Ghosts of the Past - Mat & Ren's Haven

Something within his non-beating, non-functioning breast pulled at him.  It was the same when a storm was rolling in, was fuming to be heard and seen.  Connected to Land and Sea, Fire and Air, his eyes were green and unfocused.  Almost as if he had cataracts.  Kilometers disappeared under the worn souls of his boots, his hair, unbound, covering his face.  The pups followed, now standing waist high with him.  Roux had gained at least half a stone in raw muscle, Zydeco had become even more sleek.  

The strays and domestics sensed his return, knew it, but for now, their cries and greetings were ignored.  Everything was ignored until his rough palm touched the fence post.  It was familiar, the texture known.  An old lingering smell.  He blinked for the first time, the scales disappearing from his sight.  Focused on where he was.

Questions ran across his mind - how did he get here.  Why was he here.  But as always, regret served no purpose.  His lips moved, an unspoken word left to be unaired.  The gate opened - squeaking with a familiar timber.  So many things had been taken from him, but the key remained.  Bronze and simple, the fit into the lock.  Turned.  Opened the door.  Opened to the place he had not been in months.  Unchanged.  Unfinished.  

Tainted.

He closed his eyes, listened to the whispers which he could finally understand.  Perhaps she was dead.  Perhaps she had left.  But this was still their house.  He had wanted to purify it.  He owed her that.

It was enough. Questions continued to pour from the heavens into his mind, all which were pushed aside and ignored. Introspection was not his fotre. Roux and Zydeco had waited by the door, settling down on their haunches to wait as he wandered, as he inspected. They had been silent since their rebirth - all three had, still not sure this was life or a dream. Perhaps it was Heaven, and one had to wait for the others to join. Perhaps it was limbo or hell. It didn't matter, in the end, as a hand trailing over their muzzles. Slowly, he exited the building, locking the door, and placing the key above the door. Where it belonged.

He moved to the back, palm following the fence he never finished painting. Towards the sound of the sea. To the waves that he somehow... heard. Somehow... felt. Understood. Confusion drew across his ruddy features, his eyes slowly shifting from their natural green to blue for a moment - aquamarine. Then to grey.

He breathed in the scent of the water, of the ocean, and with a snap, the two pups ran off to play in the water, splashing and barking. He was left alone for a moment, to ponder a very, very important question.

"Where beh mah hat." he scratched his head, pulling his hair back, and tying it in a petite que.

He shook his head again, as if trying to free himself from the cobwebs, from the shattered dreams and memories. He had died - truly died, hadn't he? He remembered... Pa. He remembered the others... hunting. Claws. Dirt. Pain. Something tearing inside of him... something beyond agony, beyond emotion. Something...

Slowly, his hands balled up, but there was no howl, no roar. No cry to the heavens. Silence suited him best, it seemed. Was the most honest emotion, most honest opinion. He faced the winds, opening his now red eyes. They did not gleam... his eyes burned.

The earth rumbled lightly under him, as the true Gods, the ones who feared no touch or sword, fire or light, continued to whisper to him. She was dead. The scent long gone. The price of a broken promise. The price of being a coward.

Now, the soft snarl left his lips. Something inside of him lurked, loomed, and should be locked away. Something he didn't understand. What were these words... these whispers. Torture? Hell, yes... he was damned. His soul had been seared away by one meeting, one man. By one bite, one long bite, his soul had been destroyed. He had learned enough to know that.

At least he had the Pups... perhaps he had earned some forgiveness.

He turned his head, looking at the house. For a moment, a single, solitary moment, he thought about leveling it. Pictured it in flames, washed away, swallowed by the Earth. Ripped asunder. But it was a memory. A relic. But then it was gone. Like everything else.

Gone with the wind.

No.

Par Toutatis, no. No... there were people who would know. She might just be gone, working. For a moment, he actually wanted for a demonic phone. Would use such a disgusting piece of technology.

He. He would know. He cast about, searching for a moment. Nodding to nothing. Snapped, to call back his pets. They had a goal, a mission. And he would run the entire way.