COME PATIENTLY UNDONE ☆ reminiscing

NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS — Aurum disliked the bunkers, and he had plenty of reasons for why. They were musty, and dark, and often seemed to smell of death, and fear. They were used as prisons not only for those who had wronged Tanglewood, but now for the Tanglers themselves, in a cruel twist of dramatic irony. Most of all, however, the lion disliked the bunkers because of the memories that they held. At one time, the bunkers had been occupied by both Mikolaj and Red, a pair that the angel had come to know, and enjoy the company of. In fact, there had been a time where Aurum had felt as though he was falling for Red, despite his best attempts not to let himself be charmed by the mutated gorilla. In the end, however, the former proxy would've taken a thousand lifetimes of pining over Red, rather than have to face what had ended up happening. Red had simply... disappeared one day, gone from all of their lives as if he had never existed. And Mikolaj? Mikolaj had ended up dead and decaying, only to later return in a half rotting state before disappearing once again. Neither of them had exactly gotten happy endings.

It was because of this that Aurum had avoided the bunkers like the plague, but it wasn't as if he could really do that right now. While most of them were able to occasionally slip out into town, being out of the bunkers for long was frowned upon, no matter the circumstance. Even as the lion felt suffocated and driven to the edge, he knew that there was nowhere for him to go, at least not for the moment. So, eventually, Aurum had just decided to bite the bullet. He was going to face his fears, and go back to a place he had once come to know well – Red's area of the bunkers. It hadn't been too hard to get there, considering the Wanderers hardly cared if anyone went deeper into the bunkers. It wasn't as if they'd be able to find another way out – there was only one entrance, and it was heavily guarded at the moment. Regardless, that wasn't what was on the lion's mind as he made his way through the cramped corridors, jaws opens for scents that were now long passed and faded. Eventually, however, he found what he was looking for.

The door is still massive, and heavy, but Aurum was able to open it, shoving his entire large form against the metal until it eventually creaked open. He coughed almost immediately as he stepped inside, the long abandoned home harboring a healthy layer of dust, and God knows what else. The ceilings were high, at least for the bunkers, and the angel actually didn't feel all that claustrophobic, at least for the moment. The furniture inside was still rusted and crumbling, although it now harbored marks and scratches from Red's attempts to move it around to his liking. Aurum stepped further inside, one paw raising up to slip silently over one of the nearby desks, wincing when he pulled it back to see dust covering his pads. He gave a hearty shake of his own paw before continuing on, eventually making a beeline towards the room that scared him the most – the bedroom. Thankfully, there wasn't really anything inside that his anxious mind had predicted, something that he figured would turn out to be true.

The beds within the sleeping area were still unmade and haphazardly moved around, and large metal crates lingered in the corners of the room, giving it a particularly military look. Despite a healthy amount of scouring, Aurum was unable to find any sign left of Red's presence there, just as he had expected. The other truly had just vanished one day, hadn't he? Eventually, the angel ended up just moving over to one of the beds, sitting back and heaving his front half onto it. He sighed as he put his chin down between his paws, staring forward at the empty wall as if the jacket he had once given Red would suddenly materialize there. He found himself just speaking to the empty air, feeling simultaneously full of energy and utterly exhausted, "I wonder what you would have done, if you were still here..." It seemed as though Aurum had made a habit, of losing those that he came to care about, for better or worse. — OF THE MAN WHO WAS BORN AND DIED A KING.

To fixate solely upon the past was to invite old demons forth into the present moment.

Minimal his own, a base recall warped beneath a mind too young to construct each piece into recognisable set pieces, a foggy mess he may not parse and so bore no wish to try. That which obscured, those scenes playing along the brief darkness of eyelid, a projection mind wove with clarity he may only guess upon, unknown. Basic his own reasoning behind bearing an evident opposition to the chosen containment, tugged the simple fears that plagued many children.

Close grew the cloying darkness, few the light sources they were provided for storage select parts of the underground network, particular the individuals who had made this change from intended purpose. Behind the thick curtain of black it cast against concrete walls his mind may only fill the empty spaces with cruel abominations. With ease may each be disproven in turn, but such necessitated courage, seized the tender heart caged in soft breast by such notion, a craven child that evaded false ghosts.

Cool the wall pressed to back, never turned on the darkness that ringed shallow pool of illumination, looked upon with wide, frantic eyes sweeping along what was visible. Movement, sound ricocheting off concrete, approach breaking that flimsy line of protection. Retreat attempted yet nowhere to go, back further pressed against unyielding surface, lips drawn back, a grimace more than what he wished to be a snarl. Tentative in draw as realisation struck, thoughts occupied and thus departure made before voice may arise in questioning call, after the child left to watch as on did father continue. The minutes passed, time in which Salvia pondered the intelligence over abandoning the safety of his placement near the barred entrance, aside the idea pushed as the scraping clamour of metal arose to taint the air.

Slow his own path, though fresh the trail that led him through labyrinth he knew not what await at the end, possibly his own Minotaur, no brazen bull but a beast plucked from feverish nightmares, serpentine and cruel in all ways. Pause occurred near the supposed reopened doors and, tentative now with end is near sight, he stepped within. Obscured the items contained within by thick dust, as though occupation had not occured in a great many months, impossible to stifle the sneeze that echoed and caused ears to flatten. Unimpeded the other, however, lost in memories of a man the child knew nothing of, curious now as he trailed behind.

There was no comfort in his odd position, sprawled half upon and half off, muttering to himself as if he believed he still carried the boon of solitude. Grown sheepish now at this intrusion thought of leaving arose, discarded with a short shake of his head. Apparent how heavy Aurum grew beneath something, forlorn here where he seemed knowledgeable. Quiet his approach, gentle in pressing cheek to shoulder, unaccustomed Salvia to such for above did Aurum tower and now low was he brought. Among those strands, short transitioning into the flowing length of mane that bore the tang of dust as it never should, he nuzzled, announcing his presence with touch before voice arose.

"What is this place." Had he a more clear mind avoided such questioning, old wounds picked out without realisation as surely prior occupant must be spoken of with such, yet childish his curiosity that bubbled forth along hushed murmur.

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But I wish I could I could show you more of yourself, I wish I could make you somebody else but I left it way too late, are you stuck in your own ways? you only look at me properly now when you're drunk watching movies. where are you? what happened? I want what we had

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code by Wisker