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Here's another, more experimental. Also older, more like 2008. There's some (probably horribly mangled) german poetry involved as well - I've provided a fairly literal translation. Yes, I do write poetry on occasion - maybe I'll post some sometime, so please don't take a rough translation of a german poem written by a barely-fluent german speaker as an example of my poetic abilities or style, heh.

---

Du sagtest einmal, ich war nicht richtig.

Und sie war'n schöner Tage, und du und ich wurd'n nicht so lange warten für ein Sag.

Konntest du nicht für mich sprechen?

Für mich es ist nicht Licht, für mich das war geb'n dich.

You said once, I wasn't right.

And they were nicer days, and you and I wouldn't wait so long for a say.

Couldn't you speak for me?

For me, it isn't light, for me that was given to you.

***

If I'd had a place to go, I would have left then. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to talk to anyone, but especially not him, and especially not about what I knew he was here for.

Such is fate. Such is faith.

So I sat there and looked out from the ramparts, a posture once relaxed and lazy clinging to me. I'd had no reason to be tense, had put my boots up on the crown of the wall. Another quiet night watch. The stars were out, the air was warm, and there was nothing to remind me of then. I live for times like that.

And he just came, from below, and sat beside me. I caught sight of him from the corner of my eye, sparing me the blow of having to look toward him, having to acknowledge him at all. So I didn't.

"I suppose you knew," he said, without preamble.

I didn't need to respond. So I didn't.

"I suppose you had your reasons."

I didn't.

I ought to have walked away when I had the chance. Two times the failure in me now.

"It's kind of a shame, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," I said, before I could stop myself. No reason to be silent now. "I'm glad as hell it's over."

He hadn't expected a response like that. I wondered if he'd expected me to speak at all.

My eyes darted to him for just a moment. Tall, dark, and handsome, as always, and always the impatient. Never angry or frustrated. But waiting, unable to move.

"Are you ever going to explain yourself? Or will this too be a stain upon your soul?"

"Don't kid yourself. It's not complex. In fact, I had little to do with what happened..." I stopped abruptly, choked off.

"...'After.'" he supplied.

"...after," I concurred.

"He was your..." He paused. "What was between you two, anyway?"

I sighed. "He called me his toy. Yeah, go on and give me that look. I know you will. It was that kind of relationship."

He spoke quietly. "I never had any idea."

"Few did. Those who suspected turned a blind eye. But this isn't about him. I told you, I wasn't involved."

"So that was why you... never let me..."

"...never let you get near me?" I snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. That was only because I didn't want you. I was hardly a _loyal_slave."

I could hear the zing as that spear hit its target. Surely he'd suspected, if he hadn't known about my... preoccupations... but there's nothing quite like hearing yourself so casually renounced.

I ought to know.

I gave him a minute to think about that, then drove the blade home. "In any case, it was over by the time he did his thing. I didn't get involved in House affairs again until I killed him."

The silence was tremulous. "I wondered... But I never thought..."

"I was hardly a loyal slave." I shifted a little. I wouldn't tell him how hard it was for me. To decide. Decide what I wanted. Why I had to do what I did. I wouldn't tell him how long I lay there, in my master's bed, in his blood, staring into his empty eyes and trying so desperately hard to recall...

One can't tell such stories as I have without skipping the darkest parts.

"Then I got up and left him, left it, left everything behind. The House, the politics, everything. And I haven't thought about it since. That's all you need to know, and that's all I'm going to tell you."

He smiled a little, I could hear it in his breath, but it was gone by the time he spoke. "Not once, through all that happened..."

"...'After.'"

"...after. Not once?"

"Apathy is easier than it's given credit for."

"How so?"

"It's hard to care when you can't speak," I said, a slight edge to my voice.

He caught it. "Right. My apologies."

"Don't lie," I said tiredly. "I don't care anymore. I have the Guard now. I don't need anything else."

He sat by me, his attention on me, mine quite focused away from him. "That doesn't change... how I feel."

Not what I needed. Another person to stare, another person to hurt because they can't understand, too stupid to cope. None of them would ever understand why, and I couldn't explain it to myself, because I couldn't.

Trying to say the words. Trying to say them again.

"I don't want any part of it," I said harshly.

"I don't want to give it you. That's not what I want. That's never been what I wanted."

"You don't understand."

"Why should I have to?"

Because I can't say them.

"Someone of your kind ought to," I spat.

"Ought_I_, though?"

"You presume too much."

"Oughtn't I, though?"

I glanced over, seeing him looking out at the starlit sky, as close to ignorant as he would get.

I can't say them anymore. I can't say them, and I still can't recall.

"We can't. It wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"I'm not what you need right now."

"I'll decide that."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into. It's too risky."

"I'll decide that."

I snapped around. "Dammit, you don't know what you're talking about! You don't know a tenth of what happened to bring the House down!" He met my glare, defensive. "There was a reason I got out when I did," I grated. "You're lucky to be alive. You're lucky to remain so naïve!"

I can't say them. Don't you understand that?

He swallowed. Scared of me. He'd never been able to stand up for himself. "I still love you."

I twitched. I'd never come so close to losing my control before. No one had said that to me in years.

Years.

A deep breath. Two.

"I..." I swallowed. I didn't know whether to snarl or whimper, yell or wail, charge at him or burst into sobs. Try again. No, dammit, try again.

"I can't... I can't handle a relationship right now," I said, voice like porcelain, ready to shatter. "Not... not with anyone. And_especially_not with you. I can't handle politics right now. Not anyone's. And especially not yours, not someone to remind me--" I snapped my voice off as it began to raise in pitch. "--remind me... of then. Of them. I can't. I'm where I am for a reason. And you would do best to avoid this place in respect for it."

"For what? Why did you come... to them?" He threw a look to the guard tower.

Pity those among us who cannot understand. "I can't say them," I said softly.

"What?"

I got up slowly, walked away, feeling his eyes on my back. My kind can no longer love.

***

Manchmal fliegen wir zu dem Abendrot

Manchmal können wir etwas fragen:

Möchtest du irgendein sein?

Mochtest du irgendein sein?

Sometimes we fly to the sunset

Sometimes we can ask something

Would you like to be someone?

Would you have liked to be someone?

---

I still quite like this one. Hints at a lot of things... I'd like to write in this world again. Politics.

I also love the german modal verbs möchten (present tense) and mochten (past tense) - you can kind of see why in the last two lines of the poetry. Hopefully I didn't butcher the german too badly, maybe some of my german friends can tell me how awkward/not it sounds. This is from 2008 and all - it sounds okay-ish to me now, but I'm not entirely fluent and all.

Okay, enough rambling. Hopefully you'll see FA sooner rather than later. Sorry for the delay, hope you like the substitue I came up with :3.