Arc Du Triomphe: “Redemption, Part 1”

 

 

The filter in the aquarium gurgled, and the fish locked behind the glass swam back and forth paying no mind to the transparency of their home.  The hooded light was the only one on in the room, and the people walking by no doubt thought the house unoccupied for the evening.  They were mostly right. 

There was no movement from the man staring into the aquarium, just a predator-patience and stillness.  In the darkened room, he might have easily been mistaken for a piece of furniture, and had he wished it, it could have appeared the part as well.  He was in no mood for his own games this evening, and had not been for sometime.  It was this symptom that worried his companions, though, he thought bitterly, it had not worried them enough to keep them from going out tonight.

That wasn't true and he knew it, and could sense their concern even now.  They left him, knowing that they could do nothing to break him out of his mind-sucking depression; they knew that he must make that decision himself.

A slender hand ran long tapered fingers through his tangled white hair, and he sulkily shot a lancelet of anger out through their link.  Just because I acknowledge my uselessness and pain in this new world and do not seek to drown it in a bottle, or ignore it in some other way does not make me weak.

We never said you were...

With a snarl, he pushed the midnight-toned thought from him.  "You need no say it, Cale.  I think it enough of myself."  The newly-painted walls held his voice for a moment, and suddenly he was very aware of his own loneliness.  "We have lost so much- so very much.  I mourn for what we lost, brothers."  With a sigh, he stood up and looked out the windows to the street, pressing his forehead to the cool glass.  "What am I doing here?  What am I trying to prove?"

We've been trying to figure that out for a very long time now.

Dais ignored Sekhmet's dry humor, and turned again to stare at the fish- creatures content swimming back and forth in less than ten gallons of water.  Such are the things that give pleasure to fish.  He almost smiled.

Ah... do you remember?

I remember everything, he answered.  You think I could have forgotten who I am- what I am?  I could not forget.  His dismissal was curt.

That is not what it seemed...

He reached for the empty sketchpad and unopened box of drawing pencils from the desktop, and slipped them into the oversized pockets of is trench coat.  They would be props, if nothing else, giving him the pretext of appearing to do something.  He went out into the street, remembering to lock it behind him and then belatedly checking for his keys, and took a deep breath of the night air. 

Sometimes us creative types just get a little moody...  It will ease itself in time.

Ach... do you hear him, Cale?  He mourns and sulks and ignores the world for weeks, calls it being a 'little moody', and makes the pretense of being almost contented and well.

Dais could feel the other's mingled disgust and amusement. 

As long as he does something beside sit and stare at the fish all day, I do not care what he says.

Perhaps now he will remember to eat again.

Sekhmet, it would take braver men than us to eat your cooking.

Dais chuckled to himself, almost against his will, as he strolled down the quiet, suburb street, letting his feet carry him to the local park.  He sat down on one of the swings there, wrapping his long fingers around the cool metal chains and digging his toes into the dirt to push himself a little, and he stared at the sky.  Perhaps he could pull himself together again in this new world that seemingly had no place left in it for an old sorcerer; a world with no antiquated feudal system, no Dynasty, no Anubis.

Tomorrow, he thought-prayed to the winking summer stars, I will find a job.