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#LONG HAIRED MIKLEO IS SUCH A BLESSING
eeveetachi · 2 years
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older Mikleo and Sorey
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celestial-leaves · 4 years
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“Do not go gentle into that good night.”
Across the barren landscape blew a cold wind, dragging it's fingers over the fragmented rocks so that they rolled and cracked like weak thunder. It danced between ageless columns, under a large stone table and out the other side. It's toneless voice lost to a void of infinite stars. Zaveid crouched on one such column, eyes closed, and senses cast out as far as they would go. He tracked the wind's passage, exhaling steam with every breath, reading what it was willing to share. The information was lacking. Their target - a gang of highway robbers - were nowhere to be found. Slowly Zaveid reeled his senses back in, releasing his grip on the wild winds until it was only his own domain that drifted about. He stepped off the column floating to the ground non-nonchalantly. Once more he eyed the terrain but it remained desolate, not even a whiff of maovelance.
With a shrug the eolian took off across the landscape, domain consolidating into translucent wings that carried him back to the camp. He landed neatly besides Lailah with a soft swoosh. The wings dissolved back into air and he shook out his arms for they had a tendency to stiffen up after prolonged flights.
"Welcome back," Lailah said, her voice no more than a quiet murmur. Zaveid followed her head tilt and huffed. Their shepherd was curled up by the fire, the top of his hair poking out from under the blanket. Asleep as he was he appeared even smaller, barely longer than an oxen saddle. He eyed the rest of the camp but didn't see the other youngsters. "The girls went hunting," Lailah spoke again. "Did you find any leads?"
"No. Where ever they went, they're long gone," Zaveid said. He sat down folding body parts in such a manner that there was limited exposure to the flames. "Might have to go back to town, see if we can scrounge up another trail." There was a quiet hum from the prime lord but nothing more so he fell silent as well, automatically encircling the encampment with an alert breeze.
Before too long the hunters returned squabbling like nest-mates but carrying between them a good-sized deer. "Food!" Their newest sub-lord exclaimed, heedless of the previous quiet. She cast down her share of the burden and immediately crouched close to the fire, holding out her hands. "It's ridiculously cold out there, it shouldn't be this cold so early in the year, should it?"
"Out of season weather are a sign of a troubled world," Lailah said, "I suppose it can't be helped with all that has been going on." At the sound of raised voices, the shepherd stirred and sat upright, rubbing at his face. "Good timing Deryn!" Lailah continued brightly, "come help with this." Mutely, the boy scrambled up and trotted over.
Seeing that the other three had it well in hand, Zaveid remained where he was and closed his eyes. Between the simultaneous training of a new shepherd and seraph, the hunting of hellions, and the tracking of potential lords of land, there wasn't much time to simply relax. In the aftermath of Sorey's impromptu nap there had been much to do and Rose had done her best, but she was only human. Skilled but not perfect or infallible. They'd lost her some 30 years later, the strain of being a vessel and her own human mortality catching up inevitably. After that, the party had split. Mikleo wandering off to travel the world. Lailah had returned to her throne to suss out potential candidates, whilst Edna had walked away one sunrise without a backwards glance. Travelling with either of the two youngsters had been tempting, but he understood Mikleo's pain all to well and didn't particularly wish to tread on it. To Edna, he had offered and she had turned him down flat, stating that "Phoenix was enough for her."
In the end, he had remained seated on the wind trial's highest perch with the perfect view of their retreating backs. When he could no longer see them, he had closed his eyes and cast out his winds. For days he did not move, existing only as a gargoyle of flesh and blood. The sub-lord pact was a thin chain wrapped around his heart and stretching out across the land. Through it he could sense the others. Mikleo was always bobbing about, one moment he would be in Trizolde and the next Pendrago. It was disconcerting. Zaveid briefly entertained the thought of tracking down the boy, if only to remind of his own immortality. There would be time enough to view the world, it wasn't going to disappear even if he dilly-dallied. The idea had been swallowed down shortly after it had emerged as the thought of moving was an unpleasant one.
Edna was a steady presence. He didn't need to put in much effort to track her for once she had returned to her earth pulse, she had not moved again. He tried not think about her too much or on what slumbered near her. Somehow, though, it always managed to pervade his thoughts. Seeping through his brain until the guilt became so strong as to be tangible. He suspected that it had something to do with their bond. Ever since he had made that promise with Eizen, it had only grown stronger. Even the latter turning into a literal dragon had not broken it. Whenever he closed his eyes, fought, ate, or did anything really. It was there. Settled in the far reaches of his mind like a particularly unpleasant fungus. If Zaveid concentrated he could perceive Eizen's emotions, rumbling discontent or hunger. Sometimes it felt as if the dragon could sense his mental intrusions but those times were rare and far between. Usually, it only served to remind him of his broken oath.
Five months after the group had split the sub-pact connecting him to Lailah snapped. He felt it break, present one heartbeat and gone the next. Panic crashed in in the wake of the severing, leaving him breathless. He tumbled more than leapt from his perch, shaking out limbs that had remained stagnant for far too many days, and hit the ground with a teeth rattling thud. The sudden movement and rush of alarm drew an inquisitive feeling from Eizen but he ignored it. The wind coursed around him, dragging him to his feet, shoving him eastward. Zaveid didn't question it just gathered the breeze in and surged forwards, shape blurring out of focus as he sped up.
Ladylake was much as he remembered it -loud, odorous, and over populated- but that mattered little when one did not exist. He shouldered his way through the crowds, leaping walls with one step, and dashing through many a clothing line before he came upon the cathedral. The doors had been closed but such an impediment had never stopped the eolian before. He crashed through the window, rolled to his feet, and skidded between Lailah and the humans. A human. A young girl whose hands were curled around the hilt of a familiar sword and whom was in fact the only human in the cathedral. He froze. Meeting her own startled gaze with confusion that did nothing to distill the fear.
"Zaveid."
Zaveid winced at the cold tone, shoulders curling in slightly, before he straightened up and looked back at Lailah.
"How kind of you to join us," The fire seraph continued. Little wisps of smoke drifted up from her shoulders, her arms, her hair, and though she was smiling it was not a kind expression.
"Ah er, I thought something had happened," Zaveid said hastily, pendulums disappearing, and hands raised preemptively. "The bond just cut out without warning, I wasn't expecting it." He glanced at the girl, but she hadn't moved, still looking like a startled deer.
"It does that," Lailah said mildly, for a moment she looked as if she wished to enact bodily harm but she only sighed and Zaveid relaxed. "My apologies, I thought you'd known," she added.
"It didn't do that when Sheps conked out," Zaveid grumbled half-halfheartedly. Now that the fear was receding, various other ailments were beginning to poke their heads out.
"Rose was already affiliated with the - Zaveid! Are those twigs?"
"What are - ow ow." He trailed off, protests muted as Lailah tugged on his hair and let out exclamations of dismay.
"What ever have you been doing?! You look like you've been crawling through multiple piles of brambles and dead leaves." So saying she removed a handful of twigs, casting them down on the ground with disgust. "It's beyond improper to enter a holy area looking like a bird's nest."
"I doubt Mao would mind," Zaveid said, puling away from her questing hands, "it's better than bleeding everywhere."
"Just because Lord Maotelus isn't present does not mean one can be so disrespectful," Lailah snapped. "When was the last time you bathed?!"
"Recently I-" Zaveid started only to stop and frown, he couldn't remember the last time he'd washed or even seen a pool of water. He sniffed his wrist bracers and recoiled. "It's just manly musk," he muttered in Lailah's direction. "I've been busy."
"Clearly," Lailah said. "Had any visitors at the Wind shrine?" She turned away before he could answer and smiled at the human who didn't look reassured. "Not to worry, dear, he may look like that but he's a good person."
"No," Zaveid said preemptively but it had been of little use. Lailah had over powered his protests with a few choice words but the real kicker had been the shepherd's puppy dog eyes. So, despite his complaints he'd found himself a sub-lord once more and travelling with Lailah. It was more pleasant than he would ever admit.
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Time continued to pass them by. Shepherds were born, lived, and died. The church rebuilt itself stone by blessed stone under Lailah's merciless guidance. Soon fifty years had passed, then  a century, and finally one early morning. A seraph emerged from an air pulse.
Zaveid felt it, a tensing of something deep in his soul. He paused, hands deep in the guts of some unlucky forest creature and looked to the coast line. The horizon line remained unchanged and yet the very air felt different. He inhaled, tasting the change on the tip of his tongue, before letting it go. Whatever it was would either come to pass or die still unformed, it was of little concern to him. The thought disappeared into the void reserved for none pressing matters and he returned to his duties.
Their next shepherd - a boy with messy hair the color of straw and mulish eyes - forced that thought back to the forefront. There could be little doubt that the child was Dezel returned to them as a human. Though the physical appearance was different, the soul that shined through - the one that they felt through the pact bond - was the same.
"Grampveid."
A sharp pressure drew him from his thoughts and Zaveid opened his eyes to meet Edna's displeased expression. "Food's ready," she said, adding a moment later "we're switching targets." Before she stomped off.
Zaveid unfolded himself with a groan, he collected a stick from the pile of roasted meat and joined the others. Lailah had spread out a map across two saddle bags, and was carefully etching out their potential routes. Chasing down the robbers would undoubtedly raise the locals opinions of them, but without a lead it was nearly impossible. Besides, it was better to leave such things to the appropriate divisions. That left them with two options; a nest of spiderlyneas had been reported recently or they could put an end to the menace living in the Spiritcrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he eyed Edna but the girl remained as tight lipped as ever.
"How big is this menace?" Deryn asked, voice muffled around by the meat he'd crammed into his mouth.
"Quite large," Lailah said, "and very old. If you remember your lessons it's classified as a 'flee on sight' monstrosity." Despite her grave words, there was a lightness to her tone that both of the youngsters picked up on. Deryn leaned forwards, peering harder at the map as if he could see the dark clouds of miasma surrounding the mountain peak.
Rose pushed up besides him, eyes glittering; "how old is very old, Lai? What's the listed reward price? It's got to be high for a flee on sight!" She chattered.
"Think over a thousand years," Lailah replied calmly and Zaveid eyed her suspiciously. It was clear that she had a goal in mind.
"There is no reward," Edna spoke then, she too was watching their prime lord through half-lidded eyes.
There were confused sounds from the youngsters, but they settled soon enough when Lailah raised her hand. "Allow me to explain," she began and Zaveid tuned her out. His eyes drifted away from the maps and out into the distance. The Spiritcrest was no small hop away, it would take them at least a week's travel or longer should they encounter trouble. Even if they were to arrive safely, they would be fighting against Eizen - the rumble at the back of his mind grew louder as it did whenever the name crossed his thoughts- he brought a hand up to his head, wincing. Deryn had the light but he didn't yet have the battle skills to back it up, his chances of survival were minimal at best. Still, Lailah would not have mentioned it if she didn't have some sort of plan.
The growls returned ten-fold echoing through his skull with a vengeance. Zaveid bit his lip, and focused inwardly. There was an area inside his mind, filled with tangled webs of shadows and bloody promises where lived the reverberations of a beast. It was not the true thing just as it had not always been so twisted, but was only a connection. Once it had been the source of confusion but much warmth as well. Now, though. Now, it was only a chain. Zaveid huffed a little and sent over a thought. <What's got your scales so scuffed up, big guy? You're making a lot of noise.>
He wasn't expecting an answer, he never did anymore. The growling did not recede and further inquiries only brought to mind the imagery of mauled meat. <You're eating,> Zaveid said, deadpan. <would it behoove you to chew quieter?> He received the mental equivalent of a tail to the chest. He staggered backwards out of the shared mind space. He opened his eyes grumbling deep in his throat, and glared sullenly off to the east. Eventually, a consensus was reached. Come morning light the group would head out to the spiderlynea nest. The group retired to their bed rolls soon after, but Zaveid remained where he was volunteering for the first watch with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
Lailah made her way over a few moments later, sinking onto the soft dirt with a groan that she would never have let the children hear. Zaveid glanced at her out of the corner of his eye noticing the faintest smell of incense in the air. He could feel the heat wafting off her skin. "Something bothering you?" He asked.
"Have you noticed anything weird about Deryn?" Lailah returned. She smoothed her dress down stretching the fabric over her knees.
"Are you thinking of something in particular?"
"No. It's- I would just like to hear your thoughts please."  
"There's nothing outright weird about the kid," Zaveid said slowly. "Other than being Dezel reborn that is."
"Right, that."
"Hmm?"
"The whole rebirth cycle thing," Lailah continued. "It's," she paused, nose scrunching up as she chose her words. "You remember how it was before lord Maotelus became our Lord, right?" Her eyes flitted away when Zaveid turned to face her, seemingly finding the nearby grass fascinating but there was a tension to her shoulders. Zaveid sighed.
"Not really," he admitted, "my memory pre-that kid's transformation is not the best. But, things changed after he became Maotelus people stopped-" the words tangled together in his throat, leaving his chest aching with an old pain. "Pre-Maotelus it was simpler, malak or human everyone returned after 100 years. No exceptions." Perhaps it wasn't fair to blame the kid for it, Zaveid knew, but he couldn't seem to help it. A bitter tone crept into his voice as he continued. "But after that kid became Mao, well no one returned." He swallowed and spat out the second half of his thought. "The human population kept growing but us? We were less and and less every year."
"That doesn't explain how it is that Deryn and Rose came to be," Lailah pointed out. "If, as you say, the cycle froze when our lord was born then why is it starting again now?"
"Spirits if I now," Zaveid grumbled. "Didn't understand the church then and I sure as fuck don't understand it now." He flopped backwards, resting his head on his arms. Lailah chuckled, and after a moment tilted sideways until she too was laying down. Zaveid bit back the teasing comment he'd been about to make. Lailah despite her laughter still felt tense. "Sheps probably had something to do with it," he said lightly, "that kid never knew when to call it quits."
Lailah chuckled again. Zaveid could feel her shoulders shaking and he smiled to himself. "Still, I am worried," the prime lord said, "regular seraphs being reborn as humans or vice-versa is alright but what if something else took advantage of our lord's nap?"
"Like what?"
"A former lord of chaos or the Calamity herself," Lailah replied matter-of-factually. "If Lord Maotelus was the cycle guardian then-"
"Crowe won't be making a re-appearance," Zaveid interrupted. "She's so deeply buried under whatever seals they're holding Innominat under that it wouldn't be possible." Even as he spoke though, his thoughts flitted away from Velvet and towards something uglier. "Crowe cannot return," he whispered more to himself than Lailah, "but that doesn't mean that the same constraints apply to her human opponents."  It was not a comforting idea and he shivered helplessly.
"You know who would return though?" Lailah asked suddenly and there was pleased warmth in her voice again.
"No but I suspect you'll tell me," Zaveid said. The grin appearing on his face despite his mood being far from cheerful.
"Eizen," Lailah said without preamble. She smiled up at him with glittering eyes.
His heart clenching painfully Zaveid couldn't maintain her gaze. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Edna will be happy, I guess." There was a pause, and he could practically feel Lailah picking and choosing her words but in the end, she only shrugged. "We'll do our best," Zaveid said halfheartedly, "not sure Deryn is the right shepherd to feed to Eizen though." That drew an offended snort but the topic was dropped.
The following morning dawned bright and cold, the sky clear for miles around. As the group gathered their items and shoveled food down into Deryn's bottomless stomach, Zaveid looked at the map. It was a straight forward route taking them through two cities and over a small river. He memorized it easily enough, before folding u the map and returning it to its weather proofed case. They set out within the hour, walking in their usual formation. Zaveid scouting ahead followed by Lailah, Deryn, and Rose while Edna acted as rear guard. The atmosphere was pleasant, just shy of cool where the sun had yet to burn the dew from the grass. The winds whispered in his ears bringing tidings from as far away as the coastlines. Zaveid sifted the information extracting news on hellionic activities. Though the weather had initially improved after Sorey's nap, it was still prone to unleashing freak storms or upending it's innards in molten spews. A pretty sight for sure if one was not fleeing for their lives.
The first town they came across was little more than a ramshackle collection of wooden huts encircling a well. The surroundings fields had not been left fallow which suggested that the local inhabitants were not destitute. They moved on swiftly, stopping for the midday break by a noisy brook. The next contention point - a larger dot on the map- was not for several hours.
Even from a respectable distance away the stone walls could be seen crowding the horizon. Zaveid exchanged a look with Lailah and darted ahead, the wind consolidating under his feet until he was shooting through the air. He landed on one of the walls with a quiet thump ad inspected the town. The streets - winding cobblestone pathways - were empty. The windows of the dwellings visibly shuttered. Zaveid frowned casting out his senses but they came up empty. There was nothing seeping danger in the town. He descended from the wall and wandered through the streets. There was not a soul to be seen, though the space did not feel unlived in. There was water in the well and the wood was unrotted. Whatever had chased the inhabitants away was either recent or -
He froze. The air vibrated. A heavy thumping reached his ears and he looked towards the sky. In the distance a dark shape was speeding towards the city, growing larger by the second. Zaveid blinked, cursed and dove for cover. There was little to be found, other than the insides of a building, the streets did not posses many overhangs. He pressed himself into a narrow alcove, pendulums sliding down his wrists even as his heart tried to beat it's way out of his chest. From his new position he could no longer see the beast, but the wind spoke of a huge wingspan. Automatically his thoughts turned towards Eizen but they were nowhere near Rayfalke. Besides the presence in the back of his mind was strangely quiet, it was always loudest when he was within Eizen's vicinity. He peeked around the corner and saw the creature descending, wings spread so wide that they ought to have blotted out the sun. But the wings were so translucent that the beams pierced straight through, forcing Zaveid to shield his face.
The dragon was huge. Perhaps the largest monstrosity that Zaveid had laid eyes on, it dwarfed even Eizen's bulk by several feet. It shuffled restlessly, crouching down on the cathedral's spire as tiles rained down to the ground. It's tail looped once and then hung down so that the tip scraped against the cobblestones. It's scales - golden-white in color - shone under the spring sun and when it yawned it's teeth seemed the size of his hand.  Zaveid gulped. As the quickest member he'd been sent ahead to scout but the party was not so far behind that they would fail to notice a draconian domain. Except, he frowned and tasted the air once more but nothing had changed. Other than the faintest remnants of weeks old terror there was no maovelance. No reaper's curse. No black miasma. He sensed Eizen stirring, no doubt reacting to the presence of another dragon, and hastily closed his mind to the intrusion. There was a rumbled protest, the feeling of scales scraping against stone and he could almost visualize Eizen glaring at him reproachfully. <<Go away,>> Zaveid thought in his direction, <<this doesn't concern you.>>
Fiddling with his necklace Zaveid considered his options; the dragon had yet to notice him and if it was as he suspected then the party would need to be informed of a new threat. It shifted then and he pressed himself further into the shadows, preparing to wind-step at a moment's notice but it only stretched out it's serpentine neck. As it moved he caught sight of it's yellow eyes, confirming the suspicion that this was not Eizen, though it did not explain how such a monstrosity had come to exist. The eolian thought it over for a moment and then strolled out into the closest courtyard. He pulled his domain in as close as it could, a respect that he would have normally offered only to Maotelus. He heard the sound of scales scrapping across stone but did not look over. There was a fountain in the center of the courtyard, water cascading over some bird stained humanoid shape. He stepped up and crouched down on the crook on the statue's shoulder. It put him slightly closer to the dragon's eye level.
If there was one thing that Zaveid had learned over his long years of existence was how to hide his fear. He could feel his heart decamping up to the base of his throat but he refused to let it show on his face. He met the single draconic eye evenly, pulling up a smirk for size. It inhaled, nostrils flaring visibly. Though it's scales were mostly white there was gold patterning that shimmered in the sun and the scales around it's claws seemed orangish.  Zaveid swallowed and when that didn't help coughed. His throat still felt too tight but he spoke anyway, "What's your-"
"You were one of Eumacia's pets," the dragon interrupted. "Were you not?" It's voice was surprisingly soft, crackling on the odd word but not guttural.
The air escaped Zaveid's chest in a startled gasp, and for a painful moment it felt as if his heart had stopped. "I- I don't know a Eumacia," he said shakily, "and I'm no one's pet."
"Eumacia Eumaaaciaa," the beast hissed, "my dearest older sister." It's tail trashed, tearing straight through the ground. It settled again, resting its snout on a paw. "You were hers," it insisted. "Bound you were to her vessel."
"Vessel?" Zaveid asked, the word bouncing around his brain. "You're going to have to put a bit more effort into your explanation, buddy. You're not making a lick of sense," he said eventually. Despite his efforts to shut Eizen out, the name slipped through the bond and he heard the dragon react. A long snarl reaching him.
The dragon rumbled, smoke drifting out of it's nostrils and Zaveid prepared to bolt. "I am Musiphe," it said, still with that same rumbling tone. "Young one, has no one taught you your history?"
"Er."
"I am what your kind calls an Empyrean," it continued, "You serve me."
"Yeah. Er. No," Zaveid said automatically. "I don't serve anyone and aren't you supposed to be, I don't know, up there?" He gestured at the sky. "And not a dragon," he added after a moment. The dragon shifted and Zaveid's attention flashed to it's teeth. He crashed into the side of a building before he realized it, sliding down to the ground with a pained grunt.
"Young one," the beast chided, "you have forgotten your manners." It descended from it's perch, cat-like in it's grace as Zaveid scrambled to his feet. He didn't need to look to know that a bruise was forming, darkening his side like splattered paint. Eizen was roaring now, though Zaveid couldn't tell if he was angry at the empyrean or off on a hunt. His head pounded with each reverberation.
"Mmm, can't say I ever learned them," Zaveid said, a swift appraisal of the situation and he backed away using the building to shield his back. "I'm afraid this where I love you and leave you Musiphe," he continued, "nice meeting you." The wind snatched him away moments before the tail brought the building crashing down. Zaveid saw the cloud of dust from the sky and took off in the direction of the party. As soon as he'd put distance between himself and the city, he dropped to the ground. The last thing he needed was the dragon catching him in the air. He wind-stepped along, small jumps that allowed him to remain aware of his surroundings. The group was still trouping along when he crashed into their midst, appearing between Lailah and Deryn.
"Change of plans, we're not going this way," Zaveid said and snatched up the boy. "Everyone get inside." He didn't wait for them to react, just secured Deryn under his arm and wind-stepped away. The wind rushed past, the surroundings blurring into a streamlined mess. The only constant was the warm bundle under his arm. He did not stop until they'd left the empyrean a whole day's travel behind, setting down on the sandy surface of a cove. The mad dash left him gasping for air like a beached fish, struggling to inhale through lungs that felt painfully compressed. Deryn, the over dramatic brat that he was, staggered away coughing. A small red sphere emerged from his chest and took human form beside the wind seraph. Two others emerged on its heels.
"Grampveid cease your dying and explain," Edna demanded, the point of her umbrella jabbing mercilessly into his side. Zaveid grunted. A hand pressed too his chest as if that would calm the thundering of his heartbeat. It wasn't like he required oxygen to survive but it felt as if his lungs were constricting struggling to adjust to the new environment. Black spots crowded his peripheral vision settling around Rose's head so that she was blotted from view. He closed them.  Instinctively sucking in information from the air.
"Shh. It's alright." Warm hands on his face, fingers curling around his chin and stroking his cheek. "It's alright, just breath for me." Zaveid inhaled trying to match the prime lord's steadying breath. Slowly the panic receded, and his heart followed suit sliding back down to settle into his chest cavity. He blinked hazily, swiped at his eyes and said haltingly, "are you sure you're not angel? because your purity is lighting my heart on fire."
Lailah did not look impressed nor did her concerned expression lessen. She stepped back and clasped her hands together. "What happened?" There was steel bleeding into her voice but Zaveid could only shrug.
"Nothing much, just stumbled across a dragon," he said, wincing a little when the group devolved into loud exclamations.
"A dragon? Like an actual dragon dragon?" Rose demanded, her restless energy redirected into bouncing on her toes, teeth bared. She looked ready to set off at once and track down the elusive beast. Deryn too looked inquisitive, though his naturally pouty lips were doing a better job of hiding it.
"It wasn't Eizen," Zaveid specified for the benefit of the little earthen glaring a hole into the side of his head. Some of the tension left her frame but he doubted that anyone else had noticed. "said his name was Musiphta or somethin'," he continued, "nearly ran straight into him. Bastard wasn't emitting any maovelance."
There was quiet gasp. Lailah - hands in front of her face - and eyes wide with evident horror. "Did you say Musiphe?"
"Err, it was something like that," Zaveid answered, rubbing at his neck. "To be honest I was a bit more distracted by the massive spiked tail."
"Musiphe, Musiphe," the prime lord muttered, "An Empyrean. How could this be?" Zaveid frowned at her fretting. The dragon had been large and terrifying, sure but it didn't exude an evil presence. He said as much but Lailah shook her head fervently. "No no, of course they wouldn't exude the maovelance. Musiphe was on of the great lords who ruled this land over a thousand years ago." She began to pace, fingers twisting together as little sparks drifted off her clothing. "He should still be with Lord Maotelus, I don't understand why you ran into him."
"What's an Empyrean?" Deryn asked. Simultaneously, Edna spoke in her typical dead-pan, "It's got to be boring hanging around a sleeping boss all day."  
"It's not the first time the Empyreans have descended," Zaveid said, "the guy mentioned someone named Eumacia having a vessel?"
"Did he say anything else?"
"No," Zaveid said, "he tried to eat me after that so I got out of range." There was a rumble at the back of his mind, vague disgruntlement emitting. Zaveid spared an appeasing wave for the beast before resolutely ignoring it again. Within the privacy of his own mind he turned over what the dragon had claimed, but he could recall no facts about an Eumacia much less being bound to her. The only one and even now innumerable centuries later chills ran down his spine at the thought, had been Melchior. The human was well and truly dust beneath the earth out of range of both his hatred and his vengeance. There was no way he'd be returning.
"The kid turned into a dragon," he said abruptly cutting off whatever the others had been discussing. "There's no reason why his lords couldn't do the same." Fingers tapping against his thigh he glowered at the sky. "It's not like Mao was bound to the other plane. The only catching point is why they chose to re-appear now. The humans can't see them."
"Slaughtering humans hardly requires them to be visible," Edna said, a darkness slipping into her tone. With her child-like appearance - still under 150 centimeters - it was easy to forget that she too had lived through the Abbey's reign. Deryn and Rose both looked at her, their eyes wide.
"Seraphs can do that?" Deryn asked, "aren't they supposed to be-" he paused and waved a hand for emphasis, "*good?*"
"Like all things, the seraphim are subject to both good and evil humors," Lailah replied. "It is not so much that the great lords would engage in senseless acts of violence but merely that it is within their power." The shepherd looked skeptical, not that Zaveid could blame him. The empyreans had not lifted a finger when the Abbey had been running around enslaving malakim left and right. They'd been content to remain in their plane, no doubt sipping on the world's lifeblood as they watched it burn. He kept that particular thought to himself, Lailah got oddly offended when he spoke ill of the church. Even now she was herding the conversation away from the empyreans and the Abbey.
Zaveid understood her recalcitrance but could not bring himself to sympathize. Though the church might have evolved since it's Abbey's days and become something a little less oppressive, it didn't change the fact it had engaged and still engaged in the conquest wars. The group settled in the cove, laying their packs down and setting up a campfire. Each was lost to their own thoughts. Not needing food, Zaveid dug out a gel for himself and found a large rock to perch on. Eyes closed and head tilted to catch the sunlight, he was content to sit peacefully. For awhile thoughts of the Empyrean churned through his brain but eventually they too faded into silence.
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It appeared out of seemingly thin air. There was no other explanation. One moment the winds had been functioning as normal, the next they were burning, disappearing so quickly that Zaveid barely had time to react much less warn the others. Their campfire erupted. Flames sky rocketing as the wood exploded. He grasped for the nearest figure, fingers closing around a thin wrist and dragging whoever it was closer. The air felt void, no winds, no breezes just the looming presence of the empyrean.
It landed deceptively softly, huge wings draping out across the ground. Zaveid thought he saw starlight reflecting off them. It's tail swept about, encircling the group nonchalantly as if it regularly herded it's prey. He exchanged a look with Lailah and saw the same fear reflected in her eyes. Rose pressed into his side, wordlessly.
"Young one." For a beast of it's size it truly had no business sounding so gentle. "You ran off before we'd finished our conversation." Yellow eyes blinked reproachfully.
"Was that what you ole ones call a conversation?" Zaveid asked, the retort slipping free before his brain caught up to his mouth. He felt Lailah's wince though she was nowhere near him. The dragon made a sound, and it took Zaveid a while to realize that it was laughing. Hot air blew from it's nostrils but the flesh grinding jaws remained closed.
"Begging your pardon, my lord," Lailah spoke, her head lowered deferentially. "Was there something you required of us?"
The beast blinked at her and then inhaled slowly, its tongue flicking out. Resolutely, Zaveid tried not to think of Eizen doing the same thing moments before he'd attacked a buffalo herd. "I do not recognize you," it said eventually, "one of that child's followers perhaps?"
"I am the Prime Lord Lailah. I serve under his lordship Maotelus," came the reply. Somehow she was keeping a mild tone despite their danger and Zaveid felt a surge of pride. He wasn't sure that he'd have been able to pull off half as much respect.
"Yessss. That child's indeed." The tip of it's tail twitched, just once. "You may refer to me as Lord Musiphe. I am-" it's teeth bared in the semblance of a smile, "that child's older brother." He rumbled again as if laughing at his own words.
Zaveid bit his tongue, swallowing down the protest until it had sunken into the pit of his stomach. There came an inquisitive rumble from within him. The feeling of soil shifting under his clawed feet as Eizen paced the mountainside. Somehow the knowledge that his own dragon was relaxing at home was calming. Zaveid snorted to himself. Eizen was no more his dragon than he was a harmless hellion. Though the longer he delayed on fulfilling his oath, the easier it had become to discern the dragon's thoughts and emotions.
Musiphe spoke again, dragging his attention back to the very real danger. "Tell me children," it said, "what are the occurrences of this continent. I would hear your opinions."
True to his word the dragon remained still and silent listening to the tale that Lailah and Zaveid spun. He did not seem overly bothered when they explained Maotelus disappearance and had in fact snorted when they'd mentioned the destruction of Camlann. The lack of reaction was off putting but for Zaveid it further cemented the idea that Empyreans truly did not care about the state of their world. He scanned the scales, searching for any kinks in the natural armor or traces of a fight. There were none. By all appearances the dragon had not engaged in any acts of violence, other than swatting Zaveid like a fly. It's domain was still clean.
"I see," the dragon hissed, it curled further in on itself as if that could hide it's claws. "Much has changed since I last walked these lands then." It chuckled and small sparks shot out of it's nose.
"Where's your vessel?" Zaveid asked abruptly. Giving voice to the thought that had been pinging him. Even Maotelus had had a vessel, after all.
Musiphe's head whipped towards him, the weight of his exhale causing Zaveid to stagger. A lip curled upwards revealing the edge of a stained tooth.
"Apologies my lord," Lailah spoke up hastily. "He means no harm. It is merely awe inspiring that you remain unaffected by the land's aura. We would not be so rude as to presume that we are worthy of inquiring after your vessel." Though one of the huge eyes rolled towards her, the snarl did not fade.
"What she said," Zaveid muttered after a moment.
"My vessel is my own," Musiphe rumbled, "even now it thrives and I am sure it will grow up into a fine fighter." It's tongue flicked out once more and it looked almost please.
"It?" Zaveid pressed, "is it a living creature?"
"Young one, your manners are truly atrocious," came the answer. "Perhaps you require a lesson or two before Eumacia returns to this land." The look in it's eyes was not a kind one and Zaveid shivered. His instincts were screaming at him to retreat now - that against this fiery vortex he stood no chance. For the first time in nearly a decade, he regretted stowing Siegfried away.
"You know, I'm still a little unclear on who this Eumacia is," Zaveid said, turning a blind eye to the prime lord's disapproving look. Let her bow her head in subservience, Zaveid had never done well in such circumstances and he didn't plan on starting now.
"My sister," Musiphe started but then it paused. It's serpentine head swung upwards and it's tongue swept out to taste the air once more. It remained silent for several moments, eyes hooded as if it were listening to another voice. It rumbled deep in it's throat, fire leaking out between it's teeth. "My sister," it repeated eventually. "has always been the inquisitive type. Though you are but a spotted rock at best she does not mind your arrogant transgressions. I am however not so lenient." There was a warning in those gleaming eyes, and a threat in the fire that continued to burn his winds away.
Zaveid glared up at it, staring into those eyes with all the bravery he possessed. There was an itch in his gut -some would refer to it as foolishness - that needed to be scratched. Giving in to it would be all to easy. However he wasn't by himself. There were children relying on him to keep it together. Letting out a frustrated growl, Zaveid bowed his head turning his vitriol against the earth instead. His hair ruffled under the heavy breath the empyrean exhaled, sweat gathering on his neck and sliding down to soak into his shirt. He heard it settle again, but the pressure did not fade and instead heightened as the large head lowered once more to rest against it's leg. It was close enough to touch, the pale scales turning reddish under it's inner heat.
The intent was clear. *You are a lesser creature than I* the empyrean was saying, *I do not fear you.* Zaveid bristled but there was nothing he - or anyone - could do about it. They were at the mercy of the elder beast. The empyrean remained with them for the rest of the evening and through the night. He could feel it's deep breaths stirring the sand. It's eyes -half lidded though they were - glinted in the starlight. Occasionally it would rumble up a question or revisit something Lailah had said earlier in the evening. It's domain was a massive web, spread out across the land and suffocated all that it touched. Zaveid wandered how it was that the beast was not attracting every hellion in the area. Such a massive source would feed the critters for months. However as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a slightly more worrisome bloomed. Discretely, Zaveid stretched his senses out towards his bonded seeking to draw comfort from Eizen's presence but there was nothing. Only the vaguest hint of cold.  
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eachainn · 5 years
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Sormik WeekDay 6: Morning Glory {Bonds}
“I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough." – Seventy Years of Sleep # 4. nikka ursula (n.t)
---
Mikleo tugged the old jacket around him, shivering slightly. He wasn’t usually affected by the temperature unless he let himself be. Then again, all the usual rules were out. He looked down at his stomach, stroking a hand over it. He couldn’t quite remember the specifics of the last one, most of it had been lost to running or a haze of grief and rage. He might have felt the cold and the heat, but Mikleo doubted that he would have done anything about it.
He swallowed, turning his head to nuzzle into the collar of the coat. Mikleo closed his eyes, relaxing at the scent of old books. Sorey wouldn’t be missing the jacket, at least for a long while. He was still fast asleep in their bed, despite all protests that he wasn’t tired.
Mikleo smiled to himself, turning to look back over his shoulder. Sorey was back in their room, probably curled up and none the wiser that Mikleo had slipped out. It was only right considering all the training and the fuss when Selene’s Shepherd had come into town.
He took a few steps forward, glancing into the main room of the house before tilting his head to the side to look up the staircase. He had expected at least one of the seraphim to be up, most likely Selene.
Shepherd Ingrid had not looked well. She hadn’t looked as bad as when the Lord of Calamity had clawed her leg open, but she still looked shaky. With that in mind, it was no wonder that the seraphim had kept hovering. Then again, all of her exhaustion might just be because of her long travels. A few days of rest might get her back on her feet. If not, then he might have to talk to Selene and the others.
Mikleo flexed his fingers. He couldn’t do any healing, but he might be able to convince Sorey to help. Mikleo stared down at his hand, quickly shoving it in the pocket of the coat when he felt the urge to try. After all, he had been using his artes late into his first pregnancy, and Selene was fine. But Selene might have been just luck, Mikleo couldn’t be sure.
Along as if his thoughts had been heard, the baby kicked, Mikleo reaching down to touch his stomach. They didn’t calm down with his touch, Mikleo wincing and starting to move. The kicking had been what had driven him from a very good night’s sleep. It felt like the baby was going to keep it up for a while, which was all the excuse that he needed to keep moving.
He yawned and shuffled across the room, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The house meant a roof over his head and protection, but there was something good about the top of the mountain. For once, he wouldn’t have to worry about waking anyone up when he wasn’t allowed to rest. Mikleo cast a rueful glance back at the rooms that held his library and the artifact room.
There was plenty of work to be done there, except that he didn’t think that he would be allowed to sit still long enough for him to do any work. Sitting down and standing up were also getting more difficult, and he would need to do it frequently if he wanted to continue his work. That left him tired, annoyed and drifting through the house with nothing better to do.
Mikleo rolled his eyes and headed for the front porch. He eased the front door open carefully, guiding it shut instead of letting it swing shut. The whole house was asleep and he didn’t feel like startling them all awake. There was the Shepherd and her seraphim to consider. Mikleo was sure that they were wired to react to danger before really thinking, and he didn’t want artes flying wildly.
He tugged the coat more securely around him as he ventured down the steps and out into the yard. Selene’s garden wasn’t in full bloom, not yet, but he could see buds. Mikleo was sure that she would be out in it soon enough, puttering around as she tried not to hover. Mikleo knew his daughter well enough to see the signs of his brand of restlessness. As long as they were working on something, they didn’t have to think about what was bothering them. At least Selene had the sense to do something reasonable safe. His own preferred method had been practicing his artes until they had stopped completely.
Mikleo winced at the memory, shaking his head. He had been young and stupid, at least that’s what Natalie insisted that he had been. Mikleo counted it a blessing that she hadn’t come to talk to him about this, although he doubted that she hadn’t heard. It would have been quite a spectacle and enough gossip to keep the seraphim going for decades. First, a great gathering of seraphim and then the sudden appearance of a solution to all of their problems. Sorey’s name would have spread quickly, because they all remembered him, if not fondly then at least with some kind of thankfulness.
He sighed, tipping his head back to look at the stars. Mikleo traced out the constellations, quickly running out of the ones that he knew and resorting to making up shapes. Sorey had showed him once, but the stars hadn’t been important, it had been the moment, one of the few that they hadn’t been running.
Mikleo turned his head to nuzzle into the coat again, pausing when he heard the door open. He frowned and turned around, prepared for one of the Sub Lords or a tearful Selene. His breath caught when he saw Sorey standing on the porch, his hair mussed and tangled from sleep. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, one of the quilts that Shepherd Ingrid had made during her recovery and had gifted to them. The sight was enough to make his heart flutter, like he was eighteen again.
He turned, watching as Sorey stumbled down into the garden, Sorey looking still half asleep. Mikleo opened his arms for him, smiling when Sorey shuffled into his arms, nuzzling into Mikleo’s neck. Mikleo tipped his head to the side to give Sorey more access, content with holding him.
It took Sorey a moment to speak, Sorey seeming to mouth the words against his neck before he managed to speak, his voice rough with sleep. “You awake now?”
“Not by choice.” Mikleo winced as the baby kicked against. He felt Sorey shift again, Mikleo quick to nudge one of Sorey’s hands to his stomach.
Sorey was quick to jerk his hand back, Mikleo watching as Sorey inched back. “Sorry.”
Mikleo blinked at him before understanding came, and he wanted to kick his younger self. The demand not to touch his stomach had been reasonable back then, but the vehemence hadn’t been needed, not when Sorey was still shying away with it. Mikleo sighed and held out his hand. “It’s alright. You can touch.”
Sorey looked at him with wide eyes, Mikleo halfway expecting him to just reach out. Instead, Sorey gently placed his hand on Mikleo’s and waited. Mikleo smiled at the gesture, taking the time to brush his thumb against Sorey’s wrist before guiding Sorey’s hand. Of course, the baby decided to start kicking on the other side, but Sorey seemed delighted nonetheless.
Sorey smiled wide, stepping closer. Mikleo saw his other arm move, but Sorey kept his gentle, one-handed touch. “Hello, little one. Are you being a bother?”
“Yes.” Mikleo rolled his eyes. “And they’ll continue to be.”
“Sorry.”
Mikleo reached out to sink his fingers into Sorey’s hair. “Stop. If I didn’t want this, then I could have done something about it. The annoyance is something I anticipated.”
It wasn’t technically a truth or a lie. Centuries had dulled his memory of things, and Mikleo wasn’t about to call his first pregnancy normal. Still, that was nothing that Sorey had to know. It was far beyond what he could help.
Sorey’s hand went from resting to stroking over his stomach. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Stay up?” Mikleo shrugged. “I technically don’t need the sleep.”
“But it helps.”
“Greatly.” Mikleo sighed and leaned into Sorey. He slumped when Sorey wrapped them both in the quilt, loving the warmth. The weather wasn’t so cold, but the warmth was very welcome, especially with Sorey so close. “What about you?”
“I can’t sleep without you there. I’m afraid of waking up and…” Sorey trailed off for a moment, Mikleo frowning. He didn’t get the chance to move before Sorey was talking again, but it sounded like Sorey was having to think carefully through his words. “I…I don’t know. I don’t remember being dead. But sometimes I’m sure I’m going to wake up into being that again, whatever it was.”
Mikleo squeezed him tight, hoping that it was enough, because he didn’t know what to say. He only knew the other side of that kind of dream. Dreaming of Sorey, alive and well, and then waking up to an empty bed. The only thing he could do was kiss the top of Sorey’s head. “I’m here.”
“So am I.” Sorey pulled back enough to rub their noses together. Mikleo relaxed, some of the fear that had been growing in his chest leaking away. He smiled as Sorey pushed his bangs back, Sorey’s palm rested against his forehead.
It was just as calloused as he remembered.
He was leaning into it when Sorey shifted, dropping his hand away to cradle Mikleo from behind. It was just as agreeable, or maybe he just wanted to be held. Mikleo leaned back into Sorey, tipping his head to the side in an invitation, one Sorey eagerly accepted.
Mikleo shivered at the hint of teeth he felt, reaching back and cradling Sorey’s head. Sorey paused for a moment, Mikleo finding himself holding his breath until the soft nibbles started up towards his ear.
Mikleo released his breath in a rush, his fingers curling into Sorey’s hair. “Still interested?”
Sorey paused, Mikleo feeling him hum against his neck. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.”
“You haven’t heard me start complaining.”
“We’ve been through worse. Complaining is fine.” Sorey’s hands dropped to sweep over his stomach. “I think you deserve it, all things considered.”
“I’m glad you think so. I just hope you remember that when the news gets around to Natalie and Melody.”
Sorey paused, moving to rest his chin on Mikleo’s shoulder, even though he had to rock up onto his toes to do it. “You don’t want your sisters here?”
Mikleo bit his lip, glancing at the gate into the garden before sighing. “I do. Melody is better adjusted to the idea of you. Or she trusts me enough to make my own decisions. Natalie seems to think I’m still eighteen.”
Sorey tipped his head to the side with a chuckle. “That’s progress. The last time it was ten.”
Mikleo grumbled, but he didn’t put any real feeling into it. “She won’t be happy. Don’t leave me alone when she comes.”
“Never, beloved. We face things together, right?”
Mikleo reached down to rest his hand on Sorey’s. “Right. Although you might regret that promise.”
Sorey hummed. “I don’t think I will. I don’t regret any of this.”
Mikleo squeezed Sorey’s hand, smiling to himself. “No. Neither do I.”
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dallarsaol · 5 years
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@interlacedfates [con’t]: 
The world had changed. 
Laphicet had never felt it quite so sharply before. He used to watch it, watch the people upon it, watch them choose their paths and follow through with their convictions. He watched them fall, he watched them get up, he watched people try their hardest each and every day. He followed what he could of history as it flowed and changed, never once taking his blessing from the land or those on it. Because this was the world she had believed in, that she had given everything for. He would never do any less. 
So even as malevolence crawled through his veins, as his power was warped into a curse and the darkness took him, Laphicet allowed it. That was the path that people chose, and he still believed. Then Sorey came, and then all he remembered were dreams of sunlight and wisps of black hair and golden eyes. I promise.... I’ll protect this world for you Velvet. For everyone. 
Waking from that sleep, he still felt a bit disconnected from everything. Even though his power was restored to the land and his blessing returned, he had been unaware of everything for so long it was almost disorienting. Still, for he first time in a long time, he found himself surrounded by others. Maybe that’s why everything suddenly felt so different. It wasn’t... a bad thing. 
If anything... it was nice having someone to talk to again.
“No, he hasn’t,” Laphicet shook his head, peering at the book in Mikleo’s hands. Of everything they’d spoken about in their years dreaming, it was Mikleo Sorey mentioned most often, and Laphicet couldn’t help but feel at home with him, even with the others gone, despite not having had a lot of time to get to know each other yet. “It’s okay though, I have seen it before, though it wasn’t finished when I did.” 
“Oh wow, you noticed? Yeah! I do.” A youthful excitement lights behind his eyes. “I got to visit a lot of really cool ruins when I travelled with my friends. Eizen always knew so much about them, I wanted to know about them too and would read for hours until Velvet got mad at me for staying awake too late.” A fond smile as he leans in to get a better look at the Celestial Record.
“Innominat?” That makes him right himself, drains the fondness from his face and lips press into a fine line. Even after all these years he still couldn’t fully forgive him for all the things that he’d put Velvet through, what he’d tried to do to everyone. In some ways maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t remembered, that way no one would ever try to repeat what he and Artorius had tried, but Laphicet had watched history long enough to know what happened when people forgot. 
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“Innominat used to be one of the Five Lords, he was their leader.” A brief pause. The leader of the Empyrians, like he now was. Laphicet sat down next to Mikleo, his eyes fixed on the Celestial Record, even if they were seeing something much further away. “I can tell you more if you want, but it’s a bit of a long story.” 
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childesballs · 6 years
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Sormik week Day 3: Windy
Title: Forsaken Wind
WC: 1120
Read on AO3
Chairs squealed and glasses clinked beneath the chatters of every patron in the bar. When exactly Pendrago had become the drinking hotspot for both Rolance and Hyland, human and seraphim, no one really knew. Although despite how seamlessly both sides coexisted, there always came time when people needed to be with only their kin.
Zaveid would always be the last to separate himself from a bustling room, but tonight he pulled not just himself, but he’s wobbling companion with him.
“Damn Mikster you drank  me under the table. You sure you’re alright.”
“I... hic ...i’m fwine. I just wanna...sit by the….the….the uh…. That thing.” his gloved hand wavered all over the place but stayed in the general direction of the town’s still famous fountain.
At least seven decades had passed since Mikleo let loose this much around others. As he slumped against the fountain, half tempted to lay in the water —although drunk he still knew that would ruin his image— and let his hair down, every thought he’d been trying to drown out with alcohol came flooding back.
“Zabida..can i...ask something.”
“Sounds like it’s important. Maybe save it for the morning?” Mikleo waved a hand sloppily in the opposite direction of his partner.
“It’s the whole reason I wanted to go out.” Like a switch had been flipped, Mikleo barely seemed intoxicated; as if this single thought had sobered him up.
“His memories...are slipping. I...I can barely remember his face, eyes. I don’t know if I even remember his voice right anymore.”
Zaveid let Mikleo slump against him. He figured this time would come eventually. Lailah and Edna had both tried to stay positive, but this situation was nothing knew for Zaveid.
“Do you think you’d be happier if you had no memory of him?” “At this point,” he paused, tried to push off Zaveid only to fall back “I’m beginning to think so.”
______________________________
Summer brought massive heat waves across the northern half of Glenwood. Disputes amongst seraphim had lead to a number of abnormal weather conditions and natural disasters. While other fire seraphim were loving the extra sun and wildfires, water seraphim were perpetually up to their necks keeping a large portion of the population alive.
Younger seraphim remained inside cities, tending to the residents there and sending requests to traveling seraphs. Mikleo happened to be on his fiftieth cross country trek that month.
The Sparrowfeathers had become quite and accommodating transit service; going so far as to provide personalized libraries. Well… if you knew the boss that is.
  Picked these off some vendors to the East. They looked up your alley
Rose did somehow always nail his exact type of book. Just a quick glance at the pile was enough for him to know this trip would be over before he realized it.
This ride hadn’t come with a plethora of pillows, meaning Mikleo had to return to his old method of shedding his upper layers and bundling them together and squishing them between his back and the caravan wall.
Era of Purity: a Chronicle of the Life of Shepherd Sorey   Of all Shepherd related books, finding ones on Shepherd Sorey proved particularly difficult, despite how influential he was, hardly any books had been written on him. Sure he was included in every Shepherd anthology ever, but books dedicated to him were sparse. Finding them for sale proved a challenge for even the most connected individuals.
After all these centuries, Mikleo had read the story of Shepherd Sorey at least a thousand times, but he swore he could read it a hundred thousand times more. He couldn’t even guess at how many nights he’d spent staring at the stars wishing he could have even a brief chance to meet Sorey.
 “I wonder if he’d have an aura like the other Shepherds I’ve met. Or would he feel more human?” Mikleo had asked himself these questions time and time again but they always came back any time he visited a ruin or town that Sorey was known to have traveled through.
What exactly drew Mikleo to all things Shepherd Sorey he couldn’t say. He figured it was mostly admiration. The thought of traveling with a human,  armatizing and just being a sub-lord all sounded like high fantasy tales. If only Lailah would talk more about her time with him, but that pesky oath kept Mikleo in suspense.
Still...to have traveled with Shepherd Sorey, to have been  his  Prime Lord…. Mikleo felt blessed just knowing Lailah.
Before his thoughts could drift much further, there were three voices shouting his name.
“Lailah, Edna, Zaveid. It’s been too long.” He hopped out of the wagon, forgetting he was still shirtless until Edna mocked gagging.
Once Mikleo had gathered his things they headed towards the Ladylake Sanctuary. Before they’d even reached the door, Mikleo felt something...off in the surrounding air. But no one reacted to it so he brushed it off.
“I see the nerd’s been reading more nerd books.” Edna sighed as they stopped beside a street vendor in the area just before the sanctuary.
“Oh Lailah I was wondering if you could at least confirm something I read about Shepherd Sorey.”
“I’ll answer if I can as per usual.” “Right, right, I know you can’t talk about about Sub Lord Mikleo much. But according to this book they both came from Elysia?”
“Oh my look at how radiant this necklace is.”
“Why do you still try?” Edna scoffed.
“Do you have any idea how agonizing it is having the best source on Shepherd Sorey right here, but not being able to learn anything the books don’t tell me?”
“Well maybe stop torturing poor sensitive Lailah here. Zaveid will gladly tell you everything.” “Ah yes, I remember that sweltering day in the desert. Oh-asis—” “Not that again!” Mikleo felt himself flush. He had no way of ever knowing if that story had any shred of truth, but he really didn’t want to know.
In desperation to get away from anymore wildly inappropriate stories, regardless of whether they were fictional or true, Mikleo practically dissolved into his element as he hurried for shelter inside the sanctuary.
Once inside, he felt the full force of that strange aura. Like a sudden windstorm had blown in; his hair flailed around as badly as his six cape tails. On instinct, he summoned his staff, anticipating some form of hellion, however, there stood just one person before the Sacred Flame.
Long, green tipped blonde hair tied into a ponytail with green-blue feathers, a figure not too dissimilar from his own, but far more bulky, and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with thousands of stars.
“Mikleo!”
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birbleafs · 6 years
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[fic] augury of sins
Series: Tales of Zestiria Rating: T Genre: Character study, Game-canon ending/post-epilogues Characters: Symonne, Sorey, Rose, Mikleo, Alisha Diphda, Lunarre, Phoenix Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Minor character death... pretentious prose?? IDK Summary: Truth be told, she never was all that fond of morality plays. Or, five times Symonne struggled with meaning and one time she found contentment in simply being.
Fic can also be read on AO3
i. “Why do you still keep smiling, even when I tear open your wounds?” she hissed, vehemence laced in every word.
(Many moons later, she would find herself asking the same question, to yet another who smiled just as he did even through the anguish and pain.
How could they… How dare they? It didn’t make any sense, it couldn’t—)
Her brows creased in anger, Symonne forced herself back up to her feet even as her limbs ached and trembled from the growing exhaustion of battle. Being delicate in stature had its drawbacks; she would tire easily from direct combat. As such, she had perfected the use of her seraphic artes, weaving illusions and doppelgangers born from human hearts, an augury of one’s deepest fears and desires. She had not asked for this accursed blessing, had never wished for any of it.
But it was all she’d ever known, all she’d carried with her through centuries of misery and growing apathy.
It was (she was) enough for this, for her Lord—she reminded herself again as she struggled to stand upright, pointing her baton at the two humans before her. It was enough that she could serve her Master. She won’t stop here… no, she couldn’t stop, she must not fail—
“That’s enough, Symonne.”
The Shepherd’s voice was gentle and kind, and Symonne felt frustration flaring from deep within. She lifted her head, staring up at his disgusting concern, at the pity in those evergreen eyes.
“Why do you keep fighting back? How can you smile like it doesn’t hurt?!” she cried, hurling all of her anger and confusion outward, streaks of magic dancing in violent crackles around them. She wanted to smite them down; wanted to rip that infuriatingly radiant smile off his face, to gouge the kindness out of those eyes with sharp nails—
“When all that awaits us in the end is inevitable doom, a hollow death? Is it not natural to welcome that?!” Symonne snarled. She raised her baton once more, threading wisps of magic through the thick violet miasma around them, even though she was already worn from their earlier battle and from the crushing weight of Heldalf’s domain bearing down upon her.
The illusions danced briefly around them—shadows of the bandit children laughing alongside the Cardinal, crimson blossoming against the pristine-white of her robes; of the old Explorer, his hefty leather book strapped to his back; of the blind wind seraph who gnashed his teeth, lips curled in derision at the Shepherd and his Squire.
Both humans faltered at the sight, sword and daggers wavering in their hold, their expressions clouded with grief. This would throw them off, surely, and turn them to despair, it must—
But the Shepherd only closed his eyes, steeling himself, before he slashed forward with his burning blade. The shadows screamed and flickered weakly, fading along with the remainder of her strength and Symonne was left curled against the cold, hard ground.
“Don’t you wish they could have at least survived? I can make it a reality, so why do you keep fighting back, why?!” she spat, feeling a last spike of defiance as she struggled to her hands and knees.
“If Forton, Mayvin, Dezel, and even those children were brave enough to have endured the pain that comes with reality…” Sorey began, his sword still bright with the silver flame. “Then we as the Shepherd and Squire—we surely have to do just as much, maybe even more so.”
“And that’s why we’ll keep pushing onward,” Mikleo said. “We could never cast away the memory of these people by accepting your illusions, no matter how perfect they are.”
Rose nodded, a rueful look in her eyes. “Doing so would be a disservice to all the pain and hardships they’ve had to suffer.”
Symonne set her jaw, fingers clenched so tightly around her baton that her knuckles turned bone-white.
How could they not see, not understand the futility of it all? If she could not do this one thing for her Lord, if she failed him—no, she cannot allow it—then there would be no reason… She would have no meaning…
“The more you fight, the more you suffer… What use is there to struggle?! So why must you resist Lord Heldalf vision’s? He will rid the world of perpetual agony and restraint!”
There was the sound of approaching steps then. She froze, shoulders taut, agitation a churning knot deep in her belly.
Sorey knelt before her, smiling gently—that abhorrent smile, bright and untouched like the sun, she hated it so—and reached out for her, only to pause and thought better of it, pulling his arm back to rest at his side instead.
“It may be true—the more we struggle, the more we’ll suffer. But it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s what I’ve come to realise and learn from my friends. From those I’ve brushed paths with throughout this journey.”
His countenance grew softer, his voice low, almost as if the words spoken were for himself as much as it was for her. “We’re more than the suffering and burdens we bear, Symonne. You are so much more than the pain you carry with you—and you don’t have to keep thinking of yourself as evil, of deserving of all resentment.”
“W-What?” she echoed, feeling her throat constrict and her eyes growing moist.
“Ah…” Sorey faltered then, struggling to articulate the words right. He offered her an apologetic smile, seemingly self-conscious at how he abruptly had her full attention now as she waited for his answer.
“W-Well, what I mean is… It’s all right if you are as you are. You exist just like the rest of us, in the here and now—that’s what really matters. Everything will work out somehow because I’ll keep searching for a way, for all of us.”
Symonne lowered her head, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
As the party left, making their way through the labyrinth and into Artorius’ Throne, Symonne felt his words lingering, striking a chord deep within.
She wailed then, and despite her angry, bitter tears, felt a euphoric sense of relief, of affirmation taking root within her chest.
How truly selfish of you, Shepherd. 
ii.
Many moons later, she found herself—yet again—asking the same question, to another who smiled just like he did even through the anguish and pain.
(How could they… how dare they? She had pondered over it then, seething, infuriated at the young man whose heart would not be corrupted. Who had refused to fall, even when his family’s blood had stained his hands crimson.
This time though, the ire driving her question had dimmed into waning embers; all she was left with was genuine bewilderment.)
“Thank you,” Alisha said, bowing graciously. Symonne did not miss the grief and sorrow lining the corners of her eyes, but what puzzled her most was the Princess’ smile. It was a tiny smile, tugging at the corners of her lips, but one filled with immense gratitude nonetheless. “Because of you, I was finally able to see Lady Maltran off with a proper farewell.”
There it was again, the look upon Alisha’s face. The same look of pity and understanding that Symonne had so much contempt for. She had scorned the Princess’ gaze then, turning instead to face the Squire—Ah, no, not a Squire anymore; our darling comedian has taken up the Shepherd’s mantle now, hasn’t she? —only to find she detested Rose’s cheeky grin and unflinching sureness nearly as much. Symonne hated how the woman’s blue eyes were still as sharp as the blades she twirled languidly in her palms.
“Selfish and as pitiful as ever, I see,” she muttered, almost thoughtfully, before the air around her rippled and she disappeared into velvet shadows once more.
iii. Humans were obnoxiously stubborn beings. Even when they had shed all trivialities, mortal customs, and ingrained social graces; when they allowed the darkness in their hearts to fester, allowed the ferocity of their desires to run amok and then consume them, transforming them into hellions.
Symonne twisted her lips ever-so-slightly at the thought. Even from her vantage point high up the Shrine walls, she could see the battle below was drawing to a close, the two opponents seemingly at a stalemate. It was clear as day who the true victor was though and she wasn’t the least bit surprised.   With a hum, she calculated the distance to the square below and took a graceful leap off the ledge.
The sphere of illusions disintegrated just as her feet touched the cobble-stoned streets: the ghostly silhouettes of a tawny-haired boy and red-haired girl shattered into fractals, the children’s laughter dissipating into a sheet of crystalline dust that settled over the two opponents—the fox hellion and the darling comedian Shepherd.
“Traitorous wench!” Lunarre spat viciously at her approach, fangs bared. “This was all your doing? I should’ve known.”
“Traitorous? Always the dullard spouting inane commentary, aren’t you?” Symonne countered sweetly. “My master is long dead ; there is none left to betray. And I serve no one now, least of all the likes of you.” She tilted her head, turning a coy smile towards the Shepherd Rose. “In your bid to carve each other up, you’ve all unknowingly waltzed into my domain—surely it isn’t necessary for me to remind you how my blessing works?”
“I won’t play your games, wench,” Lunarre growled, amber eyes feral and burning with blood lust. “If you get in my way, I’ll kill you too, after I gorge on little Lambkin Rose and her friends.” He threw back his head in a fit of maniacal laughter, tongue lolling over cruel and yellowed fangs.
Symonne only scowled at the sudden surge of malevolence, at the growing pressure settling against her shoulders as she continued to hold her ground, unyielding.
“And after that, maybe I’ll even sniff out everyone’s precious sleeping Shepherd.” Lunarre hissed, voice dripping venom. “Wrench his limbs apart and split him open, flesh and bone, just so I can rip into that delicious still-beating heart, drain his blood dry and—A-AARGGH!!”
There was a flash of movement, a whirlwind of red, green and white.
Lunarre tried to scream but could only choke on blood, crimson stains blooming from his chest where Rose’s daggers had found their mark.
“May these weary bones find peaceful rest,” Rose murmured through clenched teeth, driving the blades deeper as she listened to his dying gasps. “Good-bye, Lunarre. I’ll always remember our better days together.”
The fox hellion shuddered, his form dissipating into a miasma of black and violet tendrils.
The emblem over her glove was still ablaze with silver flames as Rose purified the last of the malevolence. With the malevolence cleared and the illusions wavering there was no reason to linger around—Symonne could hear the approaching steps of Rose’s seraphim as they broke through the dying hellion’s crumbling domain to reach her side.
“What display of audaciousness. Seems like you’ve come a long way and we’ve just only reached the interlude of this brand-new play. But alas, the curtain must be drawn for now.” Symonne paused, sparing a glance at Rose—she was still crouched low to the ground, staring silently at the bloodstained path. “Oh, has our darling comedian Shepherd finally broken? Did the fox really get to you that much?”
Rose let out a tired laugh before she straightened up. She wiped the grime from her face, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“He’s kind of right though, you know. I’d be a really cheap imitation of Sorey. Not that I want to be known as a maniac who goes nuts over mouldy architecture and dead people’s possessions, mind you—we still have Mikleo for that. But sometimes…” Rose’s voice grew soft as she touched the blue scarf around her neck. “This whole Shepherd business is just…”
Symonne hummed, almost amused now. “No need to flatter yourself, dear girl. You humans are the same wherever you go, whatever you do. Stubborn, supercilious, and always with the self-serving monologues.”
“Aren’t we all?” Rose gave Symonne a crooked smile, before turning to nod at Mikleo. “Like you’re pretty stubborn yourself too, so not all that different from the rest of us. And Shepherd or not, I’m always gonna be getting stuff done the Rose way. Gotta live up to that true name I was bestowed so graciously with, after all.”
Mikleo quirked an incredulous eyebrow at that, even though he couldn’t quite hide the amusement creeping over his features. “Huh. I thought someone once lamented how Wilkis Wilk was a lazy sort of name.”
“It is still a lazy sort of name. But guess I just grew into it!” Rose cracked another easy grin, hands upon her hips.
“Presuppositions again. Such is your lot.” Symonne sighed. Dawn was fast approaching, the first slivers of sunlight visible over the edge of the cityscape—and her cue to take her leave.
“Hey, wait!” Rose called after her retreating form. “Why... why did you help us, Symonne?”
“That wasn’t assistance,” Symonne murmured quietly, her form elusive as she faded away with the mist.
It wasn’t assistance, but…
Was it mercy, hope?
Salvation?
She had grown weary of pondering this act.
(Truth be told, she never was all that fond of morality plays.)
iv. If she was honest with herself, she could not say she remembered in detail the events of that particular day, decades ago. Human lives burn so brightly throughout the march of time, and yet the fire of their souls was merely flickering candlelight, winking out, one by one, in endless cycles.
Even so, she remembered those smiles, the sound of their laughter.
She remembered the littlest things, the crinkle in the sides of their listless eyes, their face contorted in fear and pain. Their voices pleading for release from the bitter harshness of reality— —the world is too cruel, please just let us dream, let us sleep forever— —no! this wasn’t what I… forgive me...! — —you brought this upon us, your gift, youyouyOUYOU...! — The ringing silence that came thereafter.
She had expected the malevolence here to have festered long enough to overwhelm her, perhaps even driven her to draconian madness. But as she picked her way carefully through the debris and remnants of the small village—of a place she had almost called home once, a lifetime ago—all she sensed now was tranquillity, a calm relief.
There, before her and basking in a patch of sun, was a small plant. A fir wood sapling, its bright green vines curled around a stick, tiny leaves already sprouting from the ends.
Symonne knelt beside the sapling, brushing a finger gingerly over the leaves, running her hand through the loose soil. There was no longer any trace of malevolence, not in the air or beneath the earth. Only the buzzing of insects, of life once again slowly taking root.
There were no echoes of the past (no desolate screams of the dying villagers) whispering from haunted shadows into her ears.
“Our darling comedian Shepherd, so hard at work these days.”
Symonne sat beside the sapling a little longer, exhaling slowly as she savoured the warmth of the sun upon her back.
v. 
The water seraph was a frequent visitor of the cliff edge grave.
Others came by as well, to present flowers and offerings of traditional curry buns, to pay their respects—the humans, during the Vernal Equinox every late autumn; the seraphim at every turn of a decade, sometimes a century. But it was the silhouette of a smallish creature perched over Mikleo’s shoulder that, for one reason or another, she remembered most.
Symonne did not care for normin in general. They were a contemptible lot, simpletons easily beguiled by fleeting contentment. And she especially did not care for a pompous one with too zealous an attitude, and who seemed overly keen with pointless nattering. “I see you’ve made the annual pilgrimage as well, little one.” Phoenix nodded in approval, chest puffed out importantly. “And I see you still possess the proclivity for presumptions.” She scoffed in return by way of greeting.
With narrowed eyes, she studied the way Mikleo’s hair now skimmed over his shoulders in loose, silver-white strands. A single lock braided with a bright yellow-orange feather was tucked neatly over his left ear. Then, with almost a resigned reluctance, she moved forward to sit as close to the cliff’s edge as she could manage, peering down at the ruinous landscape below. After a moment, she asked, her voice barely a whisper over the rising gust: “How are you not a dragon, loving and being around humans as much as you always have? Yearning so much for his return and yet… never truly certain if he…”
She fell silent, unable to finish the question. Mikleo did not reply, did not look her way. He seemed to have curled in around himself, arms wrapped his torso as he sat beside the grave—whether he was trying to keep the questions out or perhaps just protecting his most treasured memories, Symonne could not say.
“I can’t say for sure, honestly. But I guess I’ve learned not to dwell too long in the past,” Mikleo began, a pensive look in his violet eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them, my human friends. And yet at the same time, I don’t think I can ever not see what’s before and around me still.” He paused, raising his hand to the weathered headstone, tracing a finger over the engraved name Numin. “Maybe… maybe this is what it really means to be a seraph?” “So that is your answer then?” Symonne asked, unconvinced. “Finally casting aside your shackles?” “Shackles?” Mikleo shook his head. “The time I shared with Sorey, with Rose and Alisha—and all the humans I’ve ever met? They’re the foundation to who I am now, who I’ll continue to grow to be. And my answer is simple: I believe in Sorey, in our dream. I can’t reach that dream if I’m always going to keep looking back over my shoulder in despair, can I?”
Symonne only sighed, dangling her legs over the cliff side. Still such a simple fool then, she thought.
“And what about you? You’re no dragon either even after serving a Lord of Calamity for as long as you did, and then lurking among humans nearly as often as I have.”
His question caught her unawares. She tilted her head towards him, brows furrowed, pondering for a moment.
“Spite, I suppose. And sheer obstinacy.”
The brief silence that followed was awkward, but easily broken by Mikleo’s soft laugh.
“So, not that different from humans and the rest of us then,” he said, violet eyes bright with mirth as he looked ahead to the pillar of light glimmering from the ruins below.
“No,” Symonne said, smiling wryly. “I suppose not.”
vi. “You really saved my skin back there! Thanks!”
The young seraph wasn’t anyone she’d ever chanced upon over the years, Symonne was certain of this. His messy oak-brown hair was pulled back into a short pony-tail, the tips of each strand now a bright, radiant gold; his travel cloak casual and unadorned.
But it was in the curve of his smile, the tentative sincerity of his expressions and little mannerisms.
And those evergreen eyes—she had recognised that childlike wonderment, that boundless zest within them all too well.
“I’m Sorey, a wandering seraph,” he introduced himself readily, once the dust had settled around them.
Symonne studied the broken stone monument in the tall grass before them, listening intently for any tell-tale creaks or shifts in the stonework to suggest yet another collapse in the structure.
“Symonne,” she replied simply, once she had ascertained there was no imminent danger. “I was merely passing through. You… don’t remember anything, do you?”
“Well, I did kind of bumped my head a little,” Sorey said, brushing at his nape sheepishly. “So yeah, I’m a bit fuzzy about the details. The last thing I remember is the prickleboar rushing at us, and then... uh, falling off from that stone wedge there in the structure, all while trying to dodge it...”
The familiar angle of his head-tilt only lifted the corners of her lips into a knowing smile.
(He was not yet aware of it himself during his fall from the crumbling structure, but Symonne hadn’t missed the brief glimpse into his thoughts, his memories: the way her illusions had reacted—fractured pieces of emotion weaving through the wind—to the indiscernible fears he had kept folded behind that bright smile, buried deep within the eaves of his heart.) “I managed to scare it off with the illusions, so it’s highly unlikely to return,” she said instead, already moving ahead. “You’ll still need to tread with more caution through these woods. Prickleboars aren’t the only creatures that are territorial.”
“Right,” Sorey nodded, reaching down to collect the book he’d dropped earlier. He dusted the covers before slipping it back into the small leather pack he wore at his hip. “And thank you again, Symonne. I really owe you one. I’m going to look for Phoenix—ah, he’s a friend… a normin I sort of picked up?—we got separated just before I found this monument and the prickleboar attacked. Maybe you’d like to go with me, if we’re heading the same way?”
Symonne had almost, almost considered taking up his suggestion, if only for curiosity’s sake. “My path leads elsewhere for now,” she said, declining the offer with a slight shake of her head. “We may however chance upon each other again another day. And while I’m not fond of platitudes, but... Some advice for what you seek, your heart’s desire.”
She held his curious gaze, unwavering, her thoughts drifting to the words that had stayed with her, that she’d held on to at every turn of the century.
It’s all right if you are as you are. You exist just like the rest of us, in the here and now—that’s what really matters.
“You’re more than your lost memories, more than the burden of a selfish Shepherd’s legacy.”
There it was again, the tiniest hint of emotion, flickering over his features. Sorey blinked—and it was gone again—head angled in confusion. “I don’t think I quite understand…”
Symonne only smiled, retreating once more to the comfort of shadows before he could question further.
“Good journeying, seraph Sorey,” she said, her voice the soft rustling of leaves in the canopy above. “May you find luck dancing, wherever your heart leads you.”
Sorey was still deep in pensive thought when Phoenix finally found him, watching the way the leaves bobbed over the spot where Symonne had last stood.  
—End—
Notes: - I wanted to re-write some of the scenes with Symonne during the battle before the game ending. Somehow it turned out longer and ended up being a character study of sorts. Not sure how I feel about this but l o l  [/I-tried.jpeg].
- The fourth scene is inspired by Symonne’s character notes found in the Zestiria World Guidance Book translations. Before working under Heldalf, she was a seraph who actually loved humans and had tried to live among them, only for her blessing to bring disastrous results to a village.
- The last scene where she meets seraph Sorey takes place a little after Chapter 1 and before Chapter 2 of my post-epilogue fic, Chasing Dreams.
Thank you for reading! Comments and critique are welcomed for my fics—I'd like to hear what you think, if you've enjoyed this so far.
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22 or 32 for sormik drabble please?
OMGSH bless your heart and soul alskdjfalksdf for these prompts Anon because #32 was like...a perfect excuse to finally drabble for the yet-unnamed DnD AU Mod Eli and I have been tossing around... AKA, more aptly a Faerun AU because nobody’s actually playing DnD they’re just....put into a possible DnD world so...yeah
Enjoy!
#32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
Gods do not ‘fall in love.’
But it occurs to Mikleo as he sits there in the shelter of night, under asky filled with as many stars as there are emotions, that perhaps a mortalheart such as the one he now bears may not care. His knees are folded underhim, his hands loosely curled against his thighs. He cannot take his amethysteyes away from the sleeping face of the paladin across from him; despitehimself, he cannot make his own heart stop its rapid patter.
In the camp’s firelight, Sorey’s tanned face is rosy, handsome. Theshadows bring out the strength in his jaw and the long curve of his cheeks. Hisdark hair brushes his forehead, curling around his softly-pointed ear; every tiny,adorable snore makes his eyelids shift against his cheeks.
For a moment, Mikleo wonders how it came to be that he should ever havefallen for such a mortal—nonetheless, a mortal who had once sworn his blade andlife to him.
For a moment, Mikleo wonders how he even got to this point, plucked from his seat in the heavens and wrapped in fleshand blood, left to stumble about within the cruel glass frames of time, space,and matter.
For a moment, Mikleo wonders just when it was that Sorey—his firstfriend, his first ally in this long quest to take back his godhood—became soimportant to him.
But then he recalls the beasts they encountered earlier that day. Hethinks of the way Sorey leapt to his defense, broadsword swinging and mouthparted in a rattling warrior’s cry. He remembers how Sorey called upon his namein battle, a half-formed prayer to bid for strength and courage—“LuzrovRulay!”—and he thinks of how strange it was, that physio-emotional reaction ofhis skin tingling at the mere mentionof his true divine name.
He still feels those vibrations in his very soul, he thinks, of Sorey soopenly praying to him.
Before he can stop himself, Mikleo reaches for the paladin’s brow. Hisfingers slowly, gently brush through brown bangs and his eyes scale over theyoung half-elf’s face again. They fall upon the feathers—blue feathers—dangling from his ears.
Fey knights do so loveto adorn themselves with images that reflect their oaths, don’t they?
Mikleo feels like his chest might collapse in on itself.
Just what was it he had done, who knew how long ago and who knew for whatreason, to deserve this worship and devotion? How did he earn the life of sosteadfast a follower…?
He wishes he could remember. He wishes he knew.
“I think I’m I love with you,” Mikleo whispers into the night. Hisfingers drift across to Sorey’s cheek. He grants him a tender, delicate touch. Hebreathes once and then twice; he bends forward and whispers just for theslumbering half-elf to hear, “…and I’m terrified.”
And perhaps that, more so, was something gods definitely did not do.
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Candid Complex (Chapter Three)
Title: Candid Complex Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G+ Pairing/s: sormik Summary: Wednesdays are always hectic. But at least Sorey has something to look forward to, today.
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Wednesdays are always hectic.
For all intents and purposes, there’s no reason they should be this chaotic. He only has a couple of classes today, the first one being in the morning, hours before the rest. Really, his day should be a lot more relaxed than it actually is. But there is never a Wednesday morning which does not turn into a catastrophe, thanks to an arrangement Sorey should have called off ages ago.
To be fair, he didn’t know at the time that Rose had terrible time management.
It’s strange. Rose somehow manages to be where she needs to be, exactly on time, no earlier and no later, at all costs. Yet, she never leaves the house early enough for Sorey to be sure he’ll be on time for his own lecture, which is on the other side of campus from where Rose parks the car. His Archaeology lecturer must think he goes to the gym before class, because he always shows up out of breath and red-cheeked, three minutes before the start of class, due to panic.
(It can be argued, paradoxically, that Rose’s time management is impeccable, since it gets her exactly where she needs to be, when she needs to be there. She has no concept of an appropriate time to show up to classes, though.)
Still, it’s more beneficial for him to get a ride from Rose when he can; it saves getting up as early to walk there, and she only lives next door, so it’s no trouble for her.
Having Rose next door is both a blessing and a curse, though. Sure, it helps in the department of getting a ride to university, and it’s nice to have a friend living so close by. Rose, however, practically lives in Sorey’s comfortable one-bedroom flat, considering how much time she spends on his couch. Even if she makes it to his house at an acceptable enough time for them to leave without being late to class, she always comes up with a petty excuse to stay a little longer.
“Rose, I appreciate your help,” Sorey says, clenching and loosening his fist restlessly, “but you really don’t have to choose an outfit for me.”
With a double-dagger glare, Rose says, “Sure, maybe some chicks dig the nerdy aesthetic, but if you’re going on a date, you need to look presentable.”
“Mikleo’s not ‘some chick’, though. Besides, it’s only the ice cream parlour.”
“Don’t you think that nerd boy will appreciate you making an effort?”
In all honesty, he doesn’t think how he’s dressed will make so much of a difference. It doesn’t look like he’ll be able to get out of this though. At least Rose’s fashion sense isn’t completely terrible.
(She isn’t even that interested in fashion. In fact, Sorey can’t remember a time when she’s ever fussed so much over her own clothing choices; she prefers comfortable clothes which are easy to move around in. He supposes it’s because she wants this relationship to work out, even if she knows it isn’t supposed to be real in the first place.)
Rose pulls some clothes out of the wardrobe, scrutinises them, then stuffs them back inside. “Anyway, I thought you wanted things to work out with him.”
“I do,” Sorey says. “But with Mikleo, appearances don’t matter like they do for other people. That might be why he seems so modest about himself.”
“So what, he’s the living embodiment of physical perfection?” Rose says.
Flustered, Sorey waves his hands in refusal. “What? No, I didn’t-”
“I’m teasing you,” she says, turning to him with a smile, “but it’s obvious that you think he’s hot.”
Sorey looks down at his hands. “It’s not just his looks, though. He’s such a great person.”
Rose turns away, pulling a different shirt out of the wardrobe. “I hope you’re right.”
Before Sorey can ask what she means, Rose thrusts the shirt into his hands and pushes him into the bathroom to change. He decides not to push the subject - after all, it’s unlikely he’ll get an answer from her, now.
Once their classes end for the day, Sorey and Mikleo meet up beside the statue of Meliodas, as usual.
(The statue doesn’t really fit Ladylake University, in Sorey’s opinion. Meliodas lived centuries before Ladylake was founded, so unless he visited the lake itself whilst unifying the continent, this choice makes little sense.
It still makes an interesting feature, though, especially considering the rumours surrounding it. Apparently touching the sword held by Meliodas allows you to get away with any wrong act with no repercussions. Sorey isn’t sure how believable the rumour is, but Meliodas was supposedly a bit of a tyrant, so he can see how it came about, at least.)
When Mikleo arrives, his eyes hold a hint of questioning. Sorey shrinks a little, suddenly feeling the naked judgement the clothes chosen by Rose are conducting. It’s not like she chose anything outlandish, either - only a blue shirt and black trousers, paired with his favourite feathered earrings and a red and black bracelet, also with feathers on it. Maybe it’s his jacket - the white definitely contrasts with his darker shirt, though the navy detailing makes it blend more nicely. Or at least, so he’d thought.
Mikleo lifts a hand, hesitating for a moment at the side of Sorey’s face. Gently, he lifts one of the feathered earrings with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve never seen you wear these before,” he says softly.
For a moment, Sorey forgets to reply, too distracted by Mikleo; lips pressed into a small pout, eyes focused and curious, with a touch lighter than the feather it holds. Most people might be uncomfortable, with someone they barely know in such close contact. Sorey, however, leans into his touch. Purple eyes to latch onto green, caught in a moment of unexpected intimacy.
Mikleo pulls his hand away.
It takes a second for him to snap out of it. When he does, Sorey finally responds in a more rushed manner than he’d have liked. “I’ve had them for a long time, but I don’t usually wear them for classes.”
Making an ‘oh’ shape with his lips, he nods slowly. For whatever reason, when he meets Sorey’s eyes again, it feels like he has more questions, but he does not ask them. Instead he says, “Shall we get going, then?”
The two begin their walk towards the ice cream parlour, chatting absently about whatever comes to mind. Sorey can’t help it when his thoughts go in a different direction, distracted from Mikleo’s casual conversation about his morning lecture. All he can think about is how nice it feels to walk by his side, to listen to his voice, to be able to experience moments like this with him.
If only they were dating for real.
It’s only as he thinks this that he remembers that, even if this relationship is temporary, the purpose of dates like this is to make it seem like they are. If they’re supposed to be on a date, then it’s only fair to assume they should be acting more like a couple - or at least, that’s how Sorey sees it.
How does a real couple act? There aren’t any other couples around at the moment, only single stragglers. Thinking back to whenever he has seen couples, though, he always remembers seeing them showing affection through physical intimacy, like holding hands, hugging, or… kissing.
(The last thought makes heat rise to his cheeks, and he dispels it.)
Holding hands should be a good start, right?
Carefully, he extends his hand across the short distance between them, the back of his hand brushing against Mikleo’s knuckles.
“Sorey?”
He looks up to find that Mikleo has stopped. Mikleo gives him a concerned look, even more questions popping into his eyes.
“A-ah, sorry!” Sorey gives a nervous laugh. “I just thought that, since we’re meant to look like we’re dating-”
Mikleo interrupts him by finishing what Sorey started, twining their hands together between them. Though the warmth comforts him, he is frozen in place by the action.
“Your timing is awful,” Mikleo teases. He starts walking again, pulling Sorey behind him and continuing his story as if nothing had happened.
For the remainder of their journey, their hands stay clasped between them, a link growing stronger with the contact. Sorey actually feels some regret once they reach the ice cream parlour, at which point he is forced to drop Mikleo’s hand so he can open the door.
(It’s required two hands to shove open ever since The Incident a year ago, or so he’s been told. He honestly doesn’t know why the owner hasn’t had it fixed yet, or what The Incident even entailed, but no matter.)
As ever, the ice cream parlour is quiet, mostly due to the time of day and week. It’s dinnertime on a Wednesday, after all - not exactly peak ice cream time. As such, most of the diner-style booths and tables are free, save for a woman Sorey doesn’t recognise reading a newspaper at a table in the corner of the room.
One would think the bright colours and welcoming nature of the parlour would make it more popular, but with it being on a back street, he supposes it makes sense for it to be so quiet.
In any case, this is Sorey’s favourite time to get ice cream, and he’s happy that today he’ll be able to share this happy moment with Mikleo.
They make their way to the counter, which is currently unmanned; the staff are most likely all in the kitchens right now. Sorey looks over to Mikleo, trying to gauge his reaction to the place. Mikleo’s face does not betray much, though his eyes are fixed on the menu hanging behind the counter, moving over each item and scrutinising it.
“What are you thinking of getting?” Sorey asks, both in an attempt to make conversation and out of genuine curiosity as to what kinds of flavours Mikleo likes.
Mikleo hums, putting a hand on his chin in thought. “They have a good variety of flavours, so it’s difficult to choose. I’ll probably go for matcha, then.”
Suddenly, a new voice enters the conversation. “Matcha for Meebo? Why am I not surprised.”
Behind the counter is one of the workers, a short girl with blond hair and a teasing smirk, aimed at Mikleo. Sorey recognises her from a few of his past visits, though he hasn’t spoken to her much, save for ordering his own ice cream.
Mikleo groans. “I forgot you worked around here.”
“Is that any way to greet a lady?” she admonishes. “Have some respect.”
“Hello, Edna,” Mikleo says in a flat tone. “Is that better?”
Edna does not answer, instead looking over to Sorey with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“I could say the same for the two of you,” Sorey says with a laugh.
“Oh, Meebo and I have a long and complex relationship,” Edna says.
Mikleo crosses his arms over his chest. “By which she means that she’s friends with a family friend of mine, and I’ve had the unfortunate opportunity of knowing her since I was quite young.”
Edna does not make any further comment, instead turning to Sorey. “I’m guessing you want two scoops of vanilla in a waffle cone, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Punching the order into the register, she tells them how much they owe. Sorey pulls out his wallet and passes some gald over, much to Mikleo’s chagrin.
“You don’t need to pay for me,” Mikleo says.
“We’re dating, right?” Sorey says with a grin. “Let me treat you every once in a while.”
Mikleo, surprisingly, does not push the issue - not that he gets a chance to. At Sorey’s words, Edna speaks once more.
“What? Meebo, you finally got a boyfriend?”
“Can you stop calling me that?” Mikleo says with a sigh. “But yes, Sorey and I are dating.”
For a moment, an expression of sincere surprise crosses Edna’s face before she returns to her usual poker-faced expression. “Well, he’s something, alright. Just keep your gross affection out of my store.”
Sorey frowns, not really understanding what she means by ‘something’, but he doesn't ask.
“It’s not technically your store,” Mikleo points out, but Edna ignores him in favour of scooping ice cream into two separate cones. She passes Mikleo his first, and he takes off to a table in the corner.
“Sorey,” Edna says quietly. Her eyes glint with an unexpected determination which takes him aback. “You’d better be serious about him. Meebo doesn’t like being played around with.”
Before Sorey gets a chance to answer, Edna passes him his ice cream and disappears into the kitchen once more, leaving them on their own. Sorey shrugs to himself and moves over to the table where Mikleo waits for him.
“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” Sorey says as he sits down. “I didn’t realise you two knew each other.”
“It’s fine,” Mikleo says. “I knew she worked in this area of town, but I didn’t know she worked here.”
“Oh, okay.”
Sorey eats some of his ice cream, smiling as soon as the familiar flavour hits his taste-buds. This is the reason he loves this place so much - he hasn’t found a better tasting soft-scoop yet. None of the others have such a smooth texture, or such an enticing flavour. They’re all either too grainy or bland for his liking.
Across from him, Mikleo raises an eyebrow with a fond expression. “You really like that ice cream, don’t you?”
“It’s my favourite,” he confesses. “Do you want to try it?”
Mikleo nods. Sorey tilts the ice cream towards Mikleo, watching as he leans over to try some. In the background, someone starts coughing rather loudly, but when he turns around in concern, all he sees is the door to the kitchen swinging shut.
“It’s good,” Mikleo says as he leans away again. “Though it’s not as good as the ice cream I make.”
“Woah, you can make ice cream?”
“Yes. It’s the first thing I was ever taught to make.” Mikleo opens his mouth, as though to say more, but his expression turns to surprise as his own ice cream drips onto his hand. He saves his ice cream from any more catastrophes by eating some, at which point Sorey remembers to eat his own before it also melts.
After a few minutes, Sorey says, “How’s your one?”
“It’s good.” He tilts it towards Sorey in offering.
Without a second thought, Sorey tries some of the matcha ice cream, humming at the sweet flavour, which leaves an unexpectedly bitter aftertaste, at which he wrinkles his nose. “I prefer vanilla, but that one’s good too!”
“I guess you like sweet things,” Mikleo says, going back to his own ice cream.
“I’m not particularly fussy, actually,” Sorey says with a shrug. “Ever since I was young, I’ve pretty much had to eat whatever is put on my plate.”
“Strict parents?”
Sorey looks down at his ice cream, sunken beneath walls of waffle cone. “Not really. I mean, I grew up with just my Gramps, so I ended up doing a lot of the cooking.”
He feels Mikleo’s eyes on him as he says, “Did your parents…?”
“My mother died just after I was born,” Sorey says simply. “I was premature, and her body was pretty weak at the time.” He honestly doesn’t feel saddened by the thought. As much as he would have loved his mother had she lived, he doesn’t remember her at all, so it’s not like he knows what he’s missing. He can’t deny a little bit of curiosity as to what she might have been like, but it’s never been all that important to him.
“I see,” Mikleo says. By his tone, Sorey can tell he understands, somehow. “What’s your Gramps like?”
Finally looking back up at Mikleo, Sorey grins. “He’s amazing. Even though he’s pretty old, he’s still doing stuff for everyone in the village. I think you’d like him.”
“You’re not from Ladylake?”
“Nope! I’m from Elysia, a village in the mountains.” At the name of his village, he feels a pang of homesickness. It’s been a while since he’s been home. “Hey, you should come visit with me sometime!”
Mikleo gives him a small smile, which for some reason doesn’t manage to completely reach his eyes. “That sounds nice.”
Sorey grins, and they go back to eating their ice creams for a few minutes. That is, until a thought strikes Sorey, and he turns back to Mikleo.
“Were you born in Ladylake, then?”
“No, I grew up in Camlann. It’s not too far from Elysia, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that place! The Origin Village, right?”
“Yes,” Mikleo says. “A village which became the origin of hope once the last known Shepherd defeated the Lord of Calamity. Or at least, so the legends say.”
The idea of growing up in such a historical place amazes Sorey. He wonders if that’s why Mikleo is so interested in history as he is.
“Isn’t it where The Celestial Record was written, too?”
Mikleo nods. “Most of it, anyway.”
“That’s so cool,” Sorey says. “There must be so many places to explore there, so much history to discover!”
“Maybe you could visit, sometime.”
Something in Sorey’s chest heats up at the pseudo-invitation. “I’d love that!”
Despite his happiness, however, it’s only once he and Mikleo part for the night that he remembers that this is only meant to be temporary. Once Mikleo suggests they ‘break up’, their friendship could be on the line. After all, the feelings in Sorey’s heart only continue to grow, and he’s not sure what will happen if they reach overflowing capacity.
In any case, he can’t burden Mikleo with feelings he doesn’t reciprocate. From what he’s seen, Mikleo isn’t interested in a romantic relationship at all, and Sorey has managed all his life so far without one, too. Even if he has to live with unrequited feelings, he can survive so long as his friendship with Mikleo continues as before.
Until he can put these chaotic feelings in his heart to rest, Sorey will do his best to support Mikleo in whatever way he can. He will not burden him with these feelings, not if it will only end up hurting him and putting a stopper on their friendship. He can’t imagine having to live knowing that he’s made Mikleo feel uncomfortable with him. To stay with Mikleo, he’ll put up with keeping his emotions hidden.
Even if that means heartbreak.
4 notes · View notes
applegelstore · 6 years
Text
I actually wanted to wait with this until I hit, like, a nice follower count milestone or something like that, but… I felt like it. So, I just wanted to thank everyone of you who’s following this blog from the bottom of my heart. It’s still a pitifully small number, but I feel like I actually have loyal fans. So, thank you all for every single like, reblog, and especially those among you who commissioned me or even donated to my Ko-Fi! You know who you are. Some people also like or reblog my stuff frequently (you probably also know who you are), these people are heroes. Honestly, you are all so, so sweet, and you might not even know how much this means to me.
And the best thing? Your tags. No kidding.
Rest under cut for length. You’re not gonna regret clicking it, though!
I hardly ever got tags on my original art (which also got much less notes in general, but still!), but very often I get some on my fanart. And they’re… like… the best thing… ever? 
So what I did is this: I’ve collected some of the most ridiculous tags I ever got. I probably missed some of them, but I try to collect them all! I’m getting so many funny and/or sweet comments in the tags, you’re making me weep! Sometimes I got really long comments in the tags, and I’m speechless. I didn’t put those in here, but I wanted to share the most hilarious ones.
Without further ado and also without any context, I’m gonna share some of the funniest tags. (a few of them obviously were posted under the same images, but in general, I mixed these quotes up as wildly as I cold for maximum out of context hilarity). Like some kind of… gag reel.
Which ones are your favourites?
(alternatively, you can try to guess which image/post got which tag)
#goddammit hug her mikleo
#edna needs hugs just sayin'
#SOBBING
#MY BABIES
#YES PLEASE
#what the fuck this is adorable
#i love this a lot omg
# this fandom
# I am drawn more and more
#😭 good best beautiful;
#what is this sorcery
#yeutdkydlckhckh
#canon real perfect beautiful amazing
#rose my queen
#WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
#rip meebs
#!!!!!!
#bless
#excellent
#oh my god lol edna
#*Mikleo screeching in the distance*
#asedxrftghj
#awwww <3
#don't you yell at pun mama rose
#also Meebo is totally a Disney princess he just needs to get over his fear of dogs then he'll even have animals that love him
#Dhddlagjwlejh
#aaaaAAAAAA
#AAAAA
#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
#15/10 would recommend
#rose please marry me
#*crying dying noises*
#*gross sobbing*
#would also 100000% pay to transform dezel and zaveid into parrots though holy shit
#'im abraid your hair is going to need some work mikleo'
#'i dont mind combing over to do this'
#'you're really growing into your hair style'
#lailah is banned from helping
#'no need to turn this into a hairy situation'
#also wtf are 10-20 or 1000 shades of malevolence in a person 
#WHAT KIND OF STUPID DIALOGUE IS THAT  
#tag yourself i'm a category type 27 malevolence kaiju  
#game!sorey please use your mark-5 jaegar luzrov rulay to punch and purifying the SALT IN ME  
#dip 'im sorey d i p ' i m
#rip mikey boy though
#brotp for the ages
#/silent tears into the abyss
#hey...thgats fucking gay
#give rose a shepherd cloak 2k17
#!!!!
#GIVE SOREY A CAT 2KFOREVER
#TOTALLY AGREE OP
#honestly this is canon
#EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED
#now I need a fic for this too
#i'm crying omg
#kfhdkf edna
#i cry :')))))
#please let mikey boy lay his head on sorey's lap and have sorey caress those alabaster locks
#petition to release metal band t-shirt costume DLC for velvet
#CONSTANT BITCHY RESTING FACE IM CRYING
#please marry each other :'''''')))))
#GOOD
#I'M LAUGHING SO HARD LAKJDSLFKJSDLFKJSDLKFJLSDKFJLSKJFLSKFJ
#her fujikgbd
#face
#GIVE YOUR GF A CLOAK ALISHA
#pretty much
#op's art keeps me living
#rose no
#edna plz
#JESUS F U C KING CHRIST SAVE MIKLEO
#*hyperventilates*
#hhhhhhhhhhh
#cy8cyciyvuf
#gay...............gay thank you
#omg
#i’m with you velvet
#beautiful
#jyyjdgjdkydjydkyfkyfyykfflflyfludkyfkydyidkydkyclhckhckhxkh
#tsutitdkhdkhdkgsykdkgxkgckhchcykfkycykfkycjt
#y e a hhhh h h hh h h h h h h h h h h h h h h h hh
#SO ACCURATE
#GIVE ME ALL THE ZESTY/DESTINY CROSSOVERS
#1000/10 will pay to get this as a DLC costume
#thiS IS SO GOOD GOD BLESS YOU
#[SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] hi yeah this is my Jam
#BABY
#i always love when people make sorey do the tongue thing
#because he totally does the tongue thing
#i support this 800% a good post
#never ever forget dezel dual weilding twin trumpets
#meebs is beautiful with waves just sayin'
#i'm crying
#i love this
#AAAAAA
#oh my god
#edna's face i can't
#i just died
#rip meebo
#*plays My Heart Will Go On on kazoo*
#what a post
#sorey: miKLEO WILLL U MARRY ME
#mikleo: u idIOT DOn"T ELECTROCUTE URSELF
#sorey: ur right i am prty cute
#mikleo: did u even hear what i said
#rose what an icon
#my inspiration
#PURE
#perfect
#bye mikleo
#baby ******** is like something from a splendid lisa frank fever dream
#I laughed
#gaahhh this is too cute
#Jhwgshshaksehhwsnbxj
#15/10 they kiss after a performance and i cry a single tear
#the universal constant
#is sorey has NO SELF PRESERVATION
#LIKE NONE
#BOY WHERE IS IT
#YOU LEFT IT IN A RUIN SOMEWHERE DIDN'T YA
#GDI SOREY
#<- a memoir by mikleo
#MY SONS
#*sobs into hands* god this is lovely
#hush rose let him be
#was almost disappointed when the link didn't actually lead to part of your world
#this is so gold
#also the HEighT diFFEREncE ♡
#also thank you for the blessing that is mikleo clinging onto sorey's buff arm
#the sweet baby slumber party is off to a rollicking good start
#lkjsdlfkJ I'M ALL FOR SOREY DIPPING MIKLEO YES
#TOOOO FUCKIN GREAT
#IMGOING TO CRY
#TOO LATE ALREADY AM
#nerds omg
#aaaaaa
#edna NO
#kajfrbnkjrebdgkhrjgbnkurjthhgnkuihjiuHLUIHFLUhglnueh
#aaand I don't know the Protagonist-kun and Protagonist-chan's names yet so in my mind they are now named Losers thanks to your art xD
#no matter which game Edna will always roast everyone
#ohhhh nOOOOOOOOO
#run while you can meebo
#told you you were gonna pay for the toddler quip
#I LOVE TJIS
#the smol tsun tsun grump is a big softie deep down
#...deep...deep...very deep down
#omg
#awwww
#will someone
#will someone write this au please..
#but i love this!
#♡
#this feels so melancholic and also i need more
#this is a gold au idea
#someone please give Mikleo a hug
#friiiiick
#PHI PLS
#HEY YOU KNOW WHO ELSE WOULD BE WILLING
#SOMEONE WHOSE NAME STARTS WITH AN M AND ENDS WITH IKLEO I'M JUST SAYING
#SUGGESTING
#LAILAH....
#Y E S
#so cute awwww
#<3333333333
#dogs are for petting and torturing meebos
#ajenfnjen
#bless Rollo
#awwww cute
#omg yes
#omg
#RUN MEEBO
#gosh...
#bless everything
#ALKJSDFLKJSDLFKJDSF
#I M AO SSODSF
#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......
#I will never look at anything else ever again
#plz capitalize German nouns thx
#headcanon accepted!!
#BLESSED
#GOOD AND PURE CONTENT I LOVE THIS
#rip i love this artist and i love this post
*takes a deep breath* …I’m done. And I love you!
19 notes · View notes
tmariea · 6 years
Text
What Flows Between Us
Happy Birthday @pastelgabby !!! For you my dearest dear, for a good year and happy wishes.
Paring: Mikleo/Uno
Part 1 | Part 2
For Mikleo, as Sorey sleeps the years can be long, and often lonely. In Uno he finds a friend and confidant, someone he can talk to in ways he feels he cannot with his other friends and family. From there it is only a step into something that can help fill some of Mikleo's other forms of loneliness, too.
Read on AO3
It had been years since Mikleo last set foot in the Sanctuary in Ladylake, but very little had changed.  Same stained glass, same altar, similar banners lining the walls which proclaimed dedication to the city and the Shepherd.  The one new addition was a pair of banners at the front of the room, flanking the bowl of sacred water, and decorated with the symbol of water seraphim, in honor of their Lord of the Land.
The man in question sat on the step before the altar, leaning back on his hands.  Beside him was an old, leather-bound book, currently closed.  Uno’s attention was directed instead toward a priest standing before one of the Shepherd’s banners, explaining to a young girl and her father the story of a Shepherd from hundreds of years before Mikleo’s time.
“She’s a sweet child,” Uno said, without looking away.  “And her resonance is high.  Sometimes she has been able to see me or speak with me, but it is sporadic.  With the right teaching, she could perhaps one day be a Shepherd.  Or join the priesthood if that is more her path.”
“That’s good to hear,” Mikleo replied, equally distracted by the child.  There were still few enough people who could see seraphim that it was a cause for celebration.  But he couldn’t help but picture a tiny Sorey in her shoes.  A fragment of memory danced through his thoughts, of Sorey’s shining eyes as they looked up at Gramps while he told them similar stories.
He shook his head to clear it and glanced back at Uno.  And consequently, the altar, which still stood empty of its sacred blade.  Suddenly, Mikleo could hardly remember why he’d come in the first place; a lot of memories originated here, most of them bittersweet.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” Uno asked.
“Um, sure,” Mikleo said, stumbling a bit on the reply.  He hadn’t expected the question.
“Wonderful.  I could use a good excuse to stretch my legs, breathe the air off the lake again.”  Uno stood and picked up his book.  He took it up the steps and laid it next to his vessel before joining Mikleo again.  He gestured before them in a ‘shall we?’ sort of motion.
Mikleo began to walk toward the door and Uno fell easily into step next to him.  “Doesn’t that worry people, moving things?” he asked.
Uno laughed lightly before saying, “A bit.  But the few in the priesthood who can see have explained to the others.  In a way it’s useful; it’s a good reminder that I am still here for those who can’t see.”  The small group before the banners turned to look as the door creaked open.  The little girl waved, and Uno waved back with a wide smile.
Out in the open, Uno took a deep breath, one that relaxed his shoulders.  “Of all the places for a water seraph to set up a domain, this is one of the best, I think.”  He raised a hand.  To any other observer, it wouldn’t look at if he was doing much.  But Mikleo could feel the bits of water in the air, too small to see with the eye, shifting and coming together to wrap around Uno like a blanket.  Then this invisible blanket extended to Mikleo, too, and he found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Uno winked.  “I can teach you that trick if you like,” he said, before he began to lead Mikleo down the street.  They walked in silence through the market square just before the sanctuary and the busy streets of the center of the city; the humans here provided plenty enough noise and distraction on their own.
As the crowds thinned out, Uno asked Mikleo about what he’d been up to since they last saw each other.  That had to have been over twenty years ago now, at Rose’s funeral.  It was almost a surprise to Mikleo himself to think that it had been that long since he’d stopped traveling consistently with humans.  But, with that much time between, there was plenty of exploring and writing and research to recount; he’d barely scratched the surface by the time they made their way through the gates and out onto the walkways along the lake.
Uno stepped up to the short retaining wall along the path and leaned his hip against it.  Mikleo mirrored his posture, and found that this put them facing each other rather than the water.
They were silent for a few moments, while Uno seemed to be turning something over in his mind.  Finally, he said, “Something is bothering you.”  It wasn’t a question.  “I won’t press, but I am more than willing to listen if you would like to talk about it.”
Mikleo’s eyes shifted away, to study the crumbling edge of a cobblestone.  Despite the light talk as they’d moved through the city, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking of Sorey ever since that moment in the sanctuary.  It had been a while since last he found himself caught up in memories of his bright smile, his laugh, his warm arms.  It wasn’t that Mikleo had actively tried to forget – after all, how could he possibly forget? – but it was easier these days to keep his mind occupied elsewhere.
It was the kind of thing Mikleo liked to keep to himself.  But, Uno wasn’t Lailah or his family, who still fretted over him despite his insistence that it was not necessary.  Neither was he Edna or Zaveid, who wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for a good decade or more.
“I suppose, I suppose you could call it loneliness,” he finally settled on saying.
Uno nodded and his expression looked almost sad.  “Life as a Seraph is blessed in many ways – by the elements, by longevity – but for many of us it can be isolating.  It’s a singular experience, to stand in a crowd and have not one pair of eyes intentionally meet your own.”
That wasn’t quite the same type of loneliness he had been thinking of.  And yet, Mikleo was reminded of so many times when he’d felt as if he was standing on the outside looking in, how there had been a pair of green eyes then, to catch his at just the right moment and draw him back.  So perhaps they weren’t so unrelated after all.  He said, “Yes.”
When he looked up now, the eyes that gazed back at him were blue and held a depth of understanding that made Mikleo glad he had spoken up.  He’d almost forgotten that Uno had cloaked him in his blanket of humidity until he felt the bits of water moving closer to him, in a way that was almost similar to a hug.
“That is starting to change though, for the first time in many centuries.  Much of it thanks to both you and Sorey.”
Mikleo closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, let the scents of the lake wash through his nose.  Uno was telling the truth.  That little girl had waved at them.  Beyond that, he could feel the change in the air.  It was a tangible reminder that his separation from Sorey wasn’t in vain, that they were moving toward their goal however slowly.  He breathed out again, and opened his eyes as he did in time to see Uno’s smile.
“I am grateful for the ways that you are shaping the world.  And in the meantime, if you are lonely, I would be happy to offer my friendship, whenever you find yourself here.”
Ever since Rose’s death, Mikleo had spent quite a lot of time alone, engrossed in research and exploration.  Perhaps right now a friend would be just what he needed.  He smiled in reply and said, “Thank you, that would be wonderful.  Now, do you think you could teach me that trick?”
It was interesting, Mikleo thought as he sat at the end of the bridge into Ladylake with a pencil and notebook in hand, how much a place could change in so little time.  He had a singular sort of perspective, returning the city anywhere from twice a year to every few and usually only staying for a few weeks at a time to visit Uno.  It made the changes stand out more to him than if he had lived alongside the progress.
About two visits ago he’d decided to start recording the changes.  This time he could see a few shops at the end of the bridge into the city; merchants had started to build platforms off the sides and piers around the edges of the city walls in absence of space to grow within.  There was also a large silhouette missing from the far edge of the city, in near the fringes of the Nobles District.  Uno had talked about the fire in one of his letters – he had helped to put it out but not before the structural integrity of the building had been irreparably damaged.
Mikleo finished his sketch and stashed his book in his bag before heading down the bridge.  Inside the city there were more small changes to be noted.  It meant he was rarely bored when he visited; there were always new things for Uno to show him, with a smile and pride in his voice for his city.
Today, Uno was outside the Sanctuary waiting for him.  He came down the steps as Mikleo approached, and they fell into step, heading back out into town.  “It’s good to see you,” Uno said, “And your hair looks nice.  Are you going to grow it out?”
Mikleo reached a hand up to play self-consciously with the ends of his hair that hung just above his shoulders.  “Lailah’s been after me about it for a while.  She says it will suit me, but I think she’s just looking for someone who will put up with her playing with their hair.  Edna and Zaveid surely don’t.”
Uno’s face contorted with the thought before he started laughing.  “I haven’t met Zaveid often, but I can only imagine how he would look with braids.”
It took a bit of work to picture how it would look, but before long he was doubled over laughing as well.  Finally he collected himself enough to say, “I need to win a bet against him someday, so I can demand to see this.”
“Please do.”
Mikleo insisted they start walking again at that point, because there was at least one person looking at them strangely on the street.  Another didn’t seem to see them, but was looking around in confusion for the source of the disembodied laughter.  He supposed that was one downside to more humans being able to see them – more chances to embarrass himself in public.  He could feel that his cheeks were pink, despite how many years he’d tried to keep that from happening.
Thankfully, Uno didn’t comment on it.  Instead he said, “I know you enjoy eating.  Would you be interested in getting some food?”
“Um, alright,” Mikleo said, slightly confused by the offer.
“I met a woman with high resonance who owns a restaurant in town,” Uno elaborated, “She came into the Sanctuary to pray for the success of her business.”
“That sounds lovely then.”
Uno directed them down a side street that lead out toward the Ladylake walls.  The houses and shops here were more modest than those near the Sanctuary, but the streets bustled with life.  The building that they stopped in front of was similarly small but looked well kept, with flowers in a box in front of the window.  Uno touched a finger to the soil, and Mikleo could sense a thin trickle of water flowing across the roots of the plants.
The inside of the restaurant boasted a handful of tables, nearly all of which were full, and a bar separating the kitchen space from the seating space.  Behind the bar was a woman that Mikleo would guess was in her forties; she had the beginning of crow’s feet around her eyes and lines around her mouth, but her tied-back brown hair still looked richly colored.  She blinked for a moment as she took notice of them standing in the doorway, and then threw her arms open wide with an exaggerated call of, “Master Uno, welcome!”
Uno seemed unbothered by this boisterous greeting, although a fair few of the diners were looking toward the woman in surprise at her sudden outburst.  The two of them walked up to the counter, where the woman beckoned them.  “Hello Lena.  Please, just call me Uno.  I did say I would come by, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.  And you brought a young friend,” she peered around Uno, who’s hand she’d taken to shake and not let go of yet, to look at Mikleo.
“Lena, this is Mikleo,” Uno introduced, and shifted to the side.  “Mikleo, Lena.”
She squinted her eyes for a moment, before dropping Uno’s hand suddenly and offering hers to Mikleo to shake.  He was a bit dubious of what would come of it, but he reached out to clasp the hand anyway.  Lena pumped his arm up and down twice but then thankfully let him free.
“You can’t possibly mean the Mikleo?  The one from the stories?” She asked, and then, without waiting for an answer barreled on, “Why you look no more than a year or two older than my own son, and blush just as easily too.”
Mikleo quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and Lena laughed.  “Here, take a seat at the bar, and I’ll make you some lunch,” she suggested, and gestured toward two seats down toward the end, where they would be less at risk of running into patrons who couldn’t see them.  “I never thought I’d wind up with a legend in my shop.”
“Legend?” Mikleo hissed in Uno’s direction as they made their way toward their seats.
The edges of Uno’s eyes were crinkled up in amusement as he replied.  “Surely you know about the stories.”
“Well, yes.  But I didn’t know they qualified for legendary status.”
“Can’t say I wasn’t surprised about Master Uno here either,” Lena continued as she followed them down the bar, as if there had never been a break in the conversation at all.  “The Legends about the patron seraph around here always talk about a Lady of the Lake.”
Mikleo was pleased to see that Uno flushed just a bit too, as he mumbled under his breath, “She’s mostly away on business.”
The food was lovely, and Mikleo found himself incredibly grateful that they had gone.  The last time he ate in a human establishment must have been since before Rose passed away.  Even with his own cooking abilities, he had fallen out of the habit of eating often in the absence of anyone to share meals with.  And Lena certainly provided plenty of company.  She stayed close by while they ate, barely looking at her hands while she prepared ingredients for dinner.  She talked more about her son, about the neighborhood and about her business.  She gave Uno a wink and a nudge for the success of his blessing, which had him flushing that same tiny bit again.  But he looked pleased at her success, and to hear about how fared people in his city.
By the time they left, it was late afternoon and the light was starting to fade in the neighborhood, given how close it was to the city wall.
“Did you ever ask Lena, has she always had the ability to see seraphim?” Mikleo asked, as they walked toward parts of town that might still have some lingering bit of daylight.
“No.  When we first met, she said that was the first time she’d ever seen a seraph, even though she’d been coming to the Sanctuary for years.”
“How interesting.  I wonder how there can be a spontaneous rise in resonance in an individual like that.”  It was one more thing Mikleo would have to research.  They were walking thought a square with a small fountain in the center now, one he was sure hadn’t been there on his last visit.  He sat on the edge of it, intending to pause and think of where he might find resources on the subject.  Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, “It’s incredible how fast things can change.”
Uno sat next to him, and gave him a knowing look.  “It can be.  But think how much good can come of it.”
Mikleo reached up to fidget with the edges of his hair.  The changes in his own appearance had been on his mind, too, ever since Lena had compared him to her son.  He’d spent so many years looking young, almost the same as when he first set out with Sorey.  He’d grown a little taller, that was the part that bothered him the least; if he could be taller than Sorey someday wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?  But when he looked in the mirror he could also see that his shoulders were just a bit broader, and his face was changing ever so slightly.
There was a deep ache in his chest that he did his best to ignore, to think that he was growing up but this time without Sorey at his side.  Would he still look like himself when his body settled into the new shapes it had planned for him?  Would he be recognizable?  He couldn’t help but wonder, too, if Sorey had grown in his sleep, or if he would return to the world looking exactly the same as the day he had left.
“Mikleo, look at me,” Uno instructed, breaking him out of the cycle of his thoughts.
He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus on Uno’s blue ones, which were gazing at him with concern.  Then he followed that gaze with his own as they traveled down to where his hands were clenched around the edges of the stone.  Water had trickled up the edge of the fountain and started to freeze under his palms.  He brought them up to blow on them; the ice melted away instantly, and cold water dripped into his sleeves.  “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Uno reassured.  Then, sounding as if he was only musing on the facts, said, “Seraphim growth is much different.  It’s a reflection of our power, the way we see ourselves, the way we have matured mentally.  We can halt the flow of time for ourselves before it is due, but at great personal cost.  I can’t say it’s the wisest or healthiest decision.”
As Uno spoke, Mikleo cautiously turned back.  At first he was leaning on his hands and staring up at the sky, but almost immediately looked down to meet Mikleo’s eyes again.  “I’m proud of you.”
Mikleo’s gaze skittered off again, just as quickly, as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth and cheeks.  Of all the things that he could have gotten rid of in this strange growth spurt, he would have preferred it to be that damn blush.  “I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”
“No?  Well, that’s what friends are here for, I suppose.  Besides, when something is new, doesn’t that just mean that there is more to explore?”
“Yeah that, that sounds good.”
The Sanctuary was empty at night, devoid of any signs of life, including its guardian seraph.  Mikleo couldn’t say he’d known what to expect, but somehow that hadn’t been it.  The room looked so much bigger like this, despite the fact that he rarely saw it crowded, either.
Moonlight filtered gently through the tall windows.  It cast the room in soft grey light and blue grey shadows that grew fuzzy around the edges.  It fell across the floor in the pattern of panes, disturbed for only a moment by Mikleo’s own shadow passing through as he walked toward the dias.  Here there was other light.  A blue glow emanated from the bowl of sacred water and cast bright blue ripples up the back wall, making it look as if that portion of the room belonged to an underwater cave more than to a city temple.
Mikleo sat on the steps, facing out toward the room.  They matched, he thought wryly, him and this abandoned place with its colors all washed out.
He felt lost.  It had been an anniversary, one hundred years since Sorey went to sleep.  He had gone to Camlann, spent a week there writing and drawing and speaking to Sorey.  Eventually the restless need to be somewhere else had crept up his spine and he had left, not entirely sure where to go.  His feet had led him here, down to the lake, across the bridge, and into the Sanctuary in the dead of night.
“Mikleo, I wasn’t expecting you at this kind of hour,” said a voice to his left.  He turned to see Uno sitting next to him on the step and looking at him curiously.  He must have been resting inside his vessel before.
“Uno I,” Mikleo began, and felt himself leaning to the side, almost instinctively toward the warmth of another person.  He turned slightly at the last second so he could hide his face against Uno’s shoulder.  “Can I just stay like this for a moment?”
An arm came up around his back, and then after a moment when he didn’t object, another.  His own hands found their way to Uno’s upper arms and clung onto the fabric hard.
“Take all the time you need.”
Read Part 2
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littlepurinsesu · 7 years
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Written in the Stars
Title: Written in the Stars Fandom: Tales of Zestiria Characters: Mikleo, Sorey Relationship: Sorey/Mikleo Rating: General Warnings: None
*Read on AO3*
Summary: I remember you fancied the idea of there being as many emotions as stars in the sky. But now that I look up and trace my fingers between the tiny orbs of light, my other hand stroking absentmindedly at the feather tied around my waist, I think there are as many memories as there are stars, too. I’d teased you for being a romantic back then, but it looks like you’ve influenced me in more ways than I imagined, huh?
Author’s Notes: I haven’t written fanfiction in over five years, and have never really thought about participating in a fandom week. But Sormik gives me feelings and makes me do things I never intended. Inspiration struck and I came up with a way to somehow encompass all of the days for this year’s Sormik Week into one comprehensive piece. So here I am, presenting a very late entry for Sormik Week 2017! Most of it is based on game canon, with one scene taken from the manga and quite a bit of headcanon and filling in the gaps. Enjoy (hopefully)!
[Sormik Week 2017 Prompts] Days 1-7: Innocence | Trust | Nature | Loss | Truth | Acceptance | Fate Bonus Day: Rebirth
Sorey, do you remember those nights when we watched the stars together? And how we would fall asleep under their light, only to wake before dawn and bid the retreating stars good morning?
Because I do. And I think about those nights a lot lately, especially tonight as I lie alone, gazing up at the same stars. It’s chilly and empty, a little nostalgic, and so very lonely, but it reminds me of you. It reminds me of your smile and your hope and all the traces of you in there, and suddenly, the centuries passed and the ones to come, however many they may be, seem just a little more bearable. Only a little bit, though; I am yet to master the art of stargazing without the tears keeping me company in your place, but I’ll get there. Have some faith in me.
In retrospect, I seem to have taken for granted all those times when we would lie with our faces turned towards the sky, mapping constellations and creating stories that made it all the more easy to believe that they were just as real as us. On more than a few occasions, when I thought I had my eyes focused directly above, it would take me several moments to notice that I had tilted my head for a glimpse of you instead. Sometimes, I could rest my eyes on your serene face, the edges of my lips lifting unconsciously at the sight of those two emerald orbs, sparkling with awe and fascination as they took in the expanse of glitter overhead. Other times, when my head turned intuitively to my side, I would be met with your affectionate gaze instead, with an expression so doting that I couldn’t look away with a feigned statement of annoyance if I tried.
And when you were feeling particularly romantic, we would make the sky our theatre and the stars our audience. You would wrap your fraying brown blanket around our shoulders and lean in to whisper all sorts of endearments and declarations of love. They were so hopelessly sappy, I could never tell if you had memorised them from a romance novel or composed them yourself in that dreamy mind of yours. But the soothing drift of the wind would carry each of your words like a star itself, scattering them to join the rest of the jewels in the night sky, like a fairy sprinkling a bag full of enchanted pixie dust. The sky was like your canvas, and each night, you would seemingly bless those shining lights with your endless love and inspiration, while I watched your face and saw the brilliance of galaxies gleaming in your eyes. Each amorous word you offered me was a sacred treasure to which only the stars bore witness, before I tucked them into the depths of my heart, sealing the lock with a kiss that you were all too ready to give.
Recently, I often feel the loneliness burning in my chest, welling up and straining the back of my throat, only to remain that way because there simply aren’t any more tears left to shed. So on those nights when the longing is particularly unbearable and I feel myself suffocating, I turn to these same stars. I drown myself in their soft glow and think of you being gone, of not being able to hear your voice when I call or feel your skin when I reach out. That is usually enough to drain all the feeling from my body until I am left with nothing but my raw yearning for you. And when that’s all that’s left, the tears can finally flow, and I feel a little better afterwards.
I remember you fancied the idea of there being as many emotions as stars in the sky. But now that I look up and trace my fingers between the tiny orbs of light, my other hand stroking absentmindedly at the feather tied around my waist, I think there are as many memories as there are stars, too. I’d teased you for being a romantic back then, but it looks like you’ve influenced me in more ways than I imagined, huh?
Say, Sorey, that cluster of stars on the far left kind of looks like an Elysialark, don’t you think? Just like the ones that dropped a few of their feathers that day when we went birdwatching together for the very first time. You tripped on a fallen tree branch and went plummeting forward, sending the larks away in a terrified flurry of flapping wings. I was clearly irritated and more than a little disappointed then, so you picked up two of the smallest and fluffiest feathers they left behind, comically holding them to your ears in an attempt to raise my spirits again. Because, like you said, if I couldn’t watch the larks I had been waiting for all week, then you would happily be a bird for a day, or any animal I desired to see, as long as it put the smile back on my face. With a grin that stretched from one ear to the other and creased your eyes into crescents, you playfully waggled the tiny orange feathers and asked me how you looked. I huffed, crossed my tiny arms, and turned my head away, informing you that you looked silly. But then Kyme, the traitor, let slip that I admitted to him that you had looked quite cute and lovable back then. After spending the entirety of the next day holed up in your bedroom, you proudly emerged that night with newly fashioned feather earrings of your own craftsmanship, vowing never to take them off. If I liked them, then you liked them, too. And most of all, you elaborated, if a stranger were to ask about the earrings, you could tell them all about me and how amazing I was and how lucky you were to have me. You really were stretching the correlation, but I was immensely flattered and more than a little delighted, even if I didn’t say so.
See that long stretch of stars, curving and twisting to form the smooth frame of our bow? That will always be one of my favourite memories. Hearing my true name spilling from your mouth in that confident and protective tone, I probably would have melted into a mass of trembling light even if it hadn’t been for the newly forged Sub Lord pact. But melting into you, and feeling the soft vibration of our souls becoming one, the cool rush of my element enveloping our body, and the excited hammering of our heart in our ears, of our blood in our veins, and of our dream guiding us as we fired arrow after arrow… That had to be the epitome of our synchronisation. You said that ours was your favourite—the one you could command most easily at will and felt the most at home with—and somehow, each time when I think of those words, I still feel the pride and pleasure surge in the pit of my stomach. Our bond is something that cannot be rivalled, because, like you reminded me in the dim light of one of the inns we slept in, I am your one and only. Even now, I still feel my cheeks tingle at the memory of your voice that night, soft and low as you lay on your side and ran your fingers through my hair. I went for a light punch on your shoulder and a declaration that you were a hopeless sap, but now that I think back on that moment, I wish I had been more honest with my response.
Look there, can you see those stars lined up evenly to form the stout trunk of a tree? It makes me think of that great towering tree and the way it stood, tall and proud, watching over the people as their town recovered from the epidemic. I remember turning furtively towards my left and seeing the joy on your face as you watched the lush greens carpeting the earth and the radiance return to the blue afternoon sky. You couldn’t stop the cheerful exclamation from escaping your mouth, which was set wide open in the shape of my favourite smile, as a single butterfly emerged from the blossoming bushes nearby, taking to the sky in a burst of the most vibrant of purples. You turned to peer at me quizzically when I let out a slight chuckle, and told me, so nonchalantly yet so genuinely, that the purple reminded you of my eyes. And as the butterfly circled a tree branch twice before disappearing into the distance, I thought of how the violet had looked so picturesque against the brilliant green all around us. They belonged with one another, and each time you locked me in your bright emerald gaze, I knew there were no two colours that could be as beautiful together.
Over there above the tree, there’s a smaller patch that looks almost like a paper crane. That night, the wind carried our crane into the bleak darkness of the sky, and while its journey might have been a lonesome one, I know it found its way to him. I remember we spent that night together, alone, and how you broke down and collapsed on me, remorse and shame eating away at the usual passion in your voice. He was important to us, and you wanted and tried so hard to save him, but you couldn’t. None of us could, and I think that was the night when we truly understood the weight of our journey. People we cared about, and people we didn’t even know or had never even met, could leave us at any moment. You clutched at my tunic, sobbing into my chest at the thought of losing anyone else—of losing me. And before I realised, my fingers were tightening as I grabbed fistfuls of your cloak, holding you tighter and closer as I felt my own tears fall and land in the brown mass of your hair. We ended the night with pledges to keep everyone safe, and most importantly, promises to protect one another so that either of us wouldn’t have to endure the pain of losing the other. That, then, had been enough reassurance to lull me into a restless slumber, yet here I am, living that fear and still going strong. Maybe not as strong as I would have hoped, but I’m trying. I really am.
If I squint and tilt my head a little, I think I can make out a petite flower on the far right of the sky. It isn’t anything extravagant, nothing too fancy, just a small and innocent dandelion flower, like the one you picked up when you gingerly approached me that evening. You caught my shuddering form in your sturdy arms, cradling me against your chest as my tears stained the right side of your cape, where the fabric stretched across your broad shoulder. As my distressed and infuriated cries echoed in the tranquility of the evening, you gently detached my fingers from their tight grip on your clothes, looked me in the eyes, and assured me that I was special. I was important, I was needed, and I was loved by so many people, but most of all, by you. And no historical revelation of my past or disturbing truth about any bygone Shepherd could change that. You offered me one of those tender smiles then, the kind that only you are capable of giving, the kind that can somehow make me want to drop to my knees and gather all the pieces of the hope that I had just thrown away. Carefully, you brushed the hair out of my teary eyes and tucked the flower behind my ear, beaming softly at how the cool violet of my eyes brought out its dazzling yellow. You kissed me gently on the tip of my nose, and spoke of your desire to see my spirits as bright as the flower again. I cling to those words today, too, even though I don’t think it possible for my spirits to be as bright as any flower without you around.
Can you connect the lines between that mass of stars down there, just underneath the Elysialark? They’re arranged so precisely that I can almost make out the outline of a book. Not just any book, though. That one I always had to deftly pry from beneath your cheek before attempting to wipe away the small puddle of your drool. That one with the tiny heart with my initials inside, carefully and lovingly penciled into the bottom left corner of page thirty-six on water seraphim, where you thought I wouldn’t notice. That one you passed to me on that fateful night, when you passed your dream into my hands. Standing a few steps above, it was a rare opportunity to see you from a higher viewpoint, since this privilege is usually only granted when you would lift me up with your arms secured around my waist to spin me around in uneven, dizzying circles. Without the need to yelp or squeeze my eyes shut to prevent lightheadedness, I could truly take in your form, and it was at that moment that I realised just how young you were. You stared at me with those bright juvenile eyes, emerald green against the dark of the night sky and practically dancing with life, and spoke with a confidence that betrayed the naivety of your soul. You’d come such a long way, Sorey, and there was still so much for you to learn. And there you were, the conviction radiating from your smile and the determination firm in your stance, an innocent youth ready to set off to serve as the world’s saviour. Anyone who looked at you wouldn’t have believed that a candid, lively young man such as yourself would be the hope for humans and seraphim alike. But I knew you well—perhaps even better than I understood myself, sometimes—and I was confident that you could do it. And you did. Even now, you’re still doing it, aren’t you? You’re out there somewhere, playing your part in creating the world we once dreamed of, and I’m lying here… Don’t worry, I promise I’m doing my part in protecting our dream and making it a reality. But sometimes, I just need a small break. A small, self-indulgent moment to reflect and remember what it felt like to just be us. I’m almost done, though. Just one more constellation… one more memory… is that okay? Just one more and I’ll be done for tonight.
Hmm… the last one has to be special, right? What about the closely huddled band of stars there, right in the middle? The rise and fall of their path and the distinct glimmer in the centre remind me of the glove. Yes, the glove that transformed from a mere plaything I had mischievously dangled just out of your reach to the symbol of the burden that would later weigh down on your shoulders. The gears of fate were already turning, steering us towards our journey. But that journey on which we embarked together, shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart, has ended. And now, fate has put me on the path of a new journey, where I’m learning to keep my head held high and my eyes trained to the front, rather than to my right, because only then can I keep my promise of preserving our dream by moving on forward. But not too much. I know I always loved the pleasure of getting a head-start, but this time, I don’t want to get too far ahead of you. The race isn’t nearly as exciting or rewarding when I can’t hear your loud, hurried footsteps thundering from behind. I’ll take it slowly, and when you’re here to join me again, I’ll backtrack and retrace the steps of my journey with you by my side. No journey can end without you beside me, so while I wait for your return, my journey will continue. And maybe by the time I can reach instinctively to my right and finally take your slightly calloused hand in mine again, the Shepherd’s glove will be but a mere fragment of our past, and your hands will be free to embrace the new life that your deeds have breathed into this land.
You know, Sorey, sometimes when I stare wistfully at these stars and see them blinking back, it almost feels as though you’re up there somewhere, casting your adoring gaze upon me. It’s like the warm feeling of home, because no matter where I am, I can look up and be assured that these stars, these same stars that have witnessed the countless secrets and promises and kisses we’ve shared, will understand my feelings and pass them on to you. Does it ever feel lonely for you, Sorey? Because if the loneliness ever becomes too much, just turn your head to the sky and know that somewhere, I am gazing at the same stars, too. If you try really hard, like I have on so many occasions, it might even be possible to send some of your thoughts to them and hope that they can pass them on to me. Go on, give it a try! And if I do receive them, I’ll have the confirmation I need: that the stars really can act as a bridge between us, and that my feelings really can reach you. That would make a really big difference for me, you know?
And if not, I’ll still be okay, because I have all of the emotions and memories etched into the twinkle of these stars to keep me company. There’s pain and suffering and grief and despair, but there’s also joy, excitement, determination, courage, love, hope, and so much more. So I’ll be okay as I wait while time keeps passing by. Time waits for no one, but I will wait for you.
Sorey, will you allow me to break the tiny promise I made just before? Because now, as I lift myself from my resting position and make to retreat indoors before daybreak, I see the pair of stars we always followed whenever we became lost on one of our grand adventures, and I suddenly want to stay out here to look at them for just a little longer. We compared them to all sorts of things in the past: a prince and a princess living their fairytale ending, a pair of cherries perched enticingly on top of the fruit sundaes I often made for you, or even the two rose bushes we planted together during our first gardening lesson with Melody. We never got around to deciding what they were, so tonight, I’m going to go ahead and name them myself. You wouldn’t mind if I did that, would you? Sometimes inspiration strikes, and like so many things in our lives, can trickle through the gaps between our fingers if we do not hold onto them tightly.
That one on the left will now be known as ‘Luzrov Rulay’. And the one beside it on the right, its light shining so bright and so close that they almost merge into one big spark, is now called ‘Sorey’. How does that sound to you? Do you like it? Or maybe, if I continue to hold out with the patience and trust that I have always had in you, a time will come when I can give this star a different name.
You’ll have a true name by the time you come back to me, won’t you? Or perhaps I could be the one to give yours to you? I’ve never told you this, but I already have so many ideas! Sorey with the Sweet Tooth, Sorey with the Bottomless Stomach, Sorey with the Tickling Obsession… Sorey of Adventures, Sorey of Feather Earrings, Sorey of a Sacrifice… Sorey the Hope of the World, Sorey the Light of the Future, Sorey my One and Only…
I think I’ll save naming this star for a later time. Maybe by then, I’ll get to name it something different, or maybe its name will still end up being simply ‘Sorey’. But either way, hopefully when I finally get around to giving it a name, I’ll be able to turn to my side and see the brightest star in my life, shining so gloriously that everything else dulls in its presence. Actually, knowing you, you would find a way to give that light to everyone else as well, and even then, you would still be the brightest of them all.
And if you don’t remember, I’ll lay you down and chart every single one of these constellations just for you. We can take it slow, because if the time comes when I am the only one of us to still be in possession of these memories, it would mean that we have all the time in the world. Your memories, our memories, are safe with me, and when you come back home, I’ll lovingly place them back into your hands and watch the stars reflected in your eyes as you relive them one by one.
Okay, I’m done. For real, this time. Tomorrow, I’ll continue working hard to achieve our dream, and as usual, I’ll work extra hard for your share as well. The air is frosty and the ground is uneven, but I think I’m going to sleep out here tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t catch a cold or anything. I just really want to remain like this: the stars in the sky, the memories in my mind, and you in my heart.
We have a big dream that I am guarding, but for now, I’d like to dream of something much simpler. Of you. Just you, and nothing else. And that will be enough for tonight, I think.
Yes, that would be more than enough.
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dejinyucu · 7 years
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Soremiku AUs
Personal list of my random, underdeveloped, probably never really gonna do anything with them Soremiku AU musings; with a short summary of each for the sake of keeping them in one place in case anybody is curious?
Elven Prince AU (tag)
Mikleo is the heir of the Elven Kingdom and future Elven King, the earthly vessel of the Dragon Lord Maotelus that blesses all of Glenwood. He wants to go explore the world with his human BFF Sorey at least once before he has to remain in Elysia for the rest of his life, but things aren’t as easy as they thought they’d be, and they soon find themselves involved in bigger things than they expected, let alone planned for. (Aka the “Let me design fancy fantasy RPG-y clothes for Mikleo bc he’s too pretty” AU.) (Enabled by Yuna and Ann. Especially about the Angsty Elven King epilogue haha :’D )
YoRHa  (NieR:Automata) AU  (tag)
Units 'Mikleo’ and ‘Sorey’ are YoRHa soldiers, paired up on doing small missions together. They bond over their shared passion about the Old World, ruins and humanity.
Everything seems to be going alright in the war against machine lifeforms, until a long haired rogue android shows up. Soon they start discovering that things are not like they thought they were...
(Aka the “I just wanted to draw Mikleo in 9S’ outfit and then I got ideas(tm)” AU.)
(Waiting for Yuna to finish N:A to throw this AU at her.)
College AU:    Mikleo rooms with his BFF and childhood friend Sorey in Ladylake University.  It takes Mikleo to feel pangs of jealousy regarding Sorey’s closeness to their new friends to admit his romantic feelings for him (to himself, not out loud. Though pretty much all their circle of friends think they’re already dating) and start being proactive in being closer. Sorey is very happy about this development <3
No art, only ramblings on my private twitter :’D (This one was enabled by makkurataichou/Swati)
Idol AU (tag) Sorey and Mikleo are childhood friends that grew up loving to dance and perform. Mikleo is currently studying dance after graduating HS, and Sorey wants to be an actor. They both become idols in different groups and they get a joint live with a duet song one day. (enabled by Quetz an the group chat. Indirectly enabled by Jenn xD)
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eachainn · 6 years
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Camp NaNo Snippet #4
Mikleo made a soft sound, Sorey pulling his attention back to the present. He watched Mikleo for a moment before dragging his fingers up Mikleo’s back. “Falling asleep again?”
There was a pause as Mikleo thought it over. The seraph eventually hummed and shifted so he his head tucked under Sorey’s chin. “Tempted.”
Sorey chuckled, hiding the sound in Mikleo’s hair. He felt Mikleo’s hold tighten on him before going comfortably loose again. It seemed like the temptation had been too much, which just made Sorey want to smile. He was too comfortable to protest.
He kept stroking his hand over Mikleo’s back, looking around the room he was in. It was nothing like he was used to, either from home or the days he had spent in the Abbey while he was training. He was the son of a priestess and a printer, not poor enough to suffer through hard times, but not rich enough to satisfy the Abbey. He had only gotten in because Lailah had sponsored him, Sorey was sure that if Michael had offered he would have been rejected on the spot.
Still, he wasn’t resentful of it, mostly because Mikleo didn’t lord it over him. He was taken for what he was, which was a relief after spending days smiling through little slights and letting them roll off. At least traveling was better than that, he could walk away and not have to see the tightening of Lailah’s jaw as she took the insult and had to walk away as well. After all, it wasn’t her fault.
Sorey glanced over the soft sea-green walls, his gaze jumping to some of the artifacts in the room. Then again, knowing that Mikleo was a seraph, Sorey didn’t know if artifacts was the right word. They had probably been purchased when they were new and interesting and had just been kept. Sorey itched to go and look at them, but that would mean wiggling out of the cocoon of warmth that he had made for himself. It could wait until later, maybe when Mikleo woke up again. Sorey was sure that they would continue their discussion. If not, then there were always other times. He had a feeling that Mikleo would be inviting him back many times over the week, if only for another debate or to talk about Camlann; maybe sex.
He smiled widened, Sorey not bothering to tamp it down. It wasn’t just a one-time thing, and he was relieved of that. It made all the thoughts that had been drifting through his head all day a little more welcome. Twice was not a surety, but Sorey had had affairs that hadn’t lasted as long, so it was something. With Mikleo there was an actual connection, more than just attraction. The last time he’d had conversations like this had been with Jude and Milla. Certainly that was enough to allow himself to consider the dowry that would go into a pact. After all, he was a Shepherd, and one without a partner.
There had been no pact with Lailah, they had both been fine with that. Sorey had his Shepherd’s pact with Maotelus and the idea of Lailah being his Sub Lord had been strange. No matter how many years passed and how long Michael had been retired, he would always think of the two of them as Shepherd and Sub Lord.
Still now that he was away from Ladylake, he would need a Sub Lord eventually. He would be out on the road, trying to reach the far flung villages and towns, with only himself and Aino. To have a seraph meant that he could do more, help more people, which was the important thing. The problem was attracting a seraph.
Sorey glanced down at the tangled mess of Mikleo’s hair. His fingers curled on Mikleo’s back, feeling the seraph squirm against him. He wanted it to be Mikleo, it was all too easy to imagine the two of them striking out on the road. After all, they were already working so well together, they had the same interests and there was an attraction. The latter was less important, but it was there and Sorey couldn’t deny it. Nor could he deny that it had only been a day.
He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to shake his head and laugh. It was too much, too fast and he knew it. He knew it every time and he still rushed into it. He was doing it again here with Mikleo. Two days was a better record for him, but not enough to allow himself anything more than this. What they had was a few lively conversations about history, two nights of debauchery and a common home town. Sorey knew that many other pacts and marriages had been formed on less.
He bit his lip, opening his eyes to stare at the opposite wall. Then again, those marriages and pacts came with something else. For one, most of the ones that he heard about were from the gentry and nobility. They had secure positions of Shepherds in the city or Praetors. Sorey could count on one hand the number of traveling Shepherds that had a seraph as their partner. It was rare for a seraph to want to brave the dangers. Most of them were already settled in positions, either as Lords of the Land or attached to a family through current or past pacts. After all, most Shepherd pacts tied a seraph to a family for generations. Lord Zenrus was the usual example, the seraph watching over the D’Aramitz family until the family line had died out. Even then, Lord Zenrus had stayed to watch over the lands and house. Lailah was an exception to the rule, striking out on her own after Michael had retired instead of staying back. Then again, it was hard to keep a seraph on a Shepherd’s pension of 50 gald a year. It made his own salary of 100 gald a year look glamorous by comparison.
Sorey stared at the window, working the calculations in his head. He wasn’t particularly valuable. He had his salary and then what he could get from his parents. From Muse he might get 500 gald upon her death, unless he retired himself and took over her living. He shivered at the thought. It wasn’t that working as a priest wouldn’t be horrible, Sorey just couldn’t imagine being tied down to one place like that. From Selene, he might be able to get the same, but that would come from selling her print shop as well, which Sorey couldn’t bring himself to do. Selene had been in the midst of getting an apprentice contract fleshed out when he passed through. It would be better if the apprentice inherited the shop, because Sorey was not about to take someone’s livelihood away to make himself look better. That only left one other avenue through his father.
Georg Heldalf was technically his father, a helping hand in the miracle he was. A child in long tradition of people fumbling to have children in any way they could and the church looking away. Muse had once showed him his birth certificate that was kept in the parish records.
Sorey Bergier, born to Selene Bergier nee Cléireach and Muse Bergier by blessing and miracle of the seraphim.
The phrase was a familiar and one that had followed in the next five other entries, which meant that the miracle was more common than implied by the wording. Although, Sorey had seen his father more often than some of the others that had been born in Camlann. Georg Heldalf had made a point of visiting every few years and inviting Sorey out to Pendrago. He might have only gone when he when was accepted into the Abbey, but his father and the rest of his family had made Pendrago feel like home. Even with that, Georg didn’t owe Sorey anyway. There was no sign that they were related in any paperwork, so there was no obligation there. But Sorey did owe his father something, at least the word that he was considering at least making a pact with a seraph. It was the kind of thing that Heldalf and Kara would want to know about.
He jumped when a finger prodded his side, Sorey trying to scoot away from the questing finger. Mikleo didn’t seem to notice because he kept poking at Sorey’s side until Sorey was on his back. The seraph wasted no time to flop on top of him, pinning his shoulders down to the bed.
Sorey stared up at Mikleo in shock, his throat going dry at the sight of Mikleo perched above him, the seraph’s hair curtaining his face. Sorey wanted to reach up and touch it, but Mikleo’s weight kept him steady.
Mikleo glared at him for a moment before reaching up to smooth his fingers over Sorey’s forehead, rubbing over it there before letting his hand slide down to cup Sorey’s cheek. “I can practically hear you thinking.”
Sorey stared up at him before smiling. “Is it that loud?”
“Like a clock.” Mikleo leaned over to kiss Sorey’s forehead. “Ticking away.”
“I’ll try to tick a bit quieter.”
Mikleo laughed, nuzzling into his hairline. He lingered there for a moment before sitting up. Sorey watched as Mikleo carded his hair back, almost pulling it back into his usual queue before letting it fall around his shoulders again. “No, I’m up. And we can’t just stay in bed all day.”
“Can’t we?”
Mikleo groaned and rested a hand over Sorey’s face. “No. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll never want to move if you do that.”
“That wouldn’t be too bad.”
Mikleo muttered something, Sorey missing it and the expression on the seraph’s face. He only had glimpses of Mikleo’s face between the seraph’s fingers. And then the barrier was removed, Sorey groaning as Mikleo got off of him. He reached out for Mikleo, his fingers trailing over Mikleo’s hip before the seraph was away.
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toradh · 7 years
Text
Minutes of me watching the, luckily, last episode of ToZX
Warning: lots of capslock, lots of cursing. I finally figured out how to put things under a cut, hooray! Beware of obvious spoilers for the game, the anime, AND Tales of Berseria ahead. It’s also a goddamn long post.
0:00: *has just made the bad mistake to eat a whole litre of vla. Very hyper, hands are shaking, tummy ache* Okay, Ufotable. DO YOUR WORST.
No opening? I can deal. Didn’t expect it anyway. No anime ever plays the opening in the last episode, right? I don’t like it, anyway.
0:20: Yes, I know, it’s Captain Planet, go ahead and do shit
0:30 I’m kinda disappointed that the Captain Planet theme isn’t actually playing
0:58: No, it looks plain silly. NO CAPES, DAMN IT Btw are the girls just gonna stand there in the background for the entire episode?
1:20: Yeah, looks like Captain Planet mode sucks after all. Btw if I wasn’t still sick, I’d take a sip for Meebo shouting “Sorey!”
1:29: You’re saying that NOW, Lailah? And is Heldalf just gonna stand there and watch the whole time?
2:08: I want Sorey’s hair conditioner
2:30:  I honestly can’t read my shaky sugar-induced and rage-fueled handwriting for that minute anymore, but the last words seem to suggest that I was bitching about Anime!Sorey being a Gary Stu. Speaking of shaky handwriting, most „2“ in this post might as well be a „1“ and vice versa, hard to tell
2:48: NO, SOREY. YOU FUCKING CAN’T. WHO WROTE HIM SUDDENLY BEING ABLE TO DO THINGS THAT THE ENTIRE GAME IS MAKING HIM LEARN THAT HE CAN’T. And I can’t even do English anymore
2:57: Yay the good songs are back I also wanna use these nifty rainbow magic dual element spells
3:37: …You still can’t, you know
3:47: Okay girls, I see you’re bored and wanna do something, BUT YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO, OK? YOU SHOULDN’T EVEN BE HERE. NOBODY SHOULD BE IN THAT FRIGGIN’ VOLCANO ACTUALLY
3:56: Hi Dezel!
4:00: I’m touched that Dezel opted to ship RosAli and has given the girls his blessing
4:10: Sorey, if the Gay Pride Armatus is that exhausting to use, I’d suggest you stop wasting your breath with cheesy speeches
4:38: DAT’S SOME BFS DAT’S THE BUSTER SWORD OF GAY PRIDE
4:44: At least they somehow… reshaped that sweet sequence from the original game’s opening animation where Sorey and all Seraphim unanimously punch Heldalf. Okay, this is a sweet but sorry attempt at a decent battle scene.
5:03: WTF FUCKING WHY I JUST – *inhales deeply* Heldalf, you’re fucking doing it wrong, Velvet would be disappointed with you
5:28: That’s some ugly CGI malevolence
5:55: EVEN IN THE MANGA THEY HAD FIGURED OUT BEFORE THE FINAL BATTLE THAT THE LAND AND LA– MAOTELUS ARE CORRUPTED, AND THAT THING HAS ONLY 19 CHAPTERS! HOW HARD CAN IT BE!? BTW YOU’D KNOW IF YOU HAD EVER BOTHERED TO TALK TO MUSE YOU BASTARDS
6:30: What was the Gay Pride Armatus even good for? LAP–– I MEAN MAOTELUS, PLEASE INTERVENE, DO YOUR FUCKING JOB AS GOD
8:00: SEAL? JUST KILL YOU DUMB IDIOT, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD
8:10: Oh no Meebo, please don’t cry OH SHIT NO IF THAT’S NOT THE LOOK OF A BROKEN HEART THEN IT’S ON MY FACE RIGHT NOW
8:20: ARGLBLARGL NO NO NO DON’T PLAY JOURNEY’S END IN THE BACKGROUND, OH GOD WHY DOESN’T SOMEBODY (=Sorey. Or Maotelus with a Deus Ex Machina move, come on, I’ve been so waiting for it) FINALLY END MEEBO’S SUFFERING
8:40 OH MAN ANIME!SOREY FOR WORST BOYFRIEND EVER
9:03: IT’S GONNA BE THE PURPLE PROSE AU
9:14: *hands over tissues and chocolate* Meebo, you know, this whole show doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, anyway, so there’s absolutely no need for Sorey to pull through with this heroic sacrifice but kinda not at all shit thing
9:20: SOMEONE GIVE THAT POOR BOY A HUG FOR CRYING OUT LOUD
9:24: I doubt he’s listening right now, Sorey, and you really deserve a punch or two
10:34: WHERE WAS THAT DREAM THE LAST FUCKING 24 EPISODES!!!!!!!!?????????????
10:40: I’D TAKE A SIP IF I WASN’T STILL SICK AND SOBBING
10:59: Yeah, Alisha, I’m glad you’re still alive, too. Who even suggested that squire-killing risk in the first place
11:09: HI CUTIE-PIE! Okay I admit it, part of me who was already used to being spoilered just wanted to see cute baby Laphi turning back his adorable seraph self. Screw this BTW SHOULDN’T YOU KINDA BE DOWN THERE WITH SOREY, WHICH WAS THE 1000% BETTER CONNECTION TO THE BERSERIA PLOT!????
11:22: I don’t think he hears you, sweetie
11:49: Are you gonna give me nothing but scenery porn for the remaining 10 minutes!?
12:55: Oh no, you didn’t fucking make the last in the line to the throne –
12:57: OH MY GOD NO YOU DID
13:05: That dress is disappointingly boring
14:57: What the fuck is written on that stone?
15:07: How many shepherds has Anime!Lailah destroyed?
15:25: …so, did they kill Eizen?
16:00: ZAVEID, YOU’RE EXCLUSIVELY HANGING OUT WITH OTHER SERAPHIM, AND YOU TRIED TO KILL SOREY THREE TIMES IN A ROW, HOW ARE YOU AN EXAMPLE OF INTERCULTURAL MEDIATION Oh wait actually Anime!Zaveid has never tried to kill Sorey. Well, anyway.
16:03: …Yeah, Eizen is what? Apart from, STILL A DRAGON AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, STILL CURSED!?
16:25: Ride a dragon, Edna
16:40: …It was too much to ask, I guess. Dammit.
16:57: Oh hello long-haired Rose. How did it get that long, she doesn’t even look a single day older
AND WHERE IS YOUR SHEPHERD’S CLOAK, BITCH!?
You also look like a Pokémon trainer. Or like a female Luke. Definitely female Luke
17:43: Lesbians doing a cooking course together. How does that fit your schedule, QUEEN ALISHA?
18:02: HAROLD, THEY’RE LESBIANS
19:07: PURPLE PROSE AU IS REAL
19:55: They are so fucking married I can’t believe my eyes
20:18: Well… about that…
20:20: YEAH ASK MEEBO, EXCEPT SOMEBODY DECIDED TO CUT THAT PART OF PLOT AND WORLDBUILDING COMPLETELY OUT OF THE STORY
20:32: *CHOKED SCREAMING*
Btw is there a specific reason why the nameless kids look like Sorey’s and Mikleo’s human love children? Except hurting me on a deep emotional level?
20:41: THAT’S AN UNDERSTATEMENT AND YOU KNOW THAT, TSUNLEO
21:18: Hey wait, they can still do the telepathy crap? Why? And how is the pact still in place?
21:23: ARRRRHHHHHH WHY DO YOU BREAK MY HEART, ALL I WANTED WAS SERAPH SOREY
21:40: R3V#1GU) +B8ß23pkcf +ierq0ßcple2ßîdo^# jncoäejvcreoL *AGGRESSIVELY SMASHES KEYBOARD*
21:52: …Dammit. *adapts “adult Meebo is still shorter than Sorey” headcanon to “adult Meebo is the same height as Sorey until he starts growing too, until they arrive at the same height difference again* Then again, this is a stupid canon divergent AU, anyway, right?
21:58: FOR FUCKING REAL!?
22:05: Good idea, ask Gramps for all the missing things from the plot. The adaptation spared him, after all
22:15: Part of me is relieved, part of me is very upset
22:43: Why can you still do this? BTW WAY TO CHEAT ON A RACE
23:00: When did you two learn to fly?
AND WHERE THE FUCK IS MAOTELUS? WHO CARES ABOUT HELDALF, WHO SHOULD BE FUCKING DEAD? I WANT MY SWEET BABY BACK
23:06: What… or where is that?
23:17: THAT’S FRIGGIN’ NORMAL BIRDS, SOREY
And did you just fly out of Glenwood to Tethe’alla, because I don’t recognize that view
WHAT A RIDE
Hands still shaky, still sick, fucking offended
PLEASE END MY LIFE
(no reaction scribbles this time, at least not immediately. Except Sorey and Mikleo should totally adopt their mini selves. AND LAPHI.)
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pokemonruby · 7 years
Note
waking up with amnesia au / soulmates au for sormik?
YO i finally finished this (idk why it took me 5 whole days i apologize) and i think it turned out p good! if this gets notes i may upload it on ao3 heh heh. anywho rip mobile users since this is way longer than what a “short story” should be oops.
Those bright, viridescent eyes were unmistakable to the time-honored Seraph; they were once–scarcely seven-hundred eons prior to this abrupt confrontation–illuminated by a sense of resolution to liberate those tainted individuals from the malevolence which infested them like an unfaltering virus. Those unaware were enchanted by its deadly spell and transformed into monstrous forms without hope of returning to humankind; however, he blazed throughout the kingdom whilst accompanied by the Ceremonial Sword, gnarled by the blue-ish flames of purity–the “Shepherd”, is whom they referred to this courageous man as within his uncharted past. In accordance to that legendary title blessed upon him by the Five Lords who govern this realm, he was entitled to shoulder the burdens of a wholehearted hero and consequently sacrifice his entire being to ensure a future of peacefulness for his treasured ones–for all of Glenwood, and beyond. Alas, the Shepherd was guided to a deep and long-established slumber that many foresaw he’d never wake from; to never be wreathed in those smiles, comparable to a pasture filled with untold sunflowers. Now, Mikleo beheld his dearest companion (whom was identical to his original statute; notwithstanding of the minor wreckage which embellished his chestnut-colored locks, for they were within the midst of a decaying temple) as if those centuries hadn’t transpired at all; it felt dreamlike, and he floundered to restrain the sobs of wholehearted joy. Even whilst time has relentlessly tore them apart from one another, the feelings Mikleo possessed for him refused to waver–the love for Sorey.
….However, Sorey’s angelic gaze lacked a sense of familiarity toward the elder individual–perhaps, it was in consequence to the effect these unbounded centuries bestowed upon Mikleo; for instance, his hair, which was decorated by the fragments of the purest snow to a common mortal’s eyes, has become rather unshorn and was positioned into a sturdy ponytail. Or, how the admittedly “inexperienced” demeanor he wore throughout their fabled journey was substituted for one of an adult matureness–after all, upon the departures of his closest allies (those whom were acquainted with humankind, such as Sorey and even Rose eventually fell victim to the accursed, short lifespans these delicate creatures are imparted with) Mikleo’s world was encountered by a drastic and unwilling change; he felt obligated to ward off the tears, so his fellow Seraphim wouldn’t fear for him, nor his banishment into an ocean of eternal loneliness–there were a myriad of occasions where he vowed he’d drown, for the surface was no longer within his wounded sights. No, it wasn’t acceptable that Sorey–the person whom he’s regarded so highly, like he were a deity, since their childhood, could simply disremember him like he were but an hallucination from a distant past….Right?
Mikleo’s clothed finger-tips were enclosed around the younger individual’s like indestructible binds, and his once, sophisticated gaze became lachrymose due to his desperation and woe–the Shepherd was taken by surprise of how tightly they squeezed his callused palms; regardless of that, he maintained a curious silence upon the greeting of each of their eyes, like he were waiting for those passionate words to spill from his quivering lips. “….Sorey,” he croaked–it was as if Glenwood, or rather, the whole universe was deteriorating all around them and this sentence was the conclusion of their lives; these intense feelings he must convey to Sorey, or the claws of malevolence may imprison him within a cage without a keyhole or possible escape route. Perhaps, it was too theatrical for his tastes–however, for centuries has Mikleo believed his sincerest, and most beloved companion may never witness the magnificent light a new dawn ever again; his aspirations and hopes reduced to a mere erection of ash. His voice was gentler than a rabbit’s footsteps amongst a snowfield, threatening to collapse at any given moment–he abhorred how his weaknesses were disclosed before Sorey within this fragile moment, for this was meant as a heartwarming reunion between the pair; that is, if the former possessed any recollection of his childhood love. “….it’s me, Mikleo. Please, tell me that you remember….at least a little? I….I understood the risks when you decided to sacrifice yourself for the greater good, but if you were truly reincarnated as a member of my race, then….you couldn’t have forgotten about your dearest friend, right?….Right?”
“I–….I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t remember anything besides my own name; I was guided to these ruins by a voice, per se, and you had nearly fallen so–woah, are you alright?” The teardrops were cascading down the elder Seraph’s face like a rapid waterfall; his cheeks had grown embarrassingly flushed, his weaknesses disclosed before the eyes of the muddled Sorey, whose garmented hand was lightly rest upon the other’s twitching shoulder-blade. It was heartbreaking to witness Mikleo, an individual that oft concealed his sadness for the benefit of his friends–so they wouldn’t fret over his welfare like you would a small child, and hence the melancholic dews were restrained beneath an impenetrable fortress none shall enter. A response was unneeded for Mikleo’s fingers to latch onto the spine of the younger man and subsequently, encountered the midst of Sorey’s chest with his nose; thus, his despairing whimpers were muffled and all Sorey could perform was gawk, open-mouthed. However, hands of an unadulterated warmth were bestowed upon Mikleo’s own vertebrae–they belonged to none but his dear friend, he understood; even if time itself had seized the Shepherd’s core memories, his kindness refused to simply fade….that’s the discrete trait which constructs whom Sorey is as a person, after all. However….
He doesn’t remember me. I should have expected it–after all, it’s rare for those reincarnated as Seraphim to evoke memories of their past lives; however, that sliver of fate was by my side throughout these seven-hundred or so years I’ve endured, merely waiting for him to return. Authentic words were impractical for Mikleo whilst his own vocal cords were sabotaged by a chain of relentless weeping–it felt like he were choking on his own tears, this lamentable reunion but a grim reminder of the centuries he spent isolated due to these conflicting emotions; unable to converse with Lailah, or Edna, or Zaveid–they remained in that distant past of theirs, wherein they journeyed throughout Glenwood with aspirations for a brighter future, how the Shepherd so earnestly called for his name upon their entrance in newfangled lands. For they were raised in the forsaken mountainous region with little to no knowledge of the outermost world, of the many wonders which lied throughout the kingdoms prepared for their vehement eyes to uncover. Regrettably had this hero’s magnificent tale entombed into the sands of time and thus, Mikleo could only reminisce of those peaceful days whilst accompanied by a woeful expression. His grip on the younger man’s garments tightened, if at all possible–it’s ascertain that his knuckles were painted with a qualmish hue of white. At the very least, I should be grateful he’s come back to me. Even….whilst he’s forgotten everything about me, that doesn’t mean I’m alone anymore….Someone, please tell me that I’m right. That he won’t leave me again!
“Sorey, pl….please….”
“Huh?”
It’d be unsurprising for Mikleo’s own dignity to vanish by now, for his dearest was faced with such a weak side to himself–these interminable tears which decorated both the Earth beneath and his pale-colored garbs; this was the rare case wherein this blatant humiliation has not bestowed such redness upon his cheeks, rather shattered the nerves of all those surrounding him. Nonetheless, he mustered the courage to properly encounter Sorey’s concerned gaze–they were as gorgeous as he recalled, like a twosome of exquisite emeralds harvested from the depths of an ancient mine.  "Don–….don’t….go, Sorey.“ Mikleo murmured, for his voice was comparable to that of the fragilest pieces of glassware; if proper heedfulness wasn’t exercised, it may crumble at any given moment. Fleetingly, his eyelashes had birthed a few droplets which collapsed upon each of Sorey’s thighs–his expression had shifted abruptly within that small second, from confusion to a recognizable sense of melancholy–it encouraged his palms of an unearthly gentleness to comb through Mikleo’s tousled locks. ”….I….I couldn’t bear to experience that loneliness ever again, so I’m begging that you’d never leave my side. I’ve spent nearly a thousand years waiting for you, Sorey….even if I’m a mere stranger to you now, please promise me that one thing. For a life without you….is completely empty.“
                                                        –
”….Mikleo, this novel you composed is beyond fantastic–it’s almost like I’m walking through history itself! The legend of the renowned “Shepherd” whom brandished a sword and swept throughout these lands to liberate those tainted by the malevolence….it’s unbelievable that you had once accompanied this hero on their journey, and were able to behold these manifesting fables from the past! I….I can’t help but be envious.“ It’s apparent those dreadful centuries have purloined the memories from the days of yore wherein Sorey and his companions once roamed across the kingdoms to establish a never-ending harmony, however none of the influential forces within realm could possibly deprive him of his overwhelming passion–it twinkled through his pair of gem-like eyes, which engendered a minor chuckle from Mikleo, whose hands were preoccupied with the kettle in another section of the makeshift home; it was their temporary resting area until they proceeded with their runic discoveries. To separate Sorey from the thick-paged tome may prove to be challenging, for his attention was glued to it like his eternal lifespan depended on it for nourishment–needless to say, the mature Seraph hadn’t anticipated for such unabating praise. Eventually, Sorey’s smile had descended slightly and the object was gently closed, thereafter placing it upon the nearest table. He continued, although with a softer tone. ”….You mistook me for the Shepherd, didn’t you? That time ago, when we encountered one another within the profundity of those magnificent ruins….you latched onto me and cried your heart out, Mikleo. I wanted to help, but….all I could do was say that you’ll reunite with them one day–that “goodbyes” don’t simply last forever. Like me, perhaps….they’ll be reincarnated as a kin of the Seraphim and hopefully maintain some recollection of their former life.“
”….Yes, I hope so too. Sor–I mean, my dearest friend, risked everything to ensure peace would finally overrun the kingdoms of Hyland and Rolance, perhaps beyond. After all, the responsibilities of a Shepherd don’t merely lie with those closest to them–rather, they are burdened with the entire world upon their shoulders. However, the beginning of our great journey attempted to forge distance between us for they presumed I….hadn’t wished for such a future alongside them, and that I should pursue my own aspirations after we were freed from Zenrus’s domain. How hilariously wrong they were, for….my dream was always to remain by their side, even if the malevolence tore us apart time after time. Bittersweet, if you ask me.“ Mirth embellished the smile resting upon Mikleo’s features as he accessed the living-space which detained the younger individual; his fingers were preoccupied with a duo of teacups, which emitted the fresh and captivating aroma of the greenish beverages. The tray was deposited onto the table neighboring the legendary novel; the cover was shrouded in an abundance of dust in consequence to the hundreds of years since it was published for both Seraphim and humankind to peruse. It’s the very connection Sorey once yearned for between the two races, for the latter was incarcerated behind a wall of transparency and unnumbered folklore or myths–it was Mikleo’s duty to uphold those aspirations of his, he decided. Softer, he continued. ”….Alas, they selflessly pursued a journey that few may return from unscathed; I’ve waited for hi–them for centuries upon centuries, and….it’s a challenge not to lose hope, especially when it’s not guaranteed their memories shall resurface. However, Sorey….I do appreciate your words, regardless of whether the person I’m searching for may truly come back to me, or not. Thank you….“
”….There’s no need to thank me, Mikleo; I’m just grateful to know a person as kind-hearted as you. It may sound cliché, but….it’s almost like a “red string of fate” brought us together, you know? I mean, for months had I wandered throughout this kingdom attempting to unearth my purpose–the fellow Seraphim wouldn’t even glance in my direction, nor would they provide any assistance to somebody without memories a whole. It was….lonely, needless to say.“ Briefly had the former Shepherd paused his statement to place the teacup closest to bridge of his lower lip, and the aforementioned pleasant aroma infiltrated his nostrils like a harmonious breeze–the taste itself was comparable as it kissed Sorey’s tongue, which encouraged him to drone quietly and smile in Mikleo’s direction, as if bestowing upon him silent applause for the delectable beverage. ”….Then, Mikleo….I met you, and abruptly had that loneliness of mine perish into nothingness–one could say our encounter was predestined, even. Or, perhaps your eloquent writing has inspired me to believe such a concept. Either way, I’m glad I was reincarnated as a member of the Seraphim–or else I’d never be able to spark a conversation with you, as a common human. Still, I wish my memories weren’t such a blurr….Who was I within my past life, exactly? Hopefully, one of these days….I’ll be able to discover that truth.“
I know you will, Sorey–after all, you’re still as much of an idealist as you were centuries ago. Naturally were those words not mentioned orally in consequence to the unawareness of their everlasting bond, imprisoned within those memories Sorey has implored so eagerly for–however, the elder one was incapable of suppressing the wistfulness which shaped upon his expression through a pair of half-lidded eyes and the gentlest smile; Mikleo was positive it would ultimately disenthrall and give birth to his less desirable state, still haunted by the weaknesses he exposed to his former companion upon their one-sided reunion. Instead, a sigh was exaggerated and Mikleo spoke with his traditional forte; composed, however the remedy was also flecked by a sense of derision. ”….Well, I plan to journey throughout the continent in search for new material for my forthcoming book; the “Legends of the Shepherd, the Four Trials”–it’s something you’ll enjoy, I’m sure. Many had advocated the possibilities of a Seraph’s memories returning if they were to revisit locations they were accustomed to as a human, and henceforth, I’d….make no objections if you were to accompany me on my quest, per se–“ The remainder of his sentence was left unspoken for fingers were abruptly captured by the starry-eyed Sorey–previously, the teacup was deposited haphazardly upon the ligneous platter and threatened to collapse with the smallest movement. Fleetingly, Mikleo’s heartbeat had frolicked due to the action; he’s nearly disremembered of the warmth which envelops Sorey like sunlight, the discrete trait that impelled the snow-haired man to fall so hopelessly for him. "S-Sorey….?”
“….I’m never going to abandon you, Mikleo–that’s the decision I’ve come to, and one I shall not back out on. Alright?” His benevolent words enforced the grin to manifest upon Sorey’s features and thereafter, ushered his elder friend onto both feet to continue with his previous statement, whilst their palms were strengthened into a study grip–much to the discernible embarrassment of Mikleo, who was peppered by the vibrant hue of crimson from front to earlobes. It was extraordinary how a simple gesture could cast an unconquerable flame to engulf his heart, like Sorey’s appearance alone had torn these passionate feelings asunder–the impulse to lure him into an everlasting kiss, to fasten the bond severed by the ruthless centuries which purloined Sorey’s golden memories. Fleetingly, Mikleo vowed their lips establish contact between one another until the former Shepherd released the fingers and took a step back. “….Now, c'mon–let’s forget about this solemn atmosphere and investigate some more ruins–ah, the Ruins of Marlind are nearby, right? I wanna go!” Starry-eyed again; it appeared the childishness he possessed as a human refused to disappear as well–after all, it wouldn’t be “Sorey” if not for the existence of antiquated civilizations and relics of an era beyond their imaginations. However, this had influenced the small laughter to escape Mikleo’s pursed mouth, and he answered with the gentlest nod. Sorey’s eyes shined brighter, if at all possible. “….Woo-hoo! I can’t wait to explore every inch of this realm with you, Mikleo! It’ll be like a new adventure, you know?”
“….Very well, Sorey.” And thank you.
For them to arrive within the aforementioned town of Marlind would require a handful of days, and therefore had Mikleo prepared for the forthcoming journey by organizing a satchel filled with certain necessities–such as spare garments and ingredients for dishes that appealed to Sorey’s discrete taste (it’s acknowledged that Seraphim needn’t fret over satisfying their non-existent ravenousness, however they have grown accustomed to humankind’s lifestyle and hence, they follow through with it). Earnestly had the previous Shepherd awaited for his companion neighboring the entrance of the dilapidated establishment, whilst he released a sequence of enthusiastic drones and tapped the back of his heel against the ligneous floorboard beneath. The door was unlatched upon Mikleo’s emergence from the living-room and subsequently, their departure from the forsaken cottage within the midst of the greenwood kindle the beginning of the “adventure” Sorey had yearned for. The breeze of a midsummer caressed his spine like an elegant melody–one, in which, he’s grown accustomed to, for the young Seraph’s expression was conquered by a mammoth grin; it radiated brighter than that of diamonds, Mikleo thoughtlessly noted. Ahead, a cliff embellished by the wildflowers of indigo and paler hues had tempted the duo toward it, or rather….to disclose the magnificent lands which co-existed all around them, an enchantment which Sorey fell victim too. Undoubtedly, the world had transformed during the near millennium wherein he was imprisoned by the depths of slumber–however, its beauty never faded once; Mikleo knew that personally, for he’s braved several lifespans of traveling across each kingdom to preserve the dream he’s always shared with Sorey. Yes, to ensure the legacy of “Shepherd Sorey” is kept alive by protecting this realm he treasured so much with all of his strength. Mikleo’s gaze was summoned by the mountains which lied in the distance and enwrapped by the firmament’s mist–it was comparable to a wondrous piece of artwork, and a smile briefly manifested upon his rose-kissed features. “….Isn’t it amazing, Mikleo?” He overheard Sorey murmur.
“….It truly is, Sorey.”
Thereafter, Mikleo’s eyes were imparted upon the sun’s embodiment who continued to observe the infinite grasslands encompassing them–unbeknownst to Sorey, he resembled that of a champion who’s returned from a long-established battleground and stood upon this ledge like he’s triumphed over hundreds of them. Although he was no longer chaperoned by that sword which liberates those haunted by the malevolence, his courageousness lived on within the generations of new Shepherds whom fight on behalf of his legacy. However, not once had Mikleo allied himself with those aspiring heroes–after all, he’s always waited for the return of he, whom he referred to as his “one and only”–the individual who brightened the world of desolation that has erected around him with a mere smile. It’s doubtful whether Sorey shall achieve his memories of the grand adventure he, as well as his legion of close companions, once embarked on–let alone, the childhood he and Mikleo spent together, investigating relics from a bygone time and thus, heeding the morals inscribed into the “Celestial Record”. Regardless, they were still attached to one another by some divine force….perhaps, the reddened knot Sorey had formerly described to him? Either way, fate itself has already prophesied this pair would remain together until the conclusion of time–as Seraphim, it wasn’t an impossible feat. The emotions which flourished within Mikleo needn’t be returned by the younger one, for he simply didn’t wish to collapse into that void of loneliness again–his heart, however, spoke differently; the three-worded concept that has danced alongside him since his initial encounter with Sorey.
I love you, Sorey. Those feelings of mine won’t change in a hundred years, nor a thousand. You may have forgotten all that we’ve braved through together–from the good, and the bad, but….I’m not afraid to forge new memories with you, my dearest. After all, our journey….it never truly ended, did it?
“….Let’s set off for Marlind now, Sorey.”
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zesty-zestiria · 7 years
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An AU about. . . I don't know what if they found some fairy tail book and somehow got sucked into it and have to get back together due to the fact they somehow got separated. . . Or a Disney AU?
Admin @soymilkheaven here!  Sorry about the wait, anon, since we all sat around and discussed for a bit which fairytale would be best, and in the end …
Little Mermaid AU won out, as a mixture of both the Disney movie version and the classic Hans Christian Anderson tale.  (You’ll see, anon, I’ll even drabble the ending out for you for extra feels.)  I mean, yes, everyone’s done Merman Mikleo but, let’s face it, Part of Your World is basically Mikleo’s image song for the early-mid game, especially with how often he talks about how he’s not sure he’s experiencing the world the same way Sorey does, since he’s a Seraph and Sorey’s human, and … really, Water Seraph, Merman, the similarity is there.
So who’s who?  Here it is (behind a cut because this is *super* long):
Also warnings for the post fairy tale epilogue drabble: Major Character Death, lots of feels, and I damned near cried writing parts of it.
Mikleo is our little Merman.  Personally, I like Epileo for this mostly so I can have all the mental pictures of Merman Mikleo floating in the sea with his gorgeous hair floating all around him.  Also, I envision this scene where Prince Sorey goes out to walk on the beach at night, under a full moon, and hears a lovely voice humming, and sees Merman Mikleo sitting on a rock … brushing his hair with a fork.  But alas, despite the Obvious Misuse of a Fork, Sorey still thinks Mikleo with his gorgeous long hair and violet eyes, and pretty blue tail is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen … right up until Mikleo sees him and splashes into the water again because, well Mermen Aren’t Supposed To Be Seen.  Of course, what Prince Sorey doesn’t realize is that Mikleo surfaces right after and hides behind said rock to observe Sorey - who Mikleo thinks has the brightest green eyes he’s ever seen, better than any jewel he’s found in any shipwreck on the ocean floor, and he just adores Sorey’s smile.
Also, in keeping with the Hans Christian Anderson version of the tale, Mikleo is more of a magical sea creature granted the ability to walk and breathe air - first, painfully via his deal with Symonne, later, pain-free as part of Zenrus blessing their union.  However, this also means that Mikleo is still Not Human, and therefore has no eternal soul.  It also means he ages super slowly compared to Sorey too.  Keep this in mind for the ending/epilogue drabble at the end.
Sorey is our Prince Eric.  Obviously.  Like in the Disney animated movie canon, Mikleo saves him when he gets shipwrecked in a storm, and that’s how they finally meet face to face.  Sorey’s shocked when he catches a glimpse of his savior (as Mikleo’s hauling his fishtailed ass back into the water since he’s directly disobeying Gramps by doing this) and thinks he sees a fish tail, but he chalks it up, at first, to him seeing things as he was half-drowned at the time.  Until he sees the aforementioned Merman Mikleo humming and combing his hair in the moonlight scene, that is.
Gramps as King Triton.  He’s aware of human, and, like his game and Disney canon counterparts, he’s not a huge fan of interaction with humans.  Here, it’s not so much Because Humans Are A Source of Malevolence as much as Humans Tend to Kill Things They Don’t Understand.  Still, he does give Mikleo his blessing in the end, especially when he sees how much his grandson adores this human.
Symonne as Ursula.  I mean, as much as it would kind of make sense for Ursula to be Heldalf and all that, Ursula has an element of manipulative dealmaker that Heldalf really doesn’t strike me as having - but Symonne, as an illusionist, does.  That said, I’m more inclined to leave out the Disney version’s Adaptational Villainy and give her more of a Be Careful What You Wish For deal.
Edna as Flounder.  A really, really, really snarky Flounder, who can’t believe Meebo is totally falling head over tail fin for This Boring Human.  But alas, even she can see how sad Meebo is when Gramps forbids Mikleo to go up to the surface to Prince Sorey, and there’s Nothing Worse than Mopeyleo, so yes, she’ll go with him to see the Sea Witch Symonne.
Lailah as Sebastian.  A really really really huge Shipper On Deck Sebastian, and she’s the one who talks Gramps into relenting in the end and letting Mikleo leave the sea, with legs, so he can be happy with his one true love.  Even if both of them know that it’ll only be for Just This One Lifetime, because Gramps, while powerful, isn’t powerful enough to grant Mikleo a soul, which he lacks as a magical creature.
Dezel and Zaveid as Those Two Seagulls, or, in which soymilkheaven splits Scuttle the Seagull into two separate characters.  They both claim to be experts on humans and their culture … when they’re anything but.  Yeaaaaaaaaaah, you know someone had to have told Mikleo a fork was used to comb their hair.  Yes that might have been Zaveid, lol.
Alisha as Sorey’s best friend from a neighboring kingdom (and fellow believer of magical sea creatures).  Not sure if there is an equivalent in either the Disney animated movie (it’s been at least a decade since I’ve last seen the Little Mermaid and a few years since I last read the classic Hans Christian Anderson tale), but she is also familiar with the folklore and tales surrounding magical sea creatures … and tries to help Sorey woo Mikleo.  There are … varying degrees of success, but the fact that Sorey is trying (once he figures out that Mikleo really is a Merman-turned-human) makes Mikleo love him more.
Rose as Sorey’s genius economics advisor and bodyguard, probably another soymilkheaven original for this AU.  She’s not too familiar with the folktales and myths like Alisha is, but she also wants Sorey to be happy, and if courting/pursuing this Prince of the Sea (which Mikleo totally is) is what makes Sorey happy, then so be it.  Besides, there might even be a side benefit of ensuring safety for their country’s boats at sea out of that marriage, and that’s 100% icing on the (wedding) cake as far as Rose the Economic Advisor’s concerned.
Heldalf … may or may not appear in this fairytale?  But if he were to, he’d be some conquering warlord in a neighboring country out to take over Sorey’s country, which Sorey and Mikleo are Having None Of.
And now, the promised ending/epilogue drabble, because while pretty much everything happens as planned, there’s still that tiny detail from the classic Hans Christian Anderson tale where magical sea creatures don’t have a soul.  In the original, it meant that the Little Mermaid couldn’t go to heaven and be with her beloved.  And while Together In Death is a fun trope, I personally love a slightly different one:
When Prince Sorey died at the positively ripe old age of 95, people across the country mourned.  He had been a great king, a wise and fair leader, and had done much to ensure the prosperity of his people.  His funeral had been a grand affair - Mikleo, as Chief Consort, had seen to that.  In keeping with Sorey’s final wishes, while a token gravestone was erected in the royal family graveyard, his body was interred on a cliff overlooking the sea, the beautiful ocean that was the homeland of his one and only.
A pair of dark crimson roses flanked the gravestone, while the hill itself was positively smothered in pink carnations, red chrysanthemums, daffodils, forget-me-nots, primroses, and marigolds.  At the foot of the hill, a small grove of orange trees marked the entryway to the beloved prince’s true final resting place.
Mikleo knelt in front of that gravestone now, looking barely a day older since the day they’d met - Zenrus was powerful, yes, but even his magic had only been enough to grant Mikleo the legs and the ability to breathe air so he could live outside of the ocean, beside his beloved.  His hands brushed against the gravestone, and tears came to his eyes, unbidden.  A pair of seagulls landed beside him, eyes full of worry.
“Was this what Gramps was trying to warn me about?”
“Mikleo … man, we’re-”
“That I’d only get a short amount of time with him?”
He laid down in the grass, among the flowers, each one flourishing, despite their getting watered only by the occasional rain shower and his own tears.  A gentle wind rustled across the hills, rustling his hair and cloak.  Hair that Sorey had played with many a quiet evening in their shared chambers.  Tears continued to fall - just how many days had it been since he’d last heard Sorey’s laughter?  Seen his bright green eyes that never dulled, even as he grew into a wizened old man?  That smile that never failed to brighten his day?
He fell asleep, lying amidst the flowers in the field, each one a tiny fraction of the feelings he held for the human he loved so, so, dearly in life.
Zaveid turned as Dezel returned, Lailah perched on his back.  She looked sadly at Mikleo, at the snow-white and blue hair that was in stark contrast to the dark cloak he woe, knowing that his happiness had a great cost attached to it.  She wished, with all her heart, that something more could be done - that, even though Mikleo was a magical sea creature, he could have happiness with Sorey beyond death.
She sighed, “I wish there was something more we could do for him.  Lord Zenrus’s magic is powerful, yes, but to grant a soul, that’s …”
A bright white light came into being in front of them then, stopping to hover over the gravestone.  Mikleo stirred, and sat upright, a hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the brightness.  The being seemingly had no form, although if Lailah squinted hard enough, she thought she could make out a pair of leathery wings.
“Young prince of the seas,” the voice intoned, “I have watched you from afar for many years.  Your love for this human, and your desire to be with him always, and his reciprocation of those very feelings, has touched us all in the heavens.  To grant you a soul … that requires magics beyond even my ability, but should you wish to earn one, that, perhaps, we could arrange.”
For the first time in the months since Sorey’s passing, Lailah thought she saw the glimmer of hope and the beginnings of a smile on Mikleo’s face.  Wiping away his tears he bowed his head, as though in prayer, a single question falling from his lips.
“What would you have me do?”
Three hundred years later, Mikleo opened his eyes to find himself on a hillside, no longer a benevolent spirit of the seas, but human once more.  Examining himself, he noticed a single red string tied around his finger, and he followed it along the path, where he saw a familiar and beloved face sitting on a rock in front of a strange wheel.
“Sorey!”  Mikleo ran, arms spread wide and melting in to the firm embrace of the one he’d loved so dearly for so long.
“MIkleo!”  There was no mistaking the voice, or the way his shoulder was quickly become moist with tears.  “I missed you.”
“Me, too.”  They held each other for what seemed like an eternity, and perhaps it was.  When they finally parted, Mikleo looked up at the giant water wheel turning in the sky behind them.  “What is this place?”
“This is the Wheel of Reincarnation,” Sorey explained.  “Where you go to be reborn.  But, when I saw the red string on my finger, I’d prayed, hoped, even, that you would be on the other end. So I waited.  Waited, so we could go together.”
“Then let us go now.  Together.”
EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot to mention the meanings of the flowers on the hill for Sorey’s grave, taken from this website:
Pink Carnation – I’ll Never ForgetYou
Red Chrysanthemum – I Love You
Daffodil - Regard, Unequalled Love,You’re the Only One, The Sun is Always Shining When I’m with You
Forget-Me-Not - True Love, Memories
Marigold - Cruelty, Grief, Jealousy(Grief is the intended meaning here)
Orange Blossom - Innocence, EternalLove, Marriage and Fruitfulness (Eternal Love is the one I’d chosen it for)
Primrose - I Can’t Live without You
Dark Crimson Rose - Mourning
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