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 Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 10:26 pm
Echo stiffened as she looked out upon the sandy expanse. It would seem that the Sumerian afterlife was not as forgiving as her own. Cautiously, she took a step forward, and then another one, even though a part of her internally wailed, unable to believe that she would find Ciro in such a place. She forced herself to believe it, though, because if she didn't, then he would remain here for the rest of eternity, and the thought of that was far more painful.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, but it dried as it travelled until there was no indication that she had even been crying. Echo looked down at the cracked land between her feet, and wondered if the place would collapse in on itself, if moisture managed to touch the grought-ridden earth. But the more she thought about it, the hotter it seemed to become, and so Echo steeled her resolve and pressed herself forward, clinging to a small black scarf wrapped around her neck, a token from her Lady giving her permission to be here.
As she walked, Echo saw the shapes of corpses in the distance and paused, unwilling to investigate should Ciro be among them. But as she reluctantly tread closer to the bodies, she realizing that they were in fact moving, scraping at the ground with worn-out tongues as if the sand were water. Their emaciated forms paid no attention to her, even as she took steps near inches away. However, seeing the shades this close up put Echo somewhat at ease, for none of them had horns.
But what if Ciro no longer had his horns? What if he was stripped of all godly presence in this afterlife? Echo mimed crying out, but there was no accompanying voice: if she lacked the ability to speak on earth, then she most certainly would lack it here, especially with her throat parched as it was. She licked her lips and continued on, looking for any sign of the man she loved. And all the while, she listened for the winds to rustle loud enough to create an echo in the barren place, and for those moments, she could let out a croaked whisper.
"...Ci...ro..."
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 10:56 pm
Through the sound of wind and cloud of dust-- he could have almost thought he heard something.
That, however, must have been wishful thinking. It happened a lot, when he had first shown up in this damned place. The hallucinations had diminished with time, accompanied by any hope that he might be saved from this place.
His body had also shrunk-- There was nothing to eat, nothing to do, nothing to see. Everything was just there. It was not meant to sustain life or be entertaining.
Even the memories from the land, from the shades, were pathetic, offering nothing but visions of the same landscape, the same suffering souls.
Nothing was going to change. Soon, Ciro would end up just like those shades.
He didn’t even know how long he had been there for. There was no concept of time, no day or night, in this strange place. There was only what there was-- nothing more.
Until… Suddenly, there was something.
His body swayed as he got to his feet-- betraying the sense of urgency-- she was here?! Why here? He had to get to her! It hurt to move, after so long without eating-- yet his body lunged forward in a clumsy gait--
Before stopping completely. Eyes stared briefly, before the godling shook his head.
“Damn-- Again.”
Collapsing onto his knees, quickly he had found himself sitting in the dust once more.
I’m never gunna get used to these, damnit. I know it’s not happening. It’s not real, damnit!!
How many times had this happened to him already…? There was simply no way she was going to show up. There was no way she’d be real this time-- just like the many times before.
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 11:58 pm
Suddenly, there was movement. Yes, one of the shades had started walking, and as Echo's eyes darted in that direction, she saw the four sets of horns, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. In her short time there it had already seemed that she would never find him amongst the thousands, and yet, there he was, standing, reaching out to her--
And then he wasn't.
Echo found herself rather confused at first. Why would he stop so suddenly? Was he already so weakened by his time in the underworld? She noticed the way his body seemed thinner, more fragile, but surely he could still move? And then it occured to Echo that perhaps he had stopped of his own free will, that he did not want to see her, and at this, she wavered, taking a step back. But--she loved him, more than a nymph should. Wasn't that enough? Was she somehow made imperfect by these sands?
But at the sound of his words, everything seemed to become clear for Echo, and she put aside the clouded visions her fearful conscience had conjured. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she continued forward, holding onto her scarf so that it might not blow away in the ever-increasing wind. She knew that, even with Lady Persephone's permission, she was grudgingly accepted by the local enforcement at best. Nevertheless, she forced herself step by step to keep moving forward until she was merely a few feet away, kneeling so that she could meet his gaze with tear-filled eyes.
"I'm...real, damnit!" Echo cried, holding out one of her pale hands so that it would be within his reach. She could not force him to grab her hand, just as she could not force him to leave, but she could sure as hell (pardon the pun) try to be convincing about it. The wind tugged at her scarf, momentarily revealing a series of scars wrapped around her throat before she pulled it back into place, obscuring them from view once again.
"I'm real..." She murmured, inching closer to him. "I'm real."
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Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2009 1:09 pm
The wind-- which had done little but obscure the horizon since he had arrived, now did something it had never done--
There were scars there. Horrible, gnarled, disgusting scars.
A normal man might be brought to wince-- but Ciro, Ciro learned in-- squinting to get a better view.
Yes, they were scars-- as if her corpse had healed from the attack.
This was unprecedented. Before, his psyche had refused to admit that the attack had happened. Whenever Echo appeared, she was unmarred, silently walking as if a ghost. Not once had she tried to interact with him-- and not once had there been the proof of her death.
This-- Something…-- This was…
Could she be right? Could this be real? But why? There was no reason why she should be here of all places.
It didn‘t add up.
He looked up to her once more, squinting at the pained expression on her face. There was no way he could let that her keep that expression.
He took her hand.
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Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2009 12:36 pm
Whatever permission Echo had been waiting for, it had been granted in the form of his hesitant fingers brushing against her hand. All at once, she knelt down beside him, pulling the frail man into her arms with a mimed sob. If only she could speak here! She would tell him how sorry she was, how she should have stayed at the shop, how she had not meant to hurt him, how she should have been there to provide shelter so he would not have gone after Poseidon's charge--
It was much to fit into a single embrace, but nevertheless, she tried.
She held him in her arms for as long as she could bear, and then she stood again, never letting go of her hands as she did. "Never...get used to these...again," she murmured, her voice broken by the winds. Lightly, she tugged at his hands, trying to pull him to his feet. "Never."
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Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2009 3:51 pm
Her body felt so much larger than he was used to-- really-- the time he had spent in this hell had been far too long. His rough hands gripped her, calloused fingers feelings the fibers of her clothes with too much reality.
This one had to be real. The tears that flowed down his cheeks had made it all too clear.
And although her words were crippled-- he could tell. She was inviting him-- informing him-- this was the last time. The last time he’d see her figure walk across these baron lands.
Dry fingers gripped her hands tightly, his bony hands encasing hers like a dry leather glove. Daring one more look at her face-- those large blue eyes, her delicate features-- he couldn’t help but have some strange shred of hope for normality. No dry hell like this, no murders, no game to fuss about. Something about this seemed different--
As if despite losing, he might have a chance at happiness. As if maybe, just maybe, he mattered outside of his position of the game.
His hands grasped tighter against hers as he pulled himself up to his full height.
Maybe-- maybe he could give mattering a chance.
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Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 10:24 am
Echo tensed herself as he stood, then smiled, finally looking up at him as opposed to seeing him broken across the desert sands. And yet, it remained a different sensation than before, because of his eyes, because she knew that for the first time, they were actually trading glances, making visual contact. She wondered if he felt the same way she had when she could speak again, when for that one moment, the barriers had been broken. Looking into his eyes, she at least knew that this barrier would remain no longer.
She gently tugged at his hand, and then began to walk, leading him just as she had when he was blinded. As they walked, the sand storm gradually seemed to lessen, and as it receded she began to feel lighthearted again, simply glad to have Ciro's rough hand clasped around hers, to know that she would be able to heal him once again, and then there would be peace without end, at the graces of Lady Persephone and Lord Hades.
She wanted to speak, to tell him of the paradise they would live, but instead she merely turned her head towards him every once in a while and gave him a soft, close-lipped smile. They would soon be in the Fields once again, and then all would be well.
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Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 7:56 pm
She seemed different-- a complete contrast to the world around her. It was as if Echo was a dancing fairy in a dying forest. She almost seemed to glow, when compared to the dull sands around her. Maybe what they said about women in love had been true-- maybe he was just blind to it for all this time.
Fingers entwined-- he followed. She would turn, he would never expect it, and every time her smile would surprised and daze him with its radiance. Was this death? Was this what was supposed to happen? His mind was muddled with such thoughts, and just when he thought he thought he had figured it out, she would turn, her bright eyes smiling just as much as her mouth, and it would be gone.
Maybe that was the point: maybe he wasn’t supposed to be contemplating the why or the how. Maybe he was simply just supposed to enjoy what was in front of him. It certainly seemed easier.
But Ciro still hadn’t shaken the notion that the entire thing could just be another sick trick-- luring him in, giving him hope-- only to tear it from him and leave him in despair once more.
His coarse thumb slid along her hand, rubbing it softy. Her skin almost felt like silk against his-- Until, quietly, silently, he thought one small request to himself.
Please. Please do not let me wake up from this dream.
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Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 4:06 pm
Metaphysical and supernatural realities were strange in that, often times, they did not blend together the way the real world did. And so it came to a point where the winds altogether stopped and the sky dimmed, until Echo found herself looking out from a precipice of sand, the entire area in total silence. Beyond her was nothing except blackness, and the image was just as stifling as the desert they stood at the edge of, if not moreso because of the unknown that lay beyond it. Echo paused, her brow knitted with anxiety, and then she squeezed Ciro's hand tighter. She had been given the instructions--she knew what must be done.
For the first time since she'd taken his hand, Echo let go, working quickly with her small fingers to unwind the scarf around her neck. As she did, the true extent of her wound was revealed to the open air, the disformed, slightly redder flesh where her throat had been torn to shreds, spindle-like scar tissue marring the smooth skin from just under her jaw to her collarbone. Once the scarf left her neck, she gave a slightly pained cough, then bundled the length of black cloth in her hands, looking down hesitantly.
Once she made her choice, there was no going back.
Closing her eyes, she cast out one end of the scarf into the blackness, and it caught hold, stretching out into the unknown and widening until the scarf that had formerly only been long enough to wrap twice around her neck now coiled away into the darkness, big enough for a small car to navigate it. From the other end of wherever the scarf had gone, there was a slight tug, and Echo laid down her end on the ground, where it melted into the sand, forming a solid path. She nodded, then took a slow step onto the pathway.
It held.
Looking up, she reached for Ciro's hand once again and pulled him forward, her expression bearing with it some urgency. The path would not hold forever, and she imagined that with the token now used, the guardians of this afterlife had likely been alerted of her presence. There was little time, and though she did not seem panicked, her face no longer bore the easy smile it contained only moments ago.
They were so close. They could not afford to lose this time.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 1:09 pm
Wrapping around her hand once more, Ciro could feel that something-- something big-- had to be distinctly changing. Not once had she clued him in to their journey; he hadn’t actually thought that he would get to leave this place.
And yet, there it stood in front of him: a firm and resolute bridge leading to the unknown. Sure, the alternative could be far worse than were he was. There could be pure torture, rather than the neglect that the souls received in his world.
But why would Echo ever do that to him? Surely she was going to take him somewhere worth his while. While he couldn’t imagine “heaven” to be within his grasp, surely, surely she had something better than this in stall for him.
But hell-- if he was with Echo, would anything seem bad? Nothing could compare to the mind retching loneliness of the last world, so long as he had her by his side.
And so, resolutely, his feet moved forward, one diligently following the other as he crossed this bridge.
It was only when he had crossed around half way that Ciro had noticed that he… Had not once said anything-- not directly to her, at least.
”Echo…” His hand gave hers a tight squeeze. How was he supposed to express his regret, his guilty, all the pent up emotions that resulted from her death? No human words could express the self-loathing that he felt for doing such a horrible job of protecting her. “…Thank you.”
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Posted: Tue May 12, 2009 10:16 am
It was cold, out there betwixt the Underworlds, but Echo seemed not to mind, her gaze resolute as she took step after step towards her goal. There was no time to look out into the emptiness, no place for hesitation, for wondering if the sacrifice she made was too steep a price. She could only hope that Ciro would forgive her once he knew what was to become of her.
She turned and smiled knowingly when he spoke to her, gently squeezing the calloused hand wrapped around hers. "Thank you," she whispered, even softer than she normally spoke. She coughed again, shaking her head, then increased her pace, seeing in the distance a field of flowers, gently floating in the breeze. As they neared their new destination, she heard an angry shriek from behind her, but both girl and unseen monster knew that they had progressed too far to be successfully followed. Echo smiled, and then she took her first step onto the soft grass.
It was then that a woman approached them, her verdant hair billowing behind her in soft curls that gently sheltered newborn flowers. Dressed in a violet tunic with a golden leaf clasping at the single strap, the woman somewhat clinked with each step, the sound of hollowed-out seeds and acorns resonating from the anklets and necklace she wore, and on her head she wore a crown of twigs, delicately woven together. In the late light of the sunset, it almost appeared that she glowed with an aura, but despite her natural appearance, a string of plastic beads adorned one wrist, her only remnant of the surface world.
Needless to say, Lady Persephone looked rather different in her own kingdom as opposed to her tiny shop in Middling.
"Echo," she said, her voice somewhat resonant across the plains. The goddess's brow furrowed when she saw Ciro, and it was only then that her facial features became familiar, like those of the florist. Her gaze returned to Echo, and she nodded, even if her expression lacked some of its initial warmth. "I see. I hope you have made the right choice."
Echo looked behind her, but the void they had just travelled from had already disappeared, her scarf gone with it. In the distance, she could see as small encampments began to light there lamps, and floating out to them was the soft melody of a ballad of old. Paradise, or as close as it would get. Turning back to face her liege, she nodded, bowing deeply to show her respect. "Thank you," she rasped, followed by a series of painful coughs that forced her to turn away. No, it wouldn't be long now.
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Posted: Tue May 12, 2009 12:33 pm
He smiled, but only briefly before his face contorted into a look of sheer confusion. Flowers awaited them, fluttering softly against the wind. His steps slowed, but only for a moment, before the wail came from behind.
It was probably that woman, the one that Shamash had sent him to before. A shudder ran down his back at the memory, yet Echo seemed unphased. Either she didn’t know… Or it simply was inconsequential. But the grass seemed so close, while that scream sounded so far away. Maybe… Maybe he really was free from that woman, and her wretched underworld. The thought seemed almost too optimistic to believe. Even the women here, judging from the one who had greeted them, seemed to be different. Had he really… escaped?
This new woman spoke, and her words seemed to drip with an unseen discontent. The man’s grip tightened around Echo’s hand-- whatever this woman was talking about, he didn’t like her expression. Whatever Echo had decided upon, it was her choice to make. Whether or not anyone else approved was of no consequence. His expression hardened, scowling at the woman as if she had personally insulted the girl.
He did not like the amount of control this woman seemed to have over Echo.
Echo turned, and his gaze followed, distracted from the controlling woman to take in the sights. It seemed… Peaceful here. No one seemed to be in pain, as far as he was concerned. At least, it had seemed that way.
When Echo began to cough, he bent down, putting a hand against her back as the other gripped at her hand tightly.
“Hey--” His own voice was hoarse with worry-- this must have something to do with those damn scars, “Hey!!”
His eyes were filled with worry as he gazed at her, waiting for the coughing to subside so that she could breathe again, “You okay?”
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