[ one hundred lives ] - chapter 2

what; original story, second chapter [A hundred lives].
character; Unnamed character {Thomas} & {Nakir}.
summary; each sin should be paid tenfold.
warnings; small idea I had, written by pure boredom. An old story I have laying around.


--- x x x X X X x x x ---


Contrary to common belief, not all beings enjoyed mystery. There were those who had time in their hands, a huge lack of tasks which deserved notice. Those were allowed to lose time searching for an eluded answer. It was human nature to wish for those, it would perfectly normal for any of them.

She wasn't one of them. Nakir had never presumed herself to be one of the loved ones. She knew better than that. So, instead of dwelling in those invisible solutions, she focused in those she could feel. Silently, the things she had seen, which had almost surprised her if such thing was possible, well behind her and moved on. There were still too many lives to go and he had hardly deserved her forgiveness.

In his next, the woman hadn't paid nearly as much attention. There wasn't any cold hatred in her choices, her desires for his life but there wasn't any care either. Temptation. He was temptation simply because he could see what others could not. If he did so, he could influence her decisions. And such could never happen. Why were Executioners kept aside if to be impartial? Why were they kept in closed rooms, their contact restrained, their patterns of honor so just and unbreakable.

Eighty-nine lives to go. None could afford her to become anything less than what she needed to be. For that alone, she took more care. Invisible steps became soundless and she watched. She watched even more closely as the boy grew and interacted, never frowning, all surprised hidden behind her. Two feelings, she'd never forget.

Sometimes. Just sometimes – she'd never bother to notice for longer – he seemed to reach out for her. There was a look there, a smile for empty air, maybe a hand which touched nothing. Nakir saw it countless times but truth was, it didn't matter. Especially when he called her name, it didn't matter. She wasn't there to give him comfort. She was his Executioner. No, not his. She belonged to those who had claimed for justice that day and that night, to the ones which screams still lived inside her, whose hatred was solely hers.

His looks were ignored, his smiles misunderstood and her name whispered for none. She simply could not care.

Literally.

Eighty-two lives to go and he still pushed forward while she walked away. It should be the other way around, she often thought, watching the boy and man who wished for more than he could have. She watched and perceived and watched again and could not understand. His lives were lived in the same manner, always. It didn't matter the ones she chose. Scribe and Sheppard and Warrior, François and Anhur and Eckhart, Lord, she could recite them all. He would always live the best he could, even with the little which she gave her.

And with seventy-eight lives to go, it still baffled her. A feeling which wasn't a feeling because her heart would never possess more than two. But still, it was a nagging suspicion on the back of her mind. And suspicion she could feel. From suspicion to hatred it could be just one step.

They were stuck with each other, she had reasoned. She didn't need an answer but obviously he could. It was her duty.

It was the first time she ever lied to herself.

--- x x x X X X x x x ---

The mountains were a good place to live. Trees as far as the eye could see, rocks and earth mingling to take one's breath away. Clear air and cleaner water. It was truly a heavenly place for one to dwell. Around her feet, life whispered, touched the one who gave and took it so easily. And her features contorted in the parody of a smile, almost as if imagining that touch to be intentional.

Every day since his birth Nakir would allow herself to cross that path. Two steps behind, always two steps behind him, ever since a boy. And the hunter that he was would always slow down, sparing his companion of sudden tiredness. Humans and men, always the same. He'd still call her, he'd still turn to show her his prey, share a tiny little shard of his life. As if it mattered.

"Nakir! Nakir, look. Look! Down!" Like a child calling his mother, wishing for a word of pride which would never be uttered. He jumped in the same place, waved with the wooden bow, tried to hold her arm just to back away in the last second. Usual, stupid man.

She wondered often why her eyes would turn to watch what he had found to be interesting.

That day it hadn't been obvious. Perched on a boulder, he had knelt, pointing between vegetation earnestly. And she kept standing. And he called and gestured but she kept standing. Honestly, he could not hope her to pay that much attention. He shouldn't see her, know her, speak to her and still. "Nakir…? Just this one time?"

His name was Edwin in this life. Both mother and father lived, both sisters and younger brother, she wasn't heartless. There was lack of food in the table and dark dreams of invading armies just around the corner. But she wasn't heartless, he wouldn't suffer more than needed before his time arrived. Twenty years, for once, those years could be of peace.

And if she didn't bend, she'd break.

The sun was setting. Reflecting gently on the lake, it cast its light upon everything, lighting every leaf, every feather and stone. It made one want to try and touch it. Smile, if just a little.

And she couldn't but, she almost wished she could.

Edwin didn't comment when she bowed down, allowing her knees to touch the earth as to find a clearer view of the setting. He didn't even comment when her clothes rustled but a little. When they touched him and she almost, almost but not quite, seemed content. He didn't because it wasn't needed. She had reached out too this time.

It could be seen in his smile, bright as the setting sun.

"What is my name?" For once, he had taken his time to speak. Several moments had passed, her brown eyes relaxing in the light, her pale skin shining, white against white clothing. And Edwin hadn't wanted to break that moment so easily. It had taken too much to arrive, too much time for her to apparently hear him for once. She had now and she had to have an answer. So to her she asked, risking everything in a single sentence because the moment could not come to pass.

All of that Nakir could see and hear, unable to understand. Names were just names for her, words, nothing else. His was Edwin now and it would be John the coming year, Yushin in twenty one years. It simply didn't matter. Even if she knew what he meant, it didn't matter.

Executioners didn't lie. A knife was handed with a clear head and empty heart, honesty in every inch of one's body. Nakir didn't know any other way to exist.

"I do not know," she said simply. Clear words, ringing through the clearing tonelessly, drowned by his sadness. It didn't matter, she could say. Because that name belonged to a criminal and he could leave that behind. All that, she could have taught him. Still, if he remembered all, why ask her?

Edwin sat by her side, abandoning his crouched position. Like the child he so often portrayed, the man pouted, careless hands playing with the dirt underneath him. "I thought you would know. Because… well, I know them all." Like before, he spoke without thinking, without pausing. Often had she thought that to be his gravest fault. Some would harm him for that. "I know the first and second, I know the eleventh and I remember how my sister's hair was blonde and she took my clothes because she was cold. I remember mom's cooking and dad's snoring. I remember my cousin's spear breaking. The chickens running around. The dogs barking while they attacked. I remember everything and anything."

Nakir had swore never to be surprised by her charge. Sitting in that empty field, she reviewed her opinion. Everything he remembered, she remembered too. Everything he had lived was strong in her mind, it couldn't be any other way. But what he missed, she missed too. That first name, that first crime, was it supposed to be mean anything?

Lord, she had never cursed her ignorance as in that moment. But she was nothing, she was supposed to be nothing but a ghost and those hold no answers, which no answers.

Without a word, she stood and wordlessly still, the woman turned her back and walked away. Words forgotten and contact forgiven. Something had been formed, however. Something which made her pause in her way, feeling herself strangely real and almost human.

"I name you Hanel."

Executioners felt nothing. They weren't human. Nakir knew herself to be one to the bottom of her being, feeling as she felt nothing, not pity nor care. All was well even if she had given a second blessing without a reason. Without asking for anything as price.

And behind her Hanel smiled, smiled brightly once more as he took the name for himself.

The sun set five seconds after, waiting patiently for all words to remain silent.