lingering in limbo {taurus/neptune/rowdy}

And God said, "Let there be light."


But there was no light because Neptune Liefde was dead just like his father.

On the beach, he can feel the grains of sand between his toes. If only moments ago, he had been standing over a mile away, the sharp yet sweetened twang of a spear digging into his back beginning to skewer him like a fish. But this was the least of his worries, and to some extent, he even acknowledged it in the back of his mind; such a boy, so frail and thinned, could never win the games. Still, though, the betrayal he felt for nothing in particular rushed over him in waves, threatening to break down his sea dam with every pound on the doorknob to the right. Infinity was impossible to achieve, but certainly- most definitely- the child from district 12 possessed the power to become a hurricane from what was once but a teardrop. 


It comes to him in flashes, at first, but he doesn't care for the fact that he's being torn apart from his feet upward. The subtleness of his death was without pain, but he craves it in its purest form, despite, so bringing his wrist up to rosied brown lips, Neptune bites down deeply until a trail of red is streaming down his arm. It's what makes me human, he thinks absent-mindedly, and when the chill of wind brushes past his bare-boned legs, he allows himself to shiver for the simple pleasure of it. He's alone, but something's off, and it unnerves him.


To the right of where he sits, he can hear a familiar voice call out to a shadow on the horizon, but he can't quite make out the exact words that the boy is saying. Perhaps he is greeting him politely, or perhaps he just wants to be home; Neptune wishes that he could help someone so lost, but there's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was never truly planned for him to take so long to die from the beginning. So he holds off until he's certain that this boy isn't a stranger, and then opens his mouth wide, much wider than the heavens could ever wish to be.


"Taurus- Taurus, what are you doing here."


His voice is low and smooth, the smallest hint of peppercrack hiding in the corner of words like 'Chicago' and 'macchiato'. It pains him to speak so loudly, but again, something feels off, and it distracts him from the normal buzz of greeting a long lost friend. 


"Oh, Taurus.. I thought you were.. I thought you were.."


And his eyes light up with a moment of remembrance, even though the thought is quickly taken over by ignorance in its whole. 


"I thought we were dead."


The figure in the distance still inches forward. 


"But we aren't, now are we? It's only a dream, right?"


By now, the boy has only taken a few steps against the current of the wind, and it displaces the curls of his head with even the smallest of movements likewise. He doesn't care though, and his eyebrows furrow because his hands are moving in patterns that feel like home and he doesn't know why. He speaks again, and his digits dance. He stops speaking, and they cease. It's a never ending cycle of what to do, and where to do it, but he was never good at games so he waits until they're played for him, and won, at that. 


He takes a moment to look off at the crashing waters on beach and sighs, like it's stolen his breath without the blissfulness of contact. The whispers of the dead arise from beneath him, but he stomps once, and they shatter, and they fall. 


"It has to be a dream, because there's so much pain, but.. but now.."


And in the waltz of his fingers, he realises what exactly lies under the veil. For a moment, he chokes, but within seconds, his hand is at his throat, and he feels like he's drowning. 


"Oh God, why can I speak?"