The Secret Fate of All Life

[Ruggahissy]

His fingers swept across the smooth, polished piano keys. With his eyes closed he looked as if he were perhaps in some kind of trance and his fingers moved of their own accord, the only part of his body moving as if they had their own will. They bent and swayed elegantly as the aqueous notes spilled, efflorescent in rich resonant tones. It had been almost five solid minutes of playing coming to a close as the last notes shifted from frantic to slow. The piece exhausted itself, rushing through the final third of the funeral song.

And just as he was almost done, an imperfect note pushed itself in, like a rock sticking out of a river.  He stopped and opened his eyes. A mistake. He'd made a mistake. His fingers withdrew into his palm and he stared the errant key. His eyes grew dark and his mouth normally set in a blithe smile drew a hard line. In one sudden movement he brought his balled fist down on the key. He continuing to glare as a cacophony exploded around him, blaming the key and the piano.

((Paris Ardennes continued from Something Something Movie Reference))

Paris slumped against a tree in the quad. His only companion was the creaking of an old swing set that was sorely in need of oil, pushed to and fro by the wind. The green grass was tall enough from neglect that it would have tickled the back of his knees if he was in shorts.

He could feel a heat building up in his chest and bent his head low so that his bangs covered his eyes. Paris had lost his companion. They had gotten separated somewhere along the way. He was mighty annoyed that he'd lost his attack dog. There had been such certainty that he'd find him again soon, he had to, or else he had to be sent a replacement soon.

Paris let out a low growl and kicked the tree.

Maybe I am being tested.

[Emprexx Plush]

((Joachim Lovelace Continued From I Was Once Alive))

There he was. It was strange how people change when they believe no one is watching. Paris seemed like a very different man there in the tall grass, striking and growling against the tree. He was not the charismatic, mysterious leader that he seemed when they first met. He was not the ruthless, efficient schemer that he'd become when Joachim killed Cho. He was not even the disturbing, chaotic enigma that had driven Joachim away.

In truth, Paris didn't register as a man to him at all at this point. He seemed more like a petulant child.

He approached slowly. There was no need to rush this confrontation. It deserved proper weight.

"Paris."

Once, this would have excited him. Now, though, he was simply detached. This was business. A natural progression of the system. Nothing more.

[Ruggahissy]

Why is this happening?

He thought he would be alright, a momentary feeling of being hurt, being offended. However, the more he thought, the more that he was alone the more that it seemed to grab hold of him. His heart started racing and his fingers trembled.

Haven't I....haven't I always done everything asked of me?

His eyes started welling up. He'd been alone for sometime, longer than he was used to since he was young. People were always around to comfort him if he was upset in the real world, but he hadn't found anyone.

Was I wrong? I...I trusted you. I put all of my faith into you and I never strayed. I never did. I didn't want to be like my father. Please. Please... Tell me what I did. Tell me how to fix it.

The tears started to spill over and his balled fist hit the trunk of the tree as he sunk down to hug his own huddled knees in the tall grass.

He heard someone approach and looked over to the set of legs. Somewhere in his distress with his hazy vision he thought it might be Sven. Looking up revealed that it was not. It was Joachim.

Paris kept looking up at him, his cold eyes that looked down and he recognized it. It was cold, with a little bit of distain.

Joachim was still staring at him.

"WHAT?" he barked, whipping back around. "What do you want?," he asked, fingers squeezing his knees tightly.

[Emprexx Plush]

All Joachim could offer him was a shrug.

"I don't know anymore."

The knife was clearly visible in his hand, but he didn't raise it. He just kept staring forward.

"I was supposed to find you."

He didn't want to kill him. He didn't want him to live. He didn't want anything. But he understood his place.

It wasn't about what he wanted. It was about what needed to be done.

[Ruggahissy]

He sobbed, but it was unconnected to the knife. It wasn't fear that made him react the way that he did, it was pain. Pure pain that gripped his heart, wracked him where he sat and made him angry.

"I did everything for you, you know?" he said quietly to his knees. "I always looked after you."

The talking helped to control the sudden outpouring of emotion and now he just sat, quietly, looking dully at the swings. He brought one hand up to his face and haphazardly smudged away the hot tears. In the background the swings creaked steadily.

"People never really turn out how you thought they would be. They always leave. Sven, my dad... I turned around and you were gone. I thought if I stayed in the same spot for awhile maybe you'd wandered off. I know that this is probably just something to test me, I've had it relatively easy so far, but it's hard."

Paris pulled himself up with the help of the tree and stood silently for a moment, gazing at the other boy.

"Why were you supposed to find me?"

[Emprexx Plush]

He'd thought about killing Paris often enough, even before they separated. Even when Paris was the sole object of his service. There'd been dozens of ways he imagined it happening. Paris betrayed him. Paris was distracted. Paris was sleeping. Paris was dying.

There'd been a whole range of emotions attached to those moments. Anger. Opportunism. Regret. Mercy. So many more. So much vibrancy, in his mind.

This was nothing like that. He'd never pictured facing Paris sobbing on the ground. He'd never imagined him so vulnerable.

"I think I'm supposed to kill you. I'm sorry."

He never imagined that he'd feel nothing.

[Ruggahissy]

"I'm supposed to win. I'm the most virtuous out of all of us and when I win it's supposed to inspire others. Good people would have to die, but there are always martyrs. When Moses doubted his ability to carry out God's plans God said he would help him. If you are supposed to kill me, I'll die. If you aren't, then I won't. There are no accidents."

"You're a paper doll. An empty vessel. Barely human. Sub-human. Maybe not always, but it's how you've chosen to cope. I knew it from the moment we met, but I thought it was how things were supposed to be. You're not human anymore, you're just like the knife you have there. You won't survive."

He meant it to be an angry statement, cruel even, but it came out gentle.

[Emprexx Plush]

"You are."

The words came out flat and quiet, whispering along with Paris as he spoke. His foot planted firmly in the grass.

"I'm not."

A finger brushed along the button of the knife as he stared into Paris's eyes.

"I won't."

He flew forward, aiming to the broken boy's prone frame back against the tree. Not from malice. Not from desire. Not from anger.

Only from resignation.

[Ruggahissy]

((Slight God mod approved))

Without thought, his quick reflexes went to work and Paris caught the other boy's hand as his back hit the bark. The wind was knocked out of him and he starred at the blade, trembling and inching towards his chest as they struggled for control.

Both hands and all of his strength were poised against the same from Joachim. He asked for strength. If there was ever a time for a higher power to lend him strength, this was the moment of truth.

And so when the blade finally closed the space and slid smoothly, slowly into it's new home he did not know which hurt more: the slice of the knife or the breaking of his heart. He looked up at Joachim, confused and disbelieving as he slid down the tree trunk.

[Emprexx Plush]

He'd been held like this, once before. Adonis. Adonis had tried to stop him, and he'd died as well. He was proud, then.

This felt so much more empty. Joachim didn't trick Paris. There was no outmaneuvering. Paris's hands had met his, and their strength had been found wanting. The blade slipped into his soft flesh and nestled inside with ease. He didn't even need to pull the trigger.

As the blood started to flow, and reality set in around them, Paris looked up to him for answers. For a reaction. For something.

But Joachim had nothing for him. He spoke no words as the man he'd briefly idolized began to die. He simply twisted the knife, and pulled it from his chest to let him bleed.

[Ruggahissy]

He swallowed and reflexively put his hand over the wound. It was hard to breathe and his fingers twisted wretchedly, clutching his now slick shirt. Paris was experiencing pain on two levels. Yes, being stabbed with a knife is something that anyone would be able to recognize as terrible. However, competing with that was a sensation that was just as sharp.

It was something in his soul. There was something about the way he felt that was pain. He rolled onto his back, surrounded by a mellow sea of green. He felt betrayal welling up inside him, though it wasn't from Joachim's actions.

How can this be? he thought as he stared, wide-eyed up at the calm sky.

Fresh tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. They weren't like the loud sobbing from before, but quiet and slow, rolling down the sides of his face on their own.

"I....I can't" he choked out.

It couldn't be. He had to be right. He needed to be right about everything he'd ever thought. If he was wrong now, what else could he be wrong about? Was there nothing after he died? What if death just lead to an end of existence without any cosmic accounting for time on earth?


He had hoped, despite how his father was, that they would see each other again one day when they were both in the same place. He held on to those few happy memories they had together, replayed them like a worn out cassette when he was growing up and thought "At least maybe we'll see each other again." He'd done the same for Sven. Sven, who was his best friend. He would remember some treasured memory between the two of them, something that made him feel warm and happy and his only comfort was that he could see him again when the time was right. He went over those memories he cherished over and over like someone reading their favorite book. When he believed that there was a God with a plan and purpose he knew they weren't gone forever, just for a little while and he could have that happiness back if he kept on the righteous path.

But if he was wrong about the game, wrong about God, wrong that there was something after death, he would just be consumed by the black, empty nothing upon death. He couldn't take the thought of that. He couldn't process simply not existing and having his whole life be a waste.


"I have to be right, please," he prayed with his shaking hands clutched against his chest, "let me be right. Oh please."


As the minutes ticked by, slowly he did begin to feel better. Instead of the swirling, potent mixture of misery and agony he felt before, he started to feel hazy. He felt warm.

It was a test after all.

He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun, though he couldn't really feel it.

I knew it, I did. I just knew that it was. I'm going to be okay, he thought through the fog.  

"I'll regain....my strength. In just a few minutes and keep going to win, just like I'm supposed to," he said dreamily.

His body was a mess of blood and torn flesh, but his smile was as dazzling as ever. Just before he drifted off a spike of fear shot through him briefly, but he dismissed it. After all, he believed that he would be fine, protected by the Lord.

He had nothing else to believe.


Paris Ardennes: Deceased

[Emprexx Plush]

There was so much passion, so much assurance, pouring from Paris's body, like the blood running from his chest. He seemed so confident, even as he bled out. So assured. It made him feel...

He didn't know. For a moment, it was there, and then it was lost again.

It didn't take him long to go through Paris's things and find his revolver. It felt heavy in his hands. He couldn't seem to recall Paris ever using it, but perhaps it would be of use to him.

Or at least it would if he had any idea where to go next. He didn't, though. There was no step two. Nowhere to go from here. Paris was dead, as he should be, and now Joachim was sitting by his side.

"It should have been you. You were right."

He looked into the chamber as he spoke. Five shiny bullets stared back at him.

"You were always supposed to be the one, I thought. It seemed so clear from that first moment we met. You had fire. You had purpose. You had the mind to put it all to use."

One, two, three, four, five. One missing.

"You pissed it away. I don't know why. Maybe you never had it in the first place. I might have been the fool all along."

The chamber snapped shut again, and he gave it a spin.

"I wonder what would have happened if we never met."

The tree supported him as he rose to his feet and walked over to face Paris's corpse.

"Jaq. Rosemary. They might be alive. I might be with one of them. I might have accomplished something."

He stared down the barrel into Paris's lifeless face.

"You took that from me. I was distracted, and you stole my purpose."

His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Damn you."

The barrel swung through the air and pressed to his temple as he pulled the trigger tight.

Click.

Empty. Somehow, he knew it would be.

[Ciel†]

(Ami Flynn continued from Disneyland's Blue Bayou Restaurant.)




"Hi."



It was awkward. Ami arrived the moment Joachim was staring down the barrel. When he turned the gun on himself, Ami almost screamed. She didn't. She had enough self control to be able to stop herself. But the suddenness of it all hit close to home. Perhaps that was why she said hello. She didn't know for sure but it was the only thing that made sense.

Ami didn't know what had happened before she arrived. But from Paris's crumpled body and the fresh splatter of blood freckled across Joachim's shirt, somewhat obscured by the black wool, she could make an educated guess. It didn't take a scientist to figure it out. A child could figure it out. A monkey could figure it out. Joachim just killed someone.

Ami wasn't afraid, though. Disgusted. Annoyed. Self-degrading. Worried. Guilty. But not afraid.

When you see one person shoot themselves in the head, you've seen them all. Maynard completely desensitized Ami, in a sort of sadistic, corruptible, breaking-her-over-his-knee sort of way. So she wasn't going to lose sleep over seeing Joachim do the exact same thing.

Joachim Lovelace was no friend of hers.

Part of her was glad, though. Deep down.



A firm breeze. It combed through Ami's hair, rolled across her spine and brushed against her skin. Ami's right hand, the one holding Maynard's gun, trembled in response. It was as the wing was announcing it's presence. That, yes, the wind, which had no visible form, existed. It was real. And above that wind, somewhere off in the distance, seemingly far, far away from the Quad, Ami thought she heard a mother weeping.

Joachim knew she was there. He didn't turn to look at her, but she knew that he knew that she knew.

Realizing that, Ami swallowed. The walls of her throat scraped together like sandpaper and it made her wince.

"I... I take it you won."

[Emprexx Plush]

"No," Joachim whispered quietly.

He wasn't dead. Clearly she wanted to talk, at least for a little while. Perhaps once she was satisfied, she'd kill him.

That would be nice.

"No," he whispered again, "I didn't win. He just lost."

Joachim turned and slumped back against the tree and stared up at the girl who had stumbled in on him. Ami, that was her name. She'd killed someone before. There was hope.

[Ciel†]

Ami could hear Joachim. Despite his low voice and despite the nocturnal wind lapping at her ear. It took her only a second to realize that Joachim misunderstood. Read between the lines when nothing was there. She bit her lip, preened her hair.

"I meant the gun," she said, "actually."

Then she pressed forefinger against temple, gagged a little. It seemed redundant but she wanted to be clear. Ami thought people only did that sort of thing in movies. Apparently not. She saw him spin the barrel. She saw him turn it on himself. Again, a monkey could figure it out.

Her hand fell from her head to her side. She watched as Joachim placed her back against the tree. A voice in Ami's head told her that he was open, weak, pull the trigger, no one would stop her. Another voice came just after. It told her that it was okay, don't worry, please don't worry. The second voice sounded exactly like her mother's.

Ami just stood there, breathing through her mouth. She turned her head and looked straight through the blood caking Paris's fresh corpse. Her eyes were so heavy. She closed them, shifted her weight from one foot to the next, then finally spoke.

"What did he do?" she asked.