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Ithaqua had heard a plethora of rumors about this mysterious manor.
The truth remained unknown to him and the others, other than he was “invited” to participate in a series of games.
Both hunters and survivors alike who had gathered here knew not of the owner’s motives, nor did they question it.
Some members chose to form connections here where they could, for they knew they were trapped.
Others - like Ithaqua - preferred to keep to themselves and wander in the field of their own thoughts. He also wasn’t that good at opening up to others, much less talking in general. It made him a bit uncomfortable if not overwhelmed, constricting his chest with what might be anxiety (he wasn’t sure), making it harder to breathe.
At the same time, though, being in his own room was like being entrapped within a small cage with chains tying him so tightly that he was worried he might choke. Those imaginary chains wrapped around him tighter, following the orders of thoughts he couldn’t control.
Sometimes, it grew to be too much.
What did he have to do to see Mother again? How could he regain even just an ounce of that happiness he knew he had felt at one point, but had long forgotten to the passage of time?
The past felt like a distant dream, a figment of his imagination.
It teased him and mocked him, until tears threatened to break out, streaking his cheeks with a strange, alien warmth.
Though that warmth resembled a mother’s loving hand, it was only without the love.
Today was just another one of those days. He couldn’t control his own thoughts or feelings, and that frustrated him.
His own “room” suffocated him, so he opened the door and stumbled out. Right outside his room was a large window, looming far above his head. Even if he wore his stilts, he probably would still feel like a small child before its grandeur.
On the other side of the window was the sunset.
The clouds looked like stretched cotton, dyed orange, yellow, and pink hues. The sun itself was no longer as bright as it was several hours before, so Ithaqua found himself staring blankly out the window, watching as the sun slowly set beneath the horizon.
“They say that sunsets represent the end… maybe it’s just the end of the day, or it could even be the end of life. It’s nothing to be sad about - see, the sunset is just as beautiful as its counterpart.”
Faintly, when Ithaqua closed his eyes, he could envision an image blurred by time of someone he held so dear in his heart that it shattered it. He could see that long, flowing red hair that resembled a phoenix’s feathers, and he remembered a simple dress that almost conflicted with her beauty.
He remembered her voice vividly though. It only took a second to remember.
It was a gentle voice that lovingly told him stories and sang him a lullaby when he was scared he’d be haunted by nightmares.
“I hope you’ll remember this sunset, even long after I pass,” she had said, “Remember that we watched it together like this. If you ever feel alone, at least let this memory stay by your side.”
Sometimes, a memory wasn’t enough though.
Was he greedy for that? Was it selfish to want even a little more than a mere figment of the imagination?
Even if he could see Mother before him, when he tried to reach his hand, it would go through her. That, or it seemed as though the fleeting illusion of her figure would burst into a thousand small lights before fading to nothingness, reminding him that what he was seeing was a delusion - perhaps one he made himself to feel even a sliver of comfort, but a delusion nonetheless.
The warmth from those gentle, slightly callused hands had long passed like a fire whose flame was doused in cold water.
Ithaqua just felt empty, and that scared him to the point his whole body trembled.
He was scared to forget.
His own thoughts started to mock him, but before they could take over his mind completely, cutting through that incessant buzzing like a gentle ray of light was a soft voice.
From where Ithaqua stood, it almost sounded like a whisper.
But that whisper alone was enough to cut through the noise, quieting his mind and slowing his racing heart. It was like stormy waves in his heart that had calmed to stillness, where not even reflections got distorted.
Ithaqua’s eyes were wide, and he realized at some point tears had streaked his cheeks.
That voice seemed to be humming a tune. It was a familiar tune as well - it was one another would sing after tucking him in bed when he was a child.
Mother…
His thoughts drove his legs to move as fast as he could, even though they felt like lead.
That gentle voice grew louder and louder until Ithaqua reached a set of double doors that led to the common area for hunters.
He himself didn’t frequent that much there, but he knew the others liked to spend a fair amount of time there, be it alone or with each other.
Flinging the door open, he was met with a surprisingly pretty empty room—save for one person.
The fireplace was lit, the orange fire occasionally making small crackling noises as sparks flew and painting the dim room with its gentle light.
On the couch situated near the window sat a woman.
Her face was toward the window, watching the sunset, so Ithaqua couldn’t make out her expression from where he was standing. Her long hair spread out, dark in color, which complemented her dark red kimono, its rims worn from time.
As if becoming one with a world which Ithaqua couldn’t reach, much less see, she was humming a tune.
For a moment, he saw not the black-haired lady before him, but someone much more familiar, yet inevitably long gone. Black hair was replaced by an ephemeral red, and that dark red dress was replaced with a white one. Before Ithaqua could think, his lips opened.
“Mother—”
By the time he had caught himself, the humming stopped. Suddenly, he was forcibly grounded in reality as the lady, Michiko, turned to him, her pure black eyes widening slightly.
All of a sudden, Ithaqua felt a mix of embarrassment and anxiety from being stared at, and he averted his eyes.
He felt tears about to burst out, but he did all in his power to hold them back. His cheeks felt warm, so they were probably red. He hoped somehow that the light of the fire would hide his blush.
Michiko tilted her head, seeming to have recovered her composure. “Ithaqua?”
Hearing his name sent him into a small panic, though he wasn’t sure why. “I-I…”
Seeing him trying to search for words frantically, Michiko opted to stay silent, giving him all the time he needed.
“Sorry,” Ithaqua murmured, “I’ll go now.”
He turned back to leave, but Michiko’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Ithaqua.” He turned around, waiting for her to continue, albeit nervously as he didn’t know exactly what to expect. Hearing her next words, though, he felt his shoulders relax: “Why don’t we sit together? It’s just the two of us now—let us have a small chat.” She patted the seat next to her as a silent invitation.
At first, Ithaqua wanted to politely refuse, but eventually, after some thought, he slowly made his way to Michiko’s side, his footsteps echoing with a hint of uncertainty still.
When he sat down beside Michiko, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, the two were silent for a few moments.
Ithaqua wasn’t exactly sure what to say: he wasn’t that close to anyone.
Thankfully, Michiko took the liberty to break the silence. “There is somebody who I constantly think about. Even now, I can’t forget him.”
Ithaqua didn’t know how to respond, so he decided to just stay silent and let Michiko continue on her own.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to see him again,” she said, “Even if he did come here… I couldn’t show myself to him.” She placed a hand over her chest—over her heart. “Not like this.”
Her words were just that: words.
Ithaqua knew they couldn’t reverse time, or bring back the person whose face was becoming more blurry by the moment. But it brought him a sense of comfort.
At least he was not alone in the feeling of drowning in distress, and upon this realization his heart felt just a little bit lighter in this cage of a manor.
“Love is a poison with a delayed effect. It makes you happy for a short time, and sad for a long time.”
“I don’t feel sad,” Ithaqua replied, looking down on his lap and his hands which were clenched so tightly to the point his knuckles turned white, “I feel angry at… everything. At the people who took Mother away, and most of all, at myself.”
He was surprised he said so much, and he covered his mouth with a small gasp. The moment he started speaking, the words that felt stuck in his throat came out like a waterfall.
Michiko chuckled at his reaction to himself. “You can feel angry and sad at the same time. I think everyone in the manor feels the way you do, even if only to an extent.” She turned back toward the window toward the sunset. “Otherwise, I don’t think they would have been able to come here of their own will.”
“I probably wished to see Mother once more, but… even I know that’s a wish nobody can grant. I don’t even know what I’m doing here anymore.”
“You called out for her when I was humming though.”
Ithaqua had nothing to say to that. At first, tears started to break out because he was embarrassed, but it seemed Michiko had taken it a different way.
She wrapped her arms around Ithaqua’s shoulders, her hands on his head. At first, he stiffened as a natural reaction, since he usually wasn’t too fond of being touched, but he found it easy to relax and lean into her hold as well.
It was… motherly.
Michiko started humming again, her voice still as gentle as ever as if shedding sunlight on a bleak winterscape.
Eventually, Ithaqua found himself with his head resting on Michiko’s shoulder, his eyes slowly closing.
At first, the tears he shed were mostly from embarrassment, but now, he was crying for a different reason.
There was no anger, no frustration, no self-loathing present at this moment.
It was tears to someone he had lost to an unfortunate event: someone whose face was becoming more blurry by the passage of time but whom he missed dearly.
Even if it was just until the sun that carried fading memories set beneath the horizon, Ithaqua wanted to indulge in this short, short dream.