A lone figure was seated under the fall of snow. Groomed straw coloured hair atop his head caught the falling snow and added an ethereal quality to him.
Skin turned pale from the cloudy winter days and cold temperature, further laced with a silky smoothness, made anyone watching spend an extra moment to observe.
His eyes were closed, the dormant statue was peaceful and unperturbed. Truly statuesque in bearing and emanating a presence of quiet observation even with his closed eyes.
The children playing around the statue paused occasionally to glance at him, wondering in their innocent hearts, when their big brother would make the next movement. There wasn't even the flaring of breath to indicate his liveliness.
"Is brother Luke really alright?" One of the children asked her friend besides her. She was worried. Ever since he sat on that bench to watch over them, while they played in the snow, he had not moved again.
"He should be fine. Brother Luke is weird sometimes, he's always absentminded." Her friend's response was unconcerned. She had expected this from Luke.
Adelaide watched from a window, a bemused smile stretched her mildly wrinkled face. She watched the boy she'd watch grow, bask in that ethereal, exhualted air he didn't even know he exuded. There was a serenity to his stillness she had not seen anywhere else in her fairly long life.
Lukehiem, her lonesome barn owl, was watching over the younger ones in that illusionary, almost omniscient awareness she could never quite understand.
"You always did tell me he would open up," Bell's voice rang behind her, she was observing the beautiful statue as well, "I doubted you so many times, but you were always firm in your faith in him."
Adelaide's smile broadened, "Of course he would finally consider change. My stoic barn owl is always chasing self-improvement, he was bound to go down this path eventually." Her eyes left the window and returned to the books she was organising.
"Do you know what or rather who sparked this change in him?" Bell asked to soothe her growing curiosity.
Adelaide chuckled as she recalled the conversations she had with Tobias.
"Tobias told me about recent interactions with a charisma girl at his school, Jess Mornéd, if I remember correctly. They've gotten surprisingly close. Tobias said Luke has started calling her his friend." Adelaide said with disbelief, even though she'd affirmed her belief in Luke just moments ago.
"Can you believe it, Bell?! His friend—not an acquaintance, not a familiar face, but a friend."
Bell understood Adelaide's disbelief and joy more than anyone. She knew just how much worry Adelaide had for the child. Lukehiem's melancholy and pessimism were hallmarks of his personality.
He idolized an outlook on life that was bleached of emotion, one he believed helped him view the world much more clearly. Perhaps he was right—by cold, realist standards.
But in her opinion, that sounded... sad. What was the point of being able to scrutinize and judge the world if you were always sad.
Maybe it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Maybe the sadness was what he had made solice with.
And maybe, he wouldn't ever get sad. In her opinion, that was the most horrific outcome.
Lukehiem never talked much, and when he did it was in like he was reciting a thesis he'd written long ago. Challenging his belief led one in a long-winded path that exposed his altruism, his melancholy... but never, not once would he admit to his compassion, to his love.
Those words ended the conversation, they brought a cold light to his eyes—like he was a shell of a person. They meant weakness. And Lukehiem would never admit to weakness.
It was something to be corrected. An error of human emotion that breed inefficiency. And Lukehiem was nothing if not efficient.
Although she was reluctant to admit, Bell had no choice but to confess. Whenever that distant, disembodied gaze fell on her. It scared her. It was inhuman in a way she could not describe
And from the slight crickle in Adelaide's brows whenever he gazed at her. She was probably scared too. She would never admit to it though. More specifically, her fears weren't of him, but for him.
That was the distinction. And it made all the difference. Bell loved Lukehiem, but she was unable to care for him the same way Adelaide did—no one was. Not yet at least.
That distinction in their fears was a shameful weight that she would carry for the rest of her life. And everyday she prayed for the strength to fear him less, to never flinch under that weightless gaze.
Luke must never see her flinch. Because she knew it would hurt him. Wound him more than words. Bypassing the layers of armour he always wore.
And if she could not love him enough, she could at least make sure he wasn't hurt. She would love him more than she would ever fear him. But that wasn't enough.
Lukehiem was listening. To be specific, he was snow watching. It was a hobby that brought him a great deal of calm. And at the moment he needed as much calm as he could muster.
Christmas was a week away. The holiday itself held no particular meaning to him. Rather it was the dates it coincided with that required attention.
Tobias' birthday was on the 23rd, Remy's was on the 24th, Jonah's was on the 27th. His had already passed being on the 11th of the month. There was no party, no celebrations, just quiet whispered wishing from the house.
That was how it was done. It was tedious to celebrate and plan for multiple parties that fell in the same time frame.
Birthdays were never celebrated alone. It was wasteful and quite frankly a logistical nightmare. Instead a single date was picked in that month and everyone that aged that month celebrated together.
December was a bit more special—Christmas made it special. December-born celebrated on the grand occasion. It made logistics and planning much easier. One grand feast to acknowledge both occasions.
A snowflake drew his attention. The most unique one he'd seen today.
With careful precision he drew it in with a flex of his mind. It drifted into his outstretched palm and hung suspended.
Lukehiem noted the detail and filed it, cross-referencing it against the many others he'd seen in previous years. A smile graced his lips.
The icy lattice brought him peace and took the weight he'd felt, even if only for a moment. He'd lied to Jess that day, there was something else Jonathan had told him as he was about to leave.
A threat—no, a warning. Every time he remembered the icy darkness and wrongness that spilled out of DeLark when he said those words, a shiver travelled across his spine.
The words were cold. That same ambient wrongness that allowed no warmth.
He said: "...Luke, try your best to make yourself scarce for the next few days."
And when I asked why, his response chilled my soul: "Why?... Because a few of those fog-minded bastards are coming to pay me a visit. And I would prefer they didn't become aware of your existence. I'm certain you share my preference, don't you, Lukehiem?"
Was it truly to Luke's advantage? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, he wasn't as eager to find out as he thought he would.
The warning was serious, very serious. Arguably the most serious he'd ever seen Jonathan. There was no guarantee that the other members of their niche were as psychotic and deranged as DeLark was.
Even overlooking the risk, it wouldn't be in Lukehiem's interest to cross paths with them when he had no assurance of his safety.
One thing the meeting with DeLark made him acutely aware of was his susceptibility to external influence. DeLark was stronger, but that wasn't what made him so scary.
It was the ability to spill his insidious thoughts into the mind of others completely undetected. If even he was unaware of the manipulation until it was too late, then the common folk were likely already compromised.
That brought him to another point that scared him and soured his already sleepless nights. He wasn't sure how far the plague that was DeLark's mind had spread and to whom. Could he still trust his family, his friend?
Tobias met him almost everyday. With how subtle the plague was, how much of his thoughts were still his. Worse still was Jess.
Jess. He couldn't even begin to fathom the scope of her... *Sigh*.
It was exhausting. It was horrific. He was scared, he was tired, he wanted to hold on.
Yes, hold on. He didn't want to retreat back into that shell just yet. He wanted to hold on a bit longer. Just a bit more, to trust for a little longer.
He needed time, he needed to hold on.
'Just need to hold on. To keep them close. To beg... To despair... To hold...'
"Wow!!" The voices of the children jolted him out of his thoughts. And he finally took notice of the cause of their amazement.
The snowflakes, he held on to so many. They didn't complete their descent, because he held on to them. His mind had executed a single function in the midst of his spiralling thoughts.
The veil held on to the snowflakes. Suspending them mid-dive. Lukehiem sucked in a shaky, exasperated breath and finally let go of the falling snow.
The children giggled at the display, completely aware of his influence and he laughed along with them.