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| SOMEWHERE IN THE PAST |
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(JEFF'S POV)
[ Chemtrails Over the Country Club ]
( Lana del Ray )
The sun rises to contrast as the tears fall from your face when you say our fading promise. They make for crestfallen dewdrops along the mesh of marigolds, irises, and hyacinths beneath us. The weight of your sobs push their petals just ajar but nonetheless, they are stagnant to your despondent gaze.
You look as if I won't accept it, or that if I did- I wouldn't keep it like I did this one. Finally, I give my answer to you in a reaching arm to your far shoulder.
I pull you in close to sob into me once more. I don't mind- never once did. Because I know it's my fault your like this again. Why would I promise this to a self-entitled nobody? Why should I give up my time and effort to a stranger that has no power over me?
Because in the end... I can't help but wish to push against the tide, to be with you even if I must be washed away in front of your very eyes. This will hurt like no other- not greater- but in a way that no one could replicate. That is why this pain is so special.
Perhaps that is my way of swearing to you. That I give you this mark, this pang of hurt, this heartache as you do to I. For we are both forever left mared not by time but by each other.
The next time we meet, it will not be with a smile but with shared pain, the tightening of our chests, the bite back of a cry, the urge to run forward and open our arms wide.
We'll crash to the floor unceremoniously, whether what meets our knees is soft grass or hard tile floors- we won't bother with it.
Because one thing is for sure.
I'm hurting with you~
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Dawn greets my gaze but that doesn't wake me from my stupor. It's the feeling of you shifting, your hands clumping together to form shift strings out of resonance energy. It takes the form of many shapes and patterns before you bundle it once more and leave behind only a single spider lily. Its stem proud, leafless, and unfettered by the winds.
At no point does it sway with the passing breeze, like it stands in defiance to time. Like it'll keep going to see the leaves on itself grow. After all, the leaves and petals of such a flower never grow at the same time.
During the late summers it waits only to lose its luster after the winters reach spring.
Everything around me is silent, like there was no sound aside from your songs, your words, your woes. Soon, one such sound graces me from my musing.
"Do you enjoy such flowers?"
You wave it towards me, not akin to your baton but more like a blade.
"My preferences aren't really for eye-catching stuff..."
"Oh really? Then what's got you so lost? Found something that matches your preferences around here?"
The time to make a reply is cut short as you close the distance, my vision filled up with the frills and furls of your black and white dress.
"I suppose so. Your figure reminds me of the only colors I'd see in flora from where I'm from."
"Then wherever you're from must be quite bleak if that's the case."
"If anything, yes, but that doesn't mean it's a place of mourning. By all means, I'd say it's more of a new beginning for some."
"If that's the case, why not take me there?"
"..."
"What's with that silence? Don't tell me you don't trust me? Then again, I suppose we are strangers for the most part.."
"No, I never meant to imply that at all. It's simply just that.. Don't you have somewhere to go back to? Some place where people ponder in affection about your life, how you're doing, what you're doing- despite not seeking to see it themselves?"
"Ha... There is.. but I cannot reach it. Not by my own hands at least. Maybe you could help with reaching that but.. I would rather not make the same mistake and give a goodbye without mentioning it might be our last."
I feel as if that was a slight jab at me, but nonetheless.
"If that's the case then tell me you're ready."
"Anytime really, I don't have any concerts or shows to attend to, not to mention it would be rather nice to avoid going out in public after what people did last night."
"Ha I suppose some time away to leave the newswriters to chew each other out might be the best for now."
"Not it'd change much, I'd still perform for just as much craze, perhaps with less pushy admirers."
"From the sounds of it, you don't wanna be here at all right now."
"Certainly not. Do you have our escort or way transportation ready as we speak right now or something?"
"I suppose I do. Come on take my hand"
"I can simply trail behind you, no need to spoil me like a damsel in distress.."
"If you say so then.. this will be a bumpy ride, at least right at the end"
"...What are you implying?"
Commander, would you like me to begin transportation for your rearrival to headquarters?
Proceed. Though this time, you will be having to take another invidivual with me, can you handle that?
It will be done as you intended.
Soon a circle of cerulean light envelopes us both in a circle. Blue butterflies sputter out from within it as petals and grass pick up from below us. All that's left is the scenery left in silence. No signs of life other than the pushing of feet to dirt and the picking of flowers. In my head, that place only had me and you in it- and for the rest of time, that may be the case.
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(PHROLOVA'S POV)
| Black Shores |
Just a moment before, I was bantering with the only person who could understand me in a flower that reminded me of ones at home. The ones I used to frolic in with mom.when she got too old for that, it was me and Triss, sometimes Melissa. Either way. I know I'm no longer there, neither in that flower field with him or the small wonders of my home village.
I'm greeted by the smell of salt lingering in the air, the crashing of the tides, the soft yet coarseness of the sands beneath. Interestingly enough, the seaside I found myself on was not of the bright or washed yellow I'm more familiar with. It was a coarse black, not so dark you couldn't see it or that it was like ink but dark with shades of rocky grey.
I pick myself up from it, it feels like I was on another beach. Soon though, I'm once more shown to the bizarre scenery I found myself placed in. The patches of grass- or at least what I assume to be- is a shade of blue fading between different vibrancies.
The waters look like any other yet they shine with a divine shade of blue as they reach the coastline. Perhaps an after effect unique to this place?
Soon enough, I turn once more and find you at the entrance of a cave. That's when I found the bother to dust off the excess sand from my dress.
"Not quite courteous of you to simply leave me along the seashores."
"I forget the entrance for newcomers is located out here."
"Did you also forget your manners?"
"Right. Sorry for the rough entry. But this place isn't exactly known for opening up and bringing anybody in."
"Should I feel honored? I don't think I can though with all in the grains on my back. Furthermore, it could've gotten my dress wet."
"I'll make sure next time that there'll be less hassle for self-cleaning after transportation. Either way, come on. This empty beachside isn't exactly all I have to offer after messing your dress up.
You turn and begin your march glancing behind to assure yourself that I'm right behind you. That doesn't mean I'm looking at you though. The coral that grows and inches out from each corner of this cave provides me with more intrigue.
I've never seen such vibrant aquatic plant-like fauna growing out this much, especially since it isn't all too close to the shorelines. I can't make much of what's ahead though. The mist obscuring what would otherwise be the light at the end of the tunnel.
Soon enough though, the foggy veil departs and I'm revealed with the expanding horizon of violet grass, yellow lights, and the homely yet still technologically advanced designs of what is to be the architecture of this place. It's so..foreign yet comfy. Like a beach side house you find in news articles these days going for roundabout prices.
I can see why someone like you could have originated here. Or perhaps it originated from you? Who is told but the residence and its founder after all, but I don't know who even is nor should I bother seeking it out. All I need to know is that this is in some way your home.
"Welcome to the Black Shores."
You turn back and I'm quick to wonder and ask.
"Where is everyone else? I'm sure there's more than just you on an archipelago this big.
"The others are up ahead in the central tower. Compiling the data we gather in real time to study the Lament."
"Studying the Lament, Hm? I knew you were a Hero of sorts but not one so thorough that you seek to strike at the root of it all."
"If that surprises you then I'll also let you know this place is more than just to study the Lament. To some, it may be a home that accepts them for what they are. Some are tainted by a form of illness, curse, or disorder where no other than accept them."
"Would you say I'm one of those people?"
"That's for you to say when you properly acquaint yourself with this place."
Soon you start walking once more, walking along the bridge I see machines and drones of my wild imagination work tirelessly on watering fields, compiling data, and even interacting with human beings and other such sentient pieces of technology. Every bit of this though reminds me that I truly don't know you... A part of me thought that that first meeting was all I needed to learn you inside out.
With this though, it makes me wonder just what were the circumstances of your late arrival. Maybe I was too harsh to put you down like that, I was also too quick to forgive you, after all, I still don't know if you could've come sooner but chose not to. I really don't know and soon I may never will-
"Phrolova?"
My dreary thoughts are washed out like the tides to the rocks below us whilst we up the steps to what seems to be a garden.
"Every bit of me has me questioning so much, no need to worry. I'm sure many others are like this on their first arrival."
After all, it's not like I'm the first foreigner here. From his words he did say it in a way that many others came before me. Many have received invitations to this very place. The reasons may differ but in the end, the outcome is the same. They end up here where they'll find perhaps an answer to a burning question they've been meaning to find a solution to. One of those presumed figures comes into the corner of my eye.
She dangles along the short fence line to the left of the garden we stand in front of. She hums a tune whilst playing with a flower in her hand. She plucks and plucks whilst muttering something under her breath after each pluck. Her eyes contain dots of singular but piercing red.
Her hair is white with a black streak and black braids of what I assume is also hair yet they don't seem to be connected to it. Other than that, I can barely see much more of her silhouette before I decide to go into the garden myself.
The glass shines the sun through and bounces off the foliage. It reveals an array of colors- mostly pink but some shining through with blue and oranges. Making for an alien yet beautifully fae-like charm that I find myself enjoying. Though it will never be better than the calm natural greens and yellows I'd find back home.
Soon you find me staring and inquire.
"Would you like to plant one?"
I'm surprised at the offer. I just arrived and you're already asking if I like to lay a flower in this garden? I was more expecting this to have some sort of ceremony to it. After all, planting a flower should have more meaning to it.
"I wouldn't mind. But I feel as if that's tasteless. Especially on a first visit."
"You can always plant one later if you don't know what you want to grow here yet. Most just choose flowers from their hometowns."
Flowers of my home huh? Those pure-white Lycoris... so pale, it spoke magnitudes showing how it never once was tainted by the cruelty of this world. A simple nameless village going about its days. Not concerned with the wars and woes of the world. I really wish I could plant those here.
"Do you have anything resembling a White Spider Lily?"
"Sadly, I don't think so. I'll have to ask Camellya about that, but otherwise we could try to find an alternative if that's alright with you."
There you go spouting a name I don't know whilst also trying to compromise. I feel sad for you. Knowing you might be scolding yourself on the inside to provide for me.
"It matters not... no flower would suit best for now... no other flower could represent them best."
That last part I mutter to myself.
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The garden is abundant in flora and silence now. Though, it is quickly cut by an alarmed notification coming from your terminal. You check to see what it is and are quick to respond to it.
"I'll have to see this in the Tethys Hub for a moment. You can take some time here and ponder what you want to have grown here. It doesn't have to be today. I'll also try my best to see if we can match something with what you had in mind with the White Spider Lily. For now, I need to attend something really quick."
You are quick to make your way out of the door and down the stairs- seemingly also jumping down at one point in your haste for urgency. Either way though, I do as you say and ponder... A White Spider Lily fits them all too well.. yet also it fits the two of us.. the idea of purity and innocence yet also unfulfilled wishes. At least that's what Ynkwell always told me when we went out flower picking-
The sound of heels clicking adds to the pile of things constantly catching me off guard today. I really can't be bothered to be left in peace in this world can I? I turn to see who it is.
It's the same one woman playing with the flower from earlier. I'd want to assume she attends to these gardens. She has her hands in a teasing manner. Like she could be hiding anything behind there. Most would think of a weapon. But I doubt that the entire garden is surrounded by glass. The chances of somebody not catching a glimpse is quite small. Soon though she gets in earshot.
"So~ you're the newcomer that he handpicked himself, huh?"
She says whilst looking at me deviously. Soon though she continues
"You don't look all too strong~ suppose he chose you for some other reason. Odd though, I thought he'd do a little more than just recruiting with the borrowed time he has…"
That last part comes out with an uncharacteristic hint of melancholy to it. Seems many people treasure you.. I'm not the only one who's going to miss you after what you have planned.. it just makes me question even more why you would even go through with it. The very point of us Humans is our memories, our experiences, our individuality. They are our souls, the physical body matters not, so I have to ask why you would abandon that and go through with the risks?
"You know~ I say we're kindred spirits of sorts."
And for the first time since I arrived here, I feel something strange — a connection not born of familiarity, but of shared fate.
Kindred spirits.
Yes, maybe we are.
But if that's true… then what does that make him?
Then she presses her finger into the center of my chest, just below my collarbone.
It's not hard enough to wound, but deep enough that I feel it like a pulse rising from beneath my skin, something ancient and alive clawing to get out. The pressure builds, spreading through my ribs and throat. My breath catches, torn between a gasp and a choke.
"What are you—"
But my words die as I meet her eyes.
They've turned crimson, sharp and glinting with a predatory light. Her pupils twist into something inhuman fractal, spiraling outward like a Resonance pattern gone rogue. Even her hair seems to bleed red, each strand catching the low light like threads of molten wire.
And then I see it the budding flower on her chest.
It grows in slow, impossible motion, its petals peeling open in quiet defiance of reason. A Red Spider Lily, blooming right over her heart.
She doesn't flinch.
If anything, she looks proud of it like it's a wound she chose to bear.
"I wonder…" she breathes, voice husky with amusement, "if you see him the same way I do~."
Her lips curl upward, almost lovingly —almost cruelly.
"Some part of me says you do," she continues, dragging her gaze across my face, "but there's something else. Something that stops you from being completely devoted to him like I am~. That may be the dividing difference between us."
Her finger's pressure changes. The sharp dig turns into a slow, almost tender push against my skin a mock caress that sends a shiver up my spine. I stumble back a step, balance breaking for a second.
When I steady myself, I notice she's holding something in her hand.
A Red Spider Lily, identical to the one on her chest.
But before I can blink, the crimson begins to melt, dripping between her fingers like blood. Beneath it, white begins to show pure, unblemished, glowing faintly against her palm.
A White Lycoris.
And just as I start to make sense of it, that too crumbles into pale dust like it was never meant to exist for long. She crouches beside a patch of soil in the garden, brushes her fingertips over it, and plants whatever essence remains.
Her voice softens the kind of softness that feels like an echo of sorrow.
"Don't thank me~" she says, standing again. "After all, just like him… I don't think I plan on staying long in this world~."
I blink — once, twice — and she's gone.
No footsteps, no shimmer of teleportation. Only the faint trace of her Resonance lingering in the air, flickering like a candle that refuses to die out.
For a long moment, I just stand there. My heart is still racing, my chest still tingling where she touched me.
Then —
"I'm back."
Your voice.
It cuts through my thoughts like sunlight through fog.
I turn, and there you are stepping in from the left corridor, breath slightly uneven, eyes alert but warm when they land on me.
"It seems that— Phrolova?" you say, the words halting mid-sentence when you see my face.
Right. I probably look pale as death. My hands are still trembling faintly.
"I—" I start, but the words fall apart before I can piece them together.
As if on cue, the soil where she'd planted whatever-it-was begins to stir.
You notice it too. Both of us watch in quiet awe as something breaks through the surface a sprouting bud, slender and pale, unfurling into familiar petals.
A White Lycoris.
Exactly like the one I saw years ago.
You exhale softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "It seems Camellya found exactly what you wanted."
My stomach drops. "Is that who that was?"
You raise an eyebrow. "You met her?"
"I'd say I did more than just meet," I mutter, rubbing at the spot on my chest where she'd touched me. "And for that, you owe me an explanation over her."
You sigh, the weight in your shoulders settling visibly. "That's… going to be a long story. And with the time we have now, I'd rather get you settled before assigning your proper role and rank here."
"…That would be a nice start," I manage, though my voice sounds distant even to me.
You nod and gesture for me to follow, but I can't help glancing back at the flower.
The White Lycoris glows faintly in the filtered sunlight, each petal curved in perfect symmetry serene, beautiful, and heartbreakingly fragile.
I feel that odd childish wonder again, the kind I thought this world had taken from me.
But beneath it — beneath the quiet awe sits a restless curiosity.
Who was Camellya, really?
And what did she mean by "just like him"?
Somewhere deep down, I think I already know the answer.
I just don't want to admit it yet.
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(CAMELLYA'S POV)
Seems like my little seed of fate has hand-plucked a flower of his own.
How quaint. How terribly, beautifully human.
I can still feel the faint echo of her heartbeat on my fingertip that small, trembling rhythm beneath her skin when I touched her. So fragile. So unaware of the weight that comes with standing beside him.
His… no.
Our time is short.
I've long stopped counting in years. Decades bleed into centuries, and it all becomes the same dull ache stretched across existence.
But even knowing that, I still don't understand why he insists on inviting more into his orbit. Why bother weaving new threads when he knows the loom itself is breaking apart?
Still… that conductor of his the one they all seem to gather around has a charm that I can't quite deny.
It's irritating.
That same quiet steadiness. That same light that used to make me stay. I see why she's drawn to him. I see why he is drawn to her.
And yet, every time I think I've escaped that pull, I find myself circling back orbiting the same dying star that burns me again and again.
I was not the first to give my loyalty to him, and I know I will not be the last. But what fascinates me what makes this cruel game bearable is how differently we all love him.
Some with faith.
Some with obsession.
Some with the desperate illusion that they can save him from himself.
So I wonder… how will she express hers?
Through devotion? Through rebellion? Through sacrifice?
Who knows. Perhaps her loyalty won't be to him at all perhaps it will be to the memory of him. And maybe that's what he wants. Maybe that's all that remains for someone like him.
I tilt my head toward the glass ceiling above, the starlight washing my hands in silver. The faint tremor of the White Lycoris still lingers under my nails.
Either way, the prelude to our shared end looks like it's going to be fun.
The world's final symphony deserves a beautiful overture, doesn't it?
And so, with a small laugh that feels more like a sigh, I whisper to no one — to the air, to the stars, maybe to him if he's still listening:
"Just know… drifting by her will only drive you to hurt further and further when the time does come."
The wind shifts, soft as the turn of a page.
"But perhaps…" — my voice cracks just slightly, betraying something more fragile than I'd ever admit — "that's the point."
I close my eyes, and the petals around me rustle like they're breathing.
"Perhaps," I murmur, "some people are meant to be far away… to truly be with each other."
The garden falls silent again.
Only the White Lycoris glows faintly in the dark a small, impossible miracle growing in a world that's already ending.
And I smile.
Because even dying stars can still make the sky beautiful, if only for a little while.