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"They threw me here hoping that I'll never return, didn't they?" There's a quiver to his lips, frail sentences spoken with fragile tones. “I never had a chance to begin with, how naive I was to think…”
The same bachelor stood before you, the one who held ultimate authority over the town a week and a couple of days ago. passion-born speeches about the importance of figuring out the truth, doing everything he can since day one, going by the book and applying all that he has learnt in his long years of battling with death in this one showdown, truly exhausting the cards he has been dealt until nothing but desperate clenching fists remained.
Gazing at the river ahead, the beautiful view of cloudy skies and the thriving greenery of the steppe at the far back only dig deeper into the fresh open wound–be it yours or the earth's below–the now empty space where the polyhedron used to be is slowly fizzing out of your memory.
Not Daniil's, however, he's still tracing the invisible stairs with his eyes, counting the steps from what he could recall, every turn and twist, every blueprint etched into the wooden panels.
His face is soft. Ever since you've met him, it's the softest expression you've witnessed him wear. Or was it simply the mask that slipped down?
The raindrops hitting the top of your umbrella are reminiscent of a certian melody, nostalgic in nature, you feel like you've heard it before, as if you've stood witness here before, enough times to memorise the sound of rain's pattern on this exact same day.
He was drenched when you first found him, the bachelor of medicine, it must have been the rain which washed away the know-it-all facade he clung to like a security blanket at times.
For now, he's dried up a bit after you shielded him under your own umbrella. Standing in silence, he tried to give you an acknowledgement smile out of politeness, but the corners of his lips weighed down heavier than he could manage to lift them.
There are no winds to howl, no showering rain to taunt, no fireworks of celebration to mock. The apathy of the universe to stand indifferent to the suffering of those who were, of those who are, of those who will be.
“My life's work snuffed out from behind my back while I was none the wiser, working day and night to save this damned ungrateful town.” His gloved hand reaches to hold the handle of the umbrella just below yours, “They tore the research papers, burned the tissue samples, and destroyed the building whole. Thanatica is no more, and so is hope.”
What remained was a shell of a broken man, a hollow consolation trophy for humanity's failed attempt to outsmart death.
A reminder to mankind to remember your place. Or be dragged back into it, kicking, screaming, and beaten down.
You could tell him it's not the end; weave the most beautiful lie from the spindle of half-truths.
List every phrase and condolences messages you could remember, the same ones adults cooed your way when you were a mere child after your dog died, or the dismissing ones you received from teachers in the seventh grade fair when you came second place, or maybe the many unnervingly polite rejection letters delivered to your door by employers who happened to just find someone who fit better.
You could.
And so could he take the que and fix his mask back on, adhere to society's expectations of someone of his status.
He could.
You'll pull the trigger, and he'll follow along.
But you're, too, unbelievably tired of this prolonged song and dance the head ruling families in this town are obsessed with. The exhausting lies, the concealed truths, and the never-ending self-serving hidden motives behind every single word.
Letting go of the umbrella so he may continue to carry it instead, you move closer to him, holding his arm in your own.
“I know.” You whisper against his shoulder. You don't. How could you possibly understand? Do you even comprehend the meaning of his entire life purpose being swept aside, of being sent to his own death by his own legs, the most humiliating parade of failure for all of those who wished him harm to see.
Daniil pulls away.
Your heart sinks.
The deafening sound of rain pouring rings in your ears.
A single step, then another, and he's completely facing you with his back to the polyhedron. You get a good look at his glossy eyes, his damp hair, the crooked brooch on his cravat.
Then he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly as if you were his last lifeline. You're pressed to his chest, hidden under his coat as if he could hide you from being stolen away by death's claws if he just kept you there.
You don't have to understand to sympathise.
“I don't know what to do… where to go.” The two of you fit snugly under the umbrella with how close you're pressed to one another, you feel his heartbeat and he listens to yours.
He has lost the fight and lost his way. Dreams unravelled, not a single star left to guide him through the ocean he's aimlessly drifting in.
You hug him back, run your fingers through the wet strands of his hair in an attempt to soothe his heavy heart. “Away from this town for a start.”
That gets an unexpected laugh out of him, bittersweet and extremely short, more like an amused huff of air, to be precise. “Yes… far away.”
Yet he lingers in your embrace, and you don't make a move to pull away first. You let him collect his thoughts, wallow in his own sadness while you anchor him in reality.
Staring up ahead at the remains of the crumbled down structure, you wonder what it must have looked like as it fell down. You weren't there to see. You merely heard the sounds of the canons from across town. Broken symphonies, more likely, the doom weapons of humanity used to destroy the miracles of its creation.
The army didn't let anyone near until all the blood was collected. You wonder if the ground really did open up and bleed or was it a metaphorical statement.
No matter how hard you try, you can't spot a single spec of red on the spotless streets upfront. The rain must have washed it away, too. A cleansing shower for the entire town.
Yet the world does not feel anew.
Sinking into the warmth of Daniil's coat, you close your eyes.
No, it feels incredibly old, tiring, same story, different perspective.
You hoped to leave this town a better place than when you first found it, both of you tried really hard.
It seems like you've overestimated your abilities. How did Daniil put it again? Oh yeah, it was like spitting on a tower of flames, expecting, somehow, to put it out.
This place reeked of death.
Welcoming, ridiculing, taunting death. Hanging a carrot onto a stick and pulling the two of you along like fools.
The only way to win a game this rigged is to refuse to play.
You wonder if things could've been different, if in another lifetime the two of you are standing triumphant atop the tower, the jewel of humanity safe and sound.
This parasite of a town set ablaze instead.
No use dreaming of what could haves and what ifs.
A soothing breeze caresses your cheek, your eyes flutter open to the world ahead brighter with the clouds having dispersed. The pause between each rain droplet falling down grows more and more further apart.
Daniil closes the umbrella, and the sunrays fall upon the two of you like a warm blanket. He pulls away, offering his arm instead for you to hold.
“I need a drink. Would you care to keep me company?”
With a nod, you accept it.
A delicate smile graces his lips.
You'll build it, all that was destroyed, you'll salvage the fallen pieces and build it back together from the ground. Thanatica might be no more, but as long as death exists, so will hope in turn.
Humanity went through many hardships, backtracked on its own steps, and regressed before. Wings of wax gave way to prototypes of flying vehicles, and one day, they will conquer flight and manage to stay upright in the sky.
Who knows, maybe one day even the moon will be within reach.
As long as there is someone to die, the fight against death will remain alive.
Two ships sailing side by side in the aftermath of the storm, aligning their destinies, strings of fates intertwining, walking each other home.
He holds you tight.
And you keep him warm.