serendipity | lirim

That was life, wasn't it? For most, it was as boring as it came, the outliers being those who got captured, tortured, or did the capturing and torturing. They had lived in an unassuming place with unassuming things that happened and tended to meet some very unassuming people... but (there was always a but, wasn't there?) they were far from unassuming themselves. There were countless gray faces that melted into the crowd, hundreds of lives built up then broken down in a bat of an eye and just as unimportant as the biggest conqueror that had existed in that time. But not them. Rooms fell into hushed silence as the darkness seemed to gain a life of it's own, as their shadows melted into those unassuming corners that, despite once being nothing of importance, held a carefully calculated danger to them. Did they revel in the power they brought with them, the history and time and endless suffering which dragged them as much as they dragged it around? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Not even they were certain, when half of the voices in their head swore against senseless violence while the other half felt it was the only thing left to make them feel alive.

They had ruled, once, but even back then it meant little. Who had they been back then? Names had long since escaped them, ephemeral and fading with each second. Lirim remained, although they feared it was only because that had been the last conscience to situate itself within their body and that name, too, would eventually fade from existence. They felt no connection to it, although they felt even less connection to all others, and while for some a simple name change could fix those problems, theirs were too deeply rooted in an uncanny place that nothing with a limited life-span could understand. What was a name, when those who remembered it were gone? What use was a name when they didn't live long enough with others to warrant it's usage? Clan life tired them. It was exhausting to watch fools scramble for whatever scraps of power they could get to get the aforementioned power, fame, or to scratch that insatiable itch that such a position ironically only made worse. There was power in words. In actions. Clan life was a sorry spectacle that they had once bothered with, but now saw no sense in.

What use were politics when they had watched groups destroy each other, names change, borders fade and reappear, and leaders die only to leave a legacy that wouldn't even last? They would outlive these groups and their petty squabbles, would outlive even the most tenacious of leaders and dictators. They had so many examples to go by, too. All the leaders of their age were hardly even remembered... not even they could say they recalled most of them. Nothing was permanent except that the land they walked, and even that was up to interpretation.

Perhaps the earth beneath their paws would eventually implode upon itself, too, but for now it existed and they were in no rush to see to it's end. Seven years was a long enough time to learn paths unknown to others, to understand that there was an intrinsic beauty to everything despite how much an unstable part of them wished to rip it all to shreds. The land had a life of it's own, breathing in tune to the rhythm of the universe. Their breathing had slowed between then and now, too, organs in such a slow metabolic state that it was no surprise they couldn't quite be considered as alive these days. They were one with the shadows, waiting for moments when the silence became too much to seek out human comfort, only to return to that which had spawned them like a moth drawn to flame. Half of the time they were in a state of half existing, half faded into the void, letting the winds guide their sub-conscience to new lands as their conscience remained in perpetual darkness.

There weren't many like them, though that didn't say much given just how different they were from everything considered normal by general standards. There weren't many who had lived as long as them, to begin. There weren't many who had no identity. There weren't many who used the shadows as a good substitute for a body, who changed at a whim because a body was too much of a weight to have holding them down. But, the most easiest to compare would be that there weren't many who decided clan life wasn't necessarily for them. Loners were scarce these days, the unclaimed lands teeming with non-sentient beings but not so much people who actively chose such a life. There was some security in large groups, that much they could admit, but it wasn't a good enough selling point for them to try and return for longer than a week.

It was strange how drawn they were to life given how... foreign it was to them. They did not need that which others did, able to survive without food, oxygen, water and sleep for long periods of time, and social interactions with them were difficult to comprehend to begin with. They spoke in riddles, voice a constant, overlapping thrum of languages no one remembered anymore. And yet those who could die were... intriguing. A part of them sought to destroy them, to spare them death and rebirth knowing the price eternity truly cost. Another part was curious, perhaps even almost childlike in their observations of mortal lives and actions. It was a strange, one sided curiosity, the other side's feelings more akin to fear when their eyes landed on the beast which called itself Lirim for no better title.

Curiosity was what brought them forth towards the scent of cigarettes and fire, such a human smell among the wilderness that it was nigh impossible to ignore. There was a large chance it was nothing more than a clan cat passing through on their way to one group or another, but there was no lingering scent in the air that could connect them to a group. It tugged at them, the shadows parting to make room for their presence, replacing the white noise and empty darkness into something far more charged, the quiet almost unbearable, unseeing but somehow still able to pierce straight through people's cores.

A growl left their throat, low and guttural but not necessarily a threat so much as a warning, inhaling the scent of fire, smoke, and stranger. A silence fell, heavy and ominous, until they opened their jaws to speak, still hidden among the darkness. "There aren't many like you," perhaps it would have been capable to consider their tone gentle, had it not overlapped with voices long dead and tapered off into a screech that only the mind could hear.

Adler's words were to be expected, the questions he offered them ones they had already thought of. Could they elaborate? Yes. Did they want to? Not really. They were never good at conversation, years of having nothing but the darkness to speak to making for very poor social habits with pauses long and painful in between each sentence as if every word had to be thoroughly analyzed before it was spoken. They let a silence fall before them, the only response offered to the canine a deep reverberating hum, watching and waiting for him to either leave or try his luck once more. There was no fear that they could sense, a strange thing given that most seemed unable to do much other than cower in their unearthly presence, and it was... intriguing. The last person they could recall to be entirely unfazed by their presence had been Bubs... and this was most definitely not him.

But that connection was what kept them here, waiting, hoping that the stranger would not give up, would not give into self-made thoughts of insanity. Patience was a virtue they had mastered since the beginning of time, and so it wasn't difficult to stay still and let the silence dwindle to a halt, Adler's voice ringing out once again with another question, one they were more inclined to respond to.

Simple was not how Lirim worked, however. There had never been anything simple about them, from the way they had spawned in this world to the way they existed, the way they walked, talked and lived (if such a word were applicable to them). A simple answer would be expected, of course, and the simple answer would have been... well, simple - yes, there was someone there. But that was not what escaped Lirim's throat, the harsh cacophony of voices almost melodic but uncanny enough to not cross that threshold fully. "There is always someone there," came their response, head tilting back to analyze the creature further, long body twisting among the shadows, carving it's way back into corporeal reality one minute at a time, stabilizing as well as it was able to given the circumstances of it's upbringing. "You need only to look far enough," they continued, although their attempts at elaboration were as convoluted as their regular statements were. A moment of silence befell them, their senses picking up on the slightest of changes in Adler's movements, waiting patiently for him to settle down, the excitement coming off of him in palpable waves that were hard to ignore.

"Will you look far enough?" their voice fell into a hushed reverberation, seemingly encompassing the entirety of the clearing, echoing from off one tree onto another until the question seemed to be ringing from each nook and cranny, overwhelming and haunting before it slowly started to fade into obscurity, their silence deafening as they awaited a response.

Once again they were selective with their responses, watching with unseeing eyes, feeling the man closing in on the shadows that they made into their home. They answered the inquiries, just in their head, perhaps forgetting that others could not read minds like they could, or perhaps simply wishing to keep them secret. Did they have a hatred towards the sun? Not exactly. Could he see them? If he tried hard enough. The next question, however, was met with a more tangible answer, lips curling up into something akin to a smile despite the fact that this man could not yet see it. It was endearing to have him try, however. They could see the curiosity on his features, could tell in his body language that he was intrigued by their presence, compelling them to tone down a lot of the emotional manipulation that constantly seemed to have a mind of it's own. This man obviously did not know fear, anyways. What was the point of trying to chase away the first living thing they had contact with in a while since leaving the Veil?

"In theory," they murmured, a whisper of a chuckle resonating through the air, seemingly reverberating throughout the entire clearing before fading out into the same charged silence. "We have gone by many names, and we will go by many more. Do you wish to know them all, or simply that which most call us these days... Adler?" his name at the end of their tongue was sweet, almost sickeningly so, half prayer half curse, tasting it on their lips but still uncertain of it's connotation.

”There is an infinite number of possibilities. We could tell you any combination of lettering in any language -“ a flurry of voices resonated in hundreds of foreign phrases as if to punctuate their point ”- and it could pass for a name,” they murmured, talking in circles seemingly second nature to them. It was easy to avoid questions that were difficult to answer, equally as easy to employ wit they had copious amounts of to lure creatures into more enticing conversations. They were never a fan of simple things, and had only grown more exhausted with them the longer they lived. Monotony was exhausting... perhaps it was why they had left clan life all together. History would repeat itself no matter what, just under different names, and they weren’t privy to see or care for it all.

”But most like a concrete title to assign to others. We introduce ourselves as Lirim to those who need tangible phrases to hold onto,” there was a hint of amusement underlying their tone, poking fun at Adler but not in an actively antagonizing manner, another muted chuckle filling the darkness surrounding them. ”Titles are simply common courtesy, however, an unnecessary addition that most don’t realize they can do without. So, Adler... tell me who you are beneath the title. Who is Adler? Why is he here? How much has he seen that not even the shadows who speak to him can instill fear in his worn soul?”

It wasn't condescending so much as... knowledgeable. They never considered themselves better than those around them, found beauty in everything from the smallest pebble to the largest of galaxies that lurked within their core. It was difficult to speak like they had no knowledge of events that had transpired for years now, like they did not understand things that they did... it was against their very nature to curb conversation just to cater to those who could not understand it. Perhaps it was why they had been so intrigued by those who could hold such conversations with them... not many could hold their interest enough for them to want to talk, and usually that interest was lost the second that their company opened their mouth.

For now Adler wasn't disappointing, though in reality it had been quite a short while that they had spent together and it made for a sorry example of things to come. They knew from past experience that creatures were volatile and manipulative, swinging from one mood to another. It wasn't unlike their own moods, though... they simply didn't wish to manipulate, and they supposed that was what differentiated them from most. A smile crawled further up their features as if mirroring their companion's own mood, finding some kind of solace in his attitude. To be fair he still did not know that which he was speaking with, was still staring into the shadows instead of their semi tangible form... but something told them that it wouldn't change even if they revealed their corporeal presence to the wolf.

"Freedom," their voice was a hushed whisper, the word a breath upon the wind, the first echoing sound that did not grate the ears but rather felt like a caress. "It means freedom," they continued, voice still quiet as they emerged, body shifting and reshaping itself until it's size was more on par with Adler's, though their silhouette still couldn't be clearly defined and kept breaking. They tried, at least, to curb the motion of their morphing body, shape vaguely mirroring Adler's own, canine-esque in theory though lacking in proper, detailed execution. Perhaps the most visible mistake was the concrete lack of eyes, but they did not need them to see that which was important.

"We highly doubt that you are no one special. All have unique stories in these realms, and by extension all are special," they released a slow breath, the air frigid as it reached Adler, grin genuine but still vaguely unsettling given their twisted features. "In the end it is your choice to share your story, but we have time and we have the patience to listen should you care to." Another light laugh left their throat, this time visibly sending their body into a flurry, form a shadowy blur before it resettled with a deep sigh. "Fear is human. We have long since lost what most define it as, but parts of us still experience it," they paused, letting that knowledge (however cryptic it was) sink in, then continued with a rumble, half a warning half a purr, deep and echoing through the clearing. "But if you must know... we fear losing ourselves."