Tired red eyes gazed into the distance. A black cat sat on the edge of a building top, hands placed on the edge and legs hanging over the side, slouched over.
He was tired...
One hand reached up and rested on the cold metal of his glowing collar. He had been healed several times. Again and again. But the collar wouldn't turn off now. It seemed on constant alert.
Or maybe Pyran should have died just from pure exahstion. Maybe his body was still trying to die. He was glad to still be alive but...at what cost? It hurt... why couldn't he and Relka have just...why did it have to be like this all the time? Why couldn't he ever get a good break?
A familiar form sat down next to him. He was wearing his usual gloves and shoes, but he was also wearing a pair of black denim pants and a plack sleeveless shirt. "Hello, Pyran. I do believe that we have a lot to talk about." Kironayas stretched his arms out in front of him, and one of his elbows cracked, as though it was a knuckle. He looked at it curiously, then dismissed it.
He cast his own pair of red orbs towards the familiar cat. "Mainly, I would like to talk you you about being dead, and being half dead."
Pyran's eyes widened just slightly as they slowly roved around to find the source of the voice he hadn't heard in so long.
Immediately he lept to his feet--and almost off the edge of the building, but he regained his ballance fast. Pyran swore, fur spiked out a little. "Kironayas?!" he asked breathlessly. "Who...No, you can't be...what happened to you?"
Without much inflection at all, Kironayas monotoned, "I got killed. My sister went bat-sh*t crazy and tried to kill the guy that killed me, and failed, and then she brought me back. Sort of. I'm kinda half-alive. Which is why I wanted to talk to you, actually. What can I expect from not being quite alive? If I'm not mistaken, that would be your statu, yes?" He didn't move, didn't blink, simply spoke. No joking, no smart-*ss quips.
Pyran's eyes narrowed as he uncomfortably sat back down next to his old friend. This didn't seem like Kironyas. But... "Well...to tell you the truth, personal experience so far seems to say that if h*ll can't have ya it'll come find you. And I've been through many h*lls, trust me..." His ears flicked back a little. "That girl, that stupid girl... you aren't supposed to bring back the dead! Didn't she see me once? See what had happened..."
Normally. Kironayas would say, "Well, isn't that cheery?" However, in the state he was in, he simply went, "Hmmm. I agree. She shouldn't have done it." He then tilted his head. "Did she know you're dead? I don't think she did. And I don't think she was thinking, either. Me and that green b*st*rd are all she has, really." Then, he took a deep breath. "I wish I could laugh. I used to make you laugh sometimes, didn't I?"
A lot of his memory of the time before he had died was a bit foggy, and some parts gone altogether. he couldn't remember their first meeting at all, only the meeting at the pizza place. Because he had called Pyran over by name, that meant he knew the cat from before, although he did not know where.
Pyran didn't understand that Kironayas just didn't have the ability any more. He assumed it was the stress. Pyran sure as heck hadn't felt like laughing after his own rise from the grave. "Heh, laughing is what gets me through this and keeps me the normal insane instead of getting any worse. You should laugh. It's not that bad."
He leaned forward a little and looked out accross the city, at the crowds of people. "But...out of curiousity, not that I'd want you to try, but...do you think you could still die? I mean...how were you brought back. I was brought back rather cruelly through binding my soul to my dead body with this collar. For Colt, fate was kinder, and he was brought back by first healing the body or repairing it with mechanics. His soul came back on its own. What about you?"
"Like I said, my sister went completely bat-sh*t. She performed an ancient ritual of some kind, f*ck, whatever, anyway, now I'm back, but I feel like I'm yearning for something, and I don't know what." He looked over the edge of the building. "About still dying. There's one way to find out." With a quick shove, over the side he went.
"Just as long as what you're yearning for isn't blood..." Pyran grumbled.
But suddenly Kironayas was gone.
"Ho crap!" Pyran leaped to his feet, mouth agape as he watched the Azekaran fall. Crap crap, it was a bit too late to act now. If this guy couldn't survive...well then maybe his Azekaran blood would save him. Hopefully. Pyran would find out. It was a long fall. But he'd hit the ground right...about...
There was a noice halfway between a thud and a splat when he hit. He lay still, his upper arm bending where it really shouldn't. After about ten seconds, the Azekaran stood nonchalantly, reached across, set his arm with a loud crunching noise, and walked back into the building, as though nothing had happened.
Reaching the roof again, he opened the door with his broken arm. "Aparently not. At least, not at this hight. Should we try a taller building?" he reached behind him and pushed the door, which unset his arm with a crack. He looked at it as though the arm belonged to someone else, then calmly reset it before casting his eyes back to Pyran, waiting for an answer.
Pyran gave him the o.O look. "Ah...no, let's not...At least...not until we see Tristan." Pyran had wanted to die, he'd be somewhat of a hypocrite if he told Kironayas not to. But then, Pyran had found something to live for...something wonderful. Maybe there was a reason he'd been brought back...Ah, who was he kidding?! It was the sick world playing with his head! But it had worked out for him...somewhat.
"Not yet. Why do we have to? I'm certain he knows I'm back. Either Midoki or Sakai have probably told him. If Tristan no longer wants to kill Sakai. Question, how long was I dead? I'm pretty sure Tristan told you when I died. How long has it been?" Kironayas returned to his seat on the edge of the building. "My arm should hurt, but it doesn't...." He looked at it again, as though it was someone elses. "Why doesn't it hurt?"
That was one of many questions. Why couldn't he laugh? Why was nothing funny to him? Usually, the mere mention of his brother could send some twenty wisecracks through his mind, but now.... nothing. No humor. No humor, no pain. An even trade, he supposed. His laughter gone and his pain gone. A breeze riffled through his hair and spikes, but it did not feel cold. Usually, it did.
"You can't... Why?" Pyran asked, rounding on him. "I mean, not feeling things, that's perfectly normal--er, for a dead guy. But humor, general emotions, those are...those are part of being what we are. You shouldn't have lost that..." What sick manner did that girl bring him back with?
"Kiron...it's been months, several months, almost a year... You have to see Tristan." Tristan had suffered as much as his sister if Pyran remembered correctly. Except he didn't go mad...
"Hmm?" He looked up at Pyran. "I didn't realize I was thinking aloud." He stood, this time making sure to use his unbroken arm. While the broken one did not hurt, that didn't mean it was not bad for the limb to be used in such a state. "I should probably splint this, I suppose. Got anything handy?" He used his unbroken hand to fish around in his pockets, but failed to find anything he could use for bandaging or splinting.
Returning his eyes to Pyran, he said, "Why would we have to talk to Tristan?" He wanted to laugh at the way Pyran said 'for a dead guy,' and knew that before he had died, it would have been funny. Also what should have been funny was the irony in that. If he had not died, being called a dead guy would have made him laugh, especially if it was true, which it could not be. This was the kind of thing that would normally make him lose his balance in laughter.
((>.< Sorry--I skip over some reading sometimes.))
Pyran's ears flattened a little but he searched through the pockets of his trench coat. "Ah...I have bandages," he produced the roll of bandaging that he generally brought along simply because he was prone to injury. "But as far as a splint...Um... I don't really have anything unless you don't mind using the blade on my sword." He pulled the spectral one from its sheath a little.
As for why see Tristan...ah, Pyran gave up for now. Maybe later. If Kironayas didn't want to then...well, it wasn't his job to make him. Pyran wasn't a caretaker, wasn't a nanny. The black cat stood there, one claw of one unshod foot scraping the concrete top of the building. "...It's just you have a lot to catch up on. Things have been havoc around here... And some Utopia-seeking maniac company gave my girlfriend an incurable disease and beat the snot out of me. I'm having a kid, by the way. Well, it's not...mine. But who else is gonna be a father to it? I certainly haven't seen its real father around."