djtenku | [writing] Project Epsilon

Title: empathy
Word Count: 2166
Summary: Compass. Illusions. Home.

His boots sank in the dark waters, and struggled as he took each step. The moon disappeared in the forest – or at least what he could discern in the low light anyway – and once in a while, his foot would catch a hooked root of a nearby tree. Kento was surprised at the lack of noise besides the distant crash of the shoreline. Maybe someone was watching him beyond the foilage, waiting for that one moment of falter. However, he would have at least sensed them by now; since he was blinded in his right eye by the way of an unfortunate reflex, Kento developed the strange sense of heighten perception.

“Bastard,” he muttered as a stray thought about the shark entered his mind. He considered resting the instant he reached solid land, but without his kit, he decided that it would be better to just go through the night, moonlight willing.

His foot sank in the mud father than he expected, and avoided a branch to the face as he went down; and in his surprise he took in a sizable amount of brackish water before coming up again. One minor complaint about Mother Nature’s creatures and I pay for it, he thought, hacking for a few moments. I just hate to see what a full-blown curse would do.

Kento wished there was a little more light, and a little less humid. Be grateful you’re not in the desert, you’d be freezing by now. He paused and looked up, taking in the faint but wide bands of the Milky Way. Just how does a half-blind man in the middle of the night with no map – or compass – function in the middle of the night? He sighed as he searched for Polaris, but could not find it. At least he had a fairly good sense of direction; he couldn’t remember the last time he actually got lost or at least gained a basic understanding on where everything was placed at. Come to think of it, he sworn that he saw a house on the way down…

The water was becoming shallow as he treked again, and the mud becoming firm beneath his boots. Vegetation was fuller now, even though some objects looked like they were carefully made nests. His stomach growled at the thought of eggs and birds, and even fish came into the equation, but he reminded himself that he had to keep moving. Long shadows and knee length grass welcomed him as he finally got on to solid ground. Kento could no longer hear the sea, but the hands of the wind brushing the top of the trees.

His gaze followed up to the sky again, this time the band of distant stars obscured by a dark mountain. Moonlight was beginning to fade, but he pressed on anyway.

* * *

Rowan woke up again, this time with ease and felt even refreshed. Maybe that was just a nightmare, he thought, rolling over to see that nobody was looming over him. There was an empty bottle of wine turned over on the nightstand, the remnants of the red liquid still dripping. The label was obscured and scrambled, but he knew that he would not drink that or anything else for a while. He reached over to it and righted it, but saw no evidence of the wine on the floor.

Before he could even process that, he heard a tiny bell and something soft nuzzled against his bare back, mewing and purring. “Morning to you too, Yuki,” Rowan said, scratching the cat’s chin. He slipped into a pair of jeans that were strewn across the bed and wandered into the hallway. There was a tiny ball of pressure building in the back of his head. Something’s not right here…

Rowan entered the small kitchen, looking through the cabinets, finding nothing but plates, pots, and pans – in which some were still in boxes because he rarely cooked -- and the occasional box of cereal. The refrigerator was full with uncut pineapples and a pack of strawberries, and bundles of celery and lettuce leaves. He furrowed his brows together; he couldn’t remember the last time he actually ate something like that, so why was it there? The pressure moved to his temples.

Yukinko regarded him as he approached the countertop, checking the answering machine. “You have fifteen messages,” it chirped as he pressed a small button on the side of it. Fifteen? “First message…” Rowan listened, but it was nothing but static, and the sound of someone sobbing. He flipped through the caller id, and recognized it as Maria’s number. But, why did she call so late at night? How come I didn’t hear it? It slithered to his forehead, and eventually emcompassed his cranium.

Check yourself now, a different voice said. It was far too frail from the voice he was used to. Rowan stumbled towards the bathroom, knocking over a potted plant, and looked at his reflection, trying to figure out what was going on. Paranoia… “Yuki, you see anything funny?” he asked, leaning in closer to the mirror. “’Cause I don’t --” He traced a long, thin black streak on his face. His skin cracked and broke away as he brushed at it. “What the hell?” he cried, jumping backwards.

Rowan didn’t see the bed sheets snaking up his limbs until the very last moment, but by then his head smacked against the edge of the bathtub, the whole universe bursting before his eyes. He had no idea his forehead was leaking blood. He groaned as he regained some of his consciousness back, but the sheets had another idea, wrapping around his neck and strangling him until he passed out again.

His odd eyes snapped opened; staring at his own reflection again. He was no longer in his bathroom, or the apartment, or the city; just a strange color-deprived room with a grey retanglar mirror. Rowan wondered just how long he had been standing there like that, disturbed and pupils pinpricked. His headache was terrible to the point that the light was hurting him. He shook his head and backed off the mirror, glancing at the door. To his dismay, there was no knob to speak of; he shifted, and the ankle-chains rung.

How long until my sanity breaks? His brows furrowed again, annoyed at the faint itch in his head. There has to be a way out. Even if he did manage that, a sensor would be tripped; would it be a silent alarm or a whooping claxon? And what kind of security did this man have? Knowing him… pure muscle. A tiny thought emerged from the itch. What was he planning to do with him?

Rowan wandered back to the bench and leaned back into the wall. It was a question that he didn’t want answered.

* * *

The door cracked open, and a dark blue eye scanned the room. It was quiet, save for gentle snoring coming from the sealed off canopy bed. How adorable, she thought, tiptoeing into the bedroom. The night air was damp and heavy, but bearable in the small breezes that the valley carried in. To Vivika, it meant that the summer rains were approaching. I wonder how long they’ll be this time.

There was a pang of guilt when she thought about the boy, and inquired how much more could he take in such an harsh environment. She couldn’t remember the last time she even saw him; the boy must be malnourished by now. And yet, she overheard Orion practically screaming about it. Vivika sighed as she moved aside the curtain and looked on with contempt. She envied the woman, and wished that Fate had dealt a better hand instead of giving her such a frail body.

She traced the scar on her own throat, and adjusted the short scarf accordingly, and exited the room.

* * *

Though the meal was the most proper he had for a couple of days, he yearned for more. He could only go so far on small game and fish. The real question was how long was he going to keep this up? Until they capture him? Run out of food and starve? Die? No, Sage answered. I have to outlast them. All it takes is one slip.

Sage stopped, feeling the very air change. The jungle shifted, and his paranoia grew. He had not seen one member of the detail that always prowled the island, or any trace of them, even in the darkness of night. Perhaps, they were elsewhere? No, the last number he had counted was at least thirty-two, they’re probably spread out. He turned at the sound of a tree branch falling and birds chittering, and lowered his body, and slowly backing away.

He hated that he didn’t bring a proper weapon with him. His eyes drifted and locked on to a small opening in the thick brush, that was mostly filled by a hunched, bulky figure that sniffed the air.

Kuang Xue…

Sage’s mind raced. Did he catch my scent? No, that couldn’t be; he had waded though the water, which was more than enough to get rid of it. Hunting? Not that either; he had never seen the giant after the kill he had witnessed earlier that day. He never fed twice. Then what was it? Kuang Xue looked in his direction with a sharp grunt and snorted as he moved. Sage fought with his mind not to take off; he had witnessed how the giant reacted to sudden movement and the outcome was always death.

The boy felt around in the darkness, backing up into a tree, and then silently walked around the other side, keeping his eyes on the stalking, slow figure that still came in his direction. There were no clear passages nearby, and with the night around them, there was only one choice. Sage ducked and wrapped his cloak around his body but covered one eye. He watched as Kuang Xue’s form stalked around the area and the very spot he was in, and move again.

Sage froze as Kuang Xue placed a hand against the tree. The putrid smell of rotting carcass alone made him want to escape, but he knew at this range, he was already pinned. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but the next time he blinked, the massive figure was gone, as well as the overbearing presence, but the smell lingered. He took no chances and escaped, careful not to break any stray branches or run into something; the small scar across the bridge of his nose was a reminder of such carelessness. Sage did not stop running until he reached the sharp rise of the mountain.

He grabbed an vine unlike any other, and climbed up, pausing at the apex to lift up a small hatch, and hauled himself in; Sage sat at the edge of it, bringing up the vine, white in the dim light. The last thing he wanted is to accidentally stumble in on his hidden sanctuary; and glanced over his shoulder on that note, spotting the lone nightstand holding up a small lantern and a bed unkempt with papers and books scattered on top of the covers.

He made a point not to leave it like so again; Sage gathered the items up and pushed open another hatch at the top of the corner stairs, entering the living area. Everything was still in its place, no indication that he – or someone else had lived in it; he tried to figure out how long ago did he stumble upon the dwelling, but it wasn’t feasible. All he knew was that he was trying to escape. He stacked the papers into a neat pile on the weathered bookshelf, and the books on the low coffee table in front of the couch and arm chair.

Sage prowled for matches in the quaint kitchen and a piece of starter wood; it didn’t take long for the fireplace to brighten the whole floor; he made sure the curtains were closed before rummaging through the refridgerator, grabbing small strips of bird meat and ran them through on metal skewers, as well as a pair of already cut coconuts.

He thought about the red-haired woman, wondering what Orion could possibly do to her if she didn’t escape. But, why wasn’t she afraid like the others? Why was she even nice to me; giving me food like that? And what was that thing on her left hand? He couldn’t figure out why he was so worried for her. Sage stared at his right ankle in the dim light, the bar code that was previously etched there now scratched and disfigured.

After his meager meal, he cleaned up and headed back down to the hidden bedroom, plopping down on the bed; before his head reached the pillow, he was already unconscious. Soon came the dreams, bringing him strange and pleasant things.