Weight of the Past[CD]

Wherever he went, Leo listened. Listened to the sounds of the world, to the laugher, to the cries, hoping, that somehow, one day, at least one of them would make sense. He listened on the streets as he drifted through the city.

...he...sail...can't believe it...have you...did he...

He listened as he walked the long way between the city on the coast and the school at which his daughter lived. He did not know why he went there at all. She did not know him. He did not know her. He didn't understand her. He didn't love her.

He wondered what love felt like. He still went to the school. He listened at the school yard.

Sebastian, wait!...Mr. Takahiro...homework...new episode...power classes..cheer leading

He let the words wash over him as he looked for a familiar face.

there...here...wait...love you...bye...

Excuse me, did you need help finding something?

He stopped in his track suddenly, turning slowly around. Somebody spoke to him. Usually, Leo went unnoticed in the crowds, blending in even when he was not trying to hide by habit he could not break. It was, after all almost a century old and written into his blood and bones. Yet, somebody had noticed him still, and spoke up.

He faced the creature which had stopped him with out the slightest hint of wonder or surprise in his eyes. He had seen weirder. Killed stranger. Been worse. He still stared at it? him? though, assessing, thinking, wondering.

Forgetting to speak. He should have answered with something, right? He still wasn't sure. In a past life, silence was the only right answer.

''I am...fine'', he said, his voice rough, as he slowly tried to work out an appropriate reply. ''Just...lost in thought'', a moment of silence, his eyes trying to focus on all the three heads at the same time, assessing danger through damage that they could do. It was a habit, something he simply did when faced with something he would have probably had to kill a decade or so ago.

''I'm looking for someone'', he said in the end, deciding it was the best possible rout to take. ''A child'', he added, then remembered he was at the school, where children of all ages spent most of their week days. ''My daughter'', he said, his lips shaping around the words as if not used to them.

''I do not mean her harm'', he then added again after a moment of silence. The man had, after all, said he wanted to make sure he meant no one any harm. He didn't. Not any more. ''And I do not know you'', he said, for even though his memories were sometimes a distant place he could not quite understand or reach, too dark or too bright for him to recall names of all the places he had seen, all the people he had killed or slept with, it was still sharp enough for him to recall, even through the flurry of motion that was his life, a creature such as this, had he ever been faced with it before and the life he had left behind all those years ago had stopped calling after him at some point, leaving him in as much peace as someone like him could muster, so he almost didn't even think of that as a possibility here.