Quote:
The Calling (7): A beautiful melody drifts on the air from somewhere far away. The vocals are in a language you don’t quite recognize, but feel somehow familiar to you. Something about the song calls to you, but no matter where you go, the song seems to sound the same distance away. The longer it goes on, the more emotional the song becomes--and the more emotional you become. Something about the song is possessive and consuming, like it’s all you can think of. Something resonates in you as the song crescendos, and the feeling is at its strongest--be they good, bad, anything, but suddenly the song fades, and there’s only an emptiness inside of you. The feeling of loss is strong, and can leave someone feeling emotionally numb. Someone out there was calling to you, and you couldn’t find them.
Word Count: 600
Music drifted along the wind.
Aquamarine paused with his hand against a Squire’s chest, tilting his head to listen.
The night was dark in this corner of the city. Ambient light obstructed the stars; cloud cover handled the rest, concealing the silver face of the moon. Other than the struggling Squire, the streets around them should have been quiet and empty, devoid of movement or other auras.
But a voice called to him — distant, far away, impossible to pinpoint — in a language that seemed, to him, unrecognizable.
The Squire managed to get a hand up near Aquamarine’s face, nails scratching a shallow wound along Aquamrine’s jaw. Aquamarine tore his attention away from the haunting melody long enough to deal with his victim. A palm sank into the Squire’s chest, fingers searching for their prize.
Eyes impassive, expression unmoved, Aquamarine pulled the starseed and left the Squire where he fell.
He stood and banished the starseed for safe keeping, attention once again caught by the lilting song on the breeze. Aquamarine turned, searching the darkness for a source, and when he could not immediately determine a direction, he picked one at random and began to walk.
A soft wind blew, warm at this time of year, rustling his cape and shifting the hair that framed his face. Normal city sounds — the honk of car horns, the barking of dogs, the rustling of strays and rodents in discarded refuse, the pulse of music filtering out of clubs, the chattering of voices — all seemed muted, out of focus, temporarily silent. All Aquamarine could hear was that strange, foreign song, leading him onward, always the same volume, never growing louder no matter how far he traveled.
It seemed to be a futile effort, and yet Aquamarine could not stop. He walked, hardly paying attention to his surroundings as the music rose, urging him onward, drawing upon emotions he did not often allow himself to feel.
Then, as quickly as it began, the song came to the end.
Aquamarine stopped at the darkened edge of town, where there were less buildings and more tree cover. He blinked and glanced around him, suddenly bereft.
“You’re crying,” a voice said.
It was not the voice that sang the song, the tone too light and airy, hollow sounding.
Aquamarine followed the voice to a nearby tree, upon which a youma was perched — almost human looking but for the bird legs and wings, the heavy crown of black feathers, and the deep, soulless black eyes that seemed to stare through him.
Once, the youma might have been a young woman. Now, she was nothing more than a senseless monster.
Aquamarine did not dignify her observation with a response, nor did he do anything to remove the tears from his face, unwilling to offer a monster the satisfaction.
The youma released a cooing sigh and asked him, “Where’s my love?”
“I don’t care about your nonsense. ******** off back to the Rift, or make yourself useful and do something other than sit around in a goddam tree,” he commanded.
She stared at him for several long moments, blank faced and empty eyed, then fluttered her wings, dropped something onto his head that turned out to be a sapphire star charm, and went off.
Aquamarine waited for some sign that she lingered in the area, but there was nothing.
He waited longer, like the song might return with no distractions, but again, there was nothing, just the wind whispering through the trees.
With an impatient sigh, Aquamarine used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe at his face, then, assuming the song was lost to him now, he snatched the star charm and teleported away.
