Status: Active, but moving slowly
Justice and Mercy
Chapter 4: Loved and Lost.
Chapter 4
Loved and Lost.
Mercy
Mercy had been thinking about Honour lately. Honour had been his rock in the palace. She was one of the king’s advisors. Not that he paid her much heed. He figured having honour personified on his advisory council would look good, when he himself had no sense of honour. Honour was beautiful and just and kind. Hmph. Justice is just, although Mercy had begun to doubt the kind part in her. As soon as he thought that, Mercy’s Talent drowned him in shame and guilt. He knew all the things he ought to be merciful for in her, and her callousness was one of them. Honour had none of that callousness, and she had such a clear, strong sense of right and wrong. Mercy had liked that, around Honour, his Talent was much milder; there was little about her he needed to feel merciful about. He knew it was the same for her- Mercy’s talent caused him to be honourable, and Honour’s to have mercy. In a sense, the pair paralleled each other, soothed each other and automatically knew how to make the other’s pains disappear. Only with her gone, and a hard pang in his heart did Mercy realise truly how much he had cared for her. Loved her, even. Mercy’s gut roiled at the word ‘love’. He loved her. Honour with her golden locks and hard, playful hazel eyes. She was strength and softness, harshness and kindness. The only fault Mercy saw in Honour was that she was sometimes blind to reality; to the fact that not everyone can have honour at all times. She would scorn anyone who had committed a single dishonourable act in their lives, which sadly, was almost everyone; excepting children and Mercy himself. Another sickening pain hit Mercy in the chest as he remembered the day that Honour had done the most amazing thing a Supernatural could: she had told him her real name: Annora. In return, he of course had told her his own true name, but no other. Mercy looked up at the rising sun form where he was seated on the roof of the barracks. He had climbed up here in the early hours of the morning, while Justice slept restlessly, thrashing about and crying out in her sleep. He had been forced to leave the room, because when she slept, Justice’s mind was completely unguarded, and all of her guilt, her self-loathing and her terror at herself assailed him. After a while, he could no longer resist the desire his Talent instilled in him to ease her suffering, so he left. Mercy glanced at the horizon and a blinding orange sun peeked over the cracked, hard earth. Everything was flat, and Mercy could see for miles and miles. Panic constricted his heart as he surveyed the land- where would they go? There was nothingness for an eternity in every direction.
“Good morning,” said a familiar voice behind him. Mercy started and glanced over his shoulder as a grim looking Justice plonked down beside him.
“Morning,” was his murmured reply.
“How did you sleep?” Justice asked, concern momentarily leaking into her strong voice.
“Fine, thanks. You?”
“I slept wonderfully.” Justice lied, “So, I have an idea…”
“Yeah?” Mercy eyed her through a sideways glance.
“Yes. A friend of mine…Sage, was his name. He told me about this place. He said that if you travel north for about a week, you ought to come across a small settlement of people who survived the Great War. He says they are friendly enough, if you value wit and honour.” Justice looked away sadly as she spoke, suddenly finding her nails very interesting. Mercy, on the other hand, was incredulous.
“You know Sage?!” he demanded, “How?”
“Once I came to the palace, Sage pretty much raised me,” Justice said, a tear sliding down her cheek for the first time that Mercy could recall, “He was like a father to me.”
“Oh…” Mercy felt a pang of guilt, but made no move to comfort her, he thought it would go badly, “I’m sorry.”
Justice
Justice was crying. For the fist time since she was taken away from her parents, she was actually, truly crying, and she hated herself for it. ‘You are so weak’ she scolded herself, surreptitiously wiping the stray tears from her eyes.
“So, I believe that would be the correct path to take.” She murmured, hiding again behind formality.
“Of course.” Mercy said, and the concern in his voice made Justice want to cry even more. She so badly wanted to scream and cry and jump off of this roof. She missed Sage’s wrinkled, laughing face and his glittering grey eyes as he told her some cryptic wisdom, all convoluted and mysterious. He had been her mentor and her father, and it was to him that she owed her sharp mind and her inner strength. Justice drew on that inner strength now, pulling her emotions into her gut and pulling her body onto its weary feet. She climbed down into the barracks, knowing that Mercy would follow in his own time and strapped her belt on, newly loaded in its arsenal. Justice slowly stepped out the rotting door of the barracks, and gazed up at the late-sunrise sky, closing her eyes to the warmth that caressed her cheeks, and breathing in the vitality and light. She took a few more deep, calming breaths, feeling the tears she had been restraining slowly ebb. They were still there, of course, just buried deep in her heart, along with every other emotion she felt was too overwhelming. Once more, Justice worried that maybe she would fill her heart up too much with emotions and it would all explode. Then she heard Mercy approach and quickly dismissed the thought as folly, turning to face him sharply.
“Are you ready?” Justice asked, meeting his eye with her usual harshness.
“When you are.” Mercy replied, following her as she stepped out into the hot, dry sun.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Justice and Mercy walked for hours, gazing up at the blaring sun for direction. The water rations diminished quickly, and they took to wrapping the tattered blankets from the barracks around their heads and faces to protect them from the hot sun and the occasional blast of sand from the dunes that could be seen far, far to the east. In a place where cracked red dirt became rough, orange sand that shifted constantly. That was a place the pair agreed to avoid, thinking it best to seek out this supposed civilisation. Conversation was minimal between the pair- Mercy was open, extroverted and gentle and Justice closed, introverted and cold. Mercy agonised over his companion’s façade and self hate, and Justice fought her own private war against herself. So the companions walked silently, avoiding each other’s gaze, but glancing up when they didn’t think the other was looking. The sun was directly overhead when Mercy called for a break.
“Come now, Justice. This is madness!” he bellowed hoarsely, and Justice stopped walking. She turned to him, squinting against the sun.
“But we need shade to rest. Look! Over there!” she pointed to a dying sapling tree, “It’s not far.” She kept trudging ahead, and after a moment, Mercy obliged, the thought of shade, no matter how scarce, fuelling him onwards.
“Why did I do this?” he whispered to himself.
Loved and Lost.
Mercy
Mercy had been thinking about Honour lately. Honour had been his rock in the palace. She was one of the king’s advisors. Not that he paid her much heed. He figured having honour personified on his advisory council would look good, when he himself had no sense of honour. Honour was beautiful and just and kind. Hmph. Justice is just, although Mercy had begun to doubt the kind part in her. As soon as he thought that, Mercy’s Talent drowned him in shame and guilt. He knew all the things he ought to be merciful for in her, and her callousness was one of them. Honour had none of that callousness, and she had such a clear, strong sense of right and wrong. Mercy had liked that, around Honour, his Talent was much milder; there was little about her he needed to feel merciful about. He knew it was the same for her- Mercy’s talent caused him to be honourable, and Honour’s to have mercy. In a sense, the pair paralleled each other, soothed each other and automatically knew how to make the other’s pains disappear. Only with her gone, and a hard pang in his heart did Mercy realise truly how much he had cared for her. Loved her, even. Mercy’s gut roiled at the word ‘love’. He loved her. Honour with her golden locks and hard, playful hazel eyes. She was strength and softness, harshness and kindness. The only fault Mercy saw in Honour was that she was sometimes blind to reality; to the fact that not everyone can have honour at all times. She would scorn anyone who had committed a single dishonourable act in their lives, which sadly, was almost everyone; excepting children and Mercy himself. Another sickening pain hit Mercy in the chest as he remembered the day that Honour had done the most amazing thing a Supernatural could: she had told him her real name: Annora. In return, he of course had told her his own true name, but no other. Mercy looked up at the rising sun form where he was seated on the roof of the barracks. He had climbed up here in the early hours of the morning, while Justice slept restlessly, thrashing about and crying out in her sleep. He had been forced to leave the room, because when she slept, Justice’s mind was completely unguarded, and all of her guilt, her self-loathing and her terror at herself assailed him. After a while, he could no longer resist the desire his Talent instilled in him to ease her suffering, so he left. Mercy glanced at the horizon and a blinding orange sun peeked over the cracked, hard earth. Everything was flat, and Mercy could see for miles and miles. Panic constricted his heart as he surveyed the land- where would they go? There was nothingness for an eternity in every direction.
“Good morning,” said a familiar voice behind him. Mercy started and glanced over his shoulder as a grim looking Justice plonked down beside him.
“Morning,” was his murmured reply.
“How did you sleep?” Justice asked, concern momentarily leaking into her strong voice.
“Fine, thanks. You?”
“I slept wonderfully.” Justice lied, “So, I have an idea…”
“Yeah?” Mercy eyed her through a sideways glance.
“Yes. A friend of mine…Sage, was his name. He told me about this place. He said that if you travel north for about a week, you ought to come across a small settlement of people who survived the Great War. He says they are friendly enough, if you value wit and honour.” Justice looked away sadly as she spoke, suddenly finding her nails very interesting. Mercy, on the other hand, was incredulous.
“You know Sage?!” he demanded, “How?”
“Once I came to the palace, Sage pretty much raised me,” Justice said, a tear sliding down her cheek for the first time that Mercy could recall, “He was like a father to me.”
“Oh…” Mercy felt a pang of guilt, but made no move to comfort her, he thought it would go badly, “I’m sorry.”
Justice
Justice was crying. For the fist time since she was taken away from her parents, she was actually, truly crying, and she hated herself for it. ‘You are so weak’ she scolded herself, surreptitiously wiping the stray tears from her eyes.
“So, I believe that would be the correct path to take.” She murmured, hiding again behind formality.
“Of course.” Mercy said, and the concern in his voice made Justice want to cry even more. She so badly wanted to scream and cry and jump off of this roof. She missed Sage’s wrinkled, laughing face and his glittering grey eyes as he told her some cryptic wisdom, all convoluted and mysterious. He had been her mentor and her father, and it was to him that she owed her sharp mind and her inner strength. Justice drew on that inner strength now, pulling her emotions into her gut and pulling her body onto its weary feet. She climbed down into the barracks, knowing that Mercy would follow in his own time and strapped her belt on, newly loaded in its arsenal. Justice slowly stepped out the rotting door of the barracks, and gazed up at the late-sunrise sky, closing her eyes to the warmth that caressed her cheeks, and breathing in the vitality and light. She took a few more deep, calming breaths, feeling the tears she had been restraining slowly ebb. They were still there, of course, just buried deep in her heart, along with every other emotion she felt was too overwhelming. Once more, Justice worried that maybe she would fill her heart up too much with emotions and it would all explode. Then she heard Mercy approach and quickly dismissed the thought as folly, turning to face him sharply.
“Are you ready?” Justice asked, meeting his eye with her usual harshness.
“When you are.” Mercy replied, following her as she stepped out into the hot, dry sun.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Justice and Mercy walked for hours, gazing up at the blaring sun for direction. The water rations diminished quickly, and they took to wrapping the tattered blankets from the barracks around their heads and faces to protect them from the hot sun and the occasional blast of sand from the dunes that could be seen far, far to the east. In a place where cracked red dirt became rough, orange sand that shifted constantly. That was a place the pair agreed to avoid, thinking it best to seek out this supposed civilisation. Conversation was minimal between the pair- Mercy was open, extroverted and gentle and Justice closed, introverted and cold. Mercy agonised over his companion’s façade and self hate, and Justice fought her own private war against herself. So the companions walked silently, avoiding each other’s gaze, but glancing up when they didn’t think the other was looking. The sun was directly overhead when Mercy called for a break.
“Come now, Justice. This is madness!” he bellowed hoarsely, and Justice stopped walking. She turned to him, squinting against the sun.
“But we need shade to rest. Look! Over there!” she pointed to a dying sapling tree, “It’s not far.” She kept trudging ahead, and after a moment, Mercy obliged, the thought of shade, no matter how scarce, fuelling him onwards.
“Why did I do this?” he whispered to himself.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry it's been so long. Year 12.. what anarchy!