Post by Forgotten on Apr 27, 2005 14:04:18 GMT -5
He had been wandering again. He did that quite a bit. He was leaving, attempting to escape his own past, even though that past was not distant, and he could still feel the sting of what he had done. Yes, what he had done. He could blame it on Sarischa, for taking the initiative to actually do it, yet he knew that he had, deep down, wanted it to happen. He had wanted this. And now he was in self-imposed exile. He had wanted it to happen, though, that much was certain, and for that, he could never dare to request forgiveness from her. But he hadn’t wanted it to happen like that. This she must see. But she hadn’t wanted to talk to him afterwards. Or at least, he had assumed such, and that was all that really mattered, and so he had left. Still… Perhaps that was one of Ellatole’s greatest flaws. He could hallucinate and discern meaning from the visions. He could sense the future from the way organs fell, or burned, or the flight patterns of birds. He could discover much about a person based purely on the squeak that their carriage’s wheel made while in motion, and often times, he was able to discern truth from these images, and yet, he was so ready to assume, so unwilling to divine anything in his relationship with Cassandra. Or perhaps it was a matter of respect. All the same, he knew more than he should, and more than he ever acted like he knew.
He had left. No warning, no signs, nothing. He’d given Cassandra no notification that he would be leaving, and now he was simply gone. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps not. There was so much that was unsure, so much that was simply left to uncertainty. How exquisitely human of him! It was a grand trick to be a vampire pretending to be human. Sure, it had been done before countless times by countless others, but never for the sake of feigning their vulnerability. But then, Ellatole could never be truly human, could never be anything more or less than a vampire. Perhaps it was introspection that was telling him this, perhaps it was the large purple dragon he saw off to his left ravenously devouring a head of lettuce. All the same, he had not the time to find meaning in these visions. He did not particularly care at the present. The time was growing near. Soon he would record all that he had seen. It would be spectacular. A thing of beauty, and ultimately, his last act. Yes, this is what it would all boil down to, he knew, and perhaps there was no better time than now. Deeply vulnerable, recently traumatized, and forcing away the one woman who meant a damn to him. He sought confirmation for this feeling, the first time he had actively wanted a vision, yet his humble request found no response.
No, he was going it alone now. Even Sarischa had been uncharacteristically silent. Well, he had his broadsword and his robes, and enough knowledge of theology to be accepted into a monastic order, and that could buy him some time. He could record his visions and his truths in a book in silence, in comfort if he wished, before taking his final steps. They were nearing. He knew this, somehow, knew that he could only cheat death for so long. His trick had been spectacular, it had been marvelously wrought, flawlessly executed, but when it came right down to it, the physical form was obviously not what fate sought. And perhaps Ellatole was the only one to ever trick fate. To ever elude his destiny. Perhaps it had been done before, but how many were actually aware that they were able to taunt fate flawlessly? No, very few had actually seen their own end in such vivid and stunning detail as Ellatole had seen his. And it was a thing of beauty how he would die. Truly fitting for him. But no, he would think about that later. There was plenty of time to think, these things needed not be rushed.
He had received no confirmation as to whether or not the time was right, yet something in the air was tangible. He knew that the time was nearing, knew very clearly that his fate was pressing upon him. Perhaps he had only a century left of life. Perhaps even less, but he knew that it would catch him. He should return to divining, scanning birds or organs to learn about the physical world, and perhaps make some sense out of a world so mixed up that it actually viewed Ellatole to be the crazy one. He heard a whisper over his shoulder and glanced around for a moment. Yes. They had come back again. Accompanied, Ellatole quietly walked on alone.
“What do you wish to be called today?” he asked quietly, deferentially. There was no audible answer, yet Ellatole nodded as though he heard and understood. “Very well, Gabriel it shall be.” He walked quietly onward for a moment, an eyebrow raising slightly, his facial muscles twitching as he heard something. “But could you not see? Were you not there?” Again he remained silent as though listening. “Where have you been? And what news have you for me?” Silence once more. “I see, you enjoyed your visit to the islands? You absolutely must describe to me sometime the feeling of the sun on the beach, or the sight of the sunset or sunrise, as those are luxuries I can no longer afford. I trust you have been doing well.” He walked onwards, still speaking quietly to no one in particular. “Well, I asked bout the beach because I would so love to feel it again on my skin, yet you could not describe that to me very well at all, as you can not remember your skin. Mind you, I am not waving this around as though it is something that I have and you do not, indeed, I would never dream of doing that, you have come at a most needed time, and I surely hope that you will not be departing any time soon.” He walked onwards for a few moments longer, then stopped and turned, looking directly forward at nothing. “Can you take me back? Put me once more with the others? Allow me to walk back into that world where I spent so much of my childhood?” His voice was tense with excitement, his shoulders up, though this lasted only a moment, before his shoulders dropped and he resumed walking. “I see. No, no I understand, I’m sorry. Could you perhaps tell them that I miss them, and that I would like to see them again soon, but the time is not yet right?” The answer to this seemed to be pleasing to Ellatole, and he nodded at it, smiling once more.
And then he doubled over. It was a physical blow from an unseen assailant, blood leaving his lungs in a cough as thousands of tiny cuts opened on his body. He was no longer walking forward, simply lying on his back watching the moon battle the clouds for dominance this evening. Would the moon win, and bask him in pale light? Or would the clouds win and bathe him in rain? He watched the stars dance and twinkle, making no sense of them, and watching the constellations with mild interest as the hunter shot his bow and struck down the deer. A star faded out, dying. He had learned all that he needed to know, and now he was nearly paralyzed, lying on the ground, looking at the sky. As one star died, another flared brighter. Cassandra had left, and she was not alone. Now Ellatole truly had no one to speak to, only Gabriel, and those who lived within him. He had been lonely before, but now his gut held a vast emptiness where a star had burned out. Never before had he known such bleak, desolate despair as this. He had quite possibly lost his firmest grasp on sanity.
Scrambling, now, in a hurry he crawled on all fours off of the path, rooting through the lush green grass at the side of the gravel. There were two blades of grass that he must find! He must get them! The exact same length, the exact same blade of grass! He must find them! That was most important in his life now. He would find these blades of grass soon. There was no other purpose now to his life. He needed to find the grass which had spread far apart and reunite them. He knew their significance. One of the blades was born in the carcass of the Great Mother, creator of all, and the other was born of the seed of The Father, the giver of the will to live. These two must be reunited so that a child could be borne. Cassandra would come home when he found them. He simply needed to find them. No blade of grass could be unmolested. Lonely, sore, despairing and deeply wounded, the wild-haired prophet scrambled about on his hands and knees rooting through grass, scanning each blade meticulously, looking for the two blades of grass that were identical. The planet was large. This was a fool’s quest. They would die before he was ever able to unite them, yet it was something, something to do, something to aspire to, something he MUST DO. Clawing at the earth wildly and muttering to himself, he had passed out, his body wracked in pain and convulsing, his face streaming with the blood of tears he did not know he had been crying, he had been found, and carried away. Where he would end up, he knew not. At present, he was not even aware that he had stopped digging through grass. His search was frenzied, frantic, yet there was no grass within the caravan, only that which clung to the blood on his fingers.
Here he was cared for, calmed by gypsies and whispered to. They would take care of him. It would be alright. There were others like him that they knew. They would know what to do. The sun was coming up. Go to sleep. Rest. Do not worry, you can trust us. Ellatole could only watch on helplessly as he was carried away from his field, yet he had the confirmation from Gabriel. This was a safe place. He would get closer to the blades. Just trust in this. He consented, and, drifting once more into unconsciousness, he surrendered himself to the search. He must find them. For if he did not, what else was there for him?
He had left. No warning, no signs, nothing. He’d given Cassandra no notification that he would be leaving, and now he was simply gone. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps not. There was so much that was unsure, so much that was simply left to uncertainty. How exquisitely human of him! It was a grand trick to be a vampire pretending to be human. Sure, it had been done before countless times by countless others, but never for the sake of feigning their vulnerability. But then, Ellatole could never be truly human, could never be anything more or less than a vampire. Perhaps it was introspection that was telling him this, perhaps it was the large purple dragon he saw off to his left ravenously devouring a head of lettuce. All the same, he had not the time to find meaning in these visions. He did not particularly care at the present. The time was growing near. Soon he would record all that he had seen. It would be spectacular. A thing of beauty, and ultimately, his last act. Yes, this is what it would all boil down to, he knew, and perhaps there was no better time than now. Deeply vulnerable, recently traumatized, and forcing away the one woman who meant a damn to him. He sought confirmation for this feeling, the first time he had actively wanted a vision, yet his humble request found no response.
No, he was going it alone now. Even Sarischa had been uncharacteristically silent. Well, he had his broadsword and his robes, and enough knowledge of theology to be accepted into a monastic order, and that could buy him some time. He could record his visions and his truths in a book in silence, in comfort if he wished, before taking his final steps. They were nearing. He knew this, somehow, knew that he could only cheat death for so long. His trick had been spectacular, it had been marvelously wrought, flawlessly executed, but when it came right down to it, the physical form was obviously not what fate sought. And perhaps Ellatole was the only one to ever trick fate. To ever elude his destiny. Perhaps it had been done before, but how many were actually aware that they were able to taunt fate flawlessly? No, very few had actually seen their own end in such vivid and stunning detail as Ellatole had seen his. And it was a thing of beauty how he would die. Truly fitting for him. But no, he would think about that later. There was plenty of time to think, these things needed not be rushed.
He had received no confirmation as to whether or not the time was right, yet something in the air was tangible. He knew that the time was nearing, knew very clearly that his fate was pressing upon him. Perhaps he had only a century left of life. Perhaps even less, but he knew that it would catch him. He should return to divining, scanning birds or organs to learn about the physical world, and perhaps make some sense out of a world so mixed up that it actually viewed Ellatole to be the crazy one. He heard a whisper over his shoulder and glanced around for a moment. Yes. They had come back again. Accompanied, Ellatole quietly walked on alone.
“What do you wish to be called today?” he asked quietly, deferentially. There was no audible answer, yet Ellatole nodded as though he heard and understood. “Very well, Gabriel it shall be.” He walked quietly onward for a moment, an eyebrow raising slightly, his facial muscles twitching as he heard something. “But could you not see? Were you not there?” Again he remained silent as though listening. “Where have you been? And what news have you for me?” Silence once more. “I see, you enjoyed your visit to the islands? You absolutely must describe to me sometime the feeling of the sun on the beach, or the sight of the sunset or sunrise, as those are luxuries I can no longer afford. I trust you have been doing well.” He walked onwards, still speaking quietly to no one in particular. “Well, I asked bout the beach because I would so love to feel it again on my skin, yet you could not describe that to me very well at all, as you can not remember your skin. Mind you, I am not waving this around as though it is something that I have and you do not, indeed, I would never dream of doing that, you have come at a most needed time, and I surely hope that you will not be departing any time soon.” He walked onwards for a few moments longer, then stopped and turned, looking directly forward at nothing. “Can you take me back? Put me once more with the others? Allow me to walk back into that world where I spent so much of my childhood?” His voice was tense with excitement, his shoulders up, though this lasted only a moment, before his shoulders dropped and he resumed walking. “I see. No, no I understand, I’m sorry. Could you perhaps tell them that I miss them, and that I would like to see them again soon, but the time is not yet right?” The answer to this seemed to be pleasing to Ellatole, and he nodded at it, smiling once more.
And then he doubled over. It was a physical blow from an unseen assailant, blood leaving his lungs in a cough as thousands of tiny cuts opened on his body. He was no longer walking forward, simply lying on his back watching the moon battle the clouds for dominance this evening. Would the moon win, and bask him in pale light? Or would the clouds win and bathe him in rain? He watched the stars dance and twinkle, making no sense of them, and watching the constellations with mild interest as the hunter shot his bow and struck down the deer. A star faded out, dying. He had learned all that he needed to know, and now he was nearly paralyzed, lying on the ground, looking at the sky. As one star died, another flared brighter. Cassandra had left, and she was not alone. Now Ellatole truly had no one to speak to, only Gabriel, and those who lived within him. He had been lonely before, but now his gut held a vast emptiness where a star had burned out. Never before had he known such bleak, desolate despair as this. He had quite possibly lost his firmest grasp on sanity.
Scrambling, now, in a hurry he crawled on all fours off of the path, rooting through the lush green grass at the side of the gravel. There were two blades of grass that he must find! He must get them! The exact same length, the exact same blade of grass! He must find them! That was most important in his life now. He would find these blades of grass soon. There was no other purpose now to his life. He needed to find the grass which had spread far apart and reunite them. He knew their significance. One of the blades was born in the carcass of the Great Mother, creator of all, and the other was born of the seed of The Father, the giver of the will to live. These two must be reunited so that a child could be borne. Cassandra would come home when he found them. He simply needed to find them. No blade of grass could be unmolested. Lonely, sore, despairing and deeply wounded, the wild-haired prophet scrambled about on his hands and knees rooting through grass, scanning each blade meticulously, looking for the two blades of grass that were identical. The planet was large. This was a fool’s quest. They would die before he was ever able to unite them, yet it was something, something to do, something to aspire to, something he MUST DO. Clawing at the earth wildly and muttering to himself, he had passed out, his body wracked in pain and convulsing, his face streaming with the blood of tears he did not know he had been crying, he had been found, and carried away. Where he would end up, he knew not. At present, he was not even aware that he had stopped digging through grass. His search was frenzied, frantic, yet there was no grass within the caravan, only that which clung to the blood on his fingers.
Here he was cared for, calmed by gypsies and whispered to. They would take care of him. It would be alright. There were others like him that they knew. They would know what to do. The sun was coming up. Go to sleep. Rest. Do not worry, you can trust us. Ellatole could only watch on helplessly as he was carried away from his field, yet he had the confirmation from Gabriel. This was a safe place. He would get closer to the blades. Just trust in this. He consented, and, drifting once more into unconsciousness, he surrendered himself to the search. He must find them. For if he did not, what else was there for him?