Farewells. (For all those who wish to join.)
OoC: This RP is dedicated to the memory of Kellson/Johnny Bones, and, of course...Duke.
I start this with a quote from one of my and Duke’s favorite Chappelle's Show skits (the Prince basketball one), just like we used to do in our first battle ever: “In your face, Charlie Murphy.”
IC:
Clarity.
She thought that would be the last thing she’d want at a moment like this. The universes upon universes out there were whirling around on unfathomable points, completely unaware of their loss, save for those few little candles in the dark—those few little hearts in those few little, feeble pinpricks of life—where everything was utterly frozen. They would be frozen for some time. They hadn’t invented the defroster that could thaw this feeling out in mere minutes, like microwaving some mysterious leftover stuck in the freezer for months.
She actually wasn’t quite sure what she was staring at anymore. Colors and shapes had blurred; visual clarity wasn’t the kind of thing she was worried about right now. She had clarity of mind. Her world was filled with only her thoughts, and memories, and the little soft sounds of her own breath.
She gazed emptily now at the blue, clear sky overhead, seeing more than what was physically there. When a human experiences a loss like she had, yelling at the heavens seemed to be a popular course of action. It wasn’t that those big, puffy, stupid clouds were staring back at you and angering you, all placid and…and cotton-candy like…like something out of a happy little children’s book. Like nothing happened. At least…not entirely.
It’s that you wanted to believe, somehow, that by yelling at the sky, someone beyond could hear you.
Cadenza Madrigal clenched a fist, threw her head back, and shouted at the height of her voice: “Godsdamnit, you big bloody weenus! Why did you have to go?”
Nearby birds fluttered away in fear. Leaves on numerous flowering trees shook at the sheer gravity of that shout.
Someone, back in the reality of the immense Dome garden that Cadenza had mistakenly thought she was alone in, coughed.
The gypsy became vaguely aware of the woman beside her--she had been standing there for the past ten minutes. And, at the moment, she looked considerably appalled.
“…It’s the skin on your elbow, ma’am, I assure you—and it’s a joke. He would have wanted a joke.”
This seemed to do little for the teacher’s reputation. The woman sucked her teeth in a derisive tsk, shook her head, and quickly moved to a safe distance before she found herself in the way of one of those punches she had heard so much about from messengers who had run-ins with the temperamental gypsy before. No one was quite sure how to behave around the teacher right now--she had the potential to be one of those ticking time-bombs, where the littlest thing would set off an explosion no one could ever be truly prepared for. Grief wasn’t a new thing to her, but it was something she experienced in seclusion--and often drunkenness—and this time, she wasn’t dealing with it in either way, and that was…confusing. Unpredictable.
The first thing that seemed to come to her was that ugly, persistent kind of regret; the kind that makes your heart feel heavier than a lead weight, and is just as toxic to your insides. She had spent the whole morning in that state, reflecting. In her mind, for once, she was honest with herself. The chronic liar; the proud, reticent heart; and all those walls…metaphorical, emotional walls that people like her life coach--a man who, if his life had a soundtrack, it would be comprised of elevator music and the tunes to the commercials during A. E. Pessimal’s “Auditing Your Life” radio broadcast--always talked about seemed to melt away…for a time. As much as they could while still leaving a recognizable trace of the Cadenza they were a part of within.
That morning, she had sat and thought to herself: …When he was Kellson, I hated him. At least…on the surface. I wasted precious time with petty hate... He hated me, so I forced myself to return the feeling—I didn’t want to be that person who gives one-sided respect, like a person who bakes someone cupcakes, only to have that someone throw them down and smash them with their boots until they were only stains on the floor. I wanted it back in return. I… didn’t have the strength to put myself out there and try and change the state of things… He was just a dumb student, and I…I didn’t see the value in becoming at least a friend to him. We fought, we argued, we…wasted time. Then I left the Dome and him for my own business.
Then…he passed on for the first time. I…I just tried to seem angry about him being graced with the opportunity to repent when I heard the news from Zorlo…once the initial shock wore away. Was there grief then? I don’t know. I was good at twisting those kinds of feelings into blind anger—sometimes without realizing it. That was something I wasn’t ashamed to express—“I hate you”, “you anger me”, whatever. Grief was different. You…you had to show things could hurt you. That you didn’t hate someone when they had hated you, even. That you thought that he had been too young to go when he did, and that…maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he did get to come back. I didn’t want to think about him. It was opening up too many avenues. I was feeling vulnerable. I tried to push him out of my life, and it was easy for a while, when we didn’t see each other.
But that couldn’t last. The Dome wouldn’t let it. It knew better. I’m always questioning why the place does certain things to me, and always getting so angry at it for doing them…but this change in our relationship that it pushed for, sticking us together time and time again…I could never thank the place enough.
We ran into each other for the first time since his resurrection in Chinatown. I had read the files on him in the Dome before then…knew why he was back. The idea of him saving ten thousand souls seemed laughable. We…we slipped right back into comfortable hatred. Witty retorts and insults at the other’s expense. Trash talk and fighting. I wanted to get away from him—but he wouldn’t leave me alone. It was so frustrating. I couldn’t get away.
Then the Spirit of Shadow made a power grab, and for a little while, I was away from it all. But it was terrible. Trapped in my own body, without any of my control. He thought he could still fight me—but he had no chance. I hurt him again and again…
And then…when I was freed…and I started fighting that Dybia…things seemed to change. Johnny seemed to have a change of heart, or something…something had clicked. And thank the gods that it did. It started so much. It started something that would soon let me be happy again...truly happy for the first time since I lost Paris.
I tried to not think about Johnny. I tried to be angry at him. I couldn’t. He disarmed me with that personality. Those things couldn’t stand up to his efforts to make me let him in…after Chinatown, he met with me again and again in my training room at the Dome. Things moved quickly. I was swept up by him. Erik…paled in comparison then. Faded into the background. Johnny and I were becoming friends…and I almost felt like some sort of infatuated schoolgirl when I was with him. My heart felt light and airy. I tried to deny that for a time…but the Dome helped things along in the form of my other students, and…we started to share some nice moments. We were both surprised by it all. It was unexpected, but…it seemed…right. We weren’t perfect, and we both had our flaws and troubles, but…the Dome had brought us together. Or rather…Johnny had.
He saw something in this…in this “wretched, mean-spirited, lazy, disobedient, rude little slip of a woman” that no one else really saw…and he…he softened me. He softened all that. I could be that flawed woman, and be accepted. He…he made me laugh like no one else. He sang to me with more feeling than anyone did. Because he did it to make me happy. He treated me like he treated no one else. We didn’t get to be together for long, but…I couldn’t remember ever being that happy in so long. That short time together meant so much. He'd risked himself for me at times...and we both made sacrifices and tough choices...we both had found someone who'd do that for our sake.
And now…now he’s where he should be. Heaven. Gods…or God, I should say, knows he deserves a place there. He saved ten thousand souls. And…if I’m going to continue to be honest with myself, then…I was one of those souls. He might not have known it. But I’d like to think…maybe I was Number Ten Thousand. Number Ten Thousand…who’s going to feel lost for quite some time without the brilliant light that complemented her shadow…
...I think I might have been beginning to love you, Johnny. And I just wish I had gotten a chance to say it before. Adios...
OoC: I intend to post again for my other characters that still have goodbyes to say. I just...wanted Cadenza to have this post for herself.