Rayfics

Okay, I guess that wasn't quite my last word.  Or this could be part of something else.  Though I think I’ve mentioned this before, I’ll say it again – After Rayman 1, I always thought of Rayman as being passionately fond of painting.  And I guess the relationship here with Ly is pretty obvious.  One of many alternative histories.

But Hey, This Time It's Not Tragic!™

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Okay, this is my last word on "The Old Story" once and for all.

A few explanations:  This is the world of Rayman 1, more or less. "The little guys” is of course Rayman’s name for the Electoons.  To recap quickly, Rayman had his own house just outside of the tiny village where he’d grown up, in a beautiful forest near the ocean and overlooked by a range of mountains across the bay.  The highest peak of the range, which Rayman particularly loved, was called The Home of the Gods.  There was a little tension about that, in that the villagers had some years before renamed it "Rayman’s Peak."  He was embarrassed and upset about that. The Magician, his old friend, had jokingly brought up the idea to name it after Rayman in the first place, and now Rayman demanded that he take responsibility to get it changed back.  I think that made it into the version of "The Old Story" I put here, somewhere around the middle.

... Looking at this again, I am very tempted to rip it to shreds -- so I'm going to shut my eyes and post it and go write something extremely sane and wonderfully uplifting, and practice good mental hygiene from here on out.

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What the heck, I'll go whole ego and post the last bits of "Old Story" scrappage and follow-ups.  It was a situation that haunted me for a long time and kept coming back in various ways.

This is a scrap taking place shortly after the end of the main story, hence the title.  Rayman is a bit emotionally volatile because he's still pretty weak.

(Note:  When they say "married" they don't mean a ceremony, they mean the mutual joining which took place in the main story.  I doubt Rayman's people actually need or want official ceremonies to enforce such a personal commitment.)

***
6/21/99

            He is lying on his back on the bed, she is sitting beside him.  He is looking up at her, eyes soft, smiling.  He is still very tired, still has some pain, but is steadily improving.
            “I just realized,” he says to her, “that–”
            He is trembling a little, having difficulty getting the words out.
            “That – we can actually – we can – stay together now.  Live together–”
            She looks at him in silence.  Panic floods his eyes.
            “Ly – oh, god, Ly, don’t misunderstand me.  You’re completely free – you don’t have to stay – you don’t owe me anything –”
            “Rayman – didn’t I marry you?  Aren’t we mated?”
            He looks at her sombrely. 
            “You married a dying man... you were willing to stay with me through my dying... that’s quite different from ...”
            She shakes her head.  “How can you be so self-effacing, so damn humble, Rayman?  Stop it, just stop that right now.  Don’t you know I’ve been looking forward to having some fun with you?  I’m looking forward to being able to treat you roughly —”  She brought her face close to his, her long slanted eyes gleaming, “– taking the kid gloves off, Rayman, I want you to find out what you’ve got on your hands now!”
            He was smiling, then grinning at her.  He reached up to touch her face.  Then, unexpectedly, he burst into tears.
            She put a hand on him.  He covered his face.  “Oh – forgive me – I’m sorry, Ly – what a damfool thing.”  Tears still running down his cheeks.
            She stroked his head while he struggled to get under control.  It was easier for her, since their joining, to feel his emotions; what she felt from him now made her almost afraid to touch him.  The agonizing intensity of love, the desperation of it, was almost unendurable.
            “Ly,” he murmured, at last, looking at her with rather pathetic eyes, “I – I’m sorry... it’s just been ... been a little too much.  Oh, god, Ly, I’m so happy.”
            She laid her head on his chest, and he stroked it with both hands.  They were quiet for a while.  As he lay there, thinking, his eyes darkened.
            “Only, the thing is, Ly...” he began.  His hands cradled her head and he turned her face towards him.
            Her half-shut eyes glowed at him, a faint smile was on her face.  There was a low vibration deep in her chest, he felt it against his body.  He hadn’t known before that she could purr.
            Looking into her eyes, his own half-lidded over, he smiled.  He held her head in his big hands.  “Ah,” he said, softly.  “Never mind.”

Rayman, the Village, and Ly

There is so much I didn’t write down, peripheral stuff about Rayman and his life and people. I have the urge to just note these things so they don’t get lost...
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Yes.  I've emerged from limbo to post the end of it, the last section of the old, old story.

Well, not quite the end, there is a sort of epilogue which I might post later, but it's not part of the plot.

To make it all less confusing, I note that there are some references in this chapter back to incidents earlier in chapter 4 and 7c.

And hurray - LJ can handle it now without reformatting!

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[The last part of this chapter.]

He is lying utterly motionless, except for breathing; you can see the agony and fear in his eyes.  His horror at the flames that have erupted, licking through his skin like real fire.  He lies trembling, shutting his eyes as he feels them melt, his skin bubbling and blackening, frantic discharges of electrical energy through his body, along his limbs, as though the body were struggling to reorient itself to some incomprehensible new universe of unknown physics.

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[Okay, a totally different scene now.]

He lay on the bed, on his back.  His eyes would open, close; he stirred a little, from time to time, panting quietly  His head moved, a little; he would open his eyes, look around briefly as though searching for relief, then shut them again when he found none.  He was very quiet; there was a resigned, patient quality even in the slight agitation of his movements.

He felt a touch on his face and slowly forced open his eyes.

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The Magician by chance encountered Ly in the wood between Rayman’s house and the village.  He fell in beside her and they continued to walk through the trees.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” 

“Rayman wanted to be alone for a while.”

“He’s not well?”

“No.  He’s not well.”  They scuffle through the fallen leaves.  She says, “What are you doing out here alone?”

“Oh... Out communing with nature, working on the illusion of wisdom.  Propping up my reputation.”

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[Conclusion of Part 6.]

***

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[Continuation of Part 6]


[When he's talking about hunting in the mountains, think of Rayman 1... Mooshie would remember.]


[Also, I have no explanation for why LJ takes parts of the SAME DOCUMENT and does one part fine then screws up the spacing in the next part.  I just do not have the hours and hours available to fix it right now!  If it's even possible to fix.  Sorry. ]

***

           He opened his eyes slowly. Ly had her hand on his back as he lay on his side in the bed.

           “Rayman?”

           An indefinable smile around his half closed, tired eyes. “Ly.” His voice, too, was faint, tired, rather hoarse.

           She knelt by his bed, to look him in the face. He smiled a little more; then closed his eyes, sighed with pain.

           The room was rather dark, there was a clamminess in the air. Ly moved to close the shutters over the big window.

           “Hey,” came the soft, roughened voice from the bed, “what you doing?”

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