Smiling brightly, Rue places the book back into his satchel before walking over towards Noël.
“Good morning, Mister.” Noël collected what little belongings he has brought along on this journey, brushing off dirt from his coat as he stands up. The sun is slowly descending, and if he strains his ears, he can hear the vibrant chatter of seagulls against the crash of ocean waves. “You’re up early.”
Rue squints upwards at the sky, nodding to himself when he sees just how clear the day will most likely be.
“Noël, I know you’d most likely prefer to travel alone, but—”
The hunter raises a hand towards the vampire, as if waiting for him to shake it. “Until you figure out what you want to do, would you like to travel with me?”
“Only if you want to, of course,” Rue stammers. “I don’t think it’s safe to wander around alone, but it might—”
“Alright.”
Noël is not certain of what the future may bring, but even he must admit that he’s missed this. They are not friends, nor enemies, but maybe…for even a small while, Noël could pretend that he is not alone.
“We’ll travel together, at least, for now,” Noël says as he shakes Rue’s hand.
Even quieter, the crimson-eyed vampire says, “Thank you.”
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Listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves as they crash against rocks, Noël feels content. As Rue is gathering the rest of his belongings, Noël looks back at the grotto. In the daytime, it seems less ominous. The eerie quality of the landscape still remains [and probably will, forevermore], but there is a brightness to the stone outcropping. Here, it seems almost airy and light.
With the warmth of the sun, the grotto is welcoming in an odd sense. It is a view that could invoke nostalgia of kinder days, of loved ones who have long since passed on, of hope and tranquility……
As he looks back at the grotto for one final time, there is a slight glimmer that flickers in his peripheral vision.
Turning his head, he sees once again a bright flash of red against the sandy backdrop. In the darkness that had loomed over the grotto, he
did not see any indicators of misplaced objects. Despite his heightened sense of vision even within the perpetual gloom of night, he missed it.
But now, the object—
What could it be, he wonders. The flash of red emitted by the unknown item is oh so familiar……
“You okay, Noël?” Rue is looking at him in concern, to which the short vampire merely dissuades his worries. Insisting that he would like a moment alone to say his final farewells, Rue relents.
Now alone, the vampire hurriedly moves towards the peculiar sheen of crimson red.
Shifting the sandy dirt with his boot, his eyes widen in surprise as the loose earth parts ways to uncover a peculiar artifact. It seemed old and valuable, yet oddly…it had remained here. Buried, forgotten, but easily found if one possessed a keen eye…or dumb luck, in his case.
Underneath ashes and sand is a brooch. Embedded within the accessory is a ruby—perfectly round and bright in hue. Despite the huge crack within the jewel, it has done little to mar the beauty of the object. Golden beads, slightly dull in sheen due to the amount of dirt they’d accrued, are attached to the brooch by a delicate thread.
Frills adorn the jewel. While the delicately-spun cloth must have been pure white in their past, now, they are dirty and ragged.
Crouching down, Noël gingerly picks up the jewel. He stares at it, wracking his brain for memories of where he could have possibly seen the item. There is a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that…this ruby…it is something dear and important to him.
There is a flash of wavy, auburn hair and a kind bespectacled gaze tinged with red, but…
It is not enough.
Nothing is ever enough.
He wishes he could remember, but the answers, this brooch—
It eludes him.
Sighing, Noël pockets the brooch as he gets up. Perhaps, he will find the answers that he seeks one day. Eventually, the mysteries of his past and second death will come to light.
But, for now, all he can do is follow Rue down an uncertain path.
Distantly, there is an emotion that he cannot comprehend. One of deep nostalgia and terrible sorrow. It is a feeling that he does not like, but here—
This sense of melancholy will follow him to his grave.