Despite the heat that had rested upon the air only hours before, the fall of night now stirred with gentle caresses the wind to breathe chill sighs between the leaves of nearby trees and set the curtains of her window aflutter. Always had she left her window open on these summer nights, so that her room would be illuminated in the hoary light of the celestial bodies above and filled with the scent of the cooling earth. With the wind he entered, eased himself through the opening so often used as a door, soundlessly standing in the sweet darkness of her room. Glancing about, it was as if he had never left, as if only yesterday he had crossed to her bedside and laid his heavy, callused hand upon the porcelain curve of her cheek.
But it had been long, too long he had been gone. Far longer than he had ever anticipated, and now surely she had long forgotten his face. Indeed, not even a vestige of recollection must have remained, for she had never been given a name to go along with that dangerous man who had barged into her life so long ago. It had been to protect himself then, later to protect her. His namelessness had grown so far beyond that in their time together, become a symbol of the fabric that composed their relationship, so rare that it needed not a name to define or bind it.
But surely that fabric had long decomposed by time, and if she had not forgotten him first by choice, it would have been because she had concluded that he had, in his extended absence, freed his mind of any memories he had shared with her.
If only she could know, as she lay now slumbering, how often her gentle voice had softened his dreams, how often the warming orchard-scent, apples, had lingered in his nose as if he was breathing afresh the aroma of her toffee strands. If only she knew how her memory had sustained him in his long mission, and oft inspired him to lift pen to paper in verse once again.
But such thoughts were foolish, for indeed she had forgotten about him. Then it would be unwise to awaken her, least she mistake him for an ill-intentioned intruder. Standing above her now, he fought the urge to rest his hand once again against her cheek. No, no longer were they so familiar, no longer had he the right to defile with his filth such a radiant creature. He hardly deserved the right to pass to her this tiny token he had brought this night, a feeble recompense for his long absence.
The item brought forth, finger run along the smooth curved surface of the cylindrical object, tracing the letters carved into the five marble torus stacked atop one another, each carved with the entire alphabet. She would need to guess the key in order to open the contraption, or else risk dissolving the sighing words of verse more delicate than the thin papyrus upon which they were written.
But if she remembered him at all, she would know without thought what the painfully sweet word read. Trembling now, though why entirely he knew naught, he rested the cryptex beside her, so that when those caramel hue opened to greet the dawn they would rest upon this new object.
It would be all that would remain of his coming.
He lingered a moment, hand near to her face, the warmth of her breath stirring on his skin. So close. But no longer would he allow himself the luxury of her closeness. It was suicide to taunt himself so. And so, taking in the serene beauty of her face once more, he whispered parting words.
âI have returned. But now must leave. Forgive me.â
        Sheâd slept in peace, as always when the nights passed with cooling breezes after the sweltering heat of the day had calmed into the balm of the moon casting ethereal luminescence through her window in which he had passed. The strands of her hair tousled by the soft wind, dreaming of things he wouldnât know. He had been there, yet the mimic who slept so soundly had no idea of his presence, blissfully ignorant to the hand that lingered so close to her cheek or of the words that tickled her ears from a voice she hadnât heard in far too long.
However, deep within her dreams, there was the faintest scent of earth that she found familiar. She reached for it, yet it was too far out of her grasp.
It isnât until the rays of sun shimmering through that open window linger upon her skin that her eyes flutter open. Sleep wearing off, the gift that had been left there momentarily went unseen as the mimic awoke. Shifting to a sitting position, the girl stares around her empty room. It is only when her hand hits the device as she stretches away the remainder of her slumber, causing it to fall to the floor with a soft clatter that it finally catches her attention. A pause of hesitance before reaching to pick it up, lithe fingers running over the cylinder that had been left behind by a mysterious visitor in the night. A momentary rise of panic and the imitator glanced around the room to see if anything was out of place. Everything was where it should be, nothing removed or even touched.
It was only when the lingering scent of earth emitted from the cryptex itself reached her nose that she immediately remembered where this strange gift had come from. All too suddenly something seemed to awaken, her heart palpitating far faster in recognition to someone who had vanished without a trace to his whereabouts. She hadnât forgotten him, not once, only assuming that he had indeed released himself from her and relinquished any sort of memory of their time spent together. The mimic could remember searching him out for a time, only to fail and come to the conclusion he had wanted nothing more to do with her, thus closing her heart off and leaving it behind as he had.
But never once had she forgotten.
The imitator hugged the cryptex to her chest, a pain swelling as she inhaled the lingering scent. Questions flooded and crashed together. Why had he returned so suddenly, why had he come back to her side and what more, why he had left a piece of himself for her to find. Once more her fingers traced the letters of the device, knowing well enough the memory of how the answer to this little puzzle would display itself. Heâd already given her the first letter, the rest would be in her hands.
                          D   A   I    S    Y
A soft click and the device unlatched, a scroll of paper falling from the inside along with a flower that had been dried. Carefully the mimic placed the empty container down before picking up the contents that had been placed inside. Eyes scanned the words that were written, a poem splaying out his emotions, leaving him bare. They were for her, they spoke of her, and scarlet flooded porcelain tones at the confession heâd so subtly given. Her fingers trembled, memories spilled back from the depths of where she had buried them, the imitator felt her heartâs silence once more burst to life. The girl bit her lower lip as she struggled to breathe.
Verily, erosion accelerated,
Eternity caught, blissfully passed.
(Are you certain�)
Yes.
That was it, the words heâd so clearly sent as an extension of his hand. He wanted to see what she would do, expecting her to leave it where it was.
The imitator rushed out of the covers of her bed, changed clothing and hastily ran a comb through the tangled tresses of her chocolate crown before grabbing the Pokeballs where Macchiato and Dodrio would reside before bidding her mother farewell. It was only when she had reached the sidewalk of her street that the mimic came to a halt, looking around the area before taking a heaving breath, hand clenching the front of her shirt before opening her eyes that had fallen to a close. Determination held firm, the girl calling a name she hadnât called for in far too long.
        â⌠Alakazam! Alakazam, pleaseâ - Come to me!â
It only took a second, a mere breath of a whisper before the psychic Pokemon was at her side. Its noble expression was soft, nostalgic, the imitator was overcome as she embraced the creature warmly. No word were even needed, the endeared Pocket Monster had already gathered the girl into its arms as it had once done. The two vanished from the spot where they were.
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
areudirty
pixelskylines
snowghoul
