B is for Bryn

Next up is Bryn by Vampire Weekend. Can't quite remember how this song came to be on my iTunes, but I can't say I regret it. 

I knew from a young age the only job that would satisfy me was something with lots of violence. The army would work, lots of gun and killing for glory, but the action wasn't constant outside of a war. And while I loved the idea of being on the front lines I knew no war was forever and eventually I would need more violence.

It was a necessary as air for me to keep my sanity. I had to fight, and if possible use explosives to do it.

I joined the army anyway way. I managed to earn a reputation as a pyromaniac, trigger happy, son-of-a-bitch, but still made it to the elite forces. But the violence wasn't enough, the missions my unit went on were too passive and too few. As the years went on I needed more and more violence to calm 'my' soul and when I couldn't get it from missions I turned on my unit. I blew up our safe house, 10 pounds of C4, on a mission in Turkey. I had put a mug under each of their beds before pressing the trigger to collect blood. Only two didn't break, and neither were full – should have used bowls instead for a wider collection hole – but I drank the blood they collected nonetheless.

Needless to say, I was declared rouge and became a wanted criminal.

Working freelance was much more my style. A kill almost every week, once I had built up a clientele. There was no need for a vacation, killing, and killing violently, was my joy. I gained a reputation for dealing out gruesome deaths of fire.

But then, on a hit in Tokyo, I saw you. And I knew you were different, like me. You weren't in possession of your own soul either.

I followed you, trying to figure out your past life. I never say you angry, even though your job as a peacekeeper for the UN had to be stressful. And you had a sucker's heart, you might have suspected that the poor kid trying to selling you gum was going to pick your pockets, but you bought from him anyway. You also has a soft spot for young girls, enough where I would have called you a lesbian pedophile if I hadn't watched you take men to bed.

In addition, you were paranoid about your health. You only drank filtered water, and had a portable filter for when you wanted water from the tap. Your bathroom mirror had a supply of vitamins behind it and you only bought organic.

I broke into your hotel room one night, you were in Beirut and hoping to help with peace talks between Israel and Palestine – again. I took one look at you, with your pale skin, bleach blonde hair, and sapphire eyes, and revealed you as soon as you walked in the suite and saw me sitting on the middle of your bed.

“You're a unicorn.”

And you just stared at me and said “You're a dragon.”

I hadn't been aware of you watching me as I watched you, so something had to have given me away. Maybe you could smell the blood on me from a recent kill, or maybe you had sensed the danger you were walking into and picked the most dangerous mythical creature known to be reborn into a human. Or maybe it was a power of unicorns, to know what type of mythical soul they were looking at. There wasn't much information about any type of mythical soul, it was possible.

I had only been identified as a dragon twice before. Once by myself when I realized where my violent tendencies came and another when I killed another mythical soul. A phoenix, who when he came back to life knew what I was. In both cases, the realization had been met with a display of what it might mean to be a dragon. As a human, 'my' soul couldn't fly but it still belonged to a dangerous predator who knew its was around fire, quick strikes, and long blades.

But you, when you said it I did not feel the need to show just what being a dragon meant. You, or maybe your other soul, had looked past that to the darkness at my core, at your core. All mythical creatures are of a darker nature than others, human or animal, even one as peace loving as a unicorn. Their souls were born in a darker time, where they weren't allowed to live in peace. Mine is full of violence and yours, yours is full of self loathing because you know most maidens present a trap but you walk to them anyway because you can't help it.

Unlike medieval times, were your pure soul would call out to a match in a human, in these times your match is me and other mythical souls, those as dark like yours, even if the shade is blacker.

I don't know what that connection felt like to you, on that one night we met and stayed awake in the bed and destroyed the pillows I'm sure the staff thought we would use for sleeping, but to me it felt as close to home as I had been since before I set the kitchen table on fire and my parents sent me to a boarding school for difficult children. I felt fully human, something I never thought I would ever feel again.

But the next morning, you were gone before I woke up and left a note saying that while you knew I could find you again you would appreciate it if I didn't. Next time, you would do the finding.

And I was okay, if it was you following, but not someone else. Still, I was terribly upset at losing you even though I never learned your name. I blew up a bank, I'm sure you've seen it in the news. And I've found myself since you left needing violence even more to placate the dragon soul inside of me. You've looked at it, seen the darkness deep inside, and still saw something that could be called light inside. Now that you're gone and can no longer hint at that light, the darkness of 'my' soul is inkier than ever and my kills are more bloody.

Come back, unicorn. I promise I won't use you for your powers, I truly do. I just want the light back, it makes me sane in a way violence no longer does. The dragon is consuming me and it's only thoughts of you that keep me from giving in. Come back, unicorn.

--------------------

Little different from yesterday, huh? What did you think?