Chapter Text
Love.
In effect for as long as humans have recorded each other. A word spoken countless different ways in equally as countless different situations. An effect that blossoms and dies every second of every day. Lives, dies, ties are broken and bonded, family made and destroyed, joys and sorrows.
It's love for a song, for a family, your friend.
Love which made today how it runs.
Love he sees over countless decades.
After so long, loving gets hard. Watching those he bonded to fade away, one by one. He watched villages build up strong to be beaten to a flat land over someone's love of wealth. Children ripped from their parents and sent off to somewhere far away for a love of power. For his unkindness of ravens to all perish in a fire for a love of a new beginning the world itself bestowed upon.
Poe found it hard to find any love in his life. Where even the desolate macabre of the world no longer woe him. Dozens of long novels of mysteries, dark and grim that the world had to offer lined his dedicated thinking room like a second wall on the shelves. Making the gradual feeling of claustrophobia that, hopefully, one day may crush him to rest.
Where he sat at the same mahogany desk with crumpled paper in front of him. Words written, crossed out and squiggled. Years long ink stains building like a tally scratched on a prison wall with your nail. A draft window in front of him being bested by his many layers of clothes. The same dense forest he's spent years memorising every scrape on rock and tree, where floral blooms in spring and summer and the path of the wildlife.
A familiar weight on his shoulders shook him out of his existential daze. A low noise rumbled from the animal that enveloped his ears in nothing but the gentle purring of the raccoon. The delicate way the fur glides up and down his skin as they breathe provides a comfort long missed.
Such is the same everyday the past 4 years with the raccoon he named Karl. A little menace of a pet, Poe would never let anything harm him. Together, they sat and watched the moonlight shine the vines framing the window while candlelight illuminated each other.
Poe turned towards the large black eyes blinking slowly towards him and ran a hand to scratch between his ears.
"Do you need to go out, sweet little Karl? Not like you to be up so late." He said softly. Pulling himself as quietly as he can from tucked under the table, he stood up and made way for his backyard.
Now, backyard is used loosely; for there is no fence or patio to distinguish from his property to the woods beyond. The closest you could argue would be however far Poe decided to trim the wild grass to a height more manageable for his boots. Normally, a few feet from his back door where he will lay a blanket down and lie awake at night on warmer weather. Or you could argue it's up to the strawberries he planted about 30 feet away under a makeshift greenhouse he made out of boredom. Furthermore, you could argue the forest was his. From how long he's lived here he knew where everything was, every seed he's planted, every path he's walked, every animal he's slain...
These thoughts were better for Poe to wonder than watching Karl do his buisness.
A peaceful night. Gentle winds, not too cold and a gentle moonlight illuminating patches of earth through the trees. A perfect night. So with Karl safe and tucked into his little cat den, Poe left the house with just the clothes on his back and his phone and went for a walk.
At this point, he didn't even need his eyes open. What he could see through his bangs needn't matter when every tree hasn't moved. When he could close his eyes and write the world around him like an encyclopaedia and live each page. Then when every animal he can smell the blood rushing through, he never has to worry about running into the wrong crowd.
The moon was at its peak when Poe arrived to his usual spot. A rocky cliff with no more than rotting wooden fences stopping tourists from falling to a deviating death. Where every leaf glistened under the evenings rain. Where the salty sea not far off was manageable it was almost pleasant. Where he could see hundreds of houses and apartments lining the ground miles away in soft yellow light from lampposts.
Some houses with lights on, some with flashing colours. Very faint beeps from cars or horns from boats. At a time where it felt most secure. Peaceful. The place he can be closest to humans when not called for.
He took out his phone and scrolled. A local café having a sale. Two restaurants was lost to bankruptcy. 2-for-1 package deal on a hotel with a sea view. How he glanced at lives in the city below from social media and wondered more about their lives.
What would he have done? Maybe Poe could have worked at that café with a forced on smile serving grouchy people in the morning beautiful sun. Possibly laughing with co workers. Maybe he'd make himself a cheeky coffee before going on break.
Or maybe he'd have just lost his job. Waking up at a late hour as if it was unusual to see frantic text messages. To learn the job is gone. Never have the feel of flour or grease in his routine. Maybe he'd have gone and apologised to his boss whoever they may be and take them out for... A coffee at the café with the deal.
Or...
"So many 'What if's' in this world. And I am stuck with the one humane way of living." Poe muttered to nobody in particular. Could be the insects under him, or having a long conversation to one of the hundreds down there. Or to a higher being.
A creature of the night means so so little to do. He wouldn't dare risk getting close to the town, not after not eating for a while. There's nowhere to go he hasn't been thousands of times before. The caves an hour away he's explored top to toe its a little boring. Tourists long ago stripping any mesmerizing minerals from it's walls. The beach he's just seen many pictures of with families would cause him to be sick for days.
Poe isn't a social creature by any means. Maybe a hundred or so years ago when this was all fresh, he'd have been happy to live in the middle of nowhere and never have to talk to anyone. Now... Now he would like contact more than once a month with somebody. To have a job rather than threatening to keep the house, energy and heating.
With a sigh he picked himself up from the ground. The same old thoughts. Same old time. Same old story. Cliché after cliché.
He listened to some classical music played on a modern day keyboard from the speakers of his phone and kept walking back to the same... Old... House.
Same old trick pushing the key down before unlocking the front door. He was too down to even try to eat and see what was on late night TV. Too down to turn the music off. Too nothing for nothing.
He didn't even go upstairs onto his giant bed where he felt more lonely than ever. Instead he dumped his phone on the side table. He stripped off his coat, jacket, tie, shoes and waist coat. Just lying on the couch under a giant blanket in an unbuttoned dress shirt and pants. Not comfy by any means. But who cares? Nobody will be anywhere near to judge or comment. Not like Poe cares for his own well being.
With the Guild gone. His purpose gone. Why did he stay in Japan? He could go back to America on a night flight and be in his mansion where he knew others like him. He didn't have to fear the ocean nearby, or the animals having too much exposure to salt. Where he could blend in with the night crowd because the smell of alcohol and cheap body spray masked any possible odor of humanity he could crave.
He's been in Japan for over 50 years. He knows so very little of the language, none the culture or the people. He wasn't meant to be here.
That's a problem for Tomorrow Poe. For Todays Poe is blessed with raccoon cuddles on the couch, a warmer night and a hunger still not needing to be satisfied.
For Todays Poe can still hope for Love Tomorrow.