At some point after Nathan had run away, Cantis lifted the time pause entirely. Birds resumed flight and squirrels chittered as they ran up trunks and among branches. Crickets chirruped and fireflies flickered in the bushes. The quiet air of respect between the tall trees returned, their leaves swaying in the wind, harmonizing to each other's unsung melodies.
Nathan came to a stop and took a moment to admire the sight. Such subtle, small, barely perceptible things. And yet, without them, the world had been so bleak. So haunting. Things felt slightly more bearable now.
It was a welcome change to his train of thought, which kept reminding him that with every passing second, this body was not his own.
His limbs were too long; his joints were unfamiliar. He would bend his elbows and they'd be farther down his arm than he was used to. He'd attempt to walk and miss his footing because his knees were higher up now. The distance between his face and the ground was unnecessarily long.
His arms were longer, and they carried the tiniest bit more momentum than they used to. It threw off the timing of their swing, and they ended up slower than his legs. His feet hit the ground just a fraction of a second too quickly. The movement of his limbs didn't synchronize anymore. The difference wasn't big enough to look unusual, but it left Nathan with a bad taste in his mouth.
His fingers, too, were longer than he was used to, as was his neck. He was just elongated. It was not a comforting thought.
His hair fell to his shoulders, swaying in the wind. It was annoying for all the reasons he had never grown out his hair before. The wind ruffled through it intrusively, blowing it in all directions. It covered his eyes every now and then, and he had to push it out of the way. He'd had to spit hair out of his mouth more times than he could count.
He tried his best to adjust his movements, to get back into rhythm. But a little bit of force behind his swing sent it propelling too far, and bending his knees a little more sent him stumbling forward.
Too much. Too fast.
Nathan caught himself before he could fall, heart hammering in his chest. He was fine. He was fine. He just had to focus.
His fingers twitched, not on his command. A chill ran up his spine.
He just couldn't make it work. Not with this body that wasn't his.
The wind blew on his face. It was urgent, like an office worker held up by a phone call, rushing to make up for those precious lost minutes. Its cold indifference bit into his skin, cutting through his haze and grounding him in reality.
If he closed his eyes and ignored the discomfort gnawing at him, he could almost believe he was fine.
Alright. Time to be clear-headed.
...So he had died, huh?
Figures. That was his own fault, really. He shouldn't have strutted into the woods without a flashlight, right up to the cliff where he had slipped once before. Stupid, stupid.
Oh, well. What was done was done. No point crying over spilt milk. Besides, did it really matter? It wasn't as if he could change anything. Wouldn't it be better to just accept his fate and move on?
Still, it would have been better if something was familiar in this unfamiliar world. Like...
Nathan hesitated for a moment. He hadn't looked at the sky again after the first time. And for good reason, too.
Cepheus was spread out too wide, taking up too much space. Hercules was standing upright. Andromeda had crowded in on herself, like she was trying to go unnoticed, to hide before the disease that had come for her companions came for her, too.
The stars screamed at him, wrong, wrong, wrong.
He wondered why that was. Why the stars had misaligned like so. Was it because he was on a different planet, a different place in the universe?
He was so tired, dammit. Tired of running, tired of not understanding, tired of things happening outside of his control. But what could he do? Even the massive balls of gas in the universe that were otherwise untouchable had shifted under the influence of whatever was happening. Compared to that, he was nothing.
Nathan took a deep breath and began walking, slow and steady. He didn't know where he was, but that wasn't a very big problem. Cantis seemed like she'd get chewed out by her agency if she let him die, so she'd probably find him sooner or later.
He surveyed his surroundings. The trail he was on went ahead, parting through trees. It was wide and weathered by use. Ahead of him, he could see it branch off into three paths. Nathan contemplated for a while before shrugging to himself and taking the one to the right. The right path was probably the right path, right?
The hard earth beneath his shoes soon gave way to concrete, so maybe Nathan had made a good decision. Concrete would mean civilization, after all.
But civilization would also mean...people, and by the gods did Nathan not want to talk to anyone right then.
This would all have been so much easier if he could've just woken up in a bed. Why a forest floor? What was the owner of his body even doing in a forest? Or was it some kind of inside joke the universe thought it had with Nathan? Not funny, universe.
The trees slowly gave way to smaller shrubs, and Nathan soon found him walking along a garden instead of a forest. There were flower beds lining the sides of the path, and the bushes standing among them were trimmed into meticulously maintained mushrooms.
Some flowers he recognized, others he didn't. They were lined in tight rows, looking like a little army. Like they could march out and siege a fortress at any given moment. It was a weird image to have in his mind. He supposed an enemy would be pretty surprised if someone showed up with a bunch of flowers instead of an army. Even more so if the flowers actually came to life and started attacking.
Nathan stepped towards a flower bed and crouched. The red flowers stood up straight, their stalks rigid, unaffected by the cold wind. It almost resembled a military camp. Who the hell was taking care of them that they turned out like this? They barely had any room to breathe.
They still looked healthy, though. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
Nathan's eye caught onto a delicate, blue-petalled flower, rooted a little bit away from the little red soldiers. It seemed to be growing in a place it wasn't supposed to be in, but it swayed in the wind anyway, uncaring of its surroundings.
Nathan reached forward, feeling a strange pull. He let his hands cup the flower's base, let his fingers feel the petals. There were five of them in a rich, blue hue. Soft, velvety.
Fragile, too, Nathan realized as a petal suddenly came off. Whoops.
He hastily retreated, but didn't notice its stalk catching onto his sleeve. His hand came away, and along with it came the flower. Nathan stared at its roots, completely wrenched from the ground. Shit, he hadn't meant to do that.
The flower looked positively scandalized. I trusted you, it seemed to say. I trusted you, and look what you did. Stupid human.
Nathan didn't even get a chance to mutter an apology before a sharp voice cut through.
"Get away from them!"
Nathan turned towards the source of the voice to find a boy storming towards him. He was shorter than Nathan, his hair black and windblown. His eyes were grey, a colour that usually expressed a muted calmness, but these ones glimmered like thunderclouds.
The boy marched towards him, eyes on the wilting flower in his hand. "How dare you!? Who do you think you are!?" His voice was full of barely-contained rage.
"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," Nathan said quietly. He stood and offered the broken flower to the boy as an apology.
The boy snatched it from his hand. He was wearing black gloves, Nathan noticed. Was he a gardener? But...no. Those looked too expensive to be gardeners' gloves. Huh.
Nathan took a moment to assess the boy's clothes. He wore formal attire, a brown three-piece dress suit over a white shirt. A cape fixed to his right shoulder draped down his side. Moonlight reflected off golden buttons, and Nathan got the feeling that those were real gold.
So, not a gardener, then. He looked young, too. A teenager. Probably rich, if he could afford golden buttons.
Was this his garden? He definitely seemed attached to it, by the way he was cradling the flower.
Oh, was this the maker of the military training camp flower bed?
The boy glared at Nathan. "Explain yourself!"
Nathan slowly raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I really am. It just happened."
"Did it, now?" The boy narrowed his eyes. "The flower plucked itself and flew into your hand, is that right?"
"That's not what I—" Nathan paused. Would it really be worth it to argue over this? The guy was clearly distraught over his precious flower being uprooted. Nathan supposed the least he could do was explain. He let out an exhale. "I wasn't trying to pluck it. But I did touch it without knowing it was fragile—"
"Being royalty doesn't give you a pass to vandalism!" The boy cut in, "Have you no manners!?"
Nathan felt his eye twitch. Rich talk about manners coming from someone who'd interrupted him mid-sentence.
He catalogued royalty in the back of his brain as he scrutinized the boy. His arms were crossed, head lifted high, trying to take up as much space as he could. He stepped forward, face twisted into a sneer, as if he was trying to intimidate Nathan.
Nathan got the feeling it wasn't really about the flower at all. Wasn't this guy just looking for a fight?
Ugh. How troublesome. Yelling at someone because they destroyed your property was understandable, but why yell at someone who did it by accident, just because you were looking to blow off steam? A lot of the sympathy Nathan was holding for the boy flew out the window.
If he was right, apologizing would win him no favours, but he tried anyway, "I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you, somehow?"
"Can you raise the dead?" the boy shot back.
Nathan tilted his head. Did resurrection exist in this world? He wouldn't be surprised if it did. But then again, it sounded more like an angry retort than a genuine question, so maybe not.
"I could dig a grave for it, if you want." It was the only thing Nathan could think to offer. "We could hold a funeral."
The boy scoffed. "No. You will not place another hand on this garden."
Nathan shrugged. "Okay. Is there something else I can do, instead? Issue a public apology, maybe? Start a tree plantation campaign? Increase minimum wage for gardeners?"
"Get off your high horse, for one," the boy snapped.
Nathan's lips quirked up. "Those were genuine suggestions." He was royalty, wasn't he? He could probably make it happen.
"Were they?" the boy sneered, taking another step forward. "You can do whatever you put your mind to, is that right?"
That was...such an out-of-place thing to say. Was he…?
Nathan briefly met his eyes, once, before looking away. But that one look gave him enough.
The boy wasn't looking at him, he was looking through him. As if he was speaking to someone else. As if he wished he could snap at someone else like he was snapping at Nathan.
Ah. A classic case.
"You can yell at me if it'll make you feel better."
The boy's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe Nathan had just said that. As if he hadn't realized he was doing exactly that anyway. "I don't need your permission."
"Don't take it, then," Nathan said, amused.
"I won't," the boy said, voice sharp.
Nathan hummed in response. The boy was so defensive it was almost funny. There was no reason to care so much. What did he think he was going to achieve by getting the last word?
"Aren't you going to say something?" the boy demanded.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything else I have to say?"
"Apologize," the boy said like Nathan hadn't already done that like, five times.
"I'm sorry," Nathan said easily. The boy bristled, like he was expecting something else. There was a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Nathan withheld it solely to watch the boy squirm in discomfort.
So much for intimidation.
"You better be!" the boy finally said. "You stepped out of line!"
Seriously, this kid. "I didn't realize we were standing on one."
The boy gaped at him, scandalized. He caught himself, frowned, and turned away, mumbling under his breath.
Nathan supposed that meant it was the end of the argument. How tiring. Maybe he should've just stayed with Cantis. At least she was funny.
He turned to leave in search of the praying mantis. But as he took a step forward, the wind blew over an angry whisper, not meant for his ears.
Nathan froze in his tracks, a sick feeling developing in his stomach.
"Say that again."
The boy looked up at Nathan.
Nathan looked him square in the eye and found himself saying, "Say that again, I dare you."
The boy faltered. Guilt arose in his eyes. For a moment, he looked like he might even apologize. But he blinked, and in an instant, the guilt disappeared. The boy opened his mouth, the words leaving it laced with venom—
"It's no wonder you're so unruly." His voice was clear and crisp, cutting through the air like a blade.
His fists trembled by his sides. A pause. Just a second too long.
Nathan saw the gears turning in his head. Saw him wonder if he'd go too far.
At the last moment, his face cleared of any doubt and the sneer returned to his face.
"Your father died before he could instill discipline in you."
An outstretched hand. A playful smile. Eyes twinkling mischievously, but full of faith. Faith in him. Faith in the world. "Come on, Nathan. I know you can do it."
It took Nathan a moment to remember how to breathe again. His arm twitched, an uncomfortable feeling spiking through it. His gut lurched.
Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt the air of the garden enter his lungs, sickly sweet with the fragrance of the flowers.
Nathan had heard of blinding rage, the kind where your world turned red and you lost sight of all but your anger. But when he opened his eyes, he found he could see everything a bit clearer. Like the slight tremble in the grey-eyed boy's lips, or the fear masked by his sneering face.
And suddenly, Nathan knew. Knew where to hit him. Knew how to make it hurt.
"Hey."
The boy flinched. Nathan smiled, lips twitching up humourlessly.
"That was a bit uncalled for, don't you think?"
The boy swallowed, taking a step back. He jutted his chin out defensively. "It was also uncalled for you to uproot my garden."
"All this over a flower?" Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Was that flower your only friend or something? Was it the only one that stayed when everyone else left you?"
Rage simmered in the boy's eyes. Good.
"Poor, little you," Nathan purred, "It must be so difficult. You kept trying to trim your little flower soldiers to perfection, but strays grew anyway. And you hated those strays, but you never wanted them to leave, did you?"
The boy's fist clenched, jaw tight. "Don't talk to me like that!"
"Why? Because you asked me to?" Nathan leaned forward. "Tell me, why are you so scared of not having the upper hand? Why do you always need to control every tiny little thing?"
The boy suddenly lunged at him, grabbing Nathan's collar and dragging him down. "Not. Another. Word."
Nathan tilted his head innocently. "Is it because you don't have any control over your own self?"
"Shut up!" The boy yelled, "You don't know anything about me!"
"Oh, I wish I didn't know anything about you," Nathan spat. "You're not worth knowing."
The boy's eyes flashed dangerously. Nathan saw him raise a fist, intent clear. He closed his eyes and braced for impact.
It didn't come.
"Young master! Young master Caleb! Please calm down!"
Nathan opened his eyes to find the fist hovering inches from his face.
A woman desperately held the boy's arm back. She wore maid attire— a white apron over a plain, black dress.
The boy, or Caleb, he supposed, glared at her, wrenching his arm out of her grip. She withered under the weight of his gaze and shrank into herself.
"What do you want?" Caleb snarled.
"It's just— your brother, he requests your presence—"
Caleb's eyes flashed again, white-hot lightning against a grey storm. "Then he can beg. I will meet him whenever I want."
"Touchy subject?" Nathan asked. His guess was confirmed when Caleb snapped his glare towards him.
"Your— Your Highness?" the maid squeaked. "What are you—"
"I'm fine." Nathan smiled at her cheerfully. "Just having a little heart-to-heart with your young master. He's a little wild, isn't he? Did he miss the class on basic human etiquette?"
Caleb's grip on his collar tightened, fist pressing into his throat. "Shut up."
"But of course you want me to shut up." Nathan nodded like he had forgotten something important. "You have to go talk to your brother, don't you? How rude of me, holding you up like this."
"Shut up."
"Sure." Nathan's lips twitched up without humour. "Just one question, though. This brother of yours— is that who you were daydreaming of when you were yelling at me?"
The maid shrieked as Caleb swung at him, fist hitting him hard enough that he heard a sickening crack. Nathan fell to the ground, hard, momentarily blinded by the pain shooting up his face. When his hand came away from his mouth, it was coated red.
Pain was such a weird thing. It was temporary, fleeting— A sensation that was only effective as long as it lasted. A scare tactic— one that had been used since time immemorial.
Nathan knew what it was. Nathan knew how it worked.
It didn't last. It never lasted.
So why did it still hurt?
Why did it always hurt?
Nathan watched as Caleb stormed off inside and the maid fawned over him like he was an injured animal. His mouth tasted of copper, the sting causing his eyes to water.
He let out a bitter laugh.
Cantis was right. Mammals sucked.