[open] i leave you my dust and dry bones

[Raed]

it's a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul;

He often lays low, observing from the outskirts but not typically venturing out. He has done so more often as of late, but still, it has been sporadic — perhaps once in the last several months, and only recently to satiate the pit of lust that had settled inside of him. He grew tired of their monotonous lives, their trivial troubles. It was always the same; the same tired story, strewn across the pages of everyone’s book, but everyone acting as though it was their first time reading it. Occasionally, he could pretend to listen, could force himself through the niceties of conversation to remain an almost contributing member of society.

It was almost always just an act.

The few that struck his interest could only hold it for so long, and he found that he preferred the quiet of his own mind instead of their constant stream of thoughts. Tonight is no different, as he picks his way through a deserted area of the meadow. He preferred this part of it, away from the throngs, where the only sound was the breeze as it rustled the grasses and the night-song of insects and owls that swooped from the moonlit sky. Their voices cannot reach him hear, not by his ears or by his mind.

He is content to be on his own, that is, until he hears a sound. A strangled sound, muffled and strained, and deftly his vision shifts; he searches through the cool blues and purples of the landscape, until it settles upon her trembling mass of oranges and reds and yellows, nearly hidden by the meadow grasses. He stands, a calculating tilt of his head, knowing he could easily slip away, perhaps not unnoticed, but likely unbothered.

Instead, he moves forward, his bright blue coat appearing oddly swarthy in the dark of the night. There is no malice in his intentions, but the lines of his face are hard and stoic, the flat tone of his voice shattering the silence as he says simply, ”You seem upset.” The curtness of his statement is not lost on him, although he does nothing to remedy it. The fact that he even approached was a miracle; he’s not sure if he’s actually concerned, or just bored, but either way he’s here now.

R A E D