“ never said you were human. ”
sigurd. not a man, not a ghost. only a shell. only a cold, paralyzing sensation to hold him steady. if he were to fall, he was convinced he’d faze right through the ground — ascending to the other side.
his fingers barely grazing the veil, the truth of all he had locked away just waiting behind a transparent wall. memories held prisoner within an intricately concealed cell. claws not withdrawn, he attempts to tear at the seams of this carefully crafted lie. the world around him like a dream. such images are only remembered in fragments, a blurry depiction of the truth — unable to decide what was real and what wasn’t. he wanted to wake up. but he was like a sleep walker. returning to the conscious world would be detrimental to his state of mind.
as he steps through the veil, he is met with a vibrant light. but the light itself was almost artificial. as are all those memories he carries. you’re forced to fill in the blanks of pieces your mind doesn’t recall. in the distance, a storm brews — dark clouds receding along the horizon, as if the ‘earth’ spins off its axis. even the air felt surreal, another figment of his imagination. not a familiar scent to comfort him. not a brush of warmth to heat his blood. if he truly had blood.
“ it doesn’t exist within time. i come here often, ” he speaks quietly, hazel hues perfectly mirroring the false scene before them. waves crashing and sand flowing. recoiling his hands, he refrains from looking down at his own ‘skin’. “ these scales are … a side effect. ” his answer is vague, speaking as if his mind was drifting off.
“ this place — i haven’t been completely clear. it’s not an afterlife for humans. not a reflection of heaven or hell. ” a subtle turn of his cheek, eyes telling the painful story beneath glossy pools. ocean water continues to beat, with a steady, rhythmic flux and flow. “ where we are — it’s neither. but you already knew that. ” a weak smile rises, gaze focusing on the woman. “ i didn’t create this place. or at least — i don’t think i did. this is merely where i was sent. because i don’t belong to the typical realms of afterlife. and apparently — neither do you. ”
passing through portals, no matter what sort, was something she did not enjoy. too many memories, even if this felt different than the ones she had been too familiar with in the past. sitting still, being a fly trapped in the amber of fear was an even worse thought and so she moved after him, her movements choppy but nevertheless her own. she was no longer a puppet dangling from golden strings, she was the one writing the script.
no matter the journey, you have to take a first step.
she would not say that she was afraid of the night skies, no matter how much the stars reminded her of eyes ( of many, many preying eyes ). she was reasonably wary, she was cautious. the first sip of freedom in eons tasted too sweet for her to put it at risk so quickly. and she had always loved her freedom, her independence.
‘ ‘ you are very good at prompting even more questions with every half-answer you give, ’ ’ she gently chided as she moved away from the portal, her legs mostly cooperating as she walked. she had not used them in a long time but it seemed like this was for her like riding a bicycle was to humans. thankfully, she would rather hate to stumble over her own feet like a newborn foal. ‘ ‘ my place of belonging is --- complicated, right now. ’ ’ she grimaced as she shifted her head and teal locks fell into her face as she stared towards the ocean that was calling for her, that was screaming her name --- half mad with elation and despair. a beat, then three. she always was one of three. no wonder that the number vexed her so. ‘ ‘ i don’t plan on overstaying my welcome in your space. once i gathered enough strength to do what i must, i’ll be out of your hair. ’ ’
she could not topple the heavens from here, but this she could not say. it would invite a line of questions she was not ready for, that she was not sure she could comfortably answer. she tossed her hair over her over shoulder as she batted at the breeze that toyed with it, much like a playful child might. ‘ ‘ there --- should be other places that exist outside of time and space, ’ ’ she said slowly as she thought of the nonsensical architecture of her house, of the gardens and the endless hallways --- of how they had been filled with life. even if she could return, how could she walk the familiar rooms when they were echoing with grief? ‘ ‘ i won’t impose on you forever. even if it may feel like that. sincere apologies. ’ ’
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