Fates and Roses

Chapter 3: Murmuration

Act 4
Not supposed to be there

He thinks that something may have been taken from him and yet again he can't put a finger on it, revelations should be surprising if not shocking— but he feels as if he had not felt it either way. It's like the remembrance of the time that kept him from doing something else, he has already been crushed and was crashing down too far below; then if that wasn't the case then this shouldn't feel normal in any way.

He had felt the wave of shock that had came over him when Abraham had revealed his demise, but unfortunately there had been some kind of force that kept him from going into that realm of horrific reportage. Only did his eyes had been glazed over, hollow and expressionless, and his body unmoving even though his mind had shot through countless conflicting emotions as he stood looking over to the vast beyond of this realm.

The boy felt too much that it had hit him so little, he was still processing over the news but his beak had betrayed him to move on their own— he was crashing down rock bottom inside, letting all that's left of him, if there even was any, pour out from the trapped chest that was his heart.

He felt the tears come but they never fell, his hands did not shake when tremors erupted from every inch of his body, he did not become a heaping and sobbing mess because he did, it was because it had only been something that had come with the price of death. It pulled and tugged at his heartstrings but he cannot, for a reason he didn't know, feel the anguish that would occupy a normal person's head not even the dread or sadness with it.

Where did his emotions go when all that was left of him was confusion and apathy? Has he left them by the spot that he passed or had it been snatched by something that would be a bane of himself? He didn't sob or wail, his grief was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.

Mr. Abraham lead him down the ramp when he did not move, though his bare feet followed the other's just to humor what is being done. He felt cold yet there wasn't any sign that would indicate an icy feeling, but it did reach his bones under pale skin, feathers spiking ever so slightly as he moved and his eyes only followed the never changing color of white that was in front of him.

There was someone waiting at the very far end of the long platform, an entity shrouded with black and he saw shadows dissipating from under darkened robes. The person, if it was, he supposes that they could be someone sent here for him to be lead; Abraham had said something about a final destination after all.

He knows that he should follow the other's steps, for Abraham was the only one that he trusts even if so little. Tokoyami looked down to his fret and saw that there was something black oozing slowly under the skin of his feet, mixing with the blood that dripped unceremoniously from his body.

The boy kept moving still, unsure and brings himself to ignore the tar-like ooze coming from him that stained the white lane that he and the other walked, instead he just hoped that there could be something good waiting for him by the end of this walk. Or else he does not know what to feel again if he is to be present with another horrible reportage like the last one.

But by the time he was almost halfway through the lane the platform under him cracked and broke, spiraling to patterns like spiderwebs and he fell down into it— abandoning the reality that swirled around the realm.

He fell and fell and fell, it was neverending as it was for the void that had become his surroundings— he heard shouting from a voice he could not remember as sounds seeped into sounds, if you count the overwhelming silence that muffled everything out that is. He tried to reach out, maybe swim upwards to the surface but found himself paralyzed and then he tried to scream, but found that he cannot; for the darkness that wrapped around his body, snaking around his arms to his beak. Clamping it shut.

Darkness seeped from the unknown, clinging to his limbs as he saw the blood of his own drip to his hands— drowning them in red whilst his body seemed to dissolve slowly onto the depths bit by bit. The white spot where he once stood became smaller and smaller every second yet he felt as if he had been sinking down for hours.

It was too silent for him so his ears begin to ring, he was becoming less and less of his own body as it dematerialized further and further whilst the void clung to him like leeches. He wasn't sure of it, but he felt as if it was gnawing at his skin— chewing and going deeper into his skin like the things that they are.

He felt tingling from his skin and he shivered, he tried once again to swim up but it already was too late— slowly, his vision began to blur as darkness crept from the corners of his eyes, taunting the clear vision he once had and he saw something glint from the distance before he lost his consciousness.

It had been fun, he thought with his last ounces of advertency, the times of recognition and enjoyment of life when he had not been here. It goes long for how far away he does not know, for the only thing he did know that his last moments within the living realm was not what he thought it would. He had reflected once that he was probably going to pass on whilst he battled or at least an accident to that account, though he contemplated that those occurances would happen when he had been older and not on his teen. But who is he to defy Fate? He had been right with his dying moments but never expected something like this to happen.

Is this the void? He asked himself, are these dark coils dragging him down to the space he once loved? Tokoyami had always been within the dark if not the night, he feels as if the things that are drowning him now had only clung to him for recognition. They didn't feel right either.

No, something else is there.

There were a calling, voices mended into voices, something was there.

(X)

He woke up with a start, his body jerking upwards as his hands found fabric that they clung to— red eyes looked about in every direction, his breath was eratic and his heart jolted and skipped for every second that passed.

The boy heard a set of voices but he chose to not give them recognition and instead focused on his breathing; he was covered in cold sweat as if he had just been drenched by ice in his sleep, his eyes were clouded though he spotted basic shapes of what he can only think of are machines. He realizes that he was shaking violently yet his pale hands could only feel the fabric that they held ever so tightly.

He jerked when he felt someone, or something, touch his shoulder as he violently tried to move away from the thing that had landed their ghost of an appendage on his prone body, only then he found the cold wall from his back when he had kicked and thrashed away from where he originally woke up from.

"He is in shock, do not push him. "

Tokoyami heard someone say, the first audible thing he had heard ever since he woke up besides the voices that rudely began to whisper in his ear; he gulped and swallowed, blinking hastily in order to get his vision balanced before he felt a shiver going up to his spine and he felt someone grab his arm before yanking him forwards.

He yelped in surprise and thrashed to get out from the grip, moreover that the appendage that had grabbed him felt thin and almost skeletal, so he tries so hard to get away from whoever's owner that hand is. The boy fears that it may be someone that may hurt him.

But then he was pressed into something, they felt cold but strangely...warm? Tokoyami  still tried to get away from the grip but he was only pressed harder to the warm spot and he feels the same skeletal hands cradle his sides, he continues to protest but his voice only got quieter and quieter every second. The teen also didn't realize that he had calmed down, heart slowing down to it's normal beating rythm.

He realizes slowly that someone was likely cradling/hugging him for he knew the feeling of being held, it was a far off feeling that he can voguely remember but it was there— sitting still somewhere in him like an abandoned pond waiting to be disturbed in some way or another in a way he can only guess would be a gentle dip.

With what power he has left, he decided to look up to see who was holding him— they were odd in a way because he felt that they were cold to a touch but still strangely warmed him inside, like a radiator or something. But upon further inspection, he found himself moving away from the same person that held him, thrashing in their hold when he saw a skull instead of a normal head.