Closed [City Outskirts] The Colors of a Soul

[Aoren]

Through the haze of exhaustion Aoren could hear someone step up next to him. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and then the soft assurance that everything was going to be just fine. Aoren wasn’t so certain. He could still feel the presence of the ghost in his body. The phantom, though diminished, was still there. Aoren wanted him gone. He wanted to once again be safe in the knowledge that his mind and his body were his own.

“I-I can try.” Aoren pushed himself up off the ground. The effort nearly had him collapsing back onto the hard earth. He was drained. Not just physically but he felt mentally tired as well. That was what frightened him the most for the present moment. If the ghost surged forth to assault his mental defenses Aoren knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to fight him off. He hated it. He despised feeling so helpless. It was only through the assistance of this stranger, this man who looked like him but wasn’t him, that he was able to get to his feet. Shortly after that the world became a blur.

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Aoren came to his senses not entirely aware of where he was. His awakening wasn’t sudden but slower as his mind dragged itself out of the depths of unconsciousness. He didn’t quite know how he’d made it from the streets of Zeltiva to the interior of what was beginning to look like a cottage. His vision slowly came more and more into focus. As it did he got a good view of the ceiling. It was as plain as the inside of any run of the mill cottage. The woodwork wasn’t exactly exceptional as far as he could tell but there was care in the way the ceiling had been made. He became aware of the fact that he was lying in the softness of a bed on his back.

The pleasant, warm light of candles steadily illuminated the world around him. He heard movement nearby followed by a low growl and a bark. He let out a sigh after a deep intake of breath. Drawing together his strength Aoren moved to prop himself up so that he could get a better look at where he was. His limbs were not the most responsive. His body felt heavy. With a grunt he finally managed to push himself up, his torso resting on the strength of his forearms as he propped up. Blinking a few times he squinted as the room came into focus. The first thing he saw was Isikai wrestling with another dog. The two seemed to be playing back and forth in good sport. Isikai was not yet fully grown but he was already significantly larger than the white and black spotted canine he was playing with. A small smile touched Aoren’s lips. If Isikai didn’t feel threatened about where they were, Aoren was put somewhat at ease.

And then someone was speaking.

Aoren blinked a few times as his vision blurred before coming back into focus. When it did he was staring at the man who was his twin in the physical sense of the word. Aoren was largely silent while he went through his explanation. His mind however, was racing. A thousand questions were prodding Aoren in the back of his mind. None of them seemed to take shape however. He could feel the sense of wanting to know dozens of things but he couldn’t find the words to make those desires a conscious thing. He was, quite simply, without words to say. He listened to the other man speak without uttering a single syllable. The whole time Aoren was studying him.

He looked at the shape of his face. He noted the length of his hair. The color of his eyes. Everything was the same. The idea that this man was using magic to take Aoren’s shape was becoming less of a factor. The accuracy and detail of his appearance was far too great in the Drykas man’s mind to really be considered for Morphing. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. With all of those thoughts coursing through Aoren’s head he couldn’t be satisfied with putting off introductions to the following morning. He had to know.

“Who are you?”

The words came out as a breathy sigh. The effort of keeping himself propped up, awake even, was tiring. Aoren could dimly feel the presence of the phantom inside of his body but it seemed dormant for the time being. He lacked the strength to force the ethereal being out. Regardless, he was more concerned with the man sitting in front of him. His cobalt blue eyes met matching ones and in them was the faintest glimmer of a hope. So many questions could be answered with but a few words.

[Aizen]

For now everything was peaceful, it seemed homey, his small cottage filled to the brim with life. After such a dire situation this calm was welcome, but it also came with a sense of urgency. The ghost was still inside the man, laying dormant, clinging onto the victim. It was troubling, and even worse seeing the state in which the possession left its victim. There was little choice in the matter, very little at all in Aizens mind. He had to expel the ghost and stop it from hurting anyone else. Once expelled the ghost will no doubt be weak, still taking some days to recover even some of its strength. If there was a will there was a way, and it was this threat of the ghost which nagged, tugged the illusion of peace in the house and replacing it with a sense of dread.

Though it was also in this quasi-peace that the man was able to really get a better look at the other, and it seemed what Rust noticed must be true. The man lying in his bed was identical to him. His look, his eyes, his hair color, to his very body structure, it all shared a haunting similarity to his. And it was every time that he looked at this man the thought of the ghost nagged at his mind, and it seemed that this similar appearance… It was kind of hard to explain, but it made it seem even more urgent to take care of the ghost and the man, to make sure he was comfortable because, for some reason, when he looked upon this man he was seeing a reflection of himself. It was that which made Aizen act even more peculiar. He’d never felt this way before when dealing with a possession, but this time it seemed rather personal.

Mulling on his ideas he came to, back to the real world, back to Mizahar, when a question was breathed from the man. So absorbed in his thoughts, in admiring the man before him, and the question so softly spoken, Aizen barely caught it. Though when he heard it the man let out a small smile, ”I’m Aizen.” He introduced himself, unsure if he should elaborate with anything. The man seemed tired, but it was his desperation, his will to know this knowledge of his name, that seemed to keep him awake.

”And I know that you might have a lot of questions,” he said, ”But right now you need to rest.” he said in the most calm voice he could muster. Possession wasn’t a laughing matter, and although the ghost was one mystery he would rather focus on his thoughts kept coming back to the man before him. It nagged at him, drowning out his concerns about the ghost, fifty questions buzzing though his head. The intensity at which the realization and conclusions he was jumping to made him feel almost dizzy, faint, but… why else would they look exactly alike?

[Aoren]

“Aizen.” The other man’s name ghosted across Aoren’s lips. He felt an echo of something strong deep within himself. An indescribable longing, long since buried in the depths of Aoren’s consciousness suddenly surged forth from the recesses of his being. That longing rippled through him and just as suddenly as it surfaced it was gone. It was not gone in the sense that the longing was a dull ache heavily repressed and ignored until it was barely noticed. It was wholly and truly gone.

It was gone because of Aizen.

Aoren lay back, the maddening need to know who the man sitting across from him was partially sated. He took a deep breath closing his eyes allowing himself to fall into the sleep Aizen urged him toward. He had so many questions. Those would simply have to wait.

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It was summer.

Aoren could tell because of the warmth filling his whole body. As he opened his eyes he was greeted by the sight of a brightly lit sky. Syna hung like a golden jewel on a canvas of cerulean blue. Wisps of cloud drifted lazily across the heavens like trails of smoke dancing in the wind.

After laying his eyes upon the open sky the first thing Aoren realized was that he was laying down. The warmth of the earth balancing nicely with the cool breeze wafting over the landscape. Rising to his feet Aoren turned his attention to the landscape itself. He stood in what appeared to be an endless field of golden wild grass. It swayed in the winds like the rolling of waves.

“Where am I?”

“You tell me.”

Aoren whirled around at the intrusion upon his spoken thought. Standing not but a few feet away from him was a middle-aged man with dark curly hair. His eyes were the color of honey. They held a deep sadness to them. He was slighter of build and several inches shorter than Aoren. For the moment he appeared to be completely non-threatening but Aoren did not trust him. As it stood he looked around them both once more.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.” The dark haired man quirked his head arching an eyebrow at Aoren.

“Haven’t you?” Had he? The whole landscape seemed familiar. The way the winds swept across the grass, the feel of the environment and the sounds that filled his ears all made him feel at ease. He looked down at himself. He was wearing calf high leather boots, with hide breeches, a vest and was decorated with elaborate tattoos of intricate design. All of this, with the endless field beneath an open sky, the simplicity of the terrain, the ruggedness of his appearance, it all resonated with him on a level that sung to his spirit.

He felt happy.

He felt home.

“I-I do know this place.” The slight man nodded observing Aoren for a moment before walking closer to the Drykas man.

“If I am guessing correctly, and I don’t often guess wrong, this is the Sea of Grass. Or at least it’s a depiction of it from your memories.” Aoren furrowed his brow as he stared at the dark haired man.

“That’s not…I’ve never been to the Sea of Grass. Who are you?” The man stepped forward tapping Aoren’s chest.

“Right now I’m just a visitor. A rather unwelcome one at that. My apologies by the way, I am or rather I was not myself. I have been…thinking. In my dormancy that is.” Aoren reared back staring at the honey eyed man in slight horror.

“You’re the phantom!” The man winced.

“Japheth, if you please.” Aoren stood poised, ready for some sort of assault. It never came. Japheth, the ghost, just stood there. He stared at Aoren warily. When nothing came the Drykas stood up straight easing his posture ever so slightly.

“Why haven’t you left yet?” Japheth shrugged.

“I find myself lacking the strength to do so on my own. You put up quite a fight. Again, my apologies. I am…angry. Sad as well but not quite so wrathful as before.” He shrugged his shoulders. Aoren let silence linger between the two of them. He looked around the grassy plain again. He couldn’t feel uncomfortable there among the windswept fields. The tension flowed right out of him.

“I’ve dreamt of this place before.” Taking a deep breath Aoren spread his arms wide basking in the light of the sun. “I remember now. I remember…”

Several images flashed across his reverie. They were the bright blue eyes of a man whose face was filled with grief and sadness. He could hear the sound of horses. He could feel the rub of cloth over his skin. He was a baby. He could feel the warmth of another body next to his own.

Just as soon as those things fluttered across his consciousness however, they were gone.

“Dreams are funny things. Lord Nysel, I think, delights in giving mortals a taste of eternity in the endless canvas of his domain.” Japheth was certainly far more impressive in his speech now that he was not a crazed specter. As for Nysel, this was the first time the Drykas man had ever heard of the Lord of Dreams. Aoren blinked at him.

“I get the feeling that you're more than meets the eye.”

“I am or rather I was, many things. Mostly I was a procurer of information.” Aoren narrowed his eyes.

“What sort of information?” Japheth smiled at him sadly.

“The sort that got me killed.” Before Aoren had time to consider this news the winds of the plains picked up causing the grasses to sway like the roiling of the seas. Clouds gathered in the sky darkening as they threatened to unleash a vicious storm. Glaring at Japheth Aoren shouted over the whipping winds.

“What did you do!?” Japheth moved closer shying away from a spike of lightning that roared across the blackening sky.

“Nothing! I swear!” Another peal of lightning forked across the sky prompting the clouds to dump their torrential waters upon the terrain. Japheth grabbed a hold of Aoren’s arm clinging to him closely staring up at the sky. As disturbed by storms as Aoren was himself he was not quite as afraid of them as this man apparently was. His clothes were already beginning to get soaked through with rain water but in the distance he spotted a light. Leaning down so that he could be clearly heard by the other man Aoren pointed to the light in the distance.

“Come on!” So began their journey through the storm amid the Sea of Grass. Dream or no…Aoren knew an answer to something lay there.

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Outwardly Aoren’s brow was furrowed even in the depths of slumber. He was quite obviously exhausted. His breathing had evened out signaling he’d passed into sleep practically the moment his head hit the pillow. He groaned slightly shifting as he dreamed.

Across the room, Isikai ceased his playing with Rusty to meander over to the bed. Looking between Aoren and Aizen the dog paused for a moment before padding over to Aoren nudging one of his hands. Hopping up onto the bed, Isikai wedged himself beneath one of Aoren’s arms curling up next to him. The presence of the dog seemed to ease the young Drykas’s shifting slightly though his brow remained furrowed.