Reunion

He had just finished getting the evening’s blood off his clothes, and was pouring himself a much needed drink, preparing to head upstairs for the night, when he first heard the knock on the door.

So faint a rapping, that for a moment he wasn’t sure he had imagined it. After all, there weren’t too many people that would dare approach this manor. Especially not after dark.

And those that did weren’t the kind to knock.

Then he heard it again. A little louder than before, but still muffled, almost as if someone was pressed against the door even as they knocked.

Picking up the pistol that was still lying holstered on the table before him, he quietly made his way to the window, not sure yet if he was relieved that he was the only one home at the moment. He had briefly considered – then dismissed – the possibility that it was Julius or one of the Langs returning unexpectedly. Not only did they have their own keys, of the three of them, only Lin ever used the front door. And that was not the kind of knock he expected of her.

Using his free hand to slightly lift the heavy dark curtains from one corner, he peeked outside. It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the darkness, but then his eyes widened at the sight.

Swearing under his breath, he strode to the door in five long steps and yanked it open, only for the person standing outside, and apparently completely leaning on it, to stumble into his arms.

“What are you doing here, detective?”, he asked the brown haired teenage boy that was now blinking up at him, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

“Hey, Rui”, the boy said, voice slurring enough for a bit of his usually well suppressed accent to creep in to his voice. “No detective tonight. Just Dante. Suspended.” He pushed himself up straight until Ruilian was left holding just one elbow, no longer certain who he was trying to keep upright. Dante started as if to say something, but stumbled again.

Ruilian frowned at him, “Have you been drinking?”

It was then that he noticed the ever widening pool of something dark and sticky at their feet, dripping down his arm from where it held on to Dante’s. His eyes snapped back up to the boy’s face. Dante grimaced, now swaying slightly on his feet. “Something like that.”

Then his knees buckled and he fell, Ruilian barely catching him before his head hit the floor.

Burning Heaven

The sky is on fire.

They say it’s only my imagination.

Probably just the guilt tinting my vision.

But they’ve always been fools

And also liars.

.

I won’t be deceived again.

Not when I can smell the smoke.

And not when, on it, I choke.

Like the night so long ago when I watched whole cities drown

Burning in a crimson rain.

.

They tell me it’s not my fault.

That i am not who they blame.

Yet they clearly want my shame.

But I will not give them the satisfaction of my guilt.

And they will not see me crawl.

.

Still, I’m no liar.

So, please know, I would gladly get on my knees

If I thought that it would bring any relief

But I know better now.

That the sky’s on fire.

Inevitability

The first time they met, the setting sun shone brightly for a moment, blinding after days of dark storm clouds.

Much later, in that twilight place, no golden sun marked their next meeting, only the crimson of spilled blood.

Now, after all these years, that past reaches out; a river of red amidst a sea of black.

There have been as many storms in the skies above, as have been at their feet below.

And more blood spilled than either of them could have ever even imagined, let alone wanted.

Not that it matters much, now, caught in ocean currents, borne ceaselessly into the future.

Once, they believed in the inevitability of them, of finding their way back, always.

For however dark the road, brighter were the lights that lit their way.

But, most water, like all time, can only flow in one direction.

And there is no going back, not for them, not anymore.

Which is probably for the best, all said and done.

For even if it wasn’t wholly dark and bloody.

Even if the sun shone, bright and golden.

Even if they were truly happy, once

It was only ever, always, momentarily

For nothing gold can last

Especially not the past

So, sail forward.

Bloodied, golden.

Alone.

Live.

Die.

Be.