Maro wandered the streets of Alvadas alone. He knew he was alone, because he had become even more aware of the extended senses Dira's gnosis allowed him. Since his encounter with an Eypherian ghost at the beginning of the season while helping a Craven guide the spirit to the afterlife, he had noticed himself stumbling upon deaths more and more often. It seemed somebody had died on every street in the City of Illusions. Too frequently, he would find his vision interrupted by something that wasn't there. That wasn't unusual in Alvadas, but unlike the illusions that weren't there, these visions were real or, at least, they had been. Having stifled the visions of death his entire life, he had no idea how to control it now. Still, it did have its advantages. The smell that let him know when ghosts were around was sharper than it had ever been. Right now, he smelled none. He was alone.
That was good. Today, he needed to be alone. There was much on his mind. That wasn't true. There was only one thing on his mind, one person to be exact. Autumn. Not that she wasn't always on his mind, but of late, thoughts of her had overwhelmed any other.
Like many men, he had encountered that impassable force, the one that drew one to another. Love. It had taken him too long to admit it to himself, but now came the truly difficult part. How should he tell Autumn? Or should he at all? She was his closest friend, and Maro didn't want to do anything to endanger that.
But not knowing what to say wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that she was dead. Even if she loved him too, would that matter? He still had never touched her, but touch didn't matter, not to him. And in a way, it was the only thing that mattered. He knew how much her frigid touch did to comfort him. Everything mattered, but none of it did, and that just made everything all the more confusing.
But Maro was no stranger to hope. There were stories of spiritists who could touch ghosts. Living on Black Rock, Maro had seen it happen. Someday, if he dedicated himself to spiritism, he might be able to touch her. He held to hope, but as any who had hope knew, disappointment usually followed. Still, that didn't stop most from continuing to hold to hope, and it certainly hadn't stopped Maro.
He was so lost in his thoughts about Autumn that he almost missed the man introducing himself.
"Hi."
Maro looked up and noticed the man for the first time. The gentleman had blond hair and silver eyes, and Maro was sure he had never met him before. Looking behind him, Maro found that they were alone, so he looked back to the man, pointing a questioning finger at himself.
The man nodded. "Yes. You. Hello."
"Hello?" Maro wasn't used to being stopped by random strangers in the street. "Can I help you, friend?"
The man looked over his shoulder, worry evident in his odd, silver eyes. "Yes. I'm Liedo. Can I speak to you?" There was another glance back behind them before the man shook Maro's hand, subtly leaving a crumpled note in the Kelvic's hand as he did. "Burn this after you read it, please. You can trust me. I... I know what it's like."
Liedo looked over his shoulder again, then wrapped his arms around himself, as if remembering the winter that wasn't there. "If you want to help, do what it says on the note. There's always hope, right?"
With that the man turned and walked away, leaving Maro alone once more. He was alone, as he wanted to be, but now, he was more confused than before. He kept the note crumpled up in his hand. The man didn't want it seen, and Maro knew the best way to keep it a secret was to not acknowledge it until he was in the safe privacy of his own home.
Whatever it was though, he was curious about it. Immediately, he started for home, and for once, the streets of Alvadas aided him, giving him a rapid journey to his destination. When he stepped through the front door, Autumn was already materialized, waiting for him anxiously. The look in her bright, blue eyes said she had noticed the turmoil he had been feeling before he went out. It deepened when she saw that his turmoil seemed to have worsened.
“Maro, what’s wrong?”
He sighed as he closed the door, then held the crumpled note up for her to see. “A message. From a stranger. I don’t know what it’s about, but he seemed troubled.”
Flattening it out on their table in the light of the fire, he made room for Autumn, so she could read it with him.
I'm sorry I couldn't talk. There are Listeners everywhere. I've been doing my own watching, I know you sympathise with the Vantha. I do too, it's why I've set up a safehouse for them. I don't know if it will work, but we've got to try. Please come to this house on the 90th. I'll be needing your help then. There's always hope.
~Liedo.
A chill swept up Maro’s spine, not the good kind Autumn brought but one of true fear. He was certain he had been careful in his interactions with the Vantha he met, that his sympathies were things kept in his mind, but that obviously wasn’t the case.
Autumn swore, not something she did often. “Shit.”
Maro just nodded.
The worry in her eyes deepened, and she set a gentle hand on his shoulder. This time the chill that came was comforting, and the shiver that followed was better than any embrace he’d ever received from a living being. It was almost worth it, but the fear in Autumn’s eyes was heartbreaking. “What are you going to do?”
In that moment, he wanted more than ever to reach out and comfort her with a touch. Ever hopeful, he acted on the impulse but was met with disappointment as his hand passed through hers. He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, it’d be best to burn the note like it says.”
Maro nodded and lay the sheet on fire, watching as the flames quickly caught the paper. He watched until the entire thing was burned to ensure no trace would be left, reading the last words again before the fire took them. There is always hope.
Yes. Yes, there was. And for every bit of it, an equal measure of disappointment.
Maro was weary, and this time his curiosity wasn’t enough, not enough to dive head first into this as he usually would. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep and not worry any longer about the note, about the man, about the Vantha. That was a problem for another day. Unable to voice any of this in words, he just groaned as he flopped into their bed.
“Shit,” Autumn agreed with a murmur. She sat on the bed next to him and kissed his cheek, sending a freezing bite across his skin. And with no words, the two wished each other a good night sleep, though Autumn never did and both knew Maro wouldn’t tonight. Autumn faded away. The effort it took to materialize was too much for her to continue, and Maro was, in a way, left alone with his thoughts. They weren’t good company. |
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by Maro on January 24th, 2017, 5:23 am 
