Keeping an even mask. Resist the urge to put on your helmet and let your emotions flow. More on that later.
Right now, there was no room for that. He had duties to fulfill, people who relied on him. He couldn't crack. Not now, he couldn't.
The respite had been short-lived. For a few weeks, he had believed that hope was allowed. A few weeks of pure happiness, when he had allowed himself to dream. Kamis don't like dreamers, he'd known that for a long time. Overnight, the situation had deteriorated, and then... And then the inevitable happened.
Haokan's memories were hazy, and he had no desire to explore them. Zhen had been sick. Probably some of the junk he was taking. Haokan worried that her husband's discomfort wouldn't pass, and how do you deal with drug addicts overdosing? You might as well ask another junkie. Feinigan being the closest, he went to see him, leaving Zhen in the care of the bartender...
Feinigan was in no condition to answer any more questions. There was a letter by the bedside, with his name on it. It had taken Haokan a moment to see it. How long had he stood there by the bed, transfixed, tetanized by the macabre immobility of his friend, holding that too-cold, too-stiff hand in his own? An infinite time, that's for sure. It had been painful to move again, to take his eyes off the tryker's face. That expression on his face would haunt her nights.
He'd taken the letter, certain that Feinigan had found one last joke to play. If only the little twerp could wake up screaming "surprise!".
But there was no chance of that happening.
Zhen... Zhen sick at the bar... But he wasn't going to die (and as he thought this, Haokan felt a terrible anguish come over him; was he going to die too? Was this the return of his curse?). Zhen was going to have to fend for himself on this one, assuming he'd swallowed all the junk from the Black Circle, the Illuminati and who knows what other bunch of drug addicts.
Haokan had mechanically prepared the body according to instructions received long before. It had taken him several tries to incant the spell, but he'd managed. Then he tidied up the apartment and cleaned up. Where Feinigan had indicated, he had found a pile of letters and a few sheets of various instructions. All he had to do was follow them, no questions asked. The usually messy tryker had been a model of organization on the subject, for which Haokan was grateful. He knew how to stop thinking, and that's what he needed at the moment, especially as there was nothing new in all this. Sinking into a great nothingness, the mask empty, putting off emotions as long as possible...
Right now, there was no room for that. He had duties to fulfill, people who relied on him. He couldn't crack. Not now, he couldn't.
The respite had been short-lived. For a few weeks, he had believed that hope was allowed. A few weeks of pure happiness, when he had allowed himself to dream. Kamis don't like dreamers, he'd known that for a long time. Overnight, the situation had deteriorated, and then... And then the inevitable happened.
Haokan's memories were hazy, and he had no desire to explore them. Zhen had been sick. Probably some of the junk he was taking. Haokan worried that her husband's discomfort wouldn't pass, and how do you deal with drug addicts overdosing? You might as well ask another junkie. Feinigan being the closest, he went to see him, leaving Zhen in the care of the bartender...
Feinigan was in no condition to answer any more questions. There was a letter by the bedside, with his name on it. It had taken Haokan a moment to see it. How long had he stood there by the bed, transfixed, tetanized by the macabre immobility of his friend, holding that too-cold, too-stiff hand in his own? An infinite time, that's for sure. It had been painful to move again, to take his eyes off the tryker's face. That expression on his face would haunt her nights.
He'd taken the letter, certain that Feinigan had found one last joke to play. If only the little twerp could wake up screaming "surprise!".
But there was no chance of that happening.
Lettre de Feinigan à Haokan
Sorry, sweetie.
I turned it every which way, but I told myself that you'd be even more upset with me if I disappeared without you knowing where I was, or if I let someone else take care of it. Besides, you're the only one I really trust. Family is nice, but mine aren't the type to respect last wishes.
Don't let my seed of life fall into their hands. In anyone's hands. Just you. She called you Mayu'kyo, if you remember; and only my favorite mayu'kyo can understand. I've warned other people, you'll probably have allies, but don't really trust anyone. I don't want to be the butt of this kind of joke, but you know the people I've teased over the years; some might find the opportunity irresistible. Or worse, think they're doing the right thing.
Don't hold it against Canillia. Thanks for picking her up, by the way; I'd have been too disappointed to leave this world without tasting one of her cocktails. She could make a fortune as a dealer, if she abused her products a little less. Her stuff would have given me the boost I needed to finish what I had to do. But Gami wasn't going to wait forever for his due. You have to pay a little sometimes...
I won't abandon you completely, I promise. I've left a chest in your closet, in the back, behind your old clothes that you can't bring yourself to get rid of... That should keep you busy for a few years. Open it when you've got rid of my body. Don't wait years either.
As for the rest, there's everything you need in the cupboard near the entrance. I'll leave you to rummage. If you read the letters I've planned for the others, make sure you re-seal them, eh? So they don't get the impression you've been indiscreet.
I didn't suffer. I promise. You know me, I'm not that stupid. It was Nejimbe who gave me the idea. She told me a terrible joke the other day, I thought I was going to die laughing, and then I realized it was the right death. Dying of laughter is the best. And I'm sure no one bet on that kind of ending! And don't blame Zhen for giving me something to laugh about right up to the end; he didn't know what I had in mind. If you want to laugh too, ask Néjimbé to tell you the joke. But don't leave her alone with me, eh? She's capable of anything.
I have a last wish (in addition to funeral arrangements, we talked about that, you know what to do). In fact, it's my last order. Stay away from the Void Promontory. If it tickles you, have a beer in my memory, okal?
And don't abandon the children. It's not their fault, they still need you, even if they're getting old enough to do their own thing. But they still need a Wawa to comfort them when they get burned playing with fire.
I love you, sweetheart. I wish I could make you happy for years to come, but that's Zhen's job now.
Screws.
F.
Zhen... Zhen sick at the bar... But he wasn't going to die (and as he thought this, Haokan felt a terrible anguish come over him; was he going to die too? Was this the return of his curse?). Zhen was going to have to fend for himself on this one, assuming he'd swallowed all the junk from the Black Circle, the Illuminati and who knows what other bunch of drug addicts.
Haokan had mechanically prepared the body according to instructions received long before. It had taken him several tries to incant the spell, but he'd managed. Then he tidied up the apartment and cleaned up. Where Feinigan had indicated, he had found a pile of letters and a few sheets of various instructions. All he had to do was follow them, no questions asked. The usually messy tryker had been a model of organization on the subject, for which Haokan was grateful. He knew how to stop thinking, and that's what he needed at the moment, especially as there was nothing new in all this. Sinking into a great nothingness, the mask empty, putting off emotions as long as possible...