mogget_cat | OOM: In the Ninth Precinct of Death

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The door to Milliways closes behind Yrael with a soft click, barely audible over the gentle yet ceaseless lapping of the grey water. The multitudes of stars shine overhead, a soft, bright cloud of light to illuminate the waters of Death and to call the spirits of the Dead to their rest.

Yrael stands with the water lapping at his ankles, and watches the Dead rise like shimmering lights to the stars, some quick and eager, some fighting every step of the way.

The stars sing their song of peace and rest to the Dead, and to the silent Bright Shiner below them.

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"Because solitude, however free, is empty." She informs him, her voice like the warm water around their feet, "And the price for autonomy is that emptiness."

"I do not see why one cannot be around people and still not be dependant upon them for happiness."

He watches a spirit rise eagerly to the stars, seeking its final rest.

"I know." She says, weeping for those the spirit leaves behind.

"Why is it that to be around others means also to be dependent upon them?" He really doesn't get it.

He doesn't understand. And not understanding has always been what bothers him the most.

"It opens you up to new things, little one." He is little, you know. Smaller than she is, and younger, and less open in the heart.

The fact that his heart is opening makes her smile through her ever-present tears.

"And each time we grow, we become dependent on that which we have opened up to."

"Finding new things is what I enjoy the most, but I do not like the thought of becoming dependent upon those new things," he grumbles, dry.

"I enjoy time I spend with my friends, but I do not like that their unhappiness could lead to mine."

Yrael likes fresh fish, but he hates the water.

He is trying to keep himself from realizing that it cuts both ways, whether he likes it or not: that one comes with the other.

"Fire warms, and it also burns." Is all that his sister has to say to that.

He is silent. There is nothing he could say, except to agree, and he does not wish to admit that she is right.

Yrael looks up at the multitude of stars, green eyes reflecting their light in the greyness of Death. He still has so very much to learn.

He will never admit it, but somewhere in him, he is afraid. The last ones he was close to betrayed him, and gave him thousands of years of pain and isolation. Though forgiveness has been given and what amends could be made have been... it's left a long resistence to letting anyone in, to depending upon anyone. For fear of being let down or turned upon, despite words of trust and love and friendship.

Of course he betrayed them, as well. He refused to take a stand, at all. The knife cuts both ways. She leaves her hands on his shoulders while he looks at death.

He told a friend once, that he preferred to walk the knife's edge. He was more honest than the friend probably realized.

To Yrael, there was no betrayal on his part. He took his stand apart from both, neither helping the Seven enslave Free Magic to help build their Charter and their worlds, nor helping the Ninth destroy that creation. As long as he was left to his own devices, he was content. It was not in him to imprison another for a cause in which he had no part, whether that other be his brother or any other.

"What is that saying they use?" He murmurs. "Once burned, twice shy?"

How much of his siblings went into their creation? What would have happened to them if it was destroyed?

Yrael stands apart. He always has. As long as he refuses to see their side the forgiveness will never be true.

She moves her hands, now, and says, "So they do."

That was their choice. They were free to make it, just as Orannis was free to make his choice.

Yrael just wanted to make his.

"I suppose I shall just have to take care as one should, when playing with fire." Warm, but not burn.