[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by Ash on December 10, 2008, 9:15 pm Through the dense underbrush, he comes. Although he once called this land home, it is still full of surprise and mystery to him; how many hours had he once spent in this forest, pondering his past and present and future, and still now as he walks through it – so much later in his life – it somehow both frightens and enthrals him, the idea of what could be here within the dark shadows. There could be good, there could be evil – there could be life or there could be death, or, he muses, there could be something in between. No matter what truths lay behind the veil of deceptive darkness, all he sought within the dark wood this day was solitude. * Ash
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The weight of memories is heavy on his broad back. When he closes his eyes he can almost relive it: the undead hounds clamouring towards him, the festering wounds of dying horses all around him, the strange, cold, still winter settling over the land, all with the iron-cold unforgiving ocean crashing against the surf in the background like a sick, unyielding soundtrack to the agony. There is ice in Ash's heart as he remembers the scene. There is ice in his soul as he remembers the way he stood, helpless, foolish and weak as others rushed to help, a stranger both to the desperate, dying herd around him and to the elemental magic they all commanded so effortlessly with their very existence. There is ice in his mind as he feels the guilt sweep across him again: what could he have done? Nothing, nothing, nothing!
However, amidst the stark despair of his memories, there is one bright spot: Acacia. He smiles at the thought of her. If there is one thing at all in his life he has done right, he thinks, it is her. He would eagerly throw himself again between her and danger in an instant; he would die before he would let the hell-hounds (or anything, really, he thinks) anywhere near her. The memory of her small body pressed against him for protection, the soft way she said her name (and his), the way she drew her muzzle so gently across his cold and rough pelt – she is still warm on his skin, a whisper in his ear. Ash wonders whole-heartedly where she is now: when he left, she was in Solira, pulled there at the will of her lover Pirate. There is a small twinge in Ash's heart at this thought, but he pushes it aside. His deepest, most secret wish is for Acacia to be happy and safe and healthy, and if the Infinity could give her that, Ash knows that it is right for her to be with him. He only hopes that Pirate has not ignored her again, or pushed her aside in favour of more engaging endeavours (though secretly he wonders what could be more engaging than her child-bright eyes and timid smile).
Ash thinks that perhaps once he is finished his jaunt in Desreal – once he has regained his sense of equilibrium now that he has returned to the Fifth Element, for how many seasons has it been since he has last walked these trails? – he will stop by Solira to see if he can find her.
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