Shiren: Remember

Celdin was always kind. He was selfless, but, I would never call him careless. He could never afford to be careless. I met him just a few perigrees after I turned six, but the way we met was nothing special- we were just stuck waiting in line together. We both ended up in the city and were waiting for tickets to some play, I can't even remember the name of it because they sold out before we got in, but being stuck together in line sparked up a conversation. We talked for a few hours even after it became clear neither of us would get in. After that, I started noticing him around in Ethia, and I guess we just started talking a lot. He's a very interesting person to talk to, he's smart and enthusiastic and has super strong opinions on everything, if you can get him to tell you them. Eventually we started meeting in the cafe on purpose to just sit and talk or... whatever.

Sometimes people flutter over love at first sight or something like that, but that didn't happen to me. I think every time I talked to him I loved him just a little bit more. It took both of us longer than it should have to realize it, and even longer to admit it. He was the one who finally built up the courage to say he was flushed for me. It was no question of whether I returned the feelings, it was obvious I did.

He would try to write me poetry sometimes, because he knew how much I loved to read it. As a poet, he wasn't bad, not great either, but it was really the effort that made the difference. He just  cared deeply about others, and wanted to protect them if there was any way he could. He would have been the type of person who would run onto a battlefield to save someone who was injured, regardless of the color of their blood. But as obvious as it was that he cared, he tried to hide it, and that always confused me and infuriated me at times. He didn't like being in crowds, though he was quite extroverted, he would always leave at the first sign of trouble, and would never get into a fight, even though I knew he was pretty skilled. I mean, not that I minded, I'm fairly careful as well, and always avoid arguments if I can, but there was something different about the way he acted sometimes. I was sure there was some reason for it, but I never asked. There wasn't a reason to! If he wanted to tell me, he would have.

It wasn't until the day after his seventh wriggling day I understood, and it was much by accident on both of our parts. I had... attempted, to make a cake to celebrate the occasion, but I forgot some key ingredient and it tasted even worse than it looked. So the day after, he came over to my hive and we baked another cake together, and that one was considerably better. (Celdin was a much better baker than I am.) We stayed up all through the day- It was nearing sunset the next, and we had eaten near half the cake by ourselves. I went to cut another piece and- okay, This may sound a bit ridiculous, but accidents tend to be. I ended up cutting myself and dropping... or more like flinging... the knife down. On the way, it scraped Celdin's leg and I freaked out. He yelped then immediately turned around and tried to cover up the gash. He told me not to look, and I thought that was weird- it's not like I'm squeamish or anything, I'd just want to help him.
So I ignored his protests and maneuvered my way in front of him. Of course I was apologizing profusely, I felt terrible about it, but he seemed more concerned about me seeing the wound than the actual wound itself. As soon as I got a good look at it though, I froze. I just... wasn't prepared.

It occurred to me then that I had never actually seen his blood before. He was careful not to bleed, and suddenly all those precautions made sense. I always thought he was tealblooded- he wore a teal sign on his shirt, but when I saw it, his blood was a brighter blue than I'd ever seen before- probably than anybody had. It was off the spectrum.
I don't know what he was thinking in that moment, maybe that I'd turn him in or leave him or something, but I never would. I told him to uncaptchalogue his first aid kit I knew he always kept with him and we took care of the wound. It wasn't bad, not deep, but it was my fault, although accidental, and I felt really, really bad about it.

He seemed surprised I was still there, but he should know me better than that. He left for home- I objected, I didn't want him walking on his leg, but he left anyways. For three days after that, he didn't talk to me, but it's a small town, so silence couldn't have lasted forever. I told him that I didn't care and I love him still, and that he's being ridiculous. Things went back to normal after that. It's never something that comes up, we just both knew it. 

Honestly, it's not even something I think about. Sometimes it's easy to forget that to the wrong person, his blood is a death sentence. I can forget about it, sometimes, but I don't think a day went by that it didn't impact him in some way or another. I don't know what I would do, if I were in his place. I don't know if I would be able to handle it.

He was only hesitant to join the game on principle, he really does love adventure, as much as he tries to avoid it. He connected as the server to Rivule's client, but after realizing it was real life, didn't want to play anymore. Maybe the whole thing wouldn't happened if he had entered the medium right away, but who knows.

He must have wanted to go talk to Sorfus about the game, so he went to the cafe... I don't know the details. Someone saw him there, someone who knew, and-

I got a frantic message from him. He told me to stay away, but... I went to his house, but I was too late. His door was ajar- he never left his door unlocked. Some of the stuff in his front room was knocked over, misplaced, broken. There must have been a fight, or... I don't know. Time froze. After what felt like an eternity, but was no more than a few seconds, the smell hit me. The smell of blood. I did not want to move, I didn't want to see, but something propelled me around the corner.

I don't know who did it, and I don't know how they found him, but when I turned that corner all I saw was his blood- everywhere. Before I even checked, I knew he was dead. He had been stabbed in the chest, with a knife that I had never seen before but I knew to be his. It had belonged to his ancestor, forever ago. He told me about it. He said he had it, for a while, but he lost it. He wanted to find it again, and now he did, I suppose.

It took a while before I started to cry.