(no subject)

[monolike]

[The first thing Sorey thinks as he falls is what Lailah said as they left Camlann; that without his domain, all of them would instantly be hellions. The ground collapses beneath his feet, the wind drake behind him snaps up his cloak in its jaws and he sees the terror on Mikleo's face just before Symonne's laughter shrieks out and he and the drake fall together.

If they're too far away from me-

He can still feel their connection. He can still feel them, even if they can't go to him, and Sorey prays that's enough.

Wind rushes past them and Sorey tries to wrench out of the drake's grip (It's gotta be a wind seraph, Zaveid had shouted as they were thrown into the thick of battle in the tight corridors of the fortress), twisting and turning, sword in his hand. They'd weakened the drake considerably as a team but he's not sure he's powerful enough on his own to purify it, not even with all the strength he's gathered. Not without the others.

Hopefully, because Rose is there, they'll be okay. Please, please, I can't lose anyone else-

They fall far but hit a collapsed spire at an angle; in the mess the drake releases Sorey (or maybe his cloak tears, he can't tell) and he tumbles, bumps against it and hits the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head and jar his bones. He pushes himself up, ignoring the bruises and aches, the constant, thumping worry of his heart and puts his sword between he and the drake as it sways up to its feet.]

Don't worry, [he promises the poor thing, because thank god, thank god it's not a dragon yet. There's still hope.] I'm going to save you. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.

Comments

[sylphystia]

[Maybe he looks young. He isn't young, not anymore, but he still looks the same as he has for several years. He reached the peak of his power a long time ago, and even though Mikleo has grown and blossomed, Dezel still scarcely looks twenty-five.

His bangs drift into his eyes as he adjusts his head on the pillow. His silver eyes are still pale and sightless-- the same color as the drake Sorey fought and purified so long ago-- though they drift closed when he realizes he might be staring. The wind tells him that Sorey certainly is.

... Are they supposed to hold hands? Is that what he wants? He is so damned clueless right now. Tentatively, he reaches up and gives Sorey's palm a poke.]

[monolike]

[Sorey snorts in amusement, taking Dezel's hand in his and squeezing.] So you know I'm here. I'd kind of like to not have a breeze in my face all night.

[It's a weak excuse. Dezel can still feel the dip in the bed, can still hear and feel the air moving in and out of his lungs, but this is a little more...immediate. Sorey is playing it down because Dezel, like Mikleo, gets flustered when he's told the truth. Sorey will hand it to him in pieces then, behind gentle little fibs, in a language with which he's so familiar.]

[sylphystia]

[Oh. He's a little surprised at the hand-squeezing, but he doesn't pull it away. If that's what Sorey wants, then... Dezel will give it to him. That's fine.]

I'm not going to... [He huffs at that, sending a little breeze to tickle Sorey's nose. He raises his other hand and snuffs out the lantern with a soft snap of his fingers. Now it's properly dark and cozy.

Only then does Dezel squeeze back.]

[monolike]

Show off, [Sorey mumbles into his pillow, grinning. But this is the most relaxed he's been trying to sleep since he woke, Dezel's hand warm and sure in his own. He laces their fingers together, closes his eyes and if at some point during the night, scoots right up against Dezel's side, well, it's normal. Humans need a lot of comfort, you see, and they thrive on community and companionship and maybe, maybe Sorey wasn't as unaware of those one thousand years as he thought he was, because the fist he unconsciously makes in Dezel's shirt is tight and just a touch desperate.]

[sylphystia]

[When Sorey wakes up, he'll find Dezel is still there. Yeah, at some point during the night Sorey tried to cuddle-- but that's all right. Sorey's always been the type to sprawl or cuddle whatever's within grabbing reach; Dezel's seen it before, though not in a thousand years. He'd almost forgotten.

It's now comfortably morning and the birds have already eaten. Dezel doesn't move except to draw his bare fingers through Sorey's messy hair. He could stand to lay like this for a while longer, but they do have to run an errand or two before departure.]

[monolike]

[Sorey drifts into wakefulness slowly, Dezel's touch as soothing as anything else. It feels familiar in a way Sorey's not sure he's ever actually experienced. Maybe during some kind of dream, once upon a time.

He doesn't move for a bit, head tucked against the crook of Dezel's shoulder. He smells like spring breezes and sun-dried laundry, like freedom and care.]

...do you ever feel left behind, a little? [Sorey whispers into Dezel's chest.]

[sylphystia]

[Dezel carries him gently to wakefulness, and he doesn't shy away from what he's already doing. He'll stop if Sorey asks him to, but since he doesn't seem to be complaining... well, he's gonna keep doing it.]

... Yeah.

[The wind carries the whisper to him, even if he didn't feel it through his chest.]

When the last original member of the Windriders-- the Sparrowfeathers died, I had a bit of trouble. But if I'm being honest, it started before then.

[monolike]

[Sorey doesn't have to say it, but he's wondering if Dezel means Lafarga. Or even before that; if he means when the Windriders were going to leave behind their silent protectors.

There's little he can say, so he just wraps his arms sleepily around Dezel and tucks his face against his shoulder. I'm here. He doesn't know for how long, but as long as he can manage.]

[sylphystia]

[Sorey is impossibly sweet. He's afraid to talk about this, this newfound closeness-- so he doesn't. He just takes it silently and gives back what he can. Whatever Sorey needs, he will have. Dezel will absolutely make sure of that.]

You're not alone. I'm not a good seraph, but I can at least remember you when everyone else has forgotten.

[He filters his fingers through Sorey's hair with the love and tenderness afforded a brother, or perhaps a lover. His fingertips brush an ear, and he hesitates-- but then he keeps going, stroking from neck to crown.]

Someone told me something after Rose passed. They said, 'Every loss is a new start.' And I didn't understand it for the longest time. How do you start over when you've lost everything?

[He breathes out softly, trying his best not to dislodge the former Shepherd.]

But that's exactly why you can. You're beholden to nothing but your own memories. You can acknowledge them, and have them, without becoming a prisoner. That's... what I was, for the longest time. I never would've realized that if you hadn't given me another chance.

[monolike]

I'd do it a million times over, [Sorey says into Dezel's shoulder, closing his eyes. Dezel's fingertips are surprisingly soft against his neck, the edge of his thumb occasionally brushing Sorey's ear. It makes him want to shiver, tucked up in Dezel's arms, his hand carding almost reverently through his hair.] It wasn't fair, for you to be taken from us like that.

[Sorey squeezes his arms around him more tightly, lifting his chin to hide his face against Dezel's neck instead.] No matter what happened or what you'd done, you deserved a chance to see it right yourself. I'd go back to sleep another thousand years to make sure you got that chance.

[sylphystia]

I know. [What they have right now is so fragile that Dezel is afraid to give a name to it.] I know you would.

[The younger man's face finds its way into Dezel's bare neck, and it's his turn to shudder. He hopes Sorey doesn't notice. It would be embarrassing to explain that he hasn't held someone in his arms for a millennium. Sorey smells like feathers and books, like the edges of places yet undiscovered. Dezel wonders if Sorey can read him, and he wonders if he can learn to read by touching Sorey's words with his fingertips. He doesn't know. He's afraid to ask.]

You saved me.

[He surrounds Sorey not just with his arms, but with his wind. There's the barest hint of a warm breeze-- just enough to keep the room from stifling.]

You're not gonna sleep for another thousand years, all right? I won't let you.

[monolike]

[Oh fancy that, Sorey hasn't held anybody in about just as long. Longer, even, since he and Mikleo never-

Well.]

I know. I believe you. [And it's true; Dezel might've been hovering much more than usual, but rather than be annoyed by it Sorey's found it a comfort. In this new world where nearly everything has changed, where everyone is different, having Dezel here attached to his side is so steadying. He'd seemed so distant and aloof when he'd first joined up; even at the end, when they'd thought he had died, Dezel had been so willing to throw himself aside for the sake of his revenge, and then for the sake of Rose. Sorey doesn't blame him but it had made to him perfectly clear that the pact, the agreement Dezel had with them, no matter how often he and Sorey shared bodies and hearts, it had always ranked below his pain.

Now, all this time later, Dezel seems at once exactly the same as before and infinitely different. He's learned how to take his hurts, how to process them and let them fly off into the wind. He's learned how to let himself cherish the things he finds important and Sorey wants to weep with the beauty of this, of Dezel finally being free to be as gentle as Sorey always knew, always felt he was.

Sorey draws and reaches up to cradle Dezel's jaw in his hands, smiling at the way his bangs fall into his face, at the soft part of his lips, the gentle slope of his brow.] You've really changed, [Sorey notes quietly, not for the first time. He brushes his thumbs over Dezel's cheeks softly.] It's a great look for you.

[sylphystia]

[I believe you, Sorey says, open and trusting and loving. It occurs to Dezel, not for the first time, that he's going to hurt so much more when nature reclaims Sorey and his soul. He won't fall-- that's not an option-- but then Dezel will be alone again, and god, he just can't think about that right now. He can only think about what's in front of him.

He can't see the emerald green of Sorey's eyes, can't memorize the little bit of gold that leaks into his brown hair when the sun hits it. But the wind tells him everything he needs to know regardless. It tells Dezel that he's smiling. It describes the roundness of his nose, the crinkling of his lashes at the edges of his eyes. Dezel can imagine the rest. He can feel the boldness of Sorey's thumbs on his cheeks, hear the roughness of Sorey's voice.

Dezel's eyes flutter open, a pale silver-green like the edge of a cloud. He looks for a moment like a man who's never been loved before or at least not in a long time. His cheeks burn beneath the Shepherd's tender touches; he tries to keep his breathing steady, but it hitches at points as he realizes just how deep he's in.

Sorey loves his seraphim, but he could never love Dezel like--

And just like that, Dezel finds himself pulling away from the touch that both grounds him and sends him spinning. It isn't a violent motion-- rather, he just gently takes Sorey's hands and holds them for a moment.]

W-we should get going. Daylight's burning.

[Time to roll out of bed.]

[monolike]

[That...absolutely wasn't just him. No way. Dezel had looked so young in that moment, breath hiccuping, and the way he'd held Sorey's hands before pulling away-

Sorey pushes himself up to sit, hands clenched into fists he presses to his chest before he slowly slides out of bed. He's always been close with his seraphim; it's simply a side-effect of sharing a body with someone after all. It's impossible to not be close with someone after that, but this isn't the same. This is a kind of intimacy that has nothing to do with a Shepherd's pact.

His cheeks are still burning even after he pulls on his boots and cloak.] -uh, um, I was hoping- do you think we could drop by the weapons' shop? I'd like to at least, y'know. Be able to look after myself.

[sylphystia]

[Dezel pulls on his boots and gloves. Sorey's moving slowly, but that's all right; if his gestures seem troubled, Dezel doesn't acknowledge them. Sometimes the wind seraph is a bit too self-absorbed, it's true, and after a close call like that... he's eager to think about practically anything else.]

That's where we're going. I don't know if we can find a ritual sword like the one you used, but we can commission one later.

[He's pretty sure Sorey's actual sword ended up... in the care of someone, somewhere. Maybe Alisha's family? He'll have to do some investigating. It isn't something he's thought about in a long time, after all.]

We'll grab breakfast on the way.

[monolike]

Ah, Dezel, [Sorey grabs at his arm,] actually, I'm okay without getting another sword.

[Just, something about it. He'd used it to catch prickleboars sometimes, sure, but a bow is just as effective. His last memory of holding a sword is pressing it into the chest of a man in terrible pain, so...he'd really. Yeah.]

I was thinking a bow, maybe a hunting knife. We should probably try to avoid hellions anyway since we can't purify them, right? So, just for wildlife. That should be plenty.

[sylphystia]

[Dezel hesitates at the touch to his arm. A bow makes a lot of sense-- Sorey's trained in one-- but it also reminds him a bit of Mikleo's water artifact. Dezel doesn't know specifically what went down between Sorey and Heldalf since he had to stay behind, but he can kind of imagine someone like Sorey wouldn't want to run the risk of killing more people. He'd been so against it, right until the end.]

We can get you something else.

[Dezel leads him out of the room.]

If your aim's rusty, don't worry about it. I can give you a little boost.

[monolike]

What d'you mean, if my aim's rusty?! [ELBOWS DEZEL!!! His aim is still impeccable, thank you!

They don't spend long at the weapons' shop. Sorey can't make heads or tails of the prices; the numbers are completely different from how they were before, even if everyone still uses gald. He can't tell if Dezel is spending a ton of money on him, or if he's really just picking something meeting the bare minimum requirements, as Sorey requested.

It still feels admittedly good to slot the bow over his shoulders and snap the string against his chest. Just having it makes him feel a little more normal, a little more him, the same mountain boy who'd spent hours and hours stalking game in the forest within Gramps' domain.

The Scattered Bones are a little more complicated. Dezel has to lead him down a series of dark alleyways to make sure they haven't been followed, finds this tiny wooden door tucked between two buildings and executes this complicated-sounding knock in order for anyone to even open the door.]

[sylphystia]

[Dezel spends a decent amount of money on Sorey just to make sure he's prepared, happy, and fed before they set out. The bow is of extremely good make. Dezel examines it for at least five minutes while the merchant explains that he has a seraph friend who helps finish the things he sells. His brother is the blacksmith, the man explains, and he has a water seraph quench the metal.

Dezel makes no remark on it. He lets Sorey ponder the meaning of that while they make their way to the Scattered Bones. There's the sound of at least fifteen locks sliding out of place and a shuffle, and then the door opens. Dezel pushes Sorey inside.

It doesn't seem like much. Someone's house, perhaps a little darker than usual.]

Downstairs.

[Whoever granted them access is nowhere to be seen, at least until the basement door creaks open. Then it looks like a proper hideout, complete with oil lamps and cozy bits of furniture. Someone definitely lives here.]

Hey, it's me.

[Suddenly about five people pop out of the woodwork-- one of them literally, a redhead with his hair tied back who emerges from a swinging bookcase. He's armed with at least one hand-and-a-half sword and two daggers, and he's dressed in gray and red. His eyes are a surprisingly-familiar shade of blue. The others appear to be clothed similarly, yet they defer to this leader who can't be much older than Sorey. Maybe twenty five at most. Yet they greet Dezel warmly.

Dezel explains that this is Sorey, the Shepherd of some years past, and he wanted to speak to them. He knows Sorey must be nervous, so he keeps a hand on the middle of Sorey's back. I'm here. See, he can do it, too.]

[monolike]

[Sorey had never been truly afraid of the Scattered Bones, and even less so when he came to know them personally but he couldn't quite shake his unease even up to the very end. Differing ideals and that weight of "if you screw up, you're dead," kept him from truly seeing eye-to-eye with many of them so while he regards them kindly, Sorey never really connected with them on level deeper than acquaintance.

If course, those people are long dead now.

And yet here stands before him a man the spitting image of Rose. Same eyes, same hair, same nose and brows too and with that same cooly calculating expression as he sizes Sorey up. Dezel's hand on his back is an appreciated reminder that he's here too, a living bridge between two ideals, as Sorey was a thousand years ago.

Sorey sticks out his hand for the man to shake.] I wanted to thank you and your kin for keeping Rose's letter to me safe. Seeing her handwriting, her own words...it was a greater comfort than I ever expected to have.

[sylphystia]

[Dezel isn't really the best ambassador, but he does his best. The Scattered Bones and the Sparrowfeathers both are his charges. And while there have been small scale calamities since Heldalf, they've always been quelled by the Shepherds. Nothing that can be called a curse has happened since the Windriders, and for that, he is grateful.

Maybe something about Sorey cured him. He'll never really know.

The man takes Sorey's hand and gives it a concise, firm shake, not unlike that of a merchant doing business.]

It was something we promised to do a long time ago. While our sister guild focuses on enterprises, we make sure that history isn't forgotten. It would be stupid for us to forget our own roots.

[He regards Dezel with a mild expression.]

Even if I wasn't concerned with my ancestor's legacy, this guy wouldn't let me forget it. Is there anything else we can do for you while you're here, Shepherd Sorey?

[Dezel clears his throat and adjusts his hat.]

We're headed over the ocean. Anything we should be worried about? I haven't been that way in a while.

I can't think of anything recently.

[Dezel nods, apparently satisfied, and defers to Sorey if he wants to say anything else.]

[monolike]

[Well, he wouldn't be Sorey if he didn't say something about this, because despite all this time he still feels so strongly about it:]

This might come off as rude, especially after what you've done for me, but...I hope there comes a day when you don't get any more contracts. I'm going to continue working toward that day.

[sylphystia]

[Surprisingly, the Scattered Bones leader doesn't flinch or really change expressions. He's heard some of the stories even if Dezel isn't one to sit down and share them. There's a book or two about the Shepherd Sorey, after all.]

Every time we see each other, my brother asks me if I want to join him in the Sparrowfeathers. And every time, my answer is the same.

I walk this path so that good people like you, Shepherd, don't have to get their hands dirty. That's the life I've chosen and everything that comes with it.

[His eyes close halfway. There's a hint of a smile.]

If the day comes that the Scattered Bones are no longer needed, I hope I can meet you there.

[They really ought to get going. Dezel makes a note of this and says his farewells, then leads Sorey back up the stairs and out into the alleyway. He thinks Sorey might need a moment. Dezel certainly does.]

[monolike]

[Sorey is quiet all the way up and through the alleys back to the main road, half a pace behind Dezel as he collects his thoughts.]

...he looks just like her, huh?

[sylphystia]

... Yeah. He does. [And talking like that... It's enough to give him shivers, sometimes. Rose, too, had been so resolute, and sometimes resigned to what she had to do. But she never let it get her down for long.]

Is there anything else you need before we hit the docks?