byron darlington ϟ boy blue (forgivelife) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2012-08-23 15:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | byron darlington, grace cash |
Who: Byron Darlington (and potentially open to other Fables?)
What: Byron makes a decision, and puts his grief to rest.
Where: The Farm, Albany, NY
When: Thursday afternoon, August 23rd, 2012
Warnings: None!
The peace of the Farm brought Byron back to life. It was subtle at first, so much so that Byron himself wasn't aware of it until months later, that he was finally doing what he should have been all along: living. He'd spent too long completely shut down in the main house that once he stepped outside, the fresh air was like a godsend – a reminder that he was, in fact, still breathing. Then, seeing him walking without purpose around the Farm, the non-human Fables started to come to him when Briar was at the clinic. Tentative at first, they asked him to do little things for them – thatch a roof here, settle a small dispute there – which surprised him, but he did them anyway, politely and efficiently. There was nothing else to do, after all, and he was so tired of being a ghost. Tired of mourning, and tired of hoping, for Briar's sake, that Charlotte would wake up that day. Every day those hopes were harder to resurrect.
Soon enough, however, he discovered that he enjoyed work on the Farm. He gave himself tasks instead of waiting for the other Fables to request his help, doing the so-called "hard labor" Prince Charming had once sentenced Blue with in order to cover up a covert mission to the Homelands. But just as it was then, it wasn't hard labor now – not really. It was a distraction, but it was productive, and he went to bed at night too exhausted to care about the inevitable nightmares, satisfied he'd done something worthwhile. There was no end of jobs that had to be done at the Farm, which some might have found daunting, but not Byron. This was a simple life, but it was rewarding. No heroics, no lies. The kind of life he'd always wanted, really.
In the middle of patching up the barn, Byron realized with a start that he didn't feel guilty for preferring this life over the one he'd led with Oscar anymore. Conning had always been his brother's idea of a good time, not Byron's, but he'd always gone along with it because that's what he'd always done. Follow his brother to hell and back. This last time, Byron had come back from hell without his brother, and he was lost for quite some time. But he'd found something now he could do without Oscar, so completely different from Oscar that he hardly thought about his brother at all while he did it. And that was good, wasn't it? Didn't mean he missed his twin any less. Just that he was moving on.
Taking short, fortifying breath, Byron resumed hammering until the hole he was covering was sufficiently boarded up, then he climbed down the ladder, picking up the Witching Cloak from the ground and unceremoniously wiping his sweaty face with it. He didn't have much cause to use the cloak anymore, except to travel back and forth from the clinic and to store certain items he never wanted anyone to find. One in particular came to mind now, and he looked down at the cloak in his hands, almost puzzled. Then, without taking his eyes off the object of his bemusement, he walked across the square until he reached the steps of the main house. He sat down and pondered quietly for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Glenn," he said simply, and within the folds of the Witching Cloak appeared something he'd forgotten about years ago: Blue's horn. Byron smiled softly at the sight of it and brought it to his lips. It was a shame Briar wasn't around to hear the opening notes of Blue's favorite song, but as Byron closed his eyes and fell into the melody, he knew he wouldn't be stopping any time soon. Just like riding a bicycle, as the saying went. And for the first time in a long time, Byron was at peace.