Common Vani Nari
20th of Winter, 513 A.V.
Docks
Once upon a twilight haze, with his heart heavy, and his mind ablaze with the thoughts of the day, a pair of lone feet padded quietly across the stone street of the sleeping city. His arms hugged his chest tightly, fighting the cold, chilled winds of the night while his green eyes starred at the gray on the ground beneath his feet. It would be difficult to discern whether this lone man was a homeless man, aimlessly wondering the street, or if he was a sailor just waiting for the sun. The green shirt that covered his chest was tattered around the sleeves and hadn't been washed of dirt, and appeared to have stains. The black pants had holes about it's right thigh and was also ripped around the ankles. He had no cloak or coat to protect him from the winds of the ocean and his shoes appeared to be worn one day too many. Although the bedraggled clothes were signs of either or, the emaciated young man hardly had any muscle on his bones, hardly resembling any self-respecting sailor.
However, it was of no concern to anyone besides the occasional Wave Guard, which were often times content enough to leave him be when he told them that he lived with young Ricky Maze. They would continue on their route and the lonesome artist would continue his way down to the docks.
The day light that was present just bells ago was spent away locked up in that room. He crumpled and tossed dozens of paper and even wasted half an ink bottle in attempts to recreate his feelings and his troubles to the young father. However, there was no reasonable way to expatiate those reasons, and making the reasons vague would bring about lies and assumptions. Once day had fallen, the murderer decided against explaining himself. It was a selfish thing, he understood, for even if he did leave a note of his leaving, it would still be selfish. There was no evading that. But the unemployed artist decided they didn't need to hear his loquacity or repining of his lamentations. Besides, Ricky had more important matters to discuss and to worry about. Telion and Martin were more important. They would also be close to Ricky's heart. He couldn't distracted him from that. The artist knew better than anyone, that if you get distracted from what's important, even for a moment, it'll be lost and you'll never get it back. It was a harsh reality, but that's how the world ticks.
Gale limped along the ocean's edge silently, lifting his head to scout for a pier or an empty dock. It took almost no time at all and the forlorn man walked along the wooden planks until he met the edge with a sigh. The plebeian observed the calm, ever moving water as his mind started with it's final introspection. It was abstruse as to why, but Gale remembered doing this exact thing before when he went to jump out his window. Was it always this way? For others too? Does one always look into their inner self, their memories, their thoughts before passing? There was no way to be sure, but he supposed there was a reason. Maybe he did it to assure himself that this was the right thing to do. That there wasn't any better solutions. Perhaps he was trying to remember so he had something to take with him. Into the darkness. Into the unknown. Maybe it would be comforting to think about something while taking you're last breath. Anything would do, he supposed. Better than thinking about water filling up your lungs. Anything would be better than thinking about how it feels.
Gale looked down at the freezing water below him. The cloudy sky gave off little light. But even if the sky were clear, the stars weren't nearly enough to light up the darkness of the ocean's depth. The black was intimidating, much like an edifice, but more venerable. Ethereal at times, however. The soft rumbling of it's waves off into the distance mollified the Zeltivan on many occasion, and even on this night it appears to take his fear and rage away. Though the sorrow refused to leave his mind. It was anchored onto his heart, and no matter what memories tried to take it away, it remained.
Gale and his sadness stood there for many chimes. Perhaps even bells. It was like war inside his own being, which refused to end. He took a few paces back, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang by his side. The Zeltivan's mouth was pressed into a line and his eyes starred at the black water ahead of him. His eyes closed. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Inhale, exhale. His eyes opened.
The artist started running towards the edge of the pier. Granted it was an awkward run, and certainly not the fasted, for his limp prevented it from being so, but it was a run in his mind. It was short lived, however, for Gale skid to a stop before he attempted to leap off the edge. Embarrassed, he turned around and groaned loudly.
What was that?! That was pathetic! "You could not even jump off a dock." Gale ran his hands through his hair. Scared of water, pfft. "You jumped out of a window, why not off a pier?" It's not that hard! You don't even need to run and jump. Just one step would be good. The blonde put his hands on his hips and shook his head lightly, pacing a short distance on the dock. Alright, alright, you were scared. You were scared last time too. How is it any different? You jumped off of something last time too. "But that was ground, and someone caught you." No one would be catching you this time. There is no one around this time . Besides, when she dropped you on the ground, it hurt. It wouldn't hurt to fall into the ocean. It would just be water. "The dock goes out deep enough for it to just be water." Gale looked back over to the water slowly rolling up and down. The dock did go out far enough that he probably wouldn't touch the bed.
Gale straightened himself out and balled his hands in fists- or, partial fists, and took another deep breath. "You can do this." His lips whispered softly. Once again, his eyes closed. "It will be alright." He took several chimes to breath in slowly. What he planned on accomplishing by this, he didn't know, for whatever benefits of breathing in slowly had on him vanished once he started sprinting. Almost tripping along the way, the artist ran towards the edge. With an overly exaggerated grunt, Gale leaped off the edge.
However, it was of no concern to anyone besides the occasional Wave Guard, which were often times content enough to leave him be when he told them that he lived with young Ricky Maze. They would continue on their route and the lonesome artist would continue his way down to the docks.
The day light that was present just bells ago was spent away locked up in that room. He crumpled and tossed dozens of paper and even wasted half an ink bottle in attempts to recreate his feelings and his troubles to the young father. However, there was no reasonable way to expatiate those reasons, and making the reasons vague would bring about lies and assumptions. Once day had fallen, the murderer decided against explaining himself. It was a selfish thing, he understood, for even if he did leave a note of his leaving, it would still be selfish. There was no evading that. But the unemployed artist decided they didn't need to hear his loquacity or repining of his lamentations. Besides, Ricky had more important matters to discuss and to worry about. Telion and Martin were more important. They would also be close to Ricky's heart. He couldn't distracted him from that. The artist knew better than anyone, that if you get distracted from what's important, even for a moment, it'll be lost and you'll never get it back. It was a harsh reality, but that's how the world ticks.
Gale limped along the ocean's edge silently, lifting his head to scout for a pier or an empty dock. It took almost no time at all and the forlorn man walked along the wooden planks until he met the edge with a sigh. The plebeian observed the calm, ever moving water as his mind started with it's final introspection. It was abstruse as to why, but Gale remembered doing this exact thing before when he went to jump out his window. Was it always this way? For others too? Does one always look into their inner self, their memories, their thoughts before passing? There was no way to be sure, but he supposed there was a reason. Maybe he did it to assure himself that this was the right thing to do. That there wasn't any better solutions. Perhaps he was trying to remember so he had something to take with him. Into the darkness. Into the unknown. Maybe it would be comforting to think about something while taking you're last breath. Anything would do, he supposed. Better than thinking about water filling up your lungs. Anything would be better than thinking about how it feels.
Gale looked down at the freezing water below him. The cloudy sky gave off little light. But even if the sky were clear, the stars weren't nearly enough to light up the darkness of the ocean's depth. The black was intimidating, much like an edifice, but more venerable. Ethereal at times, however. The soft rumbling of it's waves off into the distance mollified the Zeltivan on many occasion, and even on this night it appears to take his fear and rage away. Though the sorrow refused to leave his mind. It was anchored onto his heart, and no matter what memories tried to take it away, it remained.
Gale and his sadness stood there for many chimes. Perhaps even bells. It was like war inside his own being, which refused to end. He took a few paces back, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang by his side. The Zeltivan's mouth was pressed into a line and his eyes starred at the black water ahead of him. His eyes closed. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Inhale, exhale. His eyes opened.
The artist started running towards the edge of the pier. Granted it was an awkward run, and certainly not the fasted, for his limp prevented it from being so, but it was a run in his mind. It was short lived, however, for Gale skid to a stop before he attempted to leap off the edge. Embarrassed, he turned around and groaned loudly.
What was that?! That was pathetic! "You could not even jump off a dock." Gale ran his hands through his hair. Scared of water, pfft. "You jumped out of a window, why not off a pier?" It's not that hard! You don't even need to run and jump. Just one step would be good. The blonde put his hands on his hips and shook his head lightly, pacing a short distance on the dock. Alright, alright, you were scared. You were scared last time too. How is it any different? You jumped off of something last time too. "But that was ground, and someone caught you." No one would be catching you this time. There is no one around this time . Besides, when she dropped you on the ground, it hurt. It wouldn't hurt to fall into the ocean. It would just be water. "The dock goes out deep enough for it to just be water." Gale looked back over to the water slowly rolling up and down. The dock did go out far enough that he probably wouldn't touch the bed.
Gale straightened himself out and balled his hands in fists- or, partial fists, and took another deep breath. "You can do this." His lips whispered softly. Once again, his eyes closed. "It will be alright." He took several chimes to breath in slowly. What he planned on accomplishing by this, he didn't know, for whatever benefits of breathing in slowly had on him vanished once he started sprinting. Almost tripping along the way, the artist ran towards the edge. With an overly exaggerated grunt, Gale leaped off the edge.