After the Fall: Kaleidoscope
Oct. 27th, 2003 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyParts One Through Sixteen here.
Part Seventeen: Kaleidoscope
Fallen Apple
Gingerly, he pushed himself off the ground, but he didn't stand up yet, not quite ready to directly confront his father.
No. Casey slammed his eyes closed to block his heart against the hunger he could see in the man in front of him, the protest never making it past the tightness of his throat. My name is Casey Jacob Miller. I'm a college student, maybe a little fucked-up right now, but just a regular guy in a normal world where people don't stay standing after they've been shot.
He realized abruptly that he was crouched on the floor, presenting as small a target as possible but poised for action. His muscles were remarkably relaxed, even though he felt like his heart would break through his chest at any moment. Even with his eyes closed, he was aware, his memory letting him know where the exits were while his hearing kept close track of the other occupants of the room.
Preparing myself for any eventuality, he realized dimly, fight or flight... or pain.
He couldn't quite find the right words for any of this, but Casey almost remembers dying and this feeling isn't so very different.
Like drowning in blood.
~fade to black~
Flickering Flames
He can remember three fathers now.
Holtz had been the only one he'd known for so long, yet he'd always known that Holtz was not truly his father.
In retrospect, it's odd that he'd been encouraged to call Holtz his father, yet was reminded at every turn that he was merely the damned spawn of demons and never could be a true son, never a true replacement for the losses his... father had suffered.
He can't even remember the first time that he was told of his origins. He suspects now that he was told the story over and over, each day for every day of his life, as he can't remember a day with Holtz where he did not hear it.
Quar'toth had aged Holtz in so many ways. He can vaguely remember a vibrant hunter. But something in the air... Holtz had complained about the weakness that the air of Quar'toth created.
And when he'd first arrived on this dimension, he'd been lost without the smell of flames and ash. The one scent that had made any sense had been his true father's, yet that was the one that he'd come to destroy.
Another of fate's twisted games.
~fade to black~
Call of the Seagull
Is he one person with several personalities or has he simply gone insane?
He has three names and none of them feel as though they describe the whole of him.
His head is stuffed to overflowing with memories, and they feel as though they're leaking out his ears.
But he knows what love is, this time around. Casey had doubted many things in his life, yet he'd never truly doubted that he was loved.
Love. His mother, throwing her arms around him and telling him that she wanted him to do whatever made him happiest. His father, sitting with him and talking about the future, knowing that it would be bright and wonderful, because his father believed that Casey was bright and wonderful. This, Casey knows, is proof of love.
Steven... the Destroyer... knew the hunt and knew scent.
His every sense told him that the man in front of him was his father.
Casey took a breath, centering himself.
Connor knew that lies couldn't ever be trusted. Connor believed that love was just a lie.
Angel was the answer to the question.
Casey bit his lip, licked away the sharp taste of his own blood.
Connor opened his eyes.
~fade to black~
Coadunation
Connor carefully studied the man still staring at him as though Connor were the Holy Grail, the sacred answer to every question in the world.
Almost all in black, only a dark blue silk shirt relieving the monotony. He looked... old, which felt wrong to Connor, as his senses and his memory told him that Angel was an ageless creature, a monster that time could not touch.
But Connor had learned many things in the past year, among them the fact that grief could age people. Perhaps it had been grief that had caused Holtz' aging, too, and not Quar'toth's poison environment. Had the loss of his family hardened Holtz? Had the same thing happened to Angel in Connor's absence?
Was that proof of love? Or was that just what he wanted it to be?
Slowly, Connor stood up, sparing a glance for the woman in the corner. Fred, who had played mother to him one summer. She didn't look older at all, and she hadn't known him. Perhaps the two were connected.
He turned his gaze back to Angel, his mouth quirking up into the semblance of a grin, the right words finally coming to his lips.
"Hi, Dad."
~fade to black~
Connor's a chatty sort. Or maybe I just can't sleep.
Fallen Apple
Gingerly, he pushed himself off the ground, but he didn't stand up yet, not quite ready to directly confront his father.
No. Casey slammed his eyes closed to block his heart against the hunger he could see in the man in front of him, the protest never making it past the tightness of his throat. My name is Casey Jacob Miller. I'm a college student, maybe a little fucked-up right now, but just a regular guy in a normal world where people don't stay standing after they've been shot.
He realized abruptly that he was crouched on the floor, presenting as small a target as possible but poised for action. His muscles were remarkably relaxed, even though he felt like his heart would break through his chest at any moment. Even with his eyes closed, he was aware, his memory letting him know where the exits were while his hearing kept close track of the other occupants of the room.
Preparing myself for any eventuality, he realized dimly, fight or flight... or pain.
He couldn't quite find the right words for any of this, but Casey almost remembers dying and this feeling isn't so very different.
Like drowning in blood.
~fade to black~
Flickering Flames
He can remember three fathers now.
Holtz had been the only one he'd known for so long, yet he'd always known that Holtz was not truly his father.
In retrospect, it's odd that he'd been encouraged to call Holtz his father, yet was reminded at every turn that he was merely the damned spawn of demons and never could be a true son, never a true replacement for the losses his... father had suffered.
He can't even remember the first time that he was told of his origins. He suspects now that he was told the story over and over, each day for every day of his life, as he can't remember a day with Holtz where he did not hear it.
Quar'toth had aged Holtz in so many ways. He can vaguely remember a vibrant hunter. But something in the air... Holtz had complained about the weakness that the air of Quar'toth created.
And when he'd first arrived on this dimension, he'd been lost without the smell of flames and ash. The one scent that had made any sense had been his true father's, yet that was the one that he'd come to destroy.
Another of fate's twisted games.
~fade to black~
Call of the Seagull
Is he one person with several personalities or has he simply gone insane?
He has three names and none of them feel as though they describe the whole of him.
His head is stuffed to overflowing with memories, and they feel as though they're leaking out his ears.
But he knows what love is, this time around. Casey had doubted many things in his life, yet he'd never truly doubted that he was loved.
Love. His mother, throwing her arms around him and telling him that she wanted him to do whatever made him happiest. His father, sitting with him and talking about the future, knowing that it would be bright and wonderful, because his father believed that Casey was bright and wonderful. This, Casey knows, is proof of love.
Steven... the Destroyer... knew the hunt and knew scent.
His every sense told him that the man in front of him was his father.
Casey took a breath, centering himself.
Connor knew that lies couldn't ever be trusted. Connor believed that love was just a lie.
Angel was the answer to the question.
Casey bit his lip, licked away the sharp taste of his own blood.
Connor opened his eyes.
~fade to black~
Coadunation
Connor carefully studied the man still staring at him as though Connor were the Holy Grail, the sacred answer to every question in the world.
Almost all in black, only a dark blue silk shirt relieving the monotony. He looked... old, which felt wrong to Connor, as his senses and his memory told him that Angel was an ageless creature, a monster that time could not touch.
But Connor had learned many things in the past year, among them the fact that grief could age people. Perhaps it had been grief that had caused Holtz' aging, too, and not Quar'toth's poison environment. Had the loss of his family hardened Holtz? Had the same thing happened to Angel in Connor's absence?
Was that proof of love? Or was that just what he wanted it to be?
Slowly, Connor stood up, sparing a glance for the woman in the corner. Fred, who had played mother to him one summer. She didn't look older at all, and she hadn't known him. Perhaps the two were connected.
He turned his gaze back to Angel, his mouth quirking up into the semblance of a grin, the right words finally coming to his lips.
"Hi, Dad."
~fade to black~
Connor's a chatty sort. Or maybe I just can't sleep.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
hey
Date: 2003-10-27 06:00 pm (UTC)Re: hey
Date: 2003-10-28 07:40 am (UTC)And thank you.