Spring rolls around at the end of march, hard to believe, as the air is still cold. Most flowers don't start blooming till may, you can't tell that it's spring, if it wasn't for the birds that start singing the most beautiful duets with the wind that tickles the naked trees... Or that's what they say, the air is never as cold here. Oh to breathe in that crisp breeze, oh to witness the discomfort of freezing... Just imagine seeing the flowers bloom in late spring, wild and free, outside the garden beds that force them to stay right where they were planted...
Noa quickly headed through the halls that didn't seem to have a beginning nor an end, trying his best to not seem stressed or like being in a rush. Though being stressed might've been an understatement looking at his situation right now. He hadn't been on duty just until now, though it still felt like his responsibility. The rising sun colored the halls in a beautiful golden tone. It was quiet, though Noa felt like you could always feel it in the air when the day was important. Door. Open. Nothing. Door. Open. Nothing. Door. Open. Nothing. Door. Open. Nothing. He looked outside one of the big window and sighed, not sure if it was annoyance or exasperation, as he spotted a little dot in the garden. Now he knew for sure. It was annoyance.
It was late September and already getting pretty cold at night, but the morning sun layed its beams like a warm cloth on Noas tanned arms. He passed the fountain and the bridge that lead over the little pond and with every step he took, the little dot took more and more human shape.
He had crouched down right next to one of the flowerbeds, not registering him or anything else as it seemed. He was focused on the cat that had just rolled over on its back as he was gently petting it. "Where does this cat come from?" Noas voice cut sharply through the morning silence. The pale figure jumped a little as if feeling caught. Good.
"She just walked up to me", Elijah replied not taking his eyes off the cat, his voice as gentle and soft as ever, but with this slightly unhinged undertone that drove Noa mad. Yet he found himself soften up as he heard the words of the younger one. He crouched down next to him, steading out his weight with the glaive he was still tightly holding onto.
"Please let me know beforehand when you want to visit the garden, I can't have you walk around alone, especially not outside." He quickly added, "It's not a problem if you want to step outside early...but you can't just leave and worry everyone, just imagine if-" The dark haired boy just nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry." His pale figure seemed wrong in the garden, it somewhat didn't fit in. And as Noa was watching him he wished once again to see some sort of change in his face. Anything. Be mad, be furious, he would not have minded, he just needed him to care. The cat was purring; enjoying the gentle pats and the warm sunlight that bathed her in warmth. "Are you nervous about today?", Noa asked gently, the boy just shrugs. "It's the path that was laid out from the start, I know what's coming", oh why couldn't he be a little less poetic, a little less gentle...a little more human. It was not his fault, there was just something about him that made him seem so untouchable, so angelic, yet so fragile.
"Do you want to pet her too?", Elijah asked, it was so sudden that Noa struggled to react right away. "Truth is, I'm a little scared of cats, don't need to pet one." There was a pause where Elijah eyed the cat and Noa before his gentle laughter filled the quiet garden. Noa chuckled as he watched the boy covering his mouth with his free hand and couldn't help but feeling a warm sensation that made him forget the time as well as the cold and the eventful day they'd be facing. If he didn't know better Noa would've said that it's the morning sun that handed its warmth right to him. But he knew. He knew that he knew. And he knew that he shouldn't. He shouldn't know that it was not the morning sun. It was not the morning sun. It was not the morning sun. It was not the morning sun...
It's the morning sun that forces him to wake up, to realize that he has been dreaming once again. There's nothing warm about the sun now, close to the east border it rather seems to cool down the world and make his heart a little bit heavier once again. When opening his eyes completely the dark wooden ceiling is what's welcoming him back in reality. The room he's staying in is tiny, but it's not a sleeping hall where he would've shared a room with several other men, one snoring louder than the other. The sun tickles his skin and the sheets are itchy. Yet he'd stay in bed if he could. But he needs to do what is his duty, the duty he had failed to fulfill two years ago. He sits up rubbing his tired eyes; this journey of his is exhausting and he doesn't know yet if it'll be rather a sanguinely or a depressing day. Looking at the start of it, probably the second one. The problem with dreams is, that they look for the things tugged away as far away in your memory as possible. You can deny and avoid this past as much as possible but the dreams; they know. And they make you realize how you've been lying to yourself about it all. Not that it had been a good time, no, that would've been the good pain, it's the broken bones, the rotten teeth that make getting up so much harder now.