It was a starless night. Thick, black clouds hanged low, pouring heavy rain atop the cobbled streets and tiled rooftops. Below, the people hurriedly scurried away, seeking dry shelter like rats escaping a sinking vessel, while some lonesome miserable watchers endured the capricious weather, with stern faces and steely determination -back home, they knew, the children had to be fed.
Against this raging, onyx sky, stood he. Up there, on that one favourite among many overlooks he stood, silent, still, searching, seeking. As the raindrops played their enchanting music, with crescendoing cymbals against cracked windowpanes, and tapering drums on untrodden soil, they drowned out the cacophony this town was so infamous for. Somewhere, an unfed mouth wailed, but the rain was louder. Somewhere, an unloved lover wept, but the rain was louder. Somewhere, booming laughter roared -but the rain was louder.
Such he stood, up on that overlook that overlooked what he for so long had looked over. He always did like the rain. It reminded him of home. It reminded him of the violent waves, crashing hopelessly against the pier, and the watery whiplash that cooled his youthful face. Here, this far north, though the sea was but a word for most, and a distant dream for a few, the unrelenting rain made for a delightful alternative. He cast his eyes skywards, and for a time, -a short, fleeting amount of time- he was content. Yet, no rain could soothe him any more. Accepting this fact, he opened his eyes once more, and followed a single raindrop on its predestined path of destruction.
He saw them, below, on the streets and under the parapets; behind half-shut curtains and passed out in the stables. He saw them merry, celebrating in jubilation, unbeknownst of the dangers they were being kept safe from, as ants that would panic in such predictable manners when their hill is disturbed, yet are unable to comprehend continent-shattering earthquakes. He saw them grieving, for reasons petty, perhaps, yet reasons nonetheless. Down there, he saw them all. All except the ones he wanted to.
Where lay they now? As the question arose, his mind drifted, and his reality followed suit. There, by the square, the grumpy bear would be throwing another hapless upstart into the fountain; humility taught, a chortling laughter raised, that would so easily spread its roots to all observers, sparing not the victim either. He smiled, now, as he smiled then, once a hapless upstart himself; now little more than a fading shade. Yonder, behind that stone fence, the lithe cat would be sneaking soundlessly, waiting for her perfect moment to pounce upon unsuspecting passers-by; either for mischief, coin, or blood. Though the rain may have been drowning out the town's noises, it did no such courtesy to its memories. On the contrary; it shaped them. It gave them their flowing forms, one only noticed by the only one still yearning for them. Insensitive, he may have been called, but his sensitivities simply lay elsewhere -in forgotten shadows and amidst forsaken memories.
And so, there he was now; a breathing ghost of different times, separated from his peers. A relic whose meaning, whose function, -whose purpose- had long since been forgotten, made obscure and obsolete by the one great equaliser. Time. With unfaltering certainty, it had claimed him. This was no longer his time, this much he knew for certain. He allowed the thought to blossom. He relished it, cherishing the promise of finality. Of closure. Of peace.
He had long accepted the thought. More than that, he was seeking it. He was, after all, the final cornerstone of so many dilapidated ruins. The last living legacy of a man, whose whole existence he had toiled for so many years to erase, the last shadow of the old guard that still openly drew breath, the last reason of grief and misery for so many that life punished by entwining their paths with his. Evil would not cease with him, certainly; but his evil, at least, would. One final dance, one final spin, as the world -his world- in flames was wreathed.
He looked at them once more, below, as they, like rats, peeped out from their shelters, peering at the clearing sky. Moonlight pierced the dispersing clouds, and the first of the stars shined through.
He turned his back at them, and disappeared into the embracing darkness.
Somewhere, three sisters cried in mourning -and the rain was no longer louder.
The time for farewells was due.
[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]
