it is. If you don’t like it, you can go somewhere else. But I’m going to continue walking until something stops me.”
Until something made him.
Tempo shifted on his branch, his beak opening and closing between frustrated gawps and huffs. When words failed him, he settled with a disappointed head shake and flap of his wings, taking to the skies above. Lyric assumed he’d be back— Tempo always came back. But some of him hoped the bird would find something else to occupy his time. Something that made him happy, unlike how he felt with Lyric.
Deeper down, Lyric felt an unease in his chest. A new year— a symbol of a new beginning for many. For him, it was just another turn of the planet. He was alone, aside from an aggravated bird, and didn’t even know the direction of his birthplace anymore. The world had swallowed him, leaving him to drift aimlessly until his hooves no longer took him forward. What was there to plan for? He hadn’t met a soul in a year, and he had lost the only thing he had ever been good at. His family had always been a complex subject and not one he wanted to ever revisit, truthfully. He had nothing, and he was nowhere.
The only thing he wanted, truly, was a decent night's sleep. That, and if he thought harder on it, to get rid of Tempo once and for all. This was not the life the corvid wanted, surely. He couldn’t actually enjoy following after someone he clearly was dismayed by. That, and Tempo had once enjoyed the company of others. Tempo could travel far and wide with those wings— further than Lyric could in a day. He had opportunities and wanted them, unlike Lyric. Unfortunately, no matter where Lyric went, Tempo could cover the ground twice as fast and locate the soquilli. He’d need to be frightened off, but Lyric wasn’t a cruel stallion. Apathetic and perhaps a bit bitter, but not one to hurt someone. Especially someone who had once been his best friend…
No, he’d need to shake Tempo somehow off. Convince him to take his leave or find somewhere even Tempo couldn’t reach. Maybe that’d be his goal for the new year— true solitude. Then, he could keep wandering in peace, with no squawking in his ear and no guilt for wrecking someone else’s life— just peace.
Quiet, lonely peace.
WC: 842
