Dancing on Strings

I Am Scheduled to Meet With Death

Mai pushed open the doors to the grand rooms that sat at the very top of the grand tower. She had always assumed they were Reve's rooms but she didn't actually know. She didn't know where his rooms were. Or if he even had rooms.

The brightness of the room made her wince.

The walls were an icy white, so white they nearly glowed. The floor flittered like snow.

The room was devoid of any furniture.

Any sign of someone living there.

Any sign of personality.

The only thing that broke the white was a window that looked out over the black sky and the large golden cage that Black sat in, his back to her, head tipped back as he looked at the stars.

He did glance over his shoulder when she walked and he let out a breath.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, looking away.

"Where is Reve?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Around? I'm sure he'll come back soon enough."

"Are these his rooms?"

"Reve doesn't have rooms," Black said. "Reve doesn't have personal affects."

"Where does he sleep?"

"He doesn't sleep. He doesn't dream. He just exists... though barely these days."

"You make the life of a god sound so dismal."

"Depends on the god. Full-fledged gods? Well, they live very different lives, from what I've heard."

"Why is Reve dying?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"Have you seen him since he sent you here?" Mai asked, walking forwards so she stood beside the cage, both of them looking out over the night sky.

"No, I haven't."

They were quiet for a moment then Mai pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Are you alright?'" she dared ask.

She expected rage.

She expected snarling and swearing and threats and passion. She expected reaction from Black – the wilder of the two personalities that lived inside that body.

What she got was a sigh.

"I failed him and I didn't even have the chance to try and save him," Black muttered, dropping his head back against the bars.

"I'm sorry," Mai muttered bit Black just shrugged.

"I'm not surprised he chose to take himself out rather than lose you," he said, "he's still gambling on your bold statements of fixing things. And he's been verging on death long before you came along."

"How do you mean?"

He shook his head with another sigh. "Griffin was always too good a person," he muttered. "Killing was never in his nature – he could never make it a natural part of himself, even at war. He was a better spy, brilliant spy, even when he was betrayed by a comrade, caught and... even after I came into existence to keep him sane. He gathered so much information from his time in capture and then he broke himself out of that war camp and got home. Completed his mission. Only to be killed by a comrade's stupidity. But with all that, he never got used to murder."

"A good thing, surely," Mai said.

Black nodded. "A good thing. Kept him bright. Kept him human. But broke his heart – and possibly something in his head. And then he was dead... only to be dragged back again and was ordered to kill all over again for Reve. Though this time it wasn't soldiers. Soldiers step onto the field as equals, they know it may be their last day but it may also be that of their enemy – they just have to make it to the next sunrise. The people Griffin was being sent after were... just people. Milkmaids, beggar boys, bakers and famers. Young ladies and proper gentlemen. Dancers, actors, singers, inventors. Princes and princesses. Kings and queens. It wasn't the same. And each death killed a little something of him inside. It's been a long time since he killed anyone himself, I took over that roll quickly to save him the mental destruction but the guilt didn't lessen. He's been on the edge for a very, very long time."