|More Than What We R§VP'd For.| {Piscatus}

Silver Emmend

There's a voice in my head
Telling me come on, come on, move on.
There's a voice in my head,
Telling me I know my right from wrong.
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I have never thought of the sensation of free fall as pleasant. The constant pumping of adrenaline and nonstop howl of wind being whipped across ringing ears has always seemed quite undesirable to me- there are better ways to find thrill in life than by accelerating toward a horrible end disguised as innocent verdure. Only once have I willingly fell through open air, and that was during the fire; at the time, the fall had seemed much more pleasurable than slowly perishing in a maelstrom of smoke and fire. Even then, it hadn't seemed like a very enjoyable option, and hitting the churning beryl waves was very similar to hitting concrete. No, free fall has never been an area of enjoyment for me.

And now the sensation overwhelms me, filling my lungs and twisting my stomach and tumbling over again and again in my mind. One would think that I would have hit rock bottom by now, but it seems there are new ways to make me fall. Yucca has made me vulnerable, susceptible to all new kinds of agony that haven't whispered through my veins since my grandmother's death years (decades) ago. I've never felt so helpless, with all of my secrets and the darkest parts of my mind flying free, revealing the Silver that never should have existed to those I need the most. Insanity is such a cliche reaction to horrors, and yet it seems that those surrounding me find it uncontrollable. Is that me? Spiraling outside of my own grasp of reality, with something fantastically vivid wrapping it's fingers around a once clear mind?

Is that it, then? I have been declared unreachable by most, and so it must be true- no one can save me from myself except for one unavailable person and the distant waves that I wonder if I will ever see again. The roaring sea demands my presence, yet I must shy away from it's call for the sake of myself and those I love. Perhaps the promise is the only thing that keeps me from running, or maybe some shard of sanity still remains within me (we all know this is a desperate hope. My sanity left with Yucca), but I remain rooted to the spot despite the tempting cries of those that I need and that may truly need me. I sink my claws into the yielding earth in a desperate attempt to anchor myself to some sort of reality (but is any of this truly real? I hope not, for the sake of us all), and take in a trembling breath between pitiful sobs. Hot, sticky tears are cooled by a sudden breeze, but clarity is not brought to me by the salt scented air. There was a time when just the slightest hint of ocean air would have calmed me, but that time is over and so I remain a shaking mess in my little place far from the others.

Despite the heartrending chaos occurring in my mind, one thought rings loud and true in my mind. We're getting nowhere. And upon a quick glance, I realize this is true- we are all horribly unorganized and in no position to defend ourselves should any danger suddenly arise. There are a few calls for some sort of order, but they go by unnoticed- we are still split apart and confused, with no clear leader surfacing. One would think that our troubles would bring us together, but they're only tearing us apart further. I'm one of those troubles. I'm tearing us apart. The realization dawns on me so unexpectedly that my sobs stop for a moment and I stare at the others with stunned expression. It seems that my crying will no longer continue, though the tears still stick to my cheeks like ocean spray. I feel my heart rise and fall like the tide as I see an opportunity. Something shining in the darkness where I am trapped. Something I can do, though whispers echo in my head of how they hate me and why should I do anything to mend their problems? But another sane voice calls out saying that it would be to Yucca's benefit if I could contribute to the organization of our group in any way.

And for Yucca, I would go through a million free falls.

Stiff knuckles gently release their firm grip on the ground and I stretch my sore knees ever so slightly, numbly wiping at my damp cheekbones before half walking, half crawling over to where the others have gathered around a motionless form. Dead? No (thought the insanity spins the images so that it is so- so that her chest doesn't move even though it does and so her heart isn't beating even though it is). She is alive, but unaware of the outer world- trapped in her own twisted nightmares, perhaps worse than my own. Or maybe, if she is lucky, drifting in warm blackness where there are no dreams but there is comfort. Wide silver disks flicker upward toward the others and it takes a moment for me to really process their face. My voice is raw from crying but not completely useless; it is loud enough to understand when the words slip through barely parted lips.

"What can I do to help?"[/color][/blockquote][/justify][/size]