Dilandau takes a step closer to me, so that our bodies touch. I can feel the texture
of his clothing through my dress.
"So what happens now?" he asks. His eyes are gleaming with that old familiar light. But I don't want to get down to that. Not yet.
"You seem different somehow," I find myself saying.
Dilandau cracks that incredulous smile again, as if he finds the sound of my voice ironically amusing somehow.
"What?" he asks.
"I don't know what it is; but you just seem... different."
Dilandau laughs- but that laugh bears no resemblance to that which I'm used to. It's quick and tense, like a wire that's strung too tight, "I really don't need this right now, Cherandle."
"Well, what do you need?"
Dilandau's brow furrows just the tiniest bit. He takes a breath in as if to say something, but then has second thoughts. This strikes me as more unusual than anything else he's done so far. Dilandau? Having second thoughts? Something about that just doesn't ring true.
I have my own second thoughts at that point. "Forget it," I say, linking my fingers with his... But I still feel like I want to talk. About something. Anything. This is, after all, my last day with him.
But then, he looks at me again, a sort of pleading reflected in his glance...
...maybe there'll be time for talking later.
*
We head back towards the camp- Dilandau knows how to avoid the guards, and using his techniques we carefully slip past them. We climb down the small cliff- Dilandau offers me his hand as I jump to the ground. We slip silently through the tents, trying to spot the large beastman.
Finally, we do- he sees us, too, but stays where he is, standing straight and tall outside of a small tent.
"Go in," Dilandau says. I slip into the tent quickly, hoping I'm not seen. I can hear Dilandau and Jajuka talking outside.
"I must advise against this, Lord Dilandau," says the gruff voice in that sort of 'I-really-don't-want-anyone-to-hear-this' tone, "There are already rumors, and you will need to save your strength for the upcoming battles-"
"Enough, Jajuka," Dilandau interjects. Behind me, the tent flap open again, "Just make sure we're not disturbed."
I take a look around the tent. There is a single chair and a small table with, of course, a gas candle and a bottle of wine, and against the opposite wall is a small bed.
I turn my head to one side. Dilandau is standing next to me.
"Cozy," I remark, referring to the surroundings.
He just smiles.
*
It must be strange making love to a ghost.
At least, that's how I think Dilandau sees me. As a ghost. An apparition. Every touch seems to be as if to make sure I'm really there- and even after confirmation, he still seems skeptical. I turn to face him, and he runs his fingertips across my forehead, down my face, my neck, my shoulders, to my hands- and I in turn rotate my hands so that his fingertips brush my palms and the undersides of my wrists. He touches the front of my dress, searching exploring, discovering me again, for the first time.
When I shudder at the touch of his fingers to my hips, he looks at my face. Worried? Worried I'm going to vanish again and leave him forever.
But that won't happen yet. I still have time.
Without hardly noticing it, I too fall into the pattern of exploration. I press my palms flat against his stomach, slowly moving them up to his chest, and his neck- my thumbs make small circles on his throat. I feel the cloth on his shirt, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger. With my left hand, I feel his shoulder and his upper arm, softly and smoothly strong from years of swordfighting. I swallow, trying to calm my body so he does not become worried again. I don't want to cause him any pain while I still have the chance.
My right hand moves to his face, and my thumb smoothes up and down the bridge of his nose while my fingers stroke his hairline.
"Don't be afraid to close your eyes."
I say it before I even know what it means. It seems that Dilandau us afraid I'll disappear if he closes his eyes...
"I'm not afraid," he says.
"Good," I smile, "Then close your eyes."
Dilandau's eyelashes flutter hesitantly- there's that second thought again- and then his eyes close. I close mine, too. My world falls into darkness.
Our exploration continues.
Dilandau's fingertips are gently traveling down the front part of my upper leg. The sensation that shoots through my body at this touch nearly makes me moan in ecstasy. My hands grasp at the front of his shirt. I can hear his breathing growing steadily heavier with anticipation- desire. So why doesn't he kiss me? The Old Dilandau would have taken me a long time ago, forcefully, as fast as he could. This new slowness hangs suspense thick in the air. The suspense gets trapped in both our lungs, making breath difficult.
The fingers of my right hand get caught on his belt, and I pull him into me. My left hand gets caught on something at the base of his throat- I hear the clink of metal.
I open my eyes. A necklace- his military pendant. Of course I've seen it before. But on this close inspection, I notice a change.
"The numbers are different," I say, fiddling with the pendant. I look up into Dilandau's eyes as they open. He takes a look at my hand holding the pendant, then slowly draws it away, interlocking his fingers with mine.
Then he kisses me.
*
For all the satisfaction and happiness it brings, love can be unbearably bittersweet.
It took me a while to learn this over the course of my experience, but tonight, I realize it more than ever. The painful knowledge that this is the last time I will be with him fills me with immense sadness, and yet this knowledge spurs me on, making me hungrier for more, making me want this last experience to be more pleasurable and pure than any ever was.
And yet something else holds us back- the secrecy under which we must operate out affairs. The feeling of him as he sinks deeply into me, his hands caressing my skin, his sweat and breath and saliva mingling with mine would have me screaming out his name in utter ecstasy, had I had the chance. But we must keep one foot inside the door of reality; keep our words and pleas and moans as quiet as possible, lest we be discovered. Having to leave these sounds and words quiet or unspoken makes them build up inside me; fill me to bursting. I become utterly drunk with passion long before the night is through. It swims in my blood, and claws at my back.
After a while, however; as always happens, the supply is exhausted; and neither of us have any left to give, and no room to take on more.
My final thought before I go to sleep is a question, and I have no time to even begin to answer it before I nod off:
Whatever will happen to him; once I am gone for good?
*
I am pulled gently from my dreamless sleep to feel the morning sunlight filtering through the tent cloth onto my skin. I sigh and roll from my side to my back, shift around a bit, and finally open my eyes. Once again, I find myself alone in the bed. But Dilandau is nearby- sitting in the chair by the small table half-dressed. He is wearing his pants and his necklace, his feet are bare, and has once again clothed his face in that lost, glazed over, contemplative expression, and seems to be avoiding looking at me.
I slide out of bed. Something at the base of my neck and my lower back is whispering; telling me that there is not much time before my One Last Day is done. I walk to where Dilandau is sitting and embrace him softly from behind. I kiss the side of his face with my full-feeling lips, and gently stroke his scar with my tongue. His hand is resting on his knee; I place mine on top of his. Dilandau turns to face me, and our lips brush each other softly a few times before he seems to decide that a kiss isn't worth the trouble: he faces forward again. Accepting his decision, I pick up my dress and put it on; as well as slipping my feet into my shoes.
Dilandau may not want to kiss, but I think I know what will make him feel better. Adjusting the sleeves of my dress, I walk to the small table again and slowly fill the glass halfway with wine. The light pink liquid gently flows into the glass, under and around itself. I return the bottle to the table, and close it with the glass stopper.
There is silence. Then Dilandau speaks.
"Why are you haunting me like this?" He murmurs- very quietly, as if he was halfway saying and halfway thinking the words.
Haunting. Like a ghost...
Dilandau laughs. The Old Laugh. Low. Sinister.
"Even if I did get drunk..." he says, again in that quiet, murmuring tone, "You wouldn't disappear. You never did before."
I take a moment to digest this sentence.
"Do you... want me to disappear?" I ask.
He turns rapidly in his seat, staring at me wide-eyed as if he has forgotten I was there. Then, facing front again, he falls forwards; his forehead gets nestled in his palm, and he begins to shudder again.
"Dilandau--" I put my hands on his shoulders, but his arm knocks them away.
And then, suddenly- a sound escapes his throat; not quite a growl, not quite a scream, not quite a moan- like something I've never heard before. Jajuka sweeps into the tent, making me very glad that I got dressed when I did.
"Lord Dilandau!" Jajuka exclaims.
"DAMN IT, JAJUKA, GO AWAY!" Dilandau bursts out, his hands becoming fists.
The beastman kneels at Dilandau's feet, and rests his paws on Dilandau's knees, "Sir, please... listen to me. You must calm down... It is time for the young lady to leave now."
Dilandau grabs ahold of the fur by Jajuka's neck in a savage gesture, "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE- ME-" He stops mid-scream, and his eyes seem to snap, "GET OUT OF HERE!" He pushes Jajuka away. Then he reaches up and grabs me with his arms; squeezing me around the waist with what seems to be all his strength. Jajuka stares for a moment, looking almost sorrowful.
"...Yes, sir," he says in a low growl, and disappears.
Wriggling free of Dilandau's death grip, I kneel down beside him. "Dilandau, what..."
"Could you get me my uniform, p-please?" Dilandau asks. He winces.
"Yes," I say, retrieving his jacket from the foot of the bed.
"Something about him I don't trust, Cherandle," Dilandau says as I slip the jacket onto him and fasten it, his words quivering, "He's... he's all I've got, of course... But he's not... much," he adds harshly, "Sword," he orders. I run to fetch it, "Something about him makes me want to scream," he says, and I attach his sword and slip on his boots, "...Makes me want to die..." The final sentence is spoken through clenched teeth as I place the tiara on his forehead. It clicks on- and with this click, Dilandau's trauma seems to end. He slowly calms down; his breathing stabilizes. "Thank you," he says heavily. He smiles at me. But the smile soon disappears, and he looks away.
He stands up; walks to the tent wall, his back turned to me. I stay on the floor, but after a moment I get to my feet too. I stand there; absentmindedly fiddling with my skirt.
"You've always been loyal to me, Cherandle," Dilandau says.
"I try... Lord," I add jokingly.
Dilandau goes on almost as if he didn't hear me- but the smile in his voice reveals otherwise, "And you always seemed to trust me.
"You remember when I fought with you in the training room, don't you...? Something always seemed strange about you. Different. Malenla, Julie, Palem, Viole... They were all professionally trained swordfighters; master killers. The kind of women who are ridiculed against for their roughness. They came to me; fell into my hands in the way soldiers normally do, bringing with them papers; written proof of their skill. While you were found..." he laughs, "Shuddering helplessly against a cave wall, with only stories to prove of your talent.
"You'll have to go, you know," he adds, "I wouldn't want- you shouldn't get caught." He turns away from the wall, and there is a pause as he apparently sorts out his words.
"No woman has ever been able to control me the way you did," he says, a hint of frustration undertoning his words, "I never would have allowed it... Although..." he starts, but trails off, and looks sadly at his hand for a moment.
"Although what?" is what I almost ask- but I stay silent. This is his time to speak- what I've been waiting for this whole time.
"You should know; I would've taken you even if you had refused," Dilandau continues, and walks right up to me, "What surprised me was that you actually returned with feelings of your own. I usually make it a point not to be surprised, Cherandle- things like that can throw a man off his guard.
"And the thing that shocked me the most- the thing that surprised me more than... ANYTHING-" and here, his fingers crookedly gesture to the scar on his cheek, "...Was how much I... ended up falling in love with you."
I feel my shoulders go stiff with shock. Did he just say...?
Dilandau has bowed his head forward; he has placed a hand on his forehead. At first I think he's embarrassed about his confession, and I reach for him.
Then he turns his face up to meet mine, and I shrink back.
Dilandau's eyes are blue. Bright blue; nothing like their usual wine-red. His hair falls in a different fashion; the shape of his face looks somehow different. And the scar- the scar is still there, but seems strangly muted. Halfway faded.
Then, with a sudden snap, everything seems to fall back into place so quickly I am forced to doubt whether or not anything had been different at all. Dilandau's eyes are wild, and a thin sweat has broken out on his forehead.
"Get out," he mutters.
I don't move. Did I just see... What I thought I just saw...? It's not possible-
"GET OUT!" Dilandau pushes me away with both arms, towards the tent flap. I take one last glance before departing, and there's a message in his eyes:
I'm sorry.
Then, I run. I run out of the tent past the giant beastman Jajuka. I run through the maze of tents towards the outskirts, men and flags passing me on both sides; all watching me as I go. I run past my Father's tent. I run into the forest, paying no mind to the guards; finally collapsing under a tree.
Then, the truth hits me.
He told me he loved me...
Tears of boundless emotion pour forth from my eyes, and I am crying again. Just as I begin to weep, I hear another voice.
"Cherandle!"
"Father!" I cry joyously as he kneels, and cradles me in his arms. "He loves me, Father, he told me he loves me!"
"Oh, Cherandle..." Father's face seems caught between a smile and a frown.
"I could fly, Father," I say, looking up into his eyes- emerald green, like mine. "I could live forever." I laugh, and cry, and he holds me close.
"I'm so sorry I ran away," I sniffle up to him.
Father smiles softly, "No matter," he says, "You ran away to find yourself... We all have to do that sooner or later."
I smile through my happy tears, "You forgive me?"
"I forgive you."
"...I love you, Dad."
Time's up.
My world slips into darkness. The last thing I see if my Father's smile. The last thing I feel is his arms around me. And the last thing I thing I think of his my extraordinary luck and happiness.
*
And so, I have returned. Back to the white emptiness. Back to sitting and waiting for eternity to come.
My soul feels stronger than when I left. It's a common theory among poets and dreamers that love strengthens the heart.
Well, I'm no poet...
I seem to be more in tune with the realm of death now. My spirit feels somehow connected with everything around me. I can feel the other souls that inhibit the infinite whiteness- not really names, nor any attributes of their physical characteristics when they were alive, but their essence. Their being. I can sense it.
What's that?
I look around. Something just- pulled at me. Like a forgotten dream.
I lost it... No, wait...
Where? Where?
There?
There!
I stand.
"Dilandau..."
Dilandau is dead.
He's somewhere around me.
Somewhere in the whiteness. In the emptiness. Somewhere near- but near is as far as forever in this place.
And Dilandau- Dilandau, the ruthless leader of the Dragon Slayers; the boy who took the lives of thousands without thought; whose fiery passion caused the downfall of an entire nation- is crying.
Dilandau is crying.
I have to find him.
I dash away in the direction of the pull; hoping, praying, wishing with all my heart that "near" isn't as far as I think it might be.
And even if it is... I have all eternity to run.
"So what happens now?" he asks. His eyes are gleaming with that old familiar light. But I don't want to get down to that. Not yet.
"You seem different somehow," I find myself saying.
Dilandau cracks that incredulous smile again, as if he finds the sound of my voice ironically amusing somehow.
"What?" he asks.
"I don't know what it is; but you just seem... different."
Dilandau laughs- but that laugh bears no resemblance to that which I'm used to. It's quick and tense, like a wire that's strung too tight, "I really don't need this right now, Cherandle."
"Well, what do you need?"
Dilandau's brow furrows just the tiniest bit. He takes a breath in as if to say something, but then has second thoughts. This strikes me as more unusual than anything else he's done so far. Dilandau? Having second thoughts? Something about that just doesn't ring true.
I have my own second thoughts at that point. "Forget it," I say, linking my fingers with his... But I still feel like I want to talk. About something. Anything. This is, after all, my last day with him.
But then, he looks at me again, a sort of pleading reflected in his glance...
...maybe there'll be time for talking later.
*
We head back towards the camp- Dilandau knows how to avoid the guards, and using his techniques we carefully slip past them. We climb down the small cliff- Dilandau offers me his hand as I jump to the ground. We slip silently through the tents, trying to spot the large beastman.
Finally, we do- he sees us, too, but stays where he is, standing straight and tall outside of a small tent.
"Go in," Dilandau says. I slip into the tent quickly, hoping I'm not seen. I can hear Dilandau and Jajuka talking outside.
"I must advise against this, Lord Dilandau," says the gruff voice in that sort of 'I-really-don't-want-anyone-to-hear-this' tone, "There are already rumors, and you will need to save your strength for the upcoming battles-"
"Enough, Jajuka," Dilandau interjects. Behind me, the tent flap open again, "Just make sure we're not disturbed."
I take a look around the tent. There is a single chair and a small table with, of course, a gas candle and a bottle of wine, and against the opposite wall is a small bed.
I turn my head to one side. Dilandau is standing next to me.
"Cozy," I remark, referring to the surroundings.
He just smiles.
*
It must be strange making love to a ghost.
At least, that's how I think Dilandau sees me. As a ghost. An apparition. Every touch seems to be as if to make sure I'm really there- and even after confirmation, he still seems skeptical. I turn to face him, and he runs his fingertips across my forehead, down my face, my neck, my shoulders, to my hands- and I in turn rotate my hands so that his fingertips brush my palms and the undersides of my wrists. He touches the front of my dress, searching exploring, discovering me again, for the first time.
When I shudder at the touch of his fingers to my hips, he looks at my face. Worried? Worried I'm going to vanish again and leave him forever.
But that won't happen yet. I still have time.
Without hardly noticing it, I too fall into the pattern of exploration. I press my palms flat against his stomach, slowly moving them up to his chest, and his neck- my thumbs make small circles on his throat. I feel the cloth on his shirt, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger. With my left hand, I feel his shoulder and his upper arm, softly and smoothly strong from years of swordfighting. I swallow, trying to calm my body so he does not become worried again. I don't want to cause him any pain while I still have the chance.
My right hand moves to his face, and my thumb smoothes up and down the bridge of his nose while my fingers stroke his hairline.
"Don't be afraid to close your eyes."
I say it before I even know what it means. It seems that Dilandau us afraid I'll disappear if he closes his eyes...
"I'm not afraid," he says.
"Good," I smile, "Then close your eyes."
Dilandau's eyelashes flutter hesitantly- there's that second thought again- and then his eyes close. I close mine, too. My world falls into darkness.
Our exploration continues.
Dilandau's fingertips are gently traveling down the front part of my upper leg. The sensation that shoots through my body at this touch nearly makes me moan in ecstasy. My hands grasp at the front of his shirt. I can hear his breathing growing steadily heavier with anticipation- desire. So why doesn't he kiss me? The Old Dilandau would have taken me a long time ago, forcefully, as fast as he could. This new slowness hangs suspense thick in the air. The suspense gets trapped in both our lungs, making breath difficult.
The fingers of my right hand get caught on his belt, and I pull him into me. My left hand gets caught on something at the base of his throat- I hear the clink of metal.
I open my eyes. A necklace- his military pendant. Of course I've seen it before. But on this close inspection, I notice a change.
"The numbers are different," I say, fiddling with the pendant. I look up into Dilandau's eyes as they open. He takes a look at my hand holding the pendant, then slowly draws it away, interlocking his fingers with mine.
Then he kisses me.
*
For all the satisfaction and happiness it brings, love can be unbearably bittersweet.
It took me a while to learn this over the course of my experience, but tonight, I realize it more than ever. The painful knowledge that this is the last time I will be with him fills me with immense sadness, and yet this knowledge spurs me on, making me hungrier for more, making me want this last experience to be more pleasurable and pure than any ever was.
And yet something else holds us back- the secrecy under which we must operate out affairs. The feeling of him as he sinks deeply into me, his hands caressing my skin, his sweat and breath and saliva mingling with mine would have me screaming out his name in utter ecstasy, had I had the chance. But we must keep one foot inside the door of reality; keep our words and pleas and moans as quiet as possible, lest we be discovered. Having to leave these sounds and words quiet or unspoken makes them build up inside me; fill me to bursting. I become utterly drunk with passion long before the night is through. It swims in my blood, and claws at my back.
After a while, however; as always happens, the supply is exhausted; and neither of us have any left to give, and no room to take on more.
My final thought before I go to sleep is a question, and I have no time to even begin to answer it before I nod off:
Whatever will happen to him; once I am gone for good?
*
I am pulled gently from my dreamless sleep to feel the morning sunlight filtering through the tent cloth onto my skin. I sigh and roll from my side to my back, shift around a bit, and finally open my eyes. Once again, I find myself alone in the bed. But Dilandau is nearby- sitting in the chair by the small table half-dressed. He is wearing his pants and his necklace, his feet are bare, and has once again clothed his face in that lost, glazed over, contemplative expression, and seems to be avoiding looking at me.
I slide out of bed. Something at the base of my neck and my lower back is whispering; telling me that there is not much time before my One Last Day is done. I walk to where Dilandau is sitting and embrace him softly from behind. I kiss the side of his face with my full-feeling lips, and gently stroke his scar with my tongue. His hand is resting on his knee; I place mine on top of his. Dilandau turns to face me, and our lips brush each other softly a few times before he seems to decide that a kiss isn't worth the trouble: he faces forward again. Accepting his decision, I pick up my dress and put it on; as well as slipping my feet into my shoes.
Dilandau may not want to kiss, but I think I know what will make him feel better. Adjusting the sleeves of my dress, I walk to the small table again and slowly fill the glass halfway with wine. The light pink liquid gently flows into the glass, under and around itself. I return the bottle to the table, and close it with the glass stopper.
There is silence. Then Dilandau speaks.
"Why are you haunting me like this?" He murmurs- very quietly, as if he was halfway saying and halfway thinking the words.
Haunting. Like a ghost...
Dilandau laughs. The Old Laugh. Low. Sinister.
"Even if I did get drunk..." he says, again in that quiet, murmuring tone, "You wouldn't disappear. You never did before."
I take a moment to digest this sentence.
"Do you... want me to disappear?" I ask.
He turns rapidly in his seat, staring at me wide-eyed as if he has forgotten I was there. Then, facing front again, he falls forwards; his forehead gets nestled in his palm, and he begins to shudder again.
"Dilandau--" I put my hands on his shoulders, but his arm knocks them away.
And then, suddenly- a sound escapes his throat; not quite a growl, not quite a scream, not quite a moan- like something I've never heard before. Jajuka sweeps into the tent, making me very glad that I got dressed when I did.
"Lord Dilandau!" Jajuka exclaims.
"DAMN IT, JAJUKA, GO AWAY!" Dilandau bursts out, his hands becoming fists.
The beastman kneels at Dilandau's feet, and rests his paws on Dilandau's knees, "Sir, please... listen to me. You must calm down... It is time for the young lady to leave now."
Dilandau grabs ahold of the fur by Jajuka's neck in a savage gesture, "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE- ME-" He stops mid-scream, and his eyes seem to snap, "GET OUT OF HERE!" He pushes Jajuka away. Then he reaches up and grabs me with his arms; squeezing me around the waist with what seems to be all his strength. Jajuka stares for a moment, looking almost sorrowful.
"...Yes, sir," he says in a low growl, and disappears.
Wriggling free of Dilandau's death grip, I kneel down beside him. "Dilandau, what..."
"Could you get me my uniform, p-please?" Dilandau asks. He winces.
"Yes," I say, retrieving his jacket from the foot of the bed.
"Something about him I don't trust, Cherandle," Dilandau says as I slip the jacket onto him and fasten it, his words quivering, "He's... he's all I've got, of course... But he's not... much," he adds harshly, "Sword," he orders. I run to fetch it, "Something about him makes me want to scream," he says, and I attach his sword and slip on his boots, "...Makes me want to die..." The final sentence is spoken through clenched teeth as I place the tiara on his forehead. It clicks on- and with this click, Dilandau's trauma seems to end. He slowly calms down; his breathing stabilizes. "Thank you," he says heavily. He smiles at me. But the smile soon disappears, and he looks away.
He stands up; walks to the tent wall, his back turned to me. I stay on the floor, but after a moment I get to my feet too. I stand there; absentmindedly fiddling with my skirt.
"You've always been loyal to me, Cherandle," Dilandau says.
"I try... Lord," I add jokingly.
Dilandau goes on almost as if he didn't hear me- but the smile in his voice reveals otherwise, "And you always seemed to trust me.
"You remember when I fought with you in the training room, don't you...? Something always seemed strange about you. Different. Malenla, Julie, Palem, Viole... They were all professionally trained swordfighters; master killers. The kind of women who are ridiculed against for their roughness. They came to me; fell into my hands in the way soldiers normally do, bringing with them papers; written proof of their skill. While you were found..." he laughs, "Shuddering helplessly against a cave wall, with only stories to prove of your talent.
"You'll have to go, you know," he adds, "I wouldn't want- you shouldn't get caught." He turns away from the wall, and there is a pause as he apparently sorts out his words.
"No woman has ever been able to control me the way you did," he says, a hint of frustration undertoning his words, "I never would have allowed it... Although..." he starts, but trails off, and looks sadly at his hand for a moment.
"Although what?" is what I almost ask- but I stay silent. This is his time to speak- what I've been waiting for this whole time.
"You should know; I would've taken you even if you had refused," Dilandau continues, and walks right up to me, "What surprised me was that you actually returned with feelings of your own. I usually make it a point not to be surprised, Cherandle- things like that can throw a man off his guard.
"And the thing that shocked me the most- the thing that surprised me more than... ANYTHING-" and here, his fingers crookedly gesture to the scar on his cheek, "...Was how much I... ended up falling in love with you."
I feel my shoulders go stiff with shock. Did he just say...?
Dilandau has bowed his head forward; he has placed a hand on his forehead. At first I think he's embarrassed about his confession, and I reach for him.
Then he turns his face up to meet mine, and I shrink back.
Dilandau's eyes are blue. Bright blue; nothing like their usual wine-red. His hair falls in a different fashion; the shape of his face looks somehow different. And the scar- the scar is still there, but seems strangly muted. Halfway faded.
Then, with a sudden snap, everything seems to fall back into place so quickly I am forced to doubt whether or not anything had been different at all. Dilandau's eyes are wild, and a thin sweat has broken out on his forehead.
"Get out," he mutters.
I don't move. Did I just see... What I thought I just saw...? It's not possible-
"GET OUT!" Dilandau pushes me away with both arms, towards the tent flap. I take one last glance before departing, and there's a message in his eyes:
I'm sorry.
Then, I run. I run out of the tent past the giant beastman Jajuka. I run through the maze of tents towards the outskirts, men and flags passing me on both sides; all watching me as I go. I run past my Father's tent. I run into the forest, paying no mind to the guards; finally collapsing under a tree.
Then, the truth hits me.
He told me he loved me...
Tears of boundless emotion pour forth from my eyes, and I am crying again. Just as I begin to weep, I hear another voice.
"Cherandle!"
"Father!" I cry joyously as he kneels, and cradles me in his arms. "He loves me, Father, he told me he loves me!"
"Oh, Cherandle..." Father's face seems caught between a smile and a frown.
"I could fly, Father," I say, looking up into his eyes- emerald green, like mine. "I could live forever." I laugh, and cry, and he holds me close.
"I'm so sorry I ran away," I sniffle up to him.
Father smiles softly, "No matter," he says, "You ran away to find yourself... We all have to do that sooner or later."
I smile through my happy tears, "You forgive me?"
"I forgive you."
"...I love you, Dad."
Time's up.
My world slips into darkness. The last thing I see if my Father's smile. The last thing I feel is his arms around me. And the last thing I thing I think of his my extraordinary luck and happiness.
*
And so, I have returned. Back to the white emptiness. Back to sitting and waiting for eternity to come.
My soul feels stronger than when I left. It's a common theory among poets and dreamers that love strengthens the heart.
Well, I'm no poet...
I seem to be more in tune with the realm of death now. My spirit feels somehow connected with everything around me. I can feel the other souls that inhibit the infinite whiteness- not really names, nor any attributes of their physical characteristics when they were alive, but their essence. Their being. I can sense it.
What's that?
I look around. Something just- pulled at me. Like a forgotten dream.
I lost it... No, wait...
Where? Where?
There?
There!
I stand.
"Dilandau..."
Dilandau is dead.
He's somewhere around me.
Somewhere in the whiteness. In the emptiness. Somewhere near- but near is as far as forever in this place.
And Dilandau- Dilandau, the ruthless leader of the Dragon Slayers; the boy who took the lives of thousands without thought; whose fiery passion caused the downfall of an entire nation- is crying.
Dilandau is crying.
I have to find him.
I dash away in the direction of the pull; hoping, praying, wishing with all my heart that "near" isn't as far as I think it might be.
And even if it is... I have all eternity to run.