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“I had a dream.”
Those long, black locks of hair grew platinum strands from their roots, spreading downwards and rippling into rich, white waves as Guts stared vacantly, unable to move as his limbs weighed like stones.
“Under the full moon, I was embraced by nostalgic warmth.”
The retreating darkness of the boy’s hair felt as if it became sludge in Guts’ veins. A thick, awful black mud oozed from his chest outwards, pulsing and burning.
“But, when I wake from the dream, only a vague sense of longing remains…”
The black heat of dread, of fraternity, of rage, of adoration, of sorrow, of bittersweet days of boyish comradery.
“That too, will soon disappear… with a single tear, like morning dew.”
Foreign, serpentine eyes replacing the boy’s gaping dark brown ones turned to taunt him.
Of dread, of rage, of sorrow, of terror, of anger, of despair; the black heat growled inside him, the sludge of mixed, leadened, bursting feelings threatened to undo the muzzle so desperately forced on an awful beast.
Guts felt the dog-like helmet of his armor begin to creep up his back…
“You don’t want this.”
The white-haired man resembling his friend spoke wistfully as his porcelain white foot stepped through the soft grass towards him. Guts jerked up, not realizing the weighty anger dragging his head downwards to stare at his armor-caged feet. He shakily gripped the hilt of his weapon so attuned to killing inhumans.
“You don’t want to kill me.” Another step.
Why? Why did the perfect opportunity to destroy the demon who maliciously forced this endless, daily hell upon him always evade him in this manner? Despite the encompassing blanket of night that descended on Elfhelm, Guts’ pupils shrunk into themselves, as if being suctioned by the whirlpool of his thoughts; memories that overflow with prideful comradery so brutally contrasted with hopeless abandonment and betrayal.
“You love me.” A third, bridging their distance.
His trembling hand failed to continue grasping the mighty slab of iron, although Guts’ haze muted the thud it made against the Earth.
Griffith’s milky hand crept to Guts’ jaw, eliciting an inadvertent gasp from the frozen larger man. His lips curled into a paradoxical expression of empty teasing and overwhelming sorrow. A flicker of longing glinted through his slit pupils.
“I am him. And he is me.”
The nude man slightly nudged his snake eyes behind Guts before returning to his intent gaze.
Casca.
“The moon is waning.” Were the last words from Griffith before he began to step backwards and up into the twisting maze of invisible roots that intertwined in the shadows of the moon.
Shred, tear, eviscerate, maim… Never has an opportunity to incinerate the hawk with the flames he tortures us with presented itself so clearly… But-
Casca. He looked at Casca. He…
He destroyed that woman. Her carnage exists for your ecstasy.
Casca.
Her aching, warm presence from several strides behind him illuminated his way towards her, as he fought through the beast’s thick hairs of pride that so awfully loomed in his heart. Like a moth to a flame.
“Cas-” He interrupted his own sentence with the thump of plunging to his knees, meeting her on the ground with the wispingly frail island flora. Instinctively, he tightly wrapped his arms around her, gripping her back and shoulders a slight amount more forcefully than intended, fitting his neck in the crook of her shoulder. For protection, from something. For comfort.
Her arms did not reach towards him. Her head did not latch with his shoulder.
After a moment, Guts jerked back, recognizing Casca’s lack of reciprocation. He shifted his grasp to her shoulders alone as he disconnected their chests. How could he have been so inconsiderate? After she regained her memories… It was selfish to try and hold her. His breath tightened in this split second, expecting her panic attack and his futile departure once more.
When his eyes came to meet hers, he saw an indescribable expression; her mouth hung very slightly agape as her eyes were fixed at him but not at him, as if staring at an apparition taking his place. But her eyebrows rested soft on her forehead, almost pleading. He flinched as she inhaled quick and sharp, fearing hyperventilation–
“What did you do?”
Her voice was hurt, low, rough.
“What did you do to me?”
Guts’ gaze fell on how the wind slightly brushed her nightgown aside to reveal small lines of lighter tissue circled in the darker skin of her breast. Teeth.
“I…” Automatically, his legs thrusted him upright and away, stumbling backwards. He had no right to hold her.
He awkwardly stepped away from her, disgust of himself compounding with that unintelligible encounter with… him. Casca’s head seemed to lurch further before Farnese scooped the woman into her arms, combing her fingers up from her neck through her hair and resting her in the crook of her shoulder, also.
-
Farnese helped Casca’s languid body upright and led the other woman’s unconscious steps up and through to the tree home, the mystical allure of which, Farnese mused, seemed near mocking in the circumstances.
Farnese attempted her best expression of comfort in the face of her confusion and concern at the situation presenting itself as she accompanied Casca’s near-limp body to the enchanted dark wood floors to sit; What did Casca say to him? Why can they not converse? Are they not lovers? What happened to that boy? As her hands graced the hard wooden floors to ease her descent, the gaze she extended to Casca was met only with a dead stare.
Her forcefully eased face had surely slipped now, and her prying urge for answers was similarly threatening to overtake her comforting intent. These four years and just fragments of Casca’s life…
“Miss, what was all that? I mean that man Griffith, your old commander, right? On the island and–” Her thoughts tumbled out, only recoiling at the flare in Casca’s eyes. “Ah, I–”
There were no tears left to cry.
Still in shock of her own foolish curiosity, Farnese only watched as the dark-haired woman stepped back into the sea of night. She found herself reminiscing on the feel of that hair through her fingers, of calmly threading them through those locks as she’d done time and time again. Farnese felt as if Casca had walked to the opposite side of the world, and oh how she longed to trudge the distance if only to feel Casca’s tranquility cradled in her arms.
-
Unprompted legs stumbled forward and down a set of stairs, eyes fixed forward. With a thud, she felt her knees hit.
She reached out to the ground, watching her hands grasp the cool dirt, watching as the soil sifted through her fingers, watching, staring for a semblance of stability in the surrounding land.
Her arms began pulling, tearing, ripping at the soft grass beneath her; she felt her hands tremble and shake, sickened and enraged by the warm beauty around her contrasted with the sharp cruelty of reality.
The hazy earth throbbed, ringing pierced her ears as her heart pounded through her chest.
Her chest.
Her trance paralyzed on her knees had expired, and as her eyes crept down her own body the breeze forced her nightgown to reveal from under her left collarbone the proof that was already stabbing her heart over and over and over, thump, thump, thump.
Everything in the world pulsed in sync with the crashing waves of memory. Nostalgia and warmth stolen, pervertedly twisted. Loss, abandonment, reunification, betrayal, spiraling, repeating, endlessly. The past hung a cruel shadow, tore a gory wound over any precious present.
As she stared into her reflection in the blood staining her chest, she recalled the life she dreamt for the last several years. The life of a woman named Elaine as she traveled with an almost comical group of witches, elves, and swordsmen, like something of a fairy-tale in a childhood long past and nearly forgotten.
She wondered if she could sink under those brutally pummeling waves of memory, gradually feeling the pounding dull, drowning as she stared towards the surface, the cruel spear of reality released as her blood dispersed, her despair finally choking from her along with her last struggling attempt to breathe.
A soft hand on her back grasped her to the surface once again.
Casca gasped for air as her head swiveled to see Farnese’s concerned ocean-blue eyes. She again considered staring into those scared eyes and immersing herself in their depths, dissociating in their cool reflection.
“Mi-”
Farnese hesitated, biting her lip before gently placing her hands around Casca’s shoulders and turning her body to align with her eyes still fixed in their gaze, drawing her ever so closer.
“Casca…” Her name, spoken through a swollen throat; Farnese was an awful bluff, trying to force back the pools of tears hidden behind her eyes, trying to masquerade the appearance of a woman more stoic than herself.
Before a dam broke loose, Farnese ducked her head, stood, and once more ushered Casca to join her. Casca nestled her hands from the grass and stretched one to fit within Farnese’s, helping herself up and staring at the familiar sight of their interlocked fingers.
The gentle brush murmured to their right, the adjusting light revealing a burly silhouette swiftly obscured behind a tree, interrupting Casca’s train of thought. Guts. Casca unconsciously pulled
herself closer to the other woman.
Wordlessly, they walked from the house towards the waning moonlit sky. This is just how it had been these couple years past. In her body, Casca suddenly felt like an imposter taking Elaine’s place in Farnese’s heart. Perhaps her value to Farnese was only as a helpless little sister figure, whom she could protect and care for to prove her own worth. But the gaze she met as she shifted her eyes to Farnese’s proved otherwise; there was nothing hidden behind her beaming regard of unconditional love.
Over the soft inclines and declines of Elfhelm’s hilly terrain, the silence between them spoke the same words as it ever had, only with an altered timbre, a new tone. The roots of silent warmth and solace in each other’s arms preceded sprawling branches of so much more to learn, to love.