Something Broken
Posted: 16 Feb 2016, 01:11
Sometimes, anger was a difficult emotion to put into the right place.
Most other feelings were pretty straightforward; their targets much easier to identify. For the majority of the time, anyway. Anger, however, was often misplaced, or misused, until it was simply broadcast everywhere, or nowhere, turning it in on itself until it ate you alive.
Aksel had spent his entire life turning his anger on himself. There was little left of him to attest to that. He was a husk where a man had used to be; though that was largely Reanna’s doing, he still blamed himself for it all. It was hard not to, when the shade of his sister was there, constantly reminding him of it. He felt her presence there, even now, goading him on, pushing at the anger inside of him as he worked through the darkness of the caverns, hiding amongst the shadows, where he felt at home. He had spent days down in the dark, fighting, killing, turning that anger on the creatures that scrabbled through the damp, black depths of the underbelly of the caverns. He had little to no connection with the outside for some time, cleansing himself of the guilt for letting his wife run off to the fighting with her family.
He should have known she wasn’t ready, but she had assured him; she had pleaded with him to have faith in her, in her family, to keep her safe. He should have known better. He should have told her to stay, have told her that she wasn’t ready yet, that there was still much for her to learn. Instead, he let her run to her doom, and she had touched him from the Shadows, telling him all of it.
It had been hard, hearing it. He knew it, before she had even told him, but it was hard to listen to. Since that night, he had been here, fighting until he was too exhausted to lift his rifle, only to pick it up again the minute he caught his breath. Dirt clung to him like another skin. Grime was a coat of armor, covering him head to toe and clinging to his hair in a gritty mess.
Outside, days and nights had come and gone, he had known from the impossible fatigue he felt at the hands of the daylight hours, but beneath the earth, he had felt invigorated, enough to allow him to move, even through the hours of the day when he was typically a vegetable. He hadn’t slept, and had been sustaining himself on magics he had learned from his earlier nights as a vampire, duplicating the blood within him with the anima that flowed through his veins, connecting him to the magical world around him. He hadn’t had a proper meal in what felt like a lifetime. It set him on edge as much as knowing that his wife was beneath even this darkness, and he couldn’t get to her.
He shook his head and, jamming the butt of his rifle between the stones of the wall, he pulled out his phone. The light of the screen was brighter than the sun down in the dark, hurting his eyes with its intensity as he looked away from it, waiting for his eyes to adjust, slowly, before he looked down at the screen again. He tapped at a number he rarely, if ever, had any use for, and typed up a text.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: Tate
I am sure you have heard by now,
but I thought I would make sure
that you heard it. I would want to.
Trinity is in the Shadows. I do not
know what happened, and she is
not so ready with answers just yet.
She will be back.
He felt like there was more to say, more that should be there, but he couldn’t decide what it might be. Shaking his head, he tapped SEND and tucked the phone into his pocket. Who’s to know, she may actually appreciate the news. Or, she might not. Time would tell. He yanked his rifle from the wall and lifted it to his shoulder again, his eyes adjusting to the dark once again as he began to snake through the shadows, watching the walls for the spidery creatures that lurked in the dark.
Most other feelings were pretty straightforward; their targets much easier to identify. For the majority of the time, anyway. Anger, however, was often misplaced, or misused, until it was simply broadcast everywhere, or nowhere, turning it in on itself until it ate you alive.
Aksel had spent his entire life turning his anger on himself. There was little left of him to attest to that. He was a husk where a man had used to be; though that was largely Reanna’s doing, he still blamed himself for it all. It was hard not to, when the shade of his sister was there, constantly reminding him of it. He felt her presence there, even now, goading him on, pushing at the anger inside of him as he worked through the darkness of the caverns, hiding amongst the shadows, where he felt at home. He had spent days down in the dark, fighting, killing, turning that anger on the creatures that scrabbled through the damp, black depths of the underbelly of the caverns. He had little to no connection with the outside for some time, cleansing himself of the guilt for letting his wife run off to the fighting with her family.
He should have known she wasn’t ready, but she had assured him; she had pleaded with him to have faith in her, in her family, to keep her safe. He should have known better. He should have told her to stay, have told her that she wasn’t ready yet, that there was still much for her to learn. Instead, he let her run to her doom, and she had touched him from the Shadows, telling him all of it.
It had been hard, hearing it. He knew it, before she had even told him, but it was hard to listen to. Since that night, he had been here, fighting until he was too exhausted to lift his rifle, only to pick it up again the minute he caught his breath. Dirt clung to him like another skin. Grime was a coat of armor, covering him head to toe and clinging to his hair in a gritty mess.
Outside, days and nights had come and gone, he had known from the impossible fatigue he felt at the hands of the daylight hours, but beneath the earth, he had felt invigorated, enough to allow him to move, even through the hours of the day when he was typically a vegetable. He hadn’t slept, and had been sustaining himself on magics he had learned from his earlier nights as a vampire, duplicating the blood within him with the anima that flowed through his veins, connecting him to the magical world around him. He hadn’t had a proper meal in what felt like a lifetime. It set him on edge as much as knowing that his wife was beneath even this darkness, and he couldn’t get to her.
He shook his head and, jamming the butt of his rifle between the stones of the wall, he pulled out his phone. The light of the screen was brighter than the sun down in the dark, hurting his eyes with its intensity as he looked away from it, waiting for his eyes to adjust, slowly, before he looked down at the screen again. He tapped at a number he rarely, if ever, had any use for, and typed up a text.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: Tate
I am sure you have heard by now,
but I thought I would make sure
that you heard it. I would want to.
Trinity is in the Shadows. I do not
know what happened, and she is
not so ready with answers just yet.
She will be back.
He felt like there was more to say, more that should be there, but he couldn’t decide what it might be. Shaking his head, he tapped SEND and tucked the phone into his pocket. Who’s to know, she may actually appreciate the news. Or, she might not. Time would tell. He yanked his rifle from the wall and lifted it to his shoulder again, his eyes adjusting to the dark once again as he began to snake through the shadows, watching the walls for the spidery creatures that lurked in the dark.