Sunday. December 23, 2007

Winter was the worst season of the year for him, but also the best. Winter brought with it silence and solitude; it allowed him to think. The downside was that the lack of churning essence, energy in the air, put a stopper in the bottle of his abilities. Traveling from one world to the next should have been easier than this, but here he found himself needing to resort to more mundane types of travel.

Salvador hated public transportation. He hated most of all the need to rely on it. There was so much more freedom in being what he was, and he was too tired that day to make any use of his powers. So he took a plane. What he hated most of all next to the necessity was the fact that it required money, which was something he had very little of. Now he needed it. Like he needed the jet that could travel through portals. Like he needed a nail stuck in his head.

The best he could afford was coach, and the means in which he could afford a ticket had been less than honorable. His seat was in the middle row. He was wedged between a man almost too obese for a single chair and another man who smelled as if he took far less showers than Salvador did himself. Sitting with his fingers steepled, he made certain to put plenty of room between them by taking up the armrests with his elbows.

During the trip, the fat man both snored and made bubbles of his own drool. The other man thought it would be a fine idea to order something with beans in it, and onions, just to make himself smell worse. Not to mention he kept catching bits of it in his beard. Though it was awfully judgmental of him, Salvador couldn't help but wonder if the man was a terrorist. His aura gave nothing away.

Either to his good fortune, or discontent, the bearded man spoke English. This was bothersome only because he had decided to strike up a conversation with him. "Firs' time outta Why'din?" When asked that question, Salvador wondered if he actually did speak English after all. His accent was swollen-tongue thick and he couldn't precisely place his origin.

"No," he said curtly, hoping his tone alone dropped the hint that he didn't want to talk to this malodorous oaf. Unfortunately, he didn't pick up on it.

"S'my firs' time outta Rrrhy'din." The man rolled the R sound purposely, as if he realized his previous mistake on trying to pronounce the word the first time. "Heard Earf's got some real int'restin' thhings t'see."

Salvador closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together. He thought that maybe if he did not respond that the man would just shut the hell up. I am watching everyone through a stained glass window. It didn't help matters any that his mind was being constantly flooded with memories of old scripture, words that were not his own.

"So I'm goan check out Spain firs'." The bearded man continued to babble. "Learned t'speak sommat so's I could getter 'round. See the sights. Hear tell it's real pretty place."

I can feel him staring at me from behind the glass. Want. Hate. Death. Pain. He is all these things.

"Ya look likes yous gotta touch a Spain about yous. 'Course, I ain't never been there myself, but I've met a one or two. Got family there or somethin'?"

He broke through his own shell only long enough to mutter, "Or something." I died once. I want to paint the walls with his blood. Why was this man talking to him? The fat man on his other side only snorted and scratched himself, then resumed sawing bubbling logs.

"M'name's Nurthen Orbek." The introduction caused him to raise a brow suspiciously, and it took him a moment longer to peel open his eyes. Out of the corner of one, he saw a chubby and grimy little hand stuck out at him. That was a strange name. Only when he tipped his head and took the man's hand did it dawn on him. Nurthen was a dwarf. A dwarf traveling by plane from Rhy'Din to Earth, to Madrid. With a wide and yellow-toothed smile that he just barely saw poking through a straggly and dirty beard, the dwarf shook his hand with strength and exuberance.

"Sal," he said, giving only his shortened name. When the dwarf let go, he took back his hand and examined the smear of dirt and grease left all over his fingers. He rolled them a little, smearing some of the filth about, but did not bother to wipe it off. He could wait to wash his hands.

"S'nice t'meet ya, Sal. I'm bettin' that's short for somethin', but I ain't goan ask. Ya don't seem like much the type for talkin'. Jus' hope ya doan mind me doin' it plenty for the both of us. S'goan be long trip from what I'm told."

It was a very long trip indeed. Nurthen proceeded to tell him story after story. He learned that the dwarf was young, had not yet married, and wanted to do his clan proud by becoming the best builder of the age. He was traveling to Earth to study some of the great architecture of the ancient worlds there. Spain was his first stop, and then he planned on traveling through the rest of Europe to look at other places. Rome, for example. All Salvador could think was how strange it was a dwarf was traveling to a strictly human world. But there were people of his height, genetically smaller, so he might just fit in after all. Why was he even curious about that?

I have to stop worrying about tomorrow instead of enjoying today. I know I care about everyone else (even random strangers) than I do myself.

There’s this guy, Ambrose – who’s apparently my ancestor....

Some things require new beginnings. This is one of them.

Is that why you left, Sin? Nurthen was still babbling in his ear, gesturing frantically to help emphasize his points. Salvador barely paid him any mind. He gave the occasional hum and hmm and ah to indicate he was listening, but he really was not.

Standing on the battlements, I watch Armageddon creep across the world. It doesn't come in a rush. It doesn't fall like rain and strike the earth with spears of lightning. It creeps and crawls slowly into the forefront of tomorrow.

I really don't know how long I can do this. ...I think I might need help this time.

But tomorrow never comes.

Tin voices filtered through the speakers to warn him and the other passengers of potential turbulence. The rocking and shaking of the aircraft was nothing in comparison to the ebb and flow of other voices. Words that had never been spoken. He heard them drift off the pages of forgotten old books. He heard him as if he were sitting there beside him instead of this talkative dwarf.

I find that I am now afraid to die, because there's something here I don't want to leave. And when I am actually with him, those little figments of him in my brain expand and become real.

He didn't understand who I was. Couldn't. When I hit the bottom, he wasn't there to catch me...

...I was never sure who he was fighting for. Himself, the sinner, or Tohias.

And then you came.

Nurthen must not have realized when he got on board that he was actually quite afraid of flying. Dwarves are earth dwellers. They live in underground cities carved into stone. The high seas and skies are no place for them. The dwarf shook him out of his thoughts by grabbing his arm. Probably because it was on the armrest and in the way. Salvador opened his eyes and looked aside at him. He looked terrified.

He didn't know why the compulsion hit him, but for some reason Salvador slid back his arm to take the little, grimy hand in his own. "It won't crash," he reassured him, as best he could with a tone as apathetic as his.

"Oh. Har! I know it ain't goan crash," Nurthen said. The way his limbs shook, from both the jostling and his nerves, betrayed his fear. So did the way he squeezed the hunter's hand. The dwarf had quite a grip. If Salvador were a weaker person his bones might have cracked under the pressure. If the circumstances were different, and there weren't so many people around him, he might have put an end to the dwarf's misery. Was that mercy or was that cruelty?

I'm a thing made. Designed to hunt and kill and destroy. God made angels, then turned them into demons. The world needs a little evil to survive.

When the plane passed through the turbulence, and all the shaking stopped, Nurthen let go of his hand with a very relieved and heavy sigh. "That weren't so bad," he said. Of course he did. Dwarves were fearless people! His aura betrayed his words.

Salvador curled his fingers back into a loose fist and smirked faintly. That small moment in time took away the dwarf's desire to talk his fool head off, it seemed, because several long minutes passed before he started yammering again. The hunter kept the smirk and closed his eyes once more. He let Nurthen's life history and future circle around his ears and listened instead to other things.

In the end, they had created a bond.. a bond forged of two men, two histories, and two hearts.. and made one life out of it.

I'm starting to hear static again.

I need to get my soul back before I go to Spain. I need to be complete.

I'll keep it safe for you, amante. Until you're ready to claim it as your own again.

Why do I have such a bad feeling crawling up my spine?

I'm sorry.

"I'm not letting you quit that easy," he murmured. Old and new passages slipped out over his lips before he could stop them.

"What's that?" Of course, in that split second of time he forgot the dwarf was sitting next to him. The pilot was announcing their descent. They were landing. Salvador opened his eyes with a blink and tipped his chin to eye Nurthen with a raised brow. Maybe he even hummed an inquiring sound. "Thought ya said somethin's all."

Maybe he did say something, said his smirk. His words betrayed him. "No," said Salvador. "I said nothing."

When the plane landed, he and the dwarf parted ways as if they had never been pretend friends to begin with. Nurthen said, "Well. S'bye then!" and shuffled off before the hunter could say anything in return. That was fine, though. That was just the way he liked it.

Salvador had no luggage. He brought practically nothing with him. The clothes on his back, perhaps whatever cash he might have got his hands on. Currency that would need to be exchanged anyway if he planned on using it. One thing this world lacked was a unified monetary system. Earth should have just stuck to silver and gold. Not these silly paper notes that were supposed to act as stand-ins.

After passing through all the gates, ignoring the passing glances that paid him no mind at all, that's when he saw a reminder of why he hated Madrid so much. This being a government building, it was no surprise that there was a poster hanging on a bulletin board with a roughly drawn sketch that only somewhat resembled his own face. He stared at the caricature for some time. A little girl who was running circles around her mother's legs stopped and ran up next to him to see what he was dragging his fingers over. She looked at the black and white portrait. Looked at him. She was too young to read the words. "Is that you, mister?" she asked in perfect Spanish.

The mighty hunter quirked a grin and dropped his hand. He looked aside and down at the little girl. She was smiling at him. Her mother was trying to lure her away. "No," he lied. "But it's someone I know."

Mother ushered daughter away and they left. Salvador stood watching them walk through the doors. He gave one last glance to the wanted poster. If you see this man, please contact the proper authorities immediately. He frowned.

Salvador turned away from the poster, from the bulletin board and left the airport. He hated this city, this country. He hated what he had done the last time he had been here. But there was something very important in Madrid. Someone who was well worth the risk.

I hate how much I love you sometimes.