Gabriel, blind and scarred, wanders aimlessly, haunted by memories of his lost love. He remembers the thorns that took his eyes better than he remembers her face.
To him, his life is nothing. He exists only to suffer.
It takes meeting a woman with s...
Her eyes had been green, but it had been two years since he'd seen them, and he regretted that he could not remember the exact shade. His own eyes had been blue but were no more, and those he had also forgotten.
Memory was an odd thing. He thought he would never forget, and now Gabriel found himself walking the earth without much sense of where he was going, only of where he had been—of where he was not going back to. Ever since his life had taken such an abrupt turn for the worst, this plan of action had been good enough for him.
He'd left the tavern, though he didn't know where he would sleep tonight in this village he had never visited—but he could only tell by the chill on the air and the sounds of bugs that it was night at all. Night was always set behind his bandages. He was not even sure whether he was tired enough to sleep, but the chance for rest in civilization was not something to be taken for granted in this world. The blind man would find a place for himself that would not cause inconvenience to anyone else, and when the time was right, he would move on to the next place the land took him. He had been mapping the world by following the coast, and now he thought he might travel inland.
He had decided only one thing about his life—given that he was alone and miserable—and that was the knowledge that he was meant to suffer.
There were not many proper streets in the rotting port town he had come into, but there was surely some place out of the way where he could be comfortable enough to sleep. The sound of the wind echoing between buildings made him aware of an alley nearby, and he turned into it easily. Gabriel walked carefully so as not to trip over the uneven stones of the road, hoping to be out of the rain soon. Somewhere ahead of him, he could hear someone humming.
Humming... She used to hum, though I can't remember the notes or the tunes that carried them. What good is this mind of mine?
Gabriel considered this silently as the misty rain scattered over his shoulders. He knew no answer.
The wind changed once again, informing him that he was coming to the end of the alley and to an open space, perhaps a small garden between the diminutive houses. The sound of the humming came even more strongly to his ears—and then there were footsteps approaching him straight on.
Gabriel turned his face to the sound, confronted immediately by a familiar voice, though a face was not something he could match to it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Fine boots stepped up the road, carrying their feline owner away from The Black Crow as he hummed a jaunty tune to himself. Diego had conditioned himself to have very few cares in this world, though perhaps it was his nature not only to be curious but to show little concern in the face of a crisis. He prided himself that he was able to get out of any unfortunate happening that might come his way. He had friends in high and low places, and there were always favors to be done for an exchange.
His humming turned to whistling, proving the truth of his casual mood, and it would not be much trouble to get up the road to the lady's house. The raindrops disturbed his sensitive ears, but he turned them down so as to keep the liquid out. To have wet fur—was there anything more uncomfortable? Diego could think of a few things.
