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They hadn’t been in Gemini for long. The mutilated ex-Saboran was still awaiting his chance to speak to his sister, Serrate, who was allegedly leading this pack. She was difficult to get ahold of, and Falcate wondered if there was a chance she already knew he was there or not. His memories of his sister stemmed primarily from when they were young, back in Saboro, and when he thought about how she was back then, he didn’t hesitate to think she may be avoiding confrontation.
The main difference between then and now was that Falcate wasn’t there to berate or revile her like he most likely would have when he was younger. As children – and even adolescents – Falcate lived in the delusion that he was the best, that he was meant to lead Saboro. But Serrate did and he did not. That should have been his first clue that he was never meant to be a leader.
Things were different in the present; the siblings had lived very contrasting lives leading up to this point. Serrate was a Queen twice over now, and Falcate was nothing more than the battered empty shell of a royal, spoiled brat who took everything for granted. Perhaps by now, the headstrong redblood was finally seeing that he owed his sister an apology – maybe even some respect. Perhaps it was truly time to grow up.
Quiet, shallow breaths echoed into the still night air as his daughter lay sleeping next to him. Her mere presence was calming, but Falcate couldn’t shake the feeling of lingering anxiety as he lay awake while the rest of the world succumbed to peaceful slumber. He had a hard time sleeping since they had arrived. Whether it be due to the many thoughts circling within his mind or the paranoia that lurked under his skin, he was unsure.
He was sure of one thing, however: Being born to Saboran royalty generally led to a lifetime of trust issues. Being in foreign land never did help with those.
A soft sigh slipped from the ex-Harrier’s scarred maw, sightless eyesockets staring into somber nothingness. He had no concept of time these days, completely unknowing of how long he’d been laying there drifting in and out of disturbed unconsciousness as he listened to Hallie’s smooth breaths and frequent sleep murmurs. It could be minutes before sunrise or hours – but he’d never know either way because he’d never see the sun again.
Agitation became more prevalent in his bones, the restlessness of his body beginning to grow more and more noticeable until it reached a point where he could no longer bear it. He knew Haldred would be pissed if he wandered off without her, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to scratch the itch.
Rising silently to his paws, he held his breath as he slowly found his way out of their little temporary sleeping quarters – which was essentially a makeshift den nestled into the gnarled roots of an impressive tree. That persistent limp in his hind leg forced a grimace upon his face, tired muscles protesting as he compelled them to move.
Once he was out in the crisp midnight air he paused and waited for a brief moment, listening to make sure that Hallie did not stir. Silence granted him his answer, and he began slowly padding away from the only child he had any contact with any longer.
Gemini was quiet despite not being a dense forest like Saboro was, and it gave Falcate a sense of unease. There were no birds singing. There were no rustles from the bushes. No distant cries from prey animals. No crickets chirping.
Simply silence.
Unsure of what exactly he hoped to accomplish by wandering away from his eyes into the foggy abyss, Falcate moved without purpose and took careful steps. This was uncharted territory for him and it wouldn’t take much for things to go horribly wrong here.
As he wandered cautiously and aimlessly, the ex-Harrier thought about his run-in with one of Serrate’s own children, Bellamy. A frightened, spineless little creature. He smirked as he recalled how the young girl thought Falcate and Hallie were Serrate’s kids too. She must have an army of them if this one didn’t know all her own siblings. He also briefly hoped that Haldred didn’t give the poor girl some form of PTSD after that little encounter. Poor Bellamy.
Falcate then pondered whether or not Serrate would know if her brother had offspring of his own. His memories were always quite blurry ever since he was mauled by Marou and Zasha (one of whom he still hated deeply, the other he had newfound respect for), so he couldn’t remember if Serrate was still around when he and Vapor decided to bring the kids out of hiding. But if his memory was correct, he thought Serrate was already gone by then. Would she be surprised? Happy? Disappointed?
A strange tugging feeling pulled at his chest for a moment, thinking about family and how broken his was. Not even just his siblings and Halberd and their dead, estranged father, but his own little family. He hadn’t seen Vapor since escaping with Haldred. And Gabe, Iscariot, and Isaiah…
Isaiah, the one who found him in his half-dead state after Marou and Zasha had their way with him. Terror.
Gabriel, the one Falcate had so much expectations for, almost to the point where it wasn’t even reasonable or achievable. Mislead.
Iscariot, the one who Falcate never paid enough attention to, or got to know well enough to form a proper relationship with. Forgotten.
Vapor… Someone who’d grown so unknowingly near and dear to his cold, dead heart. Someone who used to drive him absolutely nuts, bring out the worst in him, and yet show him exactly what he was capable of at the same time.
He’d abandoned all of them, just like his own mother had done to him and his siblings. He was no different. He was no better than that bitch, and it took him this long to finally see that.
It stung like a pain he’d never quite felt before. A deep, emotional ache that throbbed in his chest.
Realizing he had stopped in his tracks, Falcate lightly shook his head. When he began walking again, he had no idea which direction he was headed or what lay before him. The gears within his head turned rapidly, thoughts of Halberd and his brothers and sisters and his children all floated about, jumbled in his mind, clouding his perception of reality and memory.
Suddenly all of the memories were so clear, vivid. He couldn’t control the rate at which they flew at him.
Deltoid’s voice reverberated in his ears with a strange abruptness, “My sister is dead?”. The ex-Saboran then thought of his sister, a sibling he was probably strangely closest to, and yet one he despised the most in several instances. They didn’t always get along, and yet something about Derringer reminded him of himself. Hot-headed, stubborn, arrogant. It was as though they were cut from the exact same cloth some days.
The relationship between Falcate and each of his siblings was rocky at best (and there was truly one good reason why, whether or not he liked to admit it) but he always took a strange liking to Derringer. There was so many things he wanted to ask her, to try and understand about her. Now he’d never get the chance. Maybe it was for the best. Those answers could shatter a man.
However, he hoped he’d have the chance to reconcile with his last living sister, someone who he’d shared few – albeit memorable – moments with in the past. Someone who perhaps had more faith in him than he’d ever deserved. She’d lead Saboro, which was unfair to the girl – young, at the time – since it was an unrealistic standard to what a pack should look like. Someone who was now raising a family, which was also possibly unfair, because they’d all been shown the wrong way to raise a proper family.
Somewhere deep within Falcate, he hoped Gemini was much different. He hoped Serrate was much different. That her family was strong, like he envisioned his would be.
Timid steps brought Falcate somewhere that felt cold, breezy. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone, having been lost in thought as he moved himself from place to place. His mind was feeling tired, his body growing slow as he gradually exhausted himself by traveling too far down memory lane. Did Haldred notice yet that he’d gone? He’d almost forgotten where he was; almost forgotten he was blind.
The wind picked up as he pushed onward, forward. A voice carried in the breeze, a voice that sounded familiar and yet so unknown and foreign. Perhaps this was a dream. Yes, that seemed far more likely. It would explain why his psyche was running wild; memories crashing down on him like waves, their sudden clarity so jarring and obnoxious. It explained why he felt so tired, so slow and lethargic.
He imagined that he was sound asleep next to his daughter, someone who held so much of his heart in her own hands. Did she know that? Did she know how much he adored her? He’d tell her when he woke up… Yes. He’d make sure he did. But for now, he had to take the sleep while he could. He couldn’t wake up yet.
Come to think of it, he’d never had a chance to truly tell any of his kids how much he loved them. And now they were calling to him, their voices on the wind that carried the ocean. They yearned for him, and he wished he could do more than simply follow their ethereal voices, reaching out for them as though he could grab them once more.
Calling, crashing, blowing, breaking.
As he reached, he felt himself floating, falling. He was weightless and free. The voices grew louder as he fell toward them, the smell of salt filling his nostrils. He saw them now, he could open his eyes. He could see, he could really see. They watched him from above, standing atop a cliff as he floated down below.
Falcate tried to call out to them, but the words refused to come. He was frozen in that moment, unable to move or speak or breathe. He could only watch as they stared down at him, their faces screwed into a look of horror and despair. Wide-eyed, they watched him in terror.
Why were they so scared? He was so happy to see them, so genuinely thrilled to see their faces again. Why would they be sad?
He noticed then that Haldred was not standing with them, not standing there staring down at him with a look of dread upon her face. Where was Hallie? Something felt wrong, and the moment of peace quickly slipped away, leaving him alone in the darkness again. Alone, confused, cold.
Freezing cold, unbearably cold and drenched in wetness.
A sharp breath found its way into his lungs and he groaned in agony. This didn’t feel like a dream. His body shivered and lurched, something pulling him and throwing him against such hard, sharp ridges. He couldn’t see; he was blind again. His ribs screamed in pain, forcing him not to breathe.
He whimpered again as his body jolted in ice cold agony, shooting through his guts and legs and head and lungs. Oh god, it hurt. Why did it hurt so badly? What was happening? He couldn’t see – the world was a dark abyss and everything hurt.
More memories began to flood into his mind, recalling the last time he was in this much pain. It made sense back then, it all made sense. But this didn’t. Who was doing this, and why did he deserve it now?
His nostrils burned as salt water forced its way in. He choked and coughed as wet flames licked at his throat angrily. Water. He was in water. How did he get in water? A groan escaped him as more visions flashed in his mind, forcing themselves upon him with such aggression.
This time, he saw an old friend, someone who he took a keen interest in, and then came back to haunt him after he’d taken pieces of her with him. Was he paying for all of these things now? He thought he’d paid for all of these sins once already? Why now, why again? Why was this happening? He paid for these sins. He paid, with his sight and his dignity and his life.
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He was bobbing in waves but couldn’t swim. Crashing against rock but incapable of climbing them to safety. Where was Hallie? She could save him. She always saved him.
He couldn’t breathe.
How could he ever say sorry to anyone if he couldn’t breathe now? How could he tell Haldred how much he truly loved her if he couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he fucking breathe----
CRACK
The world around him was already black, but an eerie fuzziness began to somehow obstruct the vision he already lacked. The world grew warmer, his body no longer shivering as his skull bashed relentlessly against the sharp edges of boulders.
Floating once again, his soul soared. His broken, lifeless soul rose up as his limp body was pushed and pulled by the greasy, snakelike fingers of the ocean. He flew past his mother, his siblings, his children, his past. He saw himself hunting crocs with Sieness, saw his sister die, saw all of the slaves he captured, saw the many faces of Saboro’s leaders, saw Lucas caring for him, the volcano erupting – he saw it all before the ash and smoke filled his eyes and lungs and nose and swallowed him hole.
It wouldn’t be Saboro that killed Sagaris after all. It was his own mind. He never had anyone to blame but himself.
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