Tattered Remnants of a Sad Song

[HeyJude]

Patterns of soles, patterns of souls. Are they not the same? Footsteps in the sand, leading to shore or away, sometimes singly, more often in sets. The world spins round and round, and like him they all walk over it.

He watches his feets as he walks, one foot, then the other, over and over again as they mark out a trail, a path to follow or be followed. Who is the leader, who is the led? Does the blind follow the blind, the sheep follow the shepherd? The questions ramble through his mind as he watches the ground pass beneath his feet, lost in his own head, sightless to see but for where he goes, whence he comes.

He can feel it, feel the Flame somewhere out there, calling, pulling, wanting to be found. They call it a place of rest, of safety and salvation...things he's not to be judged worthy of ever again.

Such is the price of betrayal, and to have betrayed one with an act made all the more perverse for whom it was delivered upon.

There are pieces left within the tortured soul, fragments of the man who once was. Only rarely will they ever surface, weary, tattered remnants of a mind that has seen too much, far too much for any man to lay eyes upon and escape unscathed.

He had not.

As he walks, he mutters to himself, erattic little verses. Those passing might hear odd little phrases, utterances in strange tongues, some perhaps even in one they might understand, but none making sense.

Presently he stops, falling silent, daring to look away from the ground that is one of the few stable, genuine things in his little world.

His eyes behold a vision, the light of bright stars falling upon a crumbling facade, broken glass and boarded doors.

For a moment the light reminds him of another place, a better time, and there he falls to his knees in the middle of the street, eyes full of fire and tears as he weeps, his eyes falling closed and his head bowing again.

"Just a joke, all a joke...real as raindrops, but still a joke." The voice is miserable, hollow, filled with regret. "He's not here, but He watches, doesn't he? Oh yes." And now comes a mad little chuckle. "And now that we're here, what do we do? You were His favorite...I was his Brother, and betrayed him. You deserve this place...for me it's just another reminder."

His head lifts and turns to the side, speaking apparently to the shadows over his shoulder. "Just leave me here. I was never worthy of Him...or of you."

[maggietowyr]

There was no shame in madness. There was no shame in labels worn. The names that marked her like letters, bleeding little letters bright and scarlet. There were times when she wandered the world where she envied those with madness. Her sharp clarity and focus was nothing more then a burden, but it was what she had to endure.

The burdens she carried were those made by choice, others self inflicted. Did He know? Of course he did... but it was Jude that mattered, Jude that in those moments of self would have gone insane in reprimands over the choices she had made.

Like everything in life best not revealed it was covered up. Maggie didn't find her eyes to the ground but instead to her wrists and the leather studded bands there. Ever so fashionable but Maggie knew it was for other reasons they would be worn. They whispered of her as sinner, called her uglier names then courtesan. So well forgotten were the times when she had been a teacher and a guide.

Now her path led nowhere save back to Him and that road... well it always led back to Jude.

When it all had begun and life proved not an end by fire but a never-ending beginning she had tried to escape it all. She had tried so hard to endure the shame and loss of her own inflicted punishment on her own but no matter how hard she tried she always found herself back with Jude.

Once she had been told that survivors hated themselves. They didn't comprehend what made them so special to survive what could destroy so many others. So many other worthy souls. Maggie was starting to believe it all was the truth, that it all was right, that a bit of anonymity in opinion had been brutally honest and led Maggie to the truth.

Maybe she couldn't save herself but a thousand apologies would never compare to saving Jude from himself. Just like now. Just like this moment. A heart in pieces all over again. Shattered and he'd never see because he was far too lost... far too gone.

Like now she watched him in the soothing balm of shadows, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans as her eyes drifted from him to the shelter. So very uncertain of everything in that moment. In that shadow print she felt nothing more then haunted by her own insecurity. She felt so weary and alone and lost in the realization that maybe Jude would never realize again how she truly felt... and if he did would he accept it... and would it be returned?

His words broke her heart as she stepped out on to the street and parted herself from the security blanket of shadows. She was terrified that he would forget her, each and every night she waited for that moment where he would look at her with a stranger's eyes and that he would be the one to abandon her, just like she felt He had.

"It is nothing about worth when it comes to us, Jude. I told you, never again would I leave you behind. It won't happen again and it will not be today. I'm not leaving you."

Not ever again.

Hiding that threaten of a frown and tears in a drifter's smile and a weary gleam of eyes she prayed would be reassuring one hand slipped from her pocket and offered out to him.

"Are you sure about this?"

[HeyJude]

Constants. There are few in his life. Gravity, for one, the earth beneath his feet still holding him to her bosom with her invisible grip that could be blessing or curse, depending on how far you're falling.

All but for him. Nothing he tried worked. It was like the Groundhog Day from Hell, for him, the same thing over and over and over and over...but never the same day. The years plow on, uncaring for the infestation of humanity scattered to whatever corners of the universes they can live in.

The years plow on, and no matter how he tries, he can't stop it.

But there are constants. Things to cling to.

Like fire. Fire is the rapid oxidation of a given materiel in such a way that the gases it gives off combust and undergo chemical and physical changes, resulting in the release of heat and light.

If you make something hot enough, it will burn.

Simple. That hand. Those hands. Perfect in every way, slender and lovely, soft and warm and comforting. It's begun to register in his mind, little by little, her repeated promises. Once - it seems forever ago, but may have been as long as an hour ago, maybe more, maybe less - he had wondered to himself why he was asking again.

But still, he can't bring himself to wholly trust it. Everything he wants, He takes - every source of comfort, every kind touch or gentle gesture by any that seek to help, He takes, until he had developed the habit of lashing out at the ones that cared, if only for their sakes, and to spare himself the pain of their eventual disappearance.

It happens, every time. He'd tried to dissuade her, to get her to save herself.

But she just won't go, and asking the same question over and over again is getting tiresome.

It's her question that manages to bring some semblance of lucidity to the surface, and he slumps visibly as he kneels in the street, his head and back bowing as though the weight of worlds rested on them. It shows in every line of his body as he lifts his hand and takes her own, his voice - for the first time in so very long - loses the edge it so often has of impending collapse into madness and despair, instead sounding so infinitely tired, the sound of a soul that has never seen rest.

"I've never been sure, Maggie, not of anything but my guilt, my justly deserved punishment. But...it's as close as I can get to it...it's a far better idea than any I've had in a long time."

[maggietowyr]

There were no other choices to be made then this one. Maggie imagined he figured it would just be so simple for her to pick up and move on and forget all about him, leave him behind like he never mattered. He had to be a damn fool but that accusation would never spill from her tongue. Maggie knew the truth and knew of how many times in the past she had tried to walk away, to pick up all the tattered pieces and move on but she just couldn't.

There was something to be said about letting go. To carry on with life and live it without recourse or dismay but Maggie was not a creature of such nature or whim. She was a creature more so of repetition and comforts. It was one of the reasons she stayed but not the only reason and far from the main reason.

He didn't realize that she had long ago given up on salvation and forgiveness. She had long ago started to believe that wicked little nagging voice in the back of her mind that made her think and believe that everything said about her... was right.

That she was nothing, that she would never be good enough. That she was completely worthless and one not worthy to be loved. There were some nights when the madness consumed him that Maggie believed maybe it all was true.

Maybe she was fooling herself. She couldn't help it. This was there life and she couldn't just let him go. He would have to abandon her first even as she would spend her nights whispering 'stay with me.'

Prayers and wishes... these were the things so many held on to as much as they held on to hope and despair, love and hatred.

Each of them to Maggie was so fleeting, rain in her hands her emotions. She was swallowing down a sob when his fingers laced through hers. Closing her eyes to lock the tears away and to play the stronger role when his voice was so crisp and lucid.

The dirt and ruins were no stranger to her and kneeling on the street beside him seemed like home again. Never once in these days that passed them by did he realize how easily she would accept burning for him.

"It's a good plan, Jude."

A sigh around words so simple to be spoken when really what she wanted to say and meant was... how much it was time to let go of the guilt and resolve the punishment if only... to find something pure.

[HeyJude]

There's the edge of madness in the small laugh that escapes him, but when he speaks it's only with that same weariness. "He laughs at plans...this is just...an idea."

He gains his feet with painful slowness, as though his bones were made of glass and might break if he rushed. At times it feels true, that he is but a pane of glass, walking over the crust of this miserable ball of dirt, waiting for someone to throw a stone. And they had, several times - stones, sticks, hurtful words.

Children's rhymes be damned. All of the above hurt equally, no matter what your parents tell you in the beginning.

All his weary bones want, all they know, is the need for rest. A place to lay your head in peace, if only for a short while.

To close his eyes, perchance to dream of better days. More peaceful days, when the comfort of closeness was still real, still a possibility, if only a phantom's touch of the reality.

The madman frowns slightly, feeling the tug, the pull, the power of the place and the presences within, and a small part of him shivers, tries to shrink away, only to find her arms.

Comfort. Peace. Hope.

Love?

Illusions. Vagaries of perception.

But for the moment, in this one shard of lucidity he clings to now like a blind man drowning and grasping one more time for something to haul him to the surface of this insanity, it feels so near to being real that - for this moment - he allows himself a small measure of peace.

It won't last long, and it's best to cling to such things as they last.

His head turns slightly to the side. He dares not look directly at her, for fear of finding that he's only imagining this happy sensation, this warmth he may have felt moments ago or not since the oceans of time dragged his fractured mind under their weight and depths. His voice is a soft, nearly intimate whisper, a faint trace of a more tranquil day and life remembered in his husky voice.

"Show me the way, Maggie."

[maggietowyr]

There was a melody, a tragedy in her thoughts. The song moved like an endearing prayer even as her eyes were consumed and distracted by the twist and twine and tangle of fingers. The laces to bind them both together.

Maggie took in a breath as her eyes went sharp and focused upon the join of hands, the unity there. A whisper of His wishes trailed her thoughts. She never yearned or sought out forgiveness. Even if she had said her thousand apologies a thousand times over and was granted admittance once more into His grace and forgiveness, she couldn't fathom the possibility of leaving him behind.

This perhaps was her weakness and her strength. The fact that she couldn't let him go and couldn't move on. That no matter what happened in the complex and the simple years that passed them by she couldn't forget him.

Strange as it was Maggie believed they belonged together for various reasons she had yet to comprehend or understand. How many nights she had longed to tell him she missed those days when things were happy and peaceful. How many days she wished to just be held in his arms again.

To feel love...

To be loved...

Maggie pushed and shoved the thought aside, locked the hope of it away deep into the dark corners of her mind as she wrapped her arms around him, held him in her embrace. For now she cherished the moment for the small fraction of time it would last.

The world was a blur, a bittersweet shattered painting through the tears he never would see but still they would leave her cheeks damp. His words as always tore through her, the intimate linger of his voice and the husky resonation left her shivering with longing and wishful thinking.

Who was she to show the way? Who was she to be the stronger one when her destruction came by self rather then through the source of others. Her existence mattered not, she would sacrifice everything for him...

Withdrawing from him only slightly she nodded as she feared the way her words may express and give her away. Instead a hand reached to smooth tenderly through his hair as she leaned forward toward him.

The proximity was an endearing closeness near to give the illusion of the possibility to share breath. Close enough to kiss and even then her lips were parted and damp with offering.

Only at the last moment did she remember and recollect that no longer did he see her as... the one he saw her as before. Her eyes closed before those windows of the soul would reveal how much they cracked, how much they shattered when he was near. A rest of forehead against his own before she withdrew if only to take his hand once more.

A drawing lead of him towards the shelter. She would always do as he ask.

Maggie led the way.

[FinnLasair]

"I confess to you that I do not understand your reasoning, old friend."

"Understanding is not.."

"...a prerequisite, I know. You always say that."

"Indeed I do. I would apologize, but it seems such a wasted gesture."

"And it would be. One must feel contrition for the thing being apologized for, and for you that is impossible."

"I suppose it is. Like so many things, contrition stems from a much smaller perspective, and I am beyond such things."

"And yet you choose this course."

"You have chosen yours. Think on it. You have seen things from my perspective. And yet you choose to continue, over and over, this strange, endlessly circular existence."

"Yes, and I have my reasons."

"Some of which I now understand."

-----

He stirs from that place betwixt dreams and waking, between memory and experience. He remembers that face, those features so well. Before he had embarked on those final steps which led to destruction, the man had been unassuming and yet so many had flocked to him, only to hear him speak, to teach, to preach and yes, to learn as well.

Afterward there had been little more than a husk, a pitiful shell which had contained the most intriguing essence ever to walk the surface of any world. Savaged, beaten, pummeled and cut and pierced through, it had been - at best - nearly impossible to believe that there had been a man that performed miracles heretofore unheard of across the world.

The message was never lost on him, and he had taken it as a hint that perhaps there are greater powers than he that believes these flawed, broken abortions of creation could rise to their greatness, in the fullness of time, despite their own terrible darknesses.

Now he opens his eyes to find his Willow at the window, her back to him, her hair a flaming banner of beauty even in this pale moon's light, staring out into the darkness of the street beyond. She doesn't look back at him as he slips from their bed, moonlight bathing his bare skin as he crosses the room to her and slips his arms around her waist, pulling her back to her place against his chest, where he has ever found his comfort throughout the ages, no matter how briefly it might have been betimes.

"What is i', m'love?"

[Avy]

She knew when he breathed, she knew when he slept in his definition of slumber, she knew when he awakened. As natural as the beat of her own heart, the willingness of her own breath to escape her lips she knew of his existence and presence in the world so easy. It had always been that way since the first days, the beginning of time when the times of pagan worship had altered into another breath of belief.

Avy didn't know what had drawn her to awaken in the moon soaked hours but as ever she was drawn to the window, breathing in as she closed her eyes while pulling the curtains aside to leave her flesh bathed in moonlight. The silvery glow of those celestial rays toyed its paintbrush touch to bleed a mercury glimmer throughout the wildfire strands of hair as her palm pressed a kiss to the window pane.

There was a torment, an agony stirring within her that almost overwhelmed her senses as she took in a shuttering breath. So much pain, so much anguish and lamentation... far too much regret.

It was all too much yet Avy had adjusted to the sensory overload that her new form had offered her. The easy drawing towards those that needed the assistance and comfort of the Shelter.

Avy could not tear her eyes away from the pair as they approached in the shadow and the moonlight towards the Shelter. They seemed so lost, so vulnerable and damaged by the sins of their joined past and the remorse of choices made. She couldn't determine which one happened to exert more of the emotion she was sensing, which one had endured more contained pain that it was bringing the Willow to tears.

She wanted to turn away as an audible sob escaped her lips as the flood of emotions and flashes of images filtered through her mind to provide her a playback of all that had been in the shared lives of the pair approaching.

The shaking of her shoulders as the tears spilled over and streamed down her cheeks only were subdued as she felt Finn's arms around her and she turned to him to lose herself in the embrace. A deep breath would draw his scent in and bring her back home, back to focus to withdraw her emotions and memories from the pair. Finn's presence made her recall herself and what was real and her own.

Only when she was calmed and soothed enough to speak once more did she lift her tear streaked face to his, eyes searching the azures so filled with love. The kiss shared between the couple was soft and tender when Avy kissed him while the salt taste of her tears lingered in that kiss. If anything she was terrified to think that such damaged love would ever come between them as she had witnessed it to be so between the pair approaching the shelter.

"Ah love ye, Finn."

A press of palm to his cheek as she kissed him once more before lowering her hand to forge the unity once more of fingers interlaced through his own.

"We should get dressed, m'love. We have new guests date need us."