The Choices We Make

Broken

As he entered the city he once had built, Mer realized he had been away for far too long. The towers were crumbling, the walls covered in moss. The trees, naked and warped seemed swaying in a breeze that was not there. He had been neglecting this. He felt a pang of this emotion again, this guilt, but he made no room. It did not belong with him, and so he had no time for it. Staying in the human world for so long, bits and pieces had seeped into him, but now he was back!

In his guise as an old man, skin leathery and thick, nose too long and chin too sharp, the cruelty of his curled lip and squinting eyes became menacing. Mothers called their children to their side, and everyone that met his gaze winced under it. The street opened up around him, and even down the busy, narrow alleys he was allowed room to move freely.

He took in the faded rust colours he had dreamed into reality as crimson and maroon, the greys that had been black. Silver had turned black, pearl had turned silver.

The more he saw, the more concerned he became with the state his cousin, Bor, had let things come to. There were beggars wearing naught more than tattered loincloths, there were starving children and at one point he was sure he had seen an enslaved jester. That, more than anything, fuelled his rage.

The jesters were his people, he had created them, formed them and named them. They were new and pure and like children, their laughter had once filled his halls like the most divine music. Their very existence was supposed to be one of infectious merriment, childish pranks and entertaining magic. None of them should ever be in chains!

As he passed the withered park, the fountains dried out and his statue beheaded, the gleam in his eye became dangerous. Bor would pay an eternity for this!

- Hey! I know you! You're dead, I hear.

A familiar voice crept up behind him, soft and smooth and so very calm.

- Yes, it seems I am. And I would very much like to remain so for the time being, Elyse.

No use denying it was him. Not to her. He turned around, looking at the form of a child, white hair in a tight braid. For a moment, all his thoughts of revenge went quiet as he swept his sister into his arms. She grinned.

- A hug? Really? How very strange. I thought you were my long lost little brother. I must have been mistaken, sir. He would never have done such a thing.

- Things change, El, things change. And will you ever quit referring to me as your little brother?

- Not as long as I breathe, Merridi. You know you love it.

His twin sent him a loving look that, although it was supposed to be teasing seemed pained, and her white eyes saw right into his soul as always.

-There are still those that wait for your return, but they have become few and far between.

She slipped her little hand into his, and he knew that for anyone not knowing any better, they would look like a little girl and her grandfather, taking a walk.

-The rumour started that the town was fading because you were, and by the time the last leaf fell from the last tree, it had come to be common knowledge that that would be the signal of your passing. Only some of your closest friends know how that can not be true, but Bor has dug deep into his pockets to keep them quiet and to turn them against you, should you return. You should know you are not safe.

They walked in silence, as thoughts and images was passed between them. He sent her images of the woman he had loved, with roses in her cropped hair and lips painted red by wine. He sent her the scent of the garden and the sound of the laughter. Elyse replied with memories of her own, the fall of the white tower, the magi whipped and tortured and reshaped into something darker.