The ways of being

A/N I started this for
NaNoWriMo ‘09. class=SpellE>With my pace
I probably won’t finish it on
time, but a girl sure can dream. Besides, knowing that I am a part of the
project where such goddesses as Kiix and class=SpellE>Madlodger are class=SpellE>participating is class=SpellE>more than enough
for me. Criticismlang=LT> (especially constructive one)
is welcome.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>   

Prologue

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>The light was seeping through the flowery
curtains caressing his left cheek. It was a new bright day. Full of hopes and
truths to be discovered and new dreams to be realized. The world was ...good.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>    

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>Then the thought hit him hard, unsuspecting.
Like drop that hits you in on the head and makes you look up to realize that
the sky is cloudy.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>‘Not that it matters. Nothing matters at all.’

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>The smiled a bitter smile and felt – lonely,
lost. Surprised the man reveled in his own feelings. Probably for the first
time in his life he let himself to fully, wholeheartedly feel and the emptiness
of his own heart scared him.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>Hours passed, with him not moving from the
spot. But it was ok, for he no longer had home, family or plans for the future.
Revenge was an idea that his mind chose to reject initially, but his heart
still seemed to hold some affection to it. Searches for the new road to follow,
had to wait.      

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>The door to the apartment opened with a sound
click. Yes, he remembered locking it, yesterday. It was cheep limed wooden door
with a cheep lock. So, who was this person that bothered to break into the
apartment with the door seemed to scream ‘poor’ for all those willing to
listen, a junkie or a maniac? Getting up, to find this out seemed for the man
like too much of a bother. 

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>It was the White priest. Figures.
What a suitable ending, for the likes of him.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>“Hello, my dear. Does the procedure require me
standing, or can I remain as I am?”

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>The priest looked surprised. It’s not everyday
that the one about to be cleansed goes without a struggle. It was more than
likely, that just yesterday this same priest was fighting to take the life flow
of the man’s brethren and knew firsthand just how dangerous that could be.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>Not to be disappointing, but he was tired of
struggling. And the surprise suited the priest, made her look young, beautiful.
No, he corrected himself. She did not only look young, naïve, beautiful,
she was all of it. Years showed on Guilimatti even
more so than they did on ordinary people. If his last memory were to be the two
pools of silver of this child, so be it. The man closed his eyes.

class=SpellE>style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>Guilimatticlass=GramE>style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  fell heavily on her knees and grabbed his hands with hers. It was hard and
cold grip. Growing colder still, as her lips started to move, stealing man’s
life flow out of him. Calm and deadly words flowed like frost in the winter,
making his thoughts sluggish and turning the task of breathing into hard labor.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>‘I wonder if this is the reason why they are
called ‘whites’?’  Was his last thought
before the dreamless sleep took him.