#linalia

Mercenary Prompt #2 Dicenne's Perspective

Nothing was going to get into the Incontinental Hotel if Dicenne had anything to say about it, but these Black Blood monstrosities were no joke. His weapons slashed into the viscous goop, threatening to get stuck or sucked in, and he wasn’t sure he was even doing any damage to these things. Freezing and shattering them seemed to work well, but the magic folk were quickly depleting their energy in an attempt to keep up with the swarm.

He took to chopping off chunks at a time, creating smaller blobs that were more manageable, but those had an easier time wriggling through the cracks to get inside the hotel. With a forceful, forward thrust of his sword, he pierced one of the more enormous humanoid-shaped monstrosities and sliced upwards - essentially cutting it from groin to head. Once the blade was freed from the substance, he bashed his shield against it with the full force of his unnatural strength. The miscreation immediately exploded upon impact, sending a downpour of syrupy black blood directly atop his person, then splattering in various directions.

There was no way they were going to do this without getting dirty. Maybe the effects would take a while to take hold. Maybe his thick skin would come in handy and he wouldn’t be affected at all. For now, he had to keep fighting, there was no other choice but to protect all the innocent lives inside the building. They were counting on him.

He wiped the back of his hand across his face to clear his vision, spitting out anything that may have gotten into his mouth as he kept pushing onwards. Squinting, he tried to spot the remainder of their group behind the crowd of monstrosities, but despite their slightly translucent appearance, he saw nothing.

He just had to keep going. He had to keep fighting and be strong. Eventually, it had to end. Nothing would get past him. He would protect them.

A flash of rainbow caught his eye across the street through a small break in the swarm. He blinked and returned his attention to the battle ahead of them. Talonoa had rejoined the fight at some point, a concerned look about him. Dicenne wasn’t certain if that look had anything to do with his current ooze-covered appearance, or what was going on inside that he was unaware of. He spotted the flash of bright colors once more in the same place as before, shaking his head a bit before rubbing at his eyes. Something was wrong.

The memory hit him like a truck when he realized what it was that he was seeing. He recognized that tacky, brightly colored shawl waving in the middle of the crowd. His wife Linalia donned the gift every time he returned home from war so she could easily be spotted. She was short in stature but loud in beauty, and as their eyes met he smiled and felt old, familiar emotions begin to well up. It had been so long. But what was she doing out here?! Enemies surrounded her and looked as if they were going to attack at any moment! He had to get to her, he had to save her!

Abandoning all sensibility, the black blood’s madness overtook him.

He dropped both his sword and his shield with a *clang* before he began to muscle his way through the crowd of…what was this? Who were these people? Why was everyone so resistant to him getting to his wife? She was in trouble, couldn’t they see that?! “LINALIA!” He cried out, ripping arms and legs free of whatever was trying to hold him back. Fists clenched at his side as he exhaled a bellowing *ROOOOAAAAAR*, fists pounding into the nearby obstacles, sending them flying backward. Lowering his shoulder, he dug the toes of his boots into the ground and pushed off, slamming forward into everything in his path and carelessly flinging it aside or trampling it with heavy footfalls.

These things grabbed and slashed at him, tried to knock him over and trip him, but it was to no avail. He had become an unstoppable force in this berserker rage and plowed his way through the throngs of things trying to stop him from getting to her. He broke free from the crowd and she opened her arms to welcome him home, only to vanish the moment before he made contact. 

He spun around in a panic, spotting the brightly-colored rainbow shawl on the ground nearby. He picked it up and held it to his chest, calling out, “LINALIA!” She was there again, ten feet in front of him, looking panicked. He dashed to her and she disappeared yet again. She was now atop a nearby building, screaming at him! In one giant leap, he was up on the second-story balcony and from there clambered the rest of the way only to find her gone. Now she was in the middle of the road crying, about to be run over by cars rushing past! With a running leap, he jumped! Feet SLAMMED hard against the ground, cracking the pavement where he landed what should have been a few feet away from her - yet she was not there. He was growing more and more frustrated, why couldn’t he reach her? Eventually, he would, he just had to keep going! But now he was growing so, so very tired. Feet began to drag as his vision blurred. Arms flailed out in front of him in another attempt to grasp his wife, but again just empty space. He stumbled and fell to his knees, legs too tired to work anymore. He began to crawl, but even that felt like an arduous task at this point. Collapsing onto his side, eyes focused on the rainbow shawl in front of him that wasn’t actually there. “I’m sorry…”, and then the world went black.

Dicenne sat at the vanity in Kara’s room at his house in Ratchet, fingers tracing delicately along the cherrywood embellishments he himself had carved a long time ago. It had originally belonged to his wife, Linalia; a gift for their ten year anniversary that he made himself. While wood wasn’t his typical or preferred medium, he wanted to surprise her with something different.

Eyes caught his own reflection briefly before focusing on the bed behind him with a bittersweet smile. He would often catch Lina watching him from this mirror during their morning routine, and he would never let on that he knew she was watching but instead just give her a show until she started laughing. They were good memories.

Eyes dropped back down to vanity, opening the drawers to remove the various remaining knick-knacks that Kara had left behind after her move to Silvermoon. Reaching far back into the side drawer, his fingers were met with something that had been shoved to the back. He slid out the crumpled object and turned it over in hand before his breath caught in his throat.

It was a photograph taken at this very vanity itself. Lina was in the foreground with the camera, wearing her favorite robe while mid-laugh. He could almost still hear that musical laughter of hers. Dicenne was in the background standing on the bed in only a towel, flexing while making some ridiculous face. On the back of the photograph, written in her handwriting: ‘Love is…being silly together’.

She did this often: Took pictures of the two together and wrote on the back, ‘Love is…’, with some various definitions of all the things love meant to her. He had collected all of those photographs into an album after her death, but he had missed this one. He had forgotten about this one. 

All sorts of feelings were beginning to bubble up as he smoothed out the creases in the photograph as best he could. Even after all this time there were still moments of profound sorrow, and he figured there always would be. What is grief if not love persevering?

He took the photograph with him into his bedroom and pulled out the album, finding a blank space at the back where it was added to the collection. He admired it for a moment longer before closing the album and placing it back onto the shelf. It was nice that even in her death she could still surprise him.

He stared down at the two cups of coffee with a furrowed brow. It happened on occasion, on those mindless mornings when he was still stuck somewhere between asleep and awake. His wife, Linalia, had passed away years ago, but old habits crept up on occasion. He remembered well that she needed her morning coffee lest she be irritable the remainder of the day, and this certainly wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Smiling to himself, he took both cups out onto his balcony anyways, and set one down on the table near the adjacent chair. It was, after all, her birthday, and she deserved a little treat. Once upon a time, this day would have brought him a lot of great sorrow. While the heartache remained, it had lightened over the years, warping into something more tolerable. There was a sadness in that as well, knowing it had been so long since her passing that the pain no longer sent him into a downward spiral. As if he were doing her some sort of disservice, even though it would be the last thing she wanted. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of grief is finite

“Happy Birthday, Lina.” He clinked his mug against hers before taking a sip as he looked down over early morning Ratchet. It was peaceful for now and would remain that way for at least a few hours; this was possibly his favorite time of the day. Soon enough the port town would come to life and his comm would start chiming. The mere thought of it already aggravated him, and it didn’t take long for him to decide that he would just not deal with any of it today. Not on her birthday.

Day 14 - Silence @daily-writing-challenge​

Most of the funeral and reception had been spent in a fog. The sympathetic looks and words were met with a slow nod to show that he was listening, but he wasn’t.  Their words all sounded like mumbled nonsense, but it was better for him to dissociate from reality rather than try to pretend that he cared that all these people were ‘so sorry for his losses’ and ‘had him in their thoughts and prayers’. 

He remained only as long as was appropriate.  He couldn’t even recall how he got from there to his home...their home.  He hadn’t set foot in this place since it happened, he couldn’t stand to be around all the constant reminders of a time when he was happy.  At this point, he didn’t feel that he would ever be happy again.

Pushing the front door open, he stared into the darkness. A perfect metaphor, he thought to himself. A place once so full of light, love, and laughter now nothing but a black hole of absolute silence.  He wasn’t sure how long he stood on the front stoop, his entire body felt heavy and unable to move from this spot.  Maybe it was all just a horrible nightmare and then the moment he stepped inside he would wake up and everything would be right in the world once more.

This was his new reality. 

He shut the door behind him and flipped on the light.  It all suddenly looked and felt so foreign, like walking  in on somebody else’s life.  It was his smiling face in the photographs, but he couldn’t seem to recall how that man had felt.  He picked up the most recently taken picture from the bookshelf; a photo of him and his wife with their hands resting atop her swollen belly.  She was about a month out from giving birth to their first child, a son.  Just in the other room was the crib that Dicenne had built himself, along with all the gifts from their baby shower still in boxes.

He hugged the frame to his chest and rambled towards the kitchen, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of the liquor cabinet.  He didn’t even bother to get a glass and instead took a large swig straight from the bottle itself, uncaring that some escaped and dribbled down his chin onto his black suit. Helping himself to a gulp every now and then, he made his way into their bedroom and set the nearly empty bottle atop the dresser before climbing onto her side of the bed.  

He could still smell her perfume and distinct scent lingering on her pillow. Hugging it and the photograph against his chest, he laid down and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply.  Maybe he could pretend just for the night that she was still here with him; head pressed against his chest as she had done for so many years when they fell asleep tangled together.  But all of the maybe’s and the what if’s wouldn’t bring them back.  

Chii from Chobits.

Cosplay by Linalia.