"Dylan..."
"Bingo, Linds..." he breathes out.
His arms are folded towards me-- just like a parent's comforting their anxious child.
He takes a step forward, and I involuntarily stumble one back. My hands are clamped tight behind me.
Dylan fervently shakes his own hands in long strides.
"It's all right. Ask me anything, if... you know."
A hand comes to wipe my sweat-drenched nape, as I consider it all.
He looks exactly the same-- not a single bruise or injury whatsoever.
His eyes still have Dad's shadow behind them, but... but now he only reminds me of a brother a seven year old had to trick to get him to play.
Remember when Meredith first tricked you into thinking you saw Dad in that forest...
That Meredith wouldn't be fidgeting in front of me.
"I... I've faith it's you," I sigh and look down at the sun kissed lake.
Dylan blinks at me, but then his gaze fall onto the lake as well-- before he ends up nodding.
Slowly, the separated hands now both find their way to my front-- making a sort of pendulum.
Giving him a glance, I amble through the scattered vert on the ground and reach the edge of the hill-- overlooking the lake.
Before I know it, Dylan's at my side too-- with an arm wrapped around his chest and the free hand supporting his jaw.
"What's up with the red shirt and green trousers?"
My eyes point to the red button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and green-cotton trousers.
Dylan actually laughs-- even though, it's only short-lived.
"After the accident... I found myself here... in these clothes."
I stare at him for a few seconds, but he doesn't comment further. Only smiles.
My brows furrow and bottom lip arches inwardly.
"Why are we here, Dylan?"
At my saying so, he looks sideways and says,
"Why do you think we're here?"
I grunt and wave my hands in front of me.
"Well, don't they always give inspirational quotes at this kinda situation."
Dylan flicks a shoulder.
"I could give one, if you want."
"Dylan..." My eyes narrow.
Ignoring my grumbling, Dylan bends down and plucks a petal off a daffodil. Staring at it, he caresses it with his right hand-- the left still wrapped around his chest.
I pull a strand of hair behind my ear, while my left foot steps fidgeting-- creating a creased melogy.
Dylan lets the petal go and sashays down from the hill and onto the lake.
"Have you ever been to the City of Silence, Lindsey?"
He turns towards me, just as I start blinking. He explains,
"Like Henry showed you a few memories of mine, Kathy showed me a few of yours."
I lean in at hearing Kathy's name.
He doesn't say anything else-- just continues to smile again.
I rub my chin.
"As far as I know, I've never died, so no, I guess..."
Dylan considers what I've said with a tilted head.
"The City of Silence is different for everyone, Linds.
It can be very well death, as well, but give it another shot."
That's when I notice that this place is extremely quiet, without sound of the wind or birds whatsoever.
"But what is important is to know that the city of silence is just a city, nothing else. In a lot of instances, you'll feel as though you've visited that city once but one can come back from that city."
Dylan's voice knocks on both of our thoughts.
"Ms Bragge told you the same thing she told me after... after the mirror accident." He glances down before continuing, "For me and Dad, it was our depression."
My lips part a bit.
"You and Dad..."
Dylan nods.
"Dad developed depression when his parents died.
The thing's that... I always compared myself to him. Thought he was better than I could ever be. But after finding out... I started understanding why Mum always wanted me to be more feeling-oriented ..." He makes quotation marks in the air for the last words.
An image of Mum comes into my mind. Worried. Drooped brows. And a seventeen year old Dylan comes.
I strike that memory away.
Dylan notices.
"I know I said the past's buried down below, and I know it still affects you even like that." He lowers his voice into a soft lullaby, and I find myself listening more closely than I'd like-- while still stealing glances at the ground.
"But the thing is that, despite being presumably gone, it'll still leave behind traces-- or wings.
It's your choice whether you want those wings to be a crow's or a phoenix's."
I look up at the softness of his words and end up nodding-- with the tips of my right hand's nails still touching it.
"And I hope you'll always know which wings to choose," Dylan blows a breath and flails his arms about before sighing.
"I wish I could help you there, but I can't always be that oldest sibling defending the youngest, even if I want to."
You don't have to...
Seeing his shoulders slump at my behalf, my own decide to reassure him.
"Says the person who decided to take a car crash for me," I say with an attempted smirk, but still a dusting of solemnity shakes it.
Dylan doesn't mind my saying so, instead he playfully shakes his head.
"You're the phoenix, not me. We wouldn't get anywhere if you'd gotten hit."
Dad's given pet name... the phoenix I just saw...
I run a hand through my hair and open my mouth.
"Now don't go on making the excuses for your chilvalry," I almost say it in a way you tell off a kid.
Dylan gives a quick shake of his head.
"Lindsey, I know where my place is.
I was the knot who tied our parents together and Kathy was the one who tied us. The time for Mum's pregnancy and her finding out about me only after a month wasn't a coincidence at all." Dylan notices the small O my mouth is forming and the new question now about to invade my mind. He shrugs.
"Apparently, the curse delves into our reproduction systems, as well...
"Anyways, you're the phoenix of us all."
I lean back at the sudden haul of information and blink rapidly.
Seeing my reaction, he rubs his chin and says,
"Tell me, what did you see here before finding me?"
My eyes pop a bit-- making me wonder if my pupils have widened to something even louder than a fortissississimo.
"I... I saw a circle of light. Only I didn't have any shadow and then I saw some embers and then this phoenix..." My head wobbles a bit-- making Dylan take a few steps towards me. I wave at him dismissively. Still he places a firm hand on my shoulder.
Isabelle's head shaking... her and Meredith talking... Was that a dream...
"Are you sure you're all right?" Dylan asks.
"Fine. All fine." The sensation remains for a split second more-- eyes almost rolling into my head. Though, placing the tip of my inner palm on my throwm back forehead helps.
"Did you see anything, too?"
Worry still coats his face till I roll my eyes at him. It then vanishes.
"The same sort of light you saw and a daffodil."
"A daffodil?" My eyebrows reach almost half of my forehead.
Dylan smiles.
"Matter of perspective, Linds. Daffodils have meanings other than unrequited love." His implications resultss in me screwing half of my left eye shut.
"Have ever noticed that Henry and Kathy don't have shadows?"
His questions throws me off guard and I can do is place my knuckles on my hips
"Oh, so they're vampires now?"
But even if they're vampires, then they should have shadows... Mr Henley has one and he's a vampire... I think...
Dylan laughs a bit.
"No, not at all. The thing with ghosts is that they're on the border of mortality and immortality, or something like that.
For you, I think, it may have something to do with how you're feeling... with your City of Silence."
One knuckle that was on my hip glides down at hearing that.
My City of Silence...
"Will Edenfield forever remain my house, rather than my home?"
"Houses aren't necessary, Al, homes are."
"Those we ought to think are naught,
Still they are where we think are not present."
"By that dazed look on your face, I think you're coming to your Sherlockian conclusion," Dylan suggests with a smirk.
"Don't make Arthur Conan Doyle twist and turn in his grave, mate," I joke with a hand on my chest.
He shrugs. But after a moment of consideration, he says,
"I know what I said during our last fight, but... don't villify yourself like I did, Lindsey..."
My posture drops slightly, before I ask instead,
"What about the phoenix?"
"There's a reason why Dad called you Phoenix, Linds..." His back arches forward, before answering my squinted eyes.
"After you were born and named... we were all sent out of the hospital room so that Mum and you could rest. Dianne, Gary and Sara had already left and only me and Kathy were left with Dad and Ms Bragge in the waiting room.
They were talking and thought we were sleeping but..." he places a hand at his left cheek, while I try my best to stop the fidgeting in my hands.
"They said something about a dream he had the night before. He said he'd been having ever since the last trimester started...
A phoenix would come to him in the dream, but it didn't do anything... it just flew around till finally sitting down on his shoulder. He said that dream almost always left him drenched in sweat, but it never felt harmful. The phoenix always felt like a friend...
I think he never had that dream after you were born. So he started calling you Phoenix."
Dylan finishing the speech has made both of us heaving breaths-- as if we've just been washed on shore after salt water corroding our lungs.
That's why Dad...
Though, my heaving stops after seeing Dylan do so. His eventually slows down by looking at a small daffodil nearby. That's when it finally clicks to me:
Daffodils also mean new beginnings and rebirth...
"The dead cannot contact the living, only supernatural beings can."
I wipe sweat off the side of my brow with the back of my hand, despite the strong gusts of striking about. Dylan looks up and suddenly says,
"Marietta... Meredith's middle name is Marietta. And you coming here is no, no coincidence either."
My feet take a step back without thinking and right hand scratches my chin. Vehemently shaking my head at my own earlier assumption.
"I'm telling you this, because there's no denying that everything will end in embers and ashes." He flails his arms at the sun that drowning itself, while my left eye twitches at that quote.
"Just remember, even in embers, there's still a spark."
The wind grow even stronger with each moment-- with the sun's glow fading faintly.
Both of us whip our heads towards the lake, as Dylan sputters,
"We're running out of time, too. That's why we're... so... like this. Your trigger. You need to say..." He gestures at us.
I hold up a hand at him.
"I get it, I get it.
But one more question."
The raised hand turns into one cardboard finger and four bended ones.
Dylan jolts his head at me.
I say,
"What... what did that painter say during your flight? If everything's this connected, then that may be too."
This time, he looks at the dying sun and presses his lips within his mouth before saying,
"Just something about Van Gogh's state of mind while painting The Starry Night."
Only a few more minutes of the sun are left, when I mumble,
"Dylan..."
Dylan opens his mouth, but understands why my brows now seem like downward crescents.
He takes a few steps forward and wraps his arms around me.
I almost open my mouth to ask him whether or not he's a...
Do you really want him to feel like he has to stay?
Biting back the words, I fold my own arms around his waist.
Dylan mumbles "I'm sorry you had to grow up too quickly," just as I mutter,
"Wake up..."
This was the surprise I was talking about. Did you really think I'd leave y'all hanging with a 1.5k word without another 2k word one?
In this chapter, I basically wanted to show Lindsey and Dylan wanting to care for each other, while slightly touching the 'villifying one's self' subject.
People overestimate themselves too(like Percival and Matthew), but they also underestimate themselves.
The music's from Magnificent Century: Kösem Season 2.
Hm, I wonder what'll happen next ;)
Don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter! Here's this week's question:
What do you think will happen when Lindsey wakes up? Will she pay somebody a visit...?
If you want to know what was Van Gogh's state of mind while painting the Starry Night, then click below. The video also touches on the topic of turbulence, so that's a bonus ;)
And yeah, Ethan mentioning 'turbulence' in the Grave of Embarrasent chapter and Dylan also having that painter tell this story to him wasn't a coincidence. ;)
P. S. Who's a Van Gogh geek here? *raises hand*
Have a great week!
Love,
MS Zame ♥️