Black Night, Black Marsh

It was another black night and she drifted through the murk, surrounded by black marshland as far as she could see.  All around were the sounds of the world, of life, like a beating heartbeat of everything.  Even though she lacked such things herself, she liked to think of that vibrating cacophony of noise as her own—that, by surrounding herself with life, she confirmed her own.

That was important.  She was unsure why, but it was important to feel alive.  Important for the living to remain so, and for her to step in when necessary to ensure that happened.  Some distant part of her mind knew that death was required to sustain life.  Everything consumed something.  But this was not the death that she hated; that death was part of life, part of continuing.

The death that she despised was the one of ruthless violence, of cruelty, of selfishness.  The sort of death she would deny on the behalf of others as many times as she could.

This was how she was.  The why was gone, long forgotten, but it was vital that she continue, she knew that at least.

She swam onwards for some time, drawn for the first time in years to what she considered a heart, a ci-ty, she thought it was called.  One that felt familiar, the old stone bones long submerged in mud and creeping roots stirring vague sensations in her mind.  The newer constructions were alien, but those deep hidden places were…

What were they?  She chased that tendril of thought and felt it dissipate like morning mist.  Nothing.  Too long ago, a time before time, and she tossed the concern aside.

She was careful, being this close.  Her body went dim and her plates shifted to match the black water.  She had no desire to draw attention to herself.  Humans were like sparrows, easily startled, but also curious.  She neither wanted to scare or attract a flock of them.

Drawing her here had been the tiny tendril of recollection.  It was gone, now, of course, but she thought she had been here before.  The current ci-ty was further away; she floated over the ancient remnants of what had come before, poking her nose curiously among shattered pieces of pottery and carved stone items.  Little echoes of those who had died, she thought, rather like the distant echoes of long-forgotten memories that sometimes trailed through her mind.

Something shifted in the water ahead.  She cast out her vision in that direction, focusing on a human shape walking through the shallower water.  Log.  I am a floating log.  Nothing more.

Her hearing picked up on crying.  Human crying, but...odd.  Coming from the tiny bundle held in the person’s arms.  Child, her thoughts snagged the word and dragged it into focus, something she had not had to consider in a long time.  The living grew and changed wonderfully.  It was something that she found beautiful.

Crying child.  Voiceless person, far from the ci-ty proper, where the living ought to be, in the dark.  With a child in their arms.  It puzzled her.  Why, why, why, cannot be safe.

She observed with growing alarm as the person dropped the child into the water—it sank like a stone—and left.  She did not wait for them to vanish, lunging towards the submerged thing and gently lifting it to the surface, to the air.

The voiceless one froze, screamed, and ran.

She stared after them, and let out a low crocodilian hiss.  Had this been intentional?  Had they tried to drown this child?  Another of their kind?  The cruelty of it shocked her, but she let the voiceless—or, well, screaming one now—leave.

Sitting there in the dark, the child started to cry.  What could she do?  Her form offered no warmth or potential for comfort, other than… maybe.

But it was a child.  Young and fragile and desperately vulnerable.  For all her knowledge, alone in the world.  It could die today, or tomorrow, or any time after that, and she would share that feeling of life >bleeding away.  She did not want to feel that ever again; the last time was so far gone that she could recall nothing but the sensation of sharp pain, and then emptiness.

The cries continued and she could not take it any longer.  She reached out towards the child, hesitantly, and felt it grab back at her.  She was flooded with feelings she had forgotten existed.

Cold.  Wet.  Hungry.  Where is mom?  Where where where—she pulled herself back, holding the flood of human emotion from the child at a distance, and tried to ground herself.

She had forgotten how it felt to be cold or wet or hungry.  The sensations were as odd as they were painful.  Then she focused instead of memories of sunlight, trying to imagine what it might feel like to be warm and dry, and shared those with the child.

They quieted at once.  Then a new emotion trickled through to her; wonder.

She liked that one.  It made her feel like she was rediscovering the world, that everything was fresh and new and amazing, and that the star lilies in the water were somehow different and more interesting, even if she’d seen them many, many times before.

And so, for an uncertain amount of time, she passed on her memories of her absent-minded journeys through the swamp on to the child.  Each recollection felt slightly different, now, sharing it with someone who thought that everything was wonderful and new, and she felt a sharp sense of joy flood her, and loneliness she had not wanted to admit having slip away.

This was nice.

Something shifted in the water ahead.  She lifted her head, ready to fight should it be a false serpent, but it was just a human.  She wondered if it was the voiceless one, come back to try again, but this one had faintly glowing eyes.  That reminded her of something, something, something… gone.

“I&emdash;”  The man stared up at her, face twisting to express emotion.  She had gone too long on her own, though, and was unable to tell quite what that was signalling.  “Is that the baby?”

She hummed.

“You… saved him?”

To show affirmation, she lowered her face towards him, opening her jaw to reveal the child.  The man took a half step back, saw the bundled form, and then stopped.

“May I take him back?”  He glanced first at the child, then at her jaws, suggesting something close to apprehension.  “Needs to eat.  Get dry.”

Refusal was tempting, but she could feel the child’s growing hunger and the night air’s chill against his skin.  She hummed and opened her jaws slightly wider to show a response.

“Uh, well, I hope that means yes,” the man said, and gently took the child from her.  Oh, so that was what warm felt like.  She leaned back and examined that alien sensation.  It was pleasant.  “Thank you.”

She hummed to herself as the man left, heading back towards the ci-ty—city.  ‘City’ was the word, one whole, not clipped in two.  She held onto that shimmering, feeble bond, trying to decide what to do.

Sinking into the water and letting it close overhead, she decided that nothing was good enough for the time being.  Warm felt good, very, very good, and she wanted to enjoy that new feeling just for a little while longer.