His dreams were not restful.

Marosa tossed and turned in his bed, his fingers clutching at his chest as he ran in his dreams. He was being chased by strange shadows, but they were unable to catch him as he didn’t have a shadow of his own that belonged to his form. Gancanagh were well known to not have shadows, and one good thing about it was that their shadows couldn’t be used against them. It didn’t mean they weren’t vulnerable against shadows to begin with, but it meant that they would notice something awry if a shadow suddenly appeared below them.

As soon as they’d appeared, there was a bright light that made them shy away, and Marosa had to cover his eyes for a moment until the light dissipated, revealing… himself.

Except it wasn’t himself. Yet… it was. A confused look crossed over his face as he walked forward to a cheerier version of himself, his wings folding flat across his back as his other self did the same action.

“Greetin’s,” Came the other, crossing his arms in a happy manner. He was dressed in a skintight outfit with a few areas of skin visible, and a loose jacket that fit over the top of his form. Marosa couldn’t help but walk around to stare at the back, curious how his wings worked with the jacket… only to realize that the jacket was parted in the back as well, allowing the wings to move freely. No kilt, however, but he had to admit that the skintight look was very sexy.

Perhaps that was what the other was going for.

He glanced to his own wings in slight sadness, noting the deterioration on them. The other’s wings were fresh as a new day, perfectly healthy whereas his were… dissipating. Where had he gone wrong? What was so different that he wouldn’t be able to keep his wings? His father had said that losing one’s wings made it easier to blend with humans…

“Oi dinnae know wha’ ye did, but all Gancanagh keep ter wings.” The other shrugged, rolling his shoulder back as he stretched, watching Marosa’s reaction. His own face was keen, just as intrigued as Marosa was.

“Who are ye?” Marosa asked, finally finding his voice.

“Oi’m you. Well, tat’s naut technically true, but it is. Oi’m a version of ye, in anot’er ‘verse.” Marosa closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to glance around. The shadows that had been chasing him were completely gone, now replaced by this… light that was him. Or supposedly him.

“Oi did ha’ a question…” The other began, stepping forward to peer at Marosa, curiosity in his eyes. “Why were ye so sad? I dinnae understand. Is life so bad tat ye kinnae even take joy in touchin’ ot’ers?”

“Nay,” Marosa groaned, reeling back as he clutched his head. “Oi dinnae want tae be li’ him. Oi dinnae want tae use ot’ers like tat, feedin’ ‘til t’er dead…” Marosa fell on his knees, arms reaching up to wind into his curly hair, body curling up on itself as he attempted to shove the memories away. Muirin, Da’luagh, other fey, everyone he’d ever touched…

He jerked at feeling his hands being touched, eyes snapping open to find that his alternate self was touching him. “Oi kin ‘elp,” His other self stated, his eyes bright and yearning. “Oi kin teach ye ‘ow tae be ‘appeh. Ye looked so sad tat oi wanted tae ‘elp. Oi came all tis way… wantin’ tae know more aboot ye, aboot who oi was fashion’d after…”

Marosa found his own fingers sliding around the other’s fingers, finding ease in being able to touch… himself? It was confusing, but the perspective was enlightening. “Oi dinnae understan’. ‘ow can ye be me?” He found himself asking, a thousand questions lying on his tongue, aggravated that he couldn’t ask them all at once. Was this other self so different? This other version? Fashioned after? It made little sense.

“We’re th’ same, yet diff’rent. Oi tink… because diff’rent tings ‘appened durin’ our lives tat we ended up diff’rent. Even if oi’m jes’ a mem’ry.” The other pressed his forehead against Marosa’s, a smile unable to keep itself from his lips. “Oi’m a rat’er cheerful fellow, oi hope ye know, unlike ye.” He reached up to brush a bang from Marosa’s face, his smile dissipating when he realized just how sad Marosa really was.

“Please… tell me… is Muirin alive in yer world?” The Gancanagh asked, his voice yearning. The other frowned and leaned back slightly, thinking for a moment.

“Tell ye what. If ye let me into yer memories, oi kin share with ye what oi know. Oi came all tis way, and oi’m jes… a memory now. Nothin’ more ten tat. Moi home’s gone, shattered, and oi’ve not’in tae go back to. Oi kin teach ye how tae be happier, it’s teh least oi kin do for ye, in return…”

Marosa paused, staring at his other self. He wanted to know, and he so desperately wanted to be happy… after a moment of thought, he finally nodded, surprise crossing his face when the other kissed him fully on the lips.

He wasn’t going to deny that it felt amazing. The touch, the contact, he had yearned for it…

And then the other’s memories flowed into his own.

An alien on another planet, Gancanagh were known as Love Talkers, very good at what they did and hunted for companionship as well as sabotage on other ships. Alternate Marosa had been deprived when he was a young child, but had found a best friend by the name of Sharra, an Ochyrinian. Nergal Demon was what Marosa knew in his head, but in this universe… they were all aliens.

They grew up together on one ship, finding solace in each other’s company, though Alternate Marosa had noticed a subtle change in the way Sharra had acted around him as of late. He grew a bit moody when he was around women, feeding off of them with ease… though it had never gotten too serious.

And then destruction happened. Their ship had crashed, and there was a fight for the kingdoms, and a race to collect Miasma…

It was in the labyrinth that they realized they loved each other. They shared a brief but passionate kiss, which became something more when they’d both returned to the ship.

Flashes of a naked Sharra would forever run through Marosa’s mind, but the memories of his Alternate didn’t stop there.

The fight for the Kings, though that wasn’t what took precedence in his Alternate’s mind. What took precedence was finding Sharra. Always with Sharra, never once worrying about himself or his guilt or his worries. Not once was he sad that he’d died, or regretted at doing anything. Not a single damn time did he worry.

There was a tower. There were stairs. He found himself at the top, and then… everything ended. They just… ceased to exist. But they were given a second chance, another chance to talk with everyone, even those they’d been fighting against…

And the first thing his Alternate had done was to keep his cheerful mood, and look for his lover.

Sharra. It was always Sharra.

It wasn’t long before they found each other again, reuniting in a hug that never seemed to end. Despite all the odds, why hadn’t his alternate self been jaded, or ended up hating anything? Why was it that he was always so damn cheerful no matter the circumstance?

And then Marosa realized that his alternate self had never let anything bring him down.

”Sometimes ye haf’ta jes let go, and move on with yer life. Ye kinnae let everythin’ affect ye. Even the worst times kin be th’ best if’n ye learn some’tin from ‘em. Chin up, boyo.” Alternate Marosa’s voice started to fade away, still sounding as cheerful as ever.

“Yer ceasin’ tae exist, and yer still happeh?” Marosa couldn’t fathom it, and he wanted to rattle himself, to rattle the Alternate inside of him, to get any answer that he could – he couldn’t figure out how to answer it for himself.

“Oi’m sorreh ‘bout Muirin, oi really am.” Came the fading reply, growing ever quieter. “She sounded amazin’. But sometime’ ye hafta move on in order tae see what ye already have… and ye’ve been so blinded, and been so lied tae…”

Lied to? Marosa didn’t understand, and though he tried to reach out, to bring his Alternate back, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Oi dinnae understan’! Wot do ye mean, lied tae!?” Who had lied to him all of his life? He didn’t understand what his Alternate meant until it hit him.

If he was able to see his Alternate’s memories… then his Alternate could see his memories, as well. Which is why he mentioned Muirin. It made perfect sense, now. But even throughout his life, even being beaten, denied touch, thrown in a cell with hardly any food… he was still cheerful.

“Gancanagh were not meant tae fly…” And then his Alternate Self was gone, meshed with his own memories. He could clearly set the two apart, but he found that he rather enjoyed the memories he’d received, even though in the end, they’d be nothing more than a dream. Marosa had so much guilt built up that he really had no idea how to be happy, or how to even go about doing such a thing. The scenery around him changed, becoming green and leafy as the colors swirled in, lighting his dream world and allowing his mind to finally rest in a non-nightmare guilt free dream.

Marosa sat up, eyes open as he realized he was now wide awake. His fingers touched his lips briefly, still able to feel the tingling sensation…