She doesn’t make a move to indicate she has felt him pass through her. It’s a good thing, because all of a sudden, Ramiel realizes how unwise he had been to do it. What if he couldn’t keep hold of his control all the way through? What if, halfway across, he became unwittingly solid again? What might have happened then? Foolish, he chides himself, selfish to put your own curiosities before another’s safety. She seems unharmed, at least, but he still shakes his head. Every part of his newfound abilities is unchartered territory; every test is a risk. And as much as he has to know exactly what he can and cannot do (as much as his own curiosity drives him to find out as much as he can, as quickly as he can) the black boy cannot allow his innate inquisitiveness to overrule his good sense.
Fortunately, Wrynn proves hardy and completely unfazed. She is a listener, a ponderer (maybe even a jury, deliberating evidence and his proof of life or non-life) but she is not judgmental. He is wholly grateful he has run into her first after leaving the beach.
His eyes are bright gold and curious as they meet her’s, made more alive for the weight and depth of the conversation they are having. He feels at once like he is solving life’s greatest puzzles and also having trouble with others, as if by answering certain questions, he creates more overall. There are truths to be had, however. Gail is dead. That door closes quietly and not all the way. He knows that he can visit her if he wants (he doesn’t know how he knows; he only feels it as a certainty, like the nerves firing in his brain, sustaining him). They are connected to that other place, he and Wrynn. The wormhole that pulled them down, down, down had created the beach of souls, and in turn, had created a connection between the final six. They are parts of a whole, he is beginning to realize. They are the first and only (thus far, anyway) bridge to the dead. There are implications there, hints of responsibilities to come. These truths weigh on him, but fortunately, he has someone to share the weight with.
Wrynn has her own worries. He listens, eager to help because she has done the same for him. “Yes, they do deserve it. They all do. You can help them remember, though.” He shakes his head because that’s not right - they hadn’t even experienced it in the first place. Not all of them, anyway. He remembers seeing the army of foals marching away on the beach when Gail had told them to find loved ones. At the time, he hadn’t known they were helping Wrynn. He only knew how sad he had been at the sight, how filled with regret he was for lives he knew nothing about. “Or, if not remember, help them learn. If anyone can, you certainly seem capable of it.” Ramiel touches his muzzle to the girl’s shoulder firmly, encouragingly. Her coat is the color of tree bark slowly being bleached by the sun. He thinks of the oaks and maples of the Dale’s foothills and he suddenly aches for home.
A thought catches in his mind for a moment, piercing and painful and reminiscent of home. He’s trying to discern it through his hazy other thoughts when the Jungle girl has another question for him. The thought is crowded out as he looks back at Wrynn. “No. I’ve not met with the others. Have you?” He turns it back on her, trying to ignore the persistence of that lost thought. It’s almost easy, because he really is curious to hear her answer. Would they be allied for life? Would they seek each other out in the future; would they play a part in maintaining the afterlife? “Do you think we are meant to be a link to That Beach now? I feel as if we are. I just don’t know where to start.” A face swims in his mind then, and he knows what – or whom – the thought was incessantly trying to have him recall:
“My sister,” he suddenly remembers, jerking his head back from Wrynn’s side. He hadn’t seen her since that point in space. They had ridden on one of the space rays to the first wormhole, but after that, she had disappeared. “have you heard a voice belonging to Joscelin? She was with me in the wormhole…and then, she wasn’t.” She wasn’t on the beach, either, or at least not that he could see. There had been so many ghosts, though. Who’s to say she wasn’t pressed among the herd, a new soul squeezed and displaced by death. Ramiel’s expression changes from wonder to dire worry as he searches the bay girl’s gaze, looking for any sign she gives away.
r a m i e l
what a day to begin again