Once upon a world was over, fighting for a caring shoulder.
Mirrors only reflect what we don't want to see; water shows us everything.
Step away from the light – it's only candles.
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"What do we have to lose? Our lives? We got those for free anyway."
"He looks disturbingly alive to be dead."
"If all of this were a dream, I'd still wake up in your arms. That's solid reality."
"Would you rather I had spared your feelings and let you die? I did what I had to do to save you, and I'm not about to apologize for it."
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Beyond this, what's there to lose?
Eloro shook her head at the uniformed boy. "Young man," she wheezed, "you are following orders."
He looked uncomfortable. "You're under arrest," he said again.
"Dasti looked from Eloro to the boy and back. Eloro appeared as fargile as her teacups; she looked as though a gentle tap might shatter her frame.
Eloro hobbled forward, into the boy's space. He stepped back.
Dasti hid a smile. Eloro's presence held power yet.
"Young man," Eloro said, looking the boy up and down, "you are far too young a man to be here with that." She pointed to the rifle clutched in the boy's hands.
"What you ought – what you ought to be doing is attending your studies and working on that brain of yours." Eloro reached out and firmly tapped the boy's skull.
He looked surprised, even faintly overwhelmed.
Dasti watched, invisible.
"If I were your mother I'd not stand for such nonsense," Eloro continued. She advanced a step. The boy retreated. Eloro put her hands on her hips. "How old are you?"
The boy's mouth opened to return, but Eloro waved a hand and cut off his words.
"Never mind that," she said. "Age is no factor. Just look at me." She stared the boy squarely in the eye, then. "Look at me, young man. If I were your mother, I'd send you straight home. Learn before you start fooling around with dangerous folk like these." She indicated his uniform. "And for the sake of us all, dress like you're a young man, not an overstuffed robot."
The boy's wide eyes blinked frantically as he nodded.
Eloro softened. "What's your name?"
The room jumped when gunshots sounded.
The boy's eyes had gone larger and he clutched his gun as though it were a shield.
"It's just the church," Eloro said. She paused. "You may want to go now."
The boy nodded and fled.
Eloro stood there silently. Dasti listened to the boot steps going down the stairs.
"What was his name?" Dasti asked when the house was silent.
"Amen," Eloro said. She seemed distracted. "Amen."
We have our lives, our chances. This is what we're given – loaned, more like – and at the end of life there's interest to be paid, yet none of us can pay it, so we go to debtor's prison. That's death.
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In death lies a cheap imitation of life.
Airthe pressed the barrel of the gun to the stone floor and pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire. Airthe laughed dully.
Useless now.
He tossed the gun away and crawled across the church floor. The trip was hard work. The floor had strewn across it the bodies of the fallen. Blood.
Airthe could smell the blood.
His clothes reeked, saturated.
Shadows danced along the floor. Broken windows filtered sunlight through heavy dust. The sun died on the way in, to the dimness and dullness of a broken shell of religion.
Then, footsteps.
Airthe crawled faster, and forced his body into a nook formed by broken stone benches. He watched.
A few men wandered into the room and checked for signs of life. None. All but one turned to go.
Airthe heard only a few words.
" – too alive to be dead –"
They were all the words he needed to hear.
Airthe tensed, ready to battle for his life with his bare hands. Mad, suicidal – but even a cornered rabbit will fight for its life.
"Let's go."
The uniformed men left.
Airthe breathed again.
"Amusing, isn't it?"
Airthe turned.
"Thought I'd really leave you?" Nirax drawled. He held another gun.
"Dependable," Airthe said.
"Isn't that what brothers are for?"
If you've ever stared into the eyes of a dead man, you know what it is to feel fear and hope at once. If you've ever tried to walk away from those eyes, you know what it's like to feel forever followed.
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Dreams are just nightmares that end prematurely. It's all linked the way life is linked to the falling.
"What kind of ice cream one you going to get?"
"I don't know. What kind are you getting?"
"I'm getting whatever you get."
"But I don't know what I'm getting."
"So decide!"
Totaz leaned back in Saxiel's arms. Totaz smiled.
Saxiel had to smile back.
"I like chocolate."
"Mmm – so do I."
"Should we get chocolate then?"
"Yeah!"
"What can I get for you?"
"Two chocolate cones."
"That'll be –"
Traffic drowned out the cost.
Saxiel had Totaz pass over cash and told the clerk to keep the change.
She gave over two cones in exchanged.
Saxiel let Totaz take the two cones and then walked to the empty tables. He set Totaz down and took a seat opposite. Totaz held out one dripping chocolate cone.
Saxiel reached out. His face felt warm when their fingers touched.
Totaz laughed and licked the drops off his own cone. Saxiel watched, entranced.
"You're dripping," Totaz said.
Chilly drops landed on Saxiel's hand.
Totaz reached out for Saxiel's hand. Saxiel let him take it. Totaz drew Saxiel's hand closer. His eyes sparkled.
Saxiel couldn't breathe.
The table jumped when a woman in white plunked a box of napkins down and moved on to the next table to do the same.
Saxiel had drawn his hand back, smearing chocolate against himself. Totaz laughed and grabbed a few napkins to offer Saxiel. Saxiel took them, careful not to let their fingers brush.
Totaz' cone had vanished.
"Are you going to eat that?"
Saxiel smiled softly and handed his over.
Totaz grinned.
Saxiel had to look away.
For the sake –
Reality says there are laws. Reality says there are ways to the world. Reality limits what is possible. That’s why we dwell in dreams.
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Happiness is akin to death.
"He thought you were dead."
"You mean to tell me I wasn't?"
"You're rather alive now."
"Thanks to you."
"You're welcome."
"Let's go."
"Leaving him?"
"I can't kill him."
"I can."
"There's been enough of that in pretend for now. Let's not make it a reality."
Tsisas nodded and offered Bruesia a hand. She took it and stood.
"A shame," Tsisas said.
"What?" Bruesia looked at Ascaeliat's prone body. "It's not." She spat on the ground. "Let's go."
Tsisas nodded.
"Let's."
If you're alive at the end of the war because of luck, you can complain about tactics. If you're alive because someone else lost his life to save yours – keep your mouth shut and cry when that damn anthem plays.
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