Lonesome Mania

[Lark 2226]

 

Derrick sat at his wooden desk, pale fingers tapping a small black shard into the wood. Splotches of dust and powder marred his fingers and the desk as he tapped incessantly. Echoing through the empty outpost, it was the only sound prevalent on the lonesome tropical island. Darkness crept along the sides of the building, the chattering of wildlife gone silent for the time being. The island was a place of constant change and movement, much like himself. It's why he settled there, among the living green. The air was humid and heavy with the scent of damp flora, filling his lungs with each long sigh. The tapping continued. A blank journal splayed out before him as he stared at the pages with irritation written upon his face. Lips curled into a furious snarl. 

 

How long had he been there? 

 

How long had it been since had written an entry? 

 

How long had it been since had done anything substantial with his life? 

 

How long...? 

 

His fingers curled inwards as his grip tightened on the shard, the black powder marking his hand as he rested his forehead upon his knuckles. With a sound of disgust, he felt the world go numb for a brief moment and knew he was not alone. He was never alone, plagued by the "help" he had so kindly been gifted by two different individuals with their own ideas of how to help the struggling scholar. One presence for his scholarship, the other for his legacies and strength. Neither fulfilled their roles and so only added to his annoyances.

 

"You're stuck again, aren't you." The voice called out from the air flowing through the trees. It was a light, otherworldly tone of many voices melded as one. Always condescending of his mortal mind, yet innately fascinated and intrigued by its inner workings, and the knowledge it discovered and craved. Though the presence had no physical shape, it had enough years to craft it's own, unique manifestation while taking refuge within his conscious and subconscious mind. Derrick growled as footsteps creaked where there were none and he slammed the shard into the desk, tossing his hands into the air with a bout of frustration. "Of course. I am. The last thing I need from /you/ is obvious observations." Shaking his head, he leaned forward with a sigh. It was right, he was stuck. As he always seemed to find himself when he seemed to finally be making progress. His research and work would continue along gracefully without issue, then he would hit a brick wall and complain about it for the next week before finally breaking through. It wasn't a terribly efficient process, but such was his life. "What do you want.", clasping his hands around the back of his head, fingers interlocking with bits of his blonde hair jutting out, he stared down at the blank page with all his might. Trying to will gravitas itself to dislodge the stubborn ideas from his head. He could feel the presence lurch forward, inspecting him. It wasn't there, he knew this. But the mere fact it resided within his mind made it all the more real to him. This wasn't an illusion, this was the all too common hallucinations he endured or subjected himself to. Such was the nature of indulging oneself in magic from beyond, of course. 

 

The presence rocked on heels that weren't there, staring out through the woven wood walls that it only partially perceived through Derrick. "Nothing in particular, /he/ went quiet after a long debate on the matters of your elemental theories. It wasn't anything interesting, because, well, what have you really expanded upon since you formulated it?" The presence paced along the floorboards, waving a hand through the bookcases that stood stuffed with journals brimming with sketches, formulas, and diagrams. "It's been a long time since we've had a serious conversation, you and I. You've mostly taken to ignoring us, though I suppose I can't blame you. You always do complain about the noise. I don't know how you handle it. I'm surprised you haven't gone mad by now." The tone had shifted from one of light probing to undertones of accusation. 

 

Derrick leaned back as the presence fell silent, staring straight through him. "You know as well as I that I went mad the moment I left that library twenty years ago. Monsters and magic, things of fiction made a reality. I've been mad, I just hide it better than others." Both stare towards the wall, a moment of silence passes between them before Derrick shuts his eyes tight, shaking his head. "I'm not Travis, I'm just me. I'm just Derrick Ashton Bell. No one particularly remarkable. Just a man trying to live in a world where storybooks are fewer stories and more historical events. Even I don't know how I handle it. Perhaps I've just accepted it, the reality that not everything is explained by numbers and logic. That magic is as whimsical as a storybook and as volatile as any weapon of war. I think I stopped trying to make sense of it long ago and now I'm just trying to record and classify all that I can. That way I at least have some sense of normalcy..." He paused as the presence seemed to pat him on the shoulder, the gesture seemed to be out of sympathy and understanding, though it was always hard to tell with it. Derrick could never be sure if this thing truly cared for him. The only being on this world that did was Travis, that was the only one he was ever sure of. Shrugging it off, he got up and shoved the chair aside. The presence watched him as Derrick paced down the wall and stopped at the door, "That doesn't sound like madness, it sounds like you're listening to him again." Another tone shift, sympathy, or possibly still a light accusation, it was too neutral to tell. The relevancy of the statement didn't phase Derrick as he pushed open the door, stepping out into the pitch darkness of the island. "Derrick, don't feed into it. Remember what-" Derrick whirled around, pointing an accusatory figure at the presence, the air seemed to shift as he narrowed his eyes where the figure would have been had it been tangible, "Don't! Don't...lecture me..." He dropped his finger, leaning upon the door frame as his eyes fell to the floor, "I...I know.", he stammered out with heavy gloom in his voice, "I shouldn't, I can't, I won't let myself succumb. There is so much to do, so much upon my shoulders, if I fall, it all comes crumbling...I don't know if I can do it, I don't know if I can keep up."

 

Derrick slid down the door frame, sitting on the wooden deck. The silence broke as he began to hear insects fluttering around the lantern above. A warm, yellow light casting away the darkness. From his perch, he met a pair of grey eyes watched with scrutiny from the horizon of ink surrounding him. His own eyes, but not quite. In a moment, they were gone but the message was clear. The chatter of the wildlife faded out again as the presence creaked across the outpost. "You can. You must. You're Derrick Bell, after all. A completely unremarkable man, but a complete man, nonetheless. Even he doesn't wish that upon you. We may be here, but even I know neither of us is enough for you. You need to find others, Derrick, you need to..." Derrick slams his fist into the wood, gritting his teeth and utters out a frustrated snarl, "I've tried! You think I am content like this? You think I prefer this? I hate this. I hate him for making me like this. I hate..." He pauses, rubbing his knuckles as he winces from the now apparent pain, "No...I don't hate you. You're a spectator in all of this. An observer to my foolishness, to my..." Derrick drifts off, sighing as he curls himself up on the deck. It wasn't cold but he could feel a chill run through his body. Was it the hands of age, creeping along his skin, appraising his longevity once more? Or was it his inner demons and then some, swirling within his mind with gleeful rancor as he could feel himself slipping. 

 

The wood creaked once more, as the presence squatted by his side, watching its host with care. Though it did not let itself show it, "I am here to learn, Derrick Bell, nothing more, nothing less. What I have learned from you is immense, but you still have much to learn about yourself. You can't do that all by yourself, now can you?" Were it able to extend a hand to him, it would have. But it was merely strong mental manifestation formed by their decade-long bond that allowed it to interact with Derrick like this. While it did not fully understand humans, it did understand Derrick to some degree. He was a man troubled by his own perceived ineptitude, amplified by the swirling perverse fragments of his personality that dwelt within the shadows of his soul. A man who recognized the equilibrium life sought to maintain and sought to aid in such. He was a strange, fascinating creature, unique as they come. For someone who preached that humanity was cursed by zealotry and ignorance, Derrick was quite the same. Ignorant of how zealous he was in his work, and equally zealous in ignoring his own gifts and strengths. Though that blame fell on his isolation, his mutterings and self-critiques growing harsher and harsher as he spent time alone. Sometimes, it wished it could help, if only to calm the noise that Derrick perceived when in reality it was his own anxieties. Were it able to sigh, it would have. But it could only allow itself to slip back into Derrick's mind completely, allowing the man to reflect and think on its words.

He stared at the darkness, blinking slowly as the sounds of the night began to fill his ears once more. Only now did he realize how tired he was, not just of living, but at this very moment. The only thought on his mind was the presence's words. He knew it was right, it was always right. The damn thing knew his own mind better than he did. Which was never sure how he truly felt about. He did this to himself really, isolating himself from others out of fear that may realize he may have become what hated most. But, perhaps it was time to let the fear pass, and stop. He could feel a new darkness taking hold, the strongest force of all. As his eyelids began to droop, he crawled back into the outpost and onto a plush layer of cloth, or what could have been a cloud. In his state, he wasn't so sure, all that he did know was that he needed to open up again, the fear was the monster here, not him, and certainly not the darkness that overtook him.

[Keefy 2047]

Hareven would sit up from his particular bush of the evening, itching leafs from his hair before pushing himself to a stand.

"Maybe I should check on some old friends" He'd muse as he meandered onto the roads..

[Ivoreyy 2182]

Liliana Bell seemed to recall a long-ago conversation with her uncle, one of their shared wish for normalcy, for a world in which everything had a place.

 

"Perhaps.."  She muses from her lonesome home, then shaking her head to expel the meaningless pondering.