05-03-2016, 01:56 PM
In my mind, I'm running round a cold and empty space
It has been almost a year since he had been back. He was still trying to figure out the details of his life before. His only constants had been Drow and Dara. They were the only things about his life that he had not forgotten. His job. Their house. The name of Dara's companion. The city they lived in. Did they even live in a city? All of the other important and nonimportant stuff had been gone when he had come too. He was still trying to figure out what kind of foods he liked...when he bothered to eat.
The once virile male that had fallen in love with Drowling so long ago was gone. A weakened, frail thing had replaced him. His muscles had shrunk. His backbone, his ribs, all more visible through the frail skin that covered him. He was so unkempt. His golden brown hair was past his shoulders, often knotted and unwashed. His clothes were dirty. His apartment was chaos. It was a rat infested hole anyways, something he still couldn't hardly afford. Something that they didn't pursue too much if he did miss some months.
He dreamt of Drow's mismatched eyes. Often. Every night. They lightened with love and a twist in his dream send them spiraling into darkness. Anger and hurt sparked in those gold and silver eyes, all Arzhur could do in the dreams was beg for forgiveness. Drow still walked away from him. Every morning he awoke with his heart shattered. He knew how Drow would cope. He would live but even if Zurry came back, there was the reality that Drow would no longer want him (not because he didn't love him, but because he couldn't take the falling apart if this happened again). Deep down Zurry knew this, but it always took him a long while to come back to this realization.
He dreams of Dara. Her impish smile, that light that twinkled in her eyes when she was egging him on. The way her little hands and arms would wrap around him so tightly. She would always love him, their precious child. Her dreams turned to nightmares when she could no longer find him and no matter how loud he yelled she couldn't hear him. And then how she would cry when she was alone, without anyone else around to see her pain.
Sometimes when he dreamed, the nightmares almost killed him. They both hated him in some, ignored him in others. Some days it was all he could do to get out of bed, so he wouldn't. Abaddon had used everything in his disposal to make sure Arzhur was a broken man when he let him go. He had succeeded.
A frenzy of hope had come to life inside him when they had released him, finally. After so long of being gone, until he realized he could remember nothing. The town felt right, but was it? He learned to listen more to his gut, listen to that instinct that says everything is alright or get the hell out of there. So he stayed in his busting city, why, he wasn't sure, when he knew his Drowling and Dara would much prefer the open countryside or the thick forests. Perhaps it was near their home? The closest town to their home?
He wandered the streets looking like a beggar when he managed to get out of bed. He walked every where, looking for some sign that the two halves of his heart were out here somewhere. He just had to find them. Every day that frenzy flickered and dimmed, until it was to the point that he had to force himself to crawl away from the edge of despair every single morning. He would coax the flame of hope stronger, even as his heart felt so broken and empty. This ragged hole where he used to feel something. He kept the hope alive, knowing that if he were to give in, Abaddon would win.
Arzhur would be broken and gone with no one to know.
It's been almost a year today. Almost a year since he has been back and almost five years that he hasn't seen the two halves of his heart. Next month would be the anniversary day. Today he decides to get out of bed. He cleans the hole in the wall that he lives in. Not that there is really much to clean. He has no dishes, because he doesn't eat. Take out containers are on the counter but those just go into the garbage. What clothes he has he should probably throw away and buy new ones. He goes downstairs to do the laundry. It doesn't take long. And then he is back in his apartment, shaving the scratchy hair from his face until his gaunt cheeks are smooth. He gets in the shower next, standing beneath the tepid spray until he is clean. A comb through his tangled hair, which takes the longest of it all before his clean clothes are on and he is walking out the door.
He doesn't bother to lock it. There's nothing worth stealing.
It's afternoon by the time he comes to the park. He turns his face away from the kids playing, feeling a knife slide itself into his heart. While he searches for them, it's always so painful when he cannot find him. He's getting ready to cross the street just so the sounds the kids were making weren't so loud, so close when he hears it.
"Daddy!" His heart stutters to a stop in his chest, his body freezing. "Let's go home. I'm hungry! Will you make me some ribs?! Pleeeeeaase." He already knows when he turns around that her eyes will be all big and pleading, with the damn smile on her face neither of them could say no too. Drow would be smiling at her too, because while they had loved each other so much, she was their world. She was the reason they drew breath some days. He takes a deep breath, gulping down the air was the was filled with scents his Drowling and Dara would know, but he couldn't decipher. The wind was blowing his scent away from the duo.
When he turns, the people around him walking just part like the sea around a rock. He turns to see them and his heart stops again. He cannot breathe. "Drow." He says softly. "Dara." His eyes feast on their appearances, like a starved man. They were walking away from him, walking to where ever it was they lived. His heart told him to go to them. His brain told him it was just better if he stayed away. They were better off without him coming back into their life, peeling off the scab that had formed over his disappearance.
When he finally decides to go after them anyways, damn the consequences, he cannot find them. They were gone.
Day after day he returns to that park, sitting on the opposite side that he saw them leave. He watches, he waits. He manages to keep himself cleaned up, manages to remember to eat more so that his body fills out just enough that he doesn't look like he is on the verge of death.
And then, on the exact date of his disappearance they are there again. He knows exactly when those mismatched eyes find him, see the darkness roar to the front of those eyes. "Papa....PAPA!" And then there is a girl child in his arms and he closes his eyes as he goes to his knees. Tears slide from his eyes, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Oh Dara, my beautiful girl. I missed you so much." And he holds her tight, unable to look up at her other father, unable to meet his eyes to see what it was that they held for him.
The once virile male that had fallen in love with Drowling so long ago was gone. A weakened, frail thing had replaced him. His muscles had shrunk. His backbone, his ribs, all more visible through the frail skin that covered him. He was so unkempt. His golden brown hair was past his shoulders, often knotted and unwashed. His clothes were dirty. His apartment was chaos. It was a rat infested hole anyways, something he still couldn't hardly afford. Something that they didn't pursue too much if he did miss some months.
He dreamt of Drow's mismatched eyes. Often. Every night. They lightened with love and a twist in his dream send them spiraling into darkness. Anger and hurt sparked in those gold and silver eyes, all Arzhur could do in the dreams was beg for forgiveness. Drow still walked away from him. Every morning he awoke with his heart shattered. He knew how Drow would cope. He would live but even if Zurry came back, there was the reality that Drow would no longer want him (not because he didn't love him, but because he couldn't take the falling apart if this happened again). Deep down Zurry knew this, but it always took him a long while to come back to this realization.
He dreams of Dara. Her impish smile, that light that twinkled in her eyes when she was egging him on. The way her little hands and arms would wrap around him so tightly. She would always love him, their precious child. Her dreams turned to nightmares when she could no longer find him and no matter how loud he yelled she couldn't hear him. And then how she would cry when she was alone, without anyone else around to see her pain.
Sometimes when he dreamed, the nightmares almost killed him. They both hated him in some, ignored him in others. Some days it was all he could do to get out of bed, so he wouldn't. Abaddon had used everything in his disposal to make sure Arzhur was a broken man when he let him go. He had succeeded.
A frenzy of hope had come to life inside him when they had released him, finally. After so long of being gone, until he realized he could remember nothing. The town felt right, but was it? He learned to listen more to his gut, listen to that instinct that says everything is alright or get the hell out of there. So he stayed in his busting city, why, he wasn't sure, when he knew his Drowling and Dara would much prefer the open countryside or the thick forests. Perhaps it was near their home? The closest town to their home?
He wandered the streets looking like a beggar when he managed to get out of bed. He walked every where, looking for some sign that the two halves of his heart were out here somewhere. He just had to find them. Every day that frenzy flickered and dimmed, until it was to the point that he had to force himself to crawl away from the edge of despair every single morning. He would coax the flame of hope stronger, even as his heart felt so broken and empty. This ragged hole where he used to feel something. He kept the hope alive, knowing that if he were to give in, Abaddon would win.
Arzhur would be broken and gone with no one to know.
It's been almost a year today. Almost a year since he has been back and almost five years that he hasn't seen the two halves of his heart. Next month would be the anniversary day. Today he decides to get out of bed. He cleans the hole in the wall that he lives in. Not that there is really much to clean. He has no dishes, because he doesn't eat. Take out containers are on the counter but those just go into the garbage. What clothes he has he should probably throw away and buy new ones. He goes downstairs to do the laundry. It doesn't take long. And then he is back in his apartment, shaving the scratchy hair from his face until his gaunt cheeks are smooth. He gets in the shower next, standing beneath the tepid spray until he is clean. A comb through his tangled hair, which takes the longest of it all before his clean clothes are on and he is walking out the door.
He doesn't bother to lock it. There's nothing worth stealing.
It's afternoon by the time he comes to the park. He turns his face away from the kids playing, feeling a knife slide itself into his heart. While he searches for them, it's always so painful when he cannot find him. He's getting ready to cross the street just so the sounds the kids were making weren't so loud, so close when he hears it.
"Daddy!" His heart stutters to a stop in his chest, his body freezing. "Let's go home. I'm hungry! Will you make me some ribs?! Pleeeeeaase." He already knows when he turns around that her eyes will be all big and pleading, with the damn smile on her face neither of them could say no too. Drow would be smiling at her too, because while they had loved each other so much, she was their world. She was the reason they drew breath some days. He takes a deep breath, gulping down the air was the was filled with scents his Drowling and Dara would know, but he couldn't decipher. The wind was blowing his scent away from the duo.
When he turns, the people around him walking just part like the sea around a rock. He turns to see them and his heart stops again. He cannot breathe. "Drow." He says softly. "Dara." His eyes feast on their appearances, like a starved man. They were walking away from him, walking to where ever it was they lived. His heart told him to go to them. His brain told him it was just better if he stayed away. They were better off without him coming back into their life, peeling off the scab that had formed over his disappearance.
When he finally decides to go after them anyways, damn the consequences, he cannot find them. They were gone.
Day after day he returns to that park, sitting on the opposite side that he saw them leave. He watches, he waits. He manages to keep himself cleaned up, manages to remember to eat more so that his body fills out just enough that he doesn't look like he is on the verge of death.
And then, on the exact date of his disappearance they are there again. He knows exactly when those mismatched eyes find him, see the darkness roar to the front of those eyes. "Papa....PAPA!" And then there is a girl child in his arms and he closes his eyes as he goes to his knees. Tears slide from his eyes, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Oh Dara, my beautiful girl. I missed you so much." And he holds her tight, unable to look up at her other father, unable to meet his eyes to see what it was that they held for him.
Just put your arms around me, tell me everything's OK.
Arzhur