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 Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 11:36 am
( Backdated to November 15th / Wordcount: 1006 )
Whispers
He's only been to Thrymr once since becoming a senshi, though he's visited Methone several times. He's not even sure why he hasn't visited his own homeworld, why he hasn't gone to see the white sandy beaches and the colorful homes all built up, even if they are long emptied by now.
Maybe it's because he's scared of what he'll find, but Thrymr knows that's silly. He's curious, yes. He can't deny that, but going to a homeworld feels somewhat like opening a door to a past that might not be what you thought it was. Thrymr knows nothing of his former people, his former lands, or anything at all about what this place once was, and his curiosity wars with a strange sense of apprehension, of anxiety.
What if he finds out that he wasn't part of anything at all?
The thought comes to him unbidden, and he tries to push it away. It's taken him a long time to even understand and believe that he is welcome in the life of his team, let alone an entire world that was apparently his at some point. What if it turns out that he was someone despised, someone disliked, unwanted, cast out? What if it turns out that the people of Thrymr found him unpleasant, and what if he was a bad person?
He's frightened to think of all these possibilities, but there's no point in avoiding his homeworld because of it. Thrymr has long since learned that things do not simply disappear because of an attempt at pretending that they don't exist, and the longer he puts off going, the longer he'll regret it, the harder it will be.
So he goes, early one morning in the middle of November. He goes alone this time, because something tells him that he should; that this is a personal thing, even though he knows any of his team would be willing to go along with him for support. But Thrymr wants to understand, because the last time he went - the only time so far - it was so brief that he barely saw anything at all.
Now, however...
Now he stands in what appears to be a room of sorts, wrapped in wood and thick vines, the fauna creeping over the walls and filling in any gaps and crevices that might allow anything in. Thrymr suspects that little to no sound will escape; it seems a very private space, with a wide, spacious common area set up somewhat in the trees so that a branch ladder is necessary to reach it. From the common area there is a winding staircase that leads upwards, and Thrymr takes these narrow, cramped steps carefully, his fingers resting on the wood banister for support.
It's a living space up here. The room is much smaller than the one below, with a simple dresser and some dusty, leaf covered blankets on the ground, long deserted. There is a window in this one, and when Thrymr steps over to it, he realizes that it overlooks an enormous part of the rest of the houses down below. There is no screen; in fact, it's just a square cut into the side of some wood, with a pair of shutters to pull closed for privacy.
His hands rest on the sill, curling gently.
"What are you doing over there?"
A head of pale hair turned towards the voice, white locks cascading over bare shoulders. There was a teasing smile on Tarren's face as he stood in the doorway of the room, doing up the buttons of his shirt with a lazy sort of ease.
Ahe's expression was one of mingled amusement and pleasure. "Watching the people," they said, turning back to the window and gazing out at it. "Heli has been trying to convince the merchants that it would be more productive to sell early in the mornings, rather than the evenings, but they are stubborn."
Footsteps drew nearer until Tarren was right behind them, leaning over to peer out as well. Ahe pointed at small figure just below - the familiar head of their attendant, Heli's glasses reflecting in the morning sun and turning the glass opaque. He was standing with a group of people, all gesturing wildly at him, and the attendant was looking distinctly harassed.
"Any moment now," Ahe whispered, as Tarren's chin rested on the top of their head, his arms sliding loosely around their waist. "He's going to just walk away. Or maybe explode."
"Heli exploding," Tarren murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Ahe's temple and sounding amused. "would certainly be a sight to see. I'm not sure that I've ever seen Heli explode before."
Ahe laughed, a hand resting atop one of Tarren's. "That's because he doesn't often. But he does try to keep things simple."
Tarren was nuzzling into their hair, lips against the back of their neck.
"Simple sounds good right now," he whispered, and Ahe turned around, sliding arms around Tarren's neck and grinning up at him, eyes alight with mischief and adoration. They rarely get as much time as they want with their lover, but the time they do have is spent adoringly, lovingly, because they feel they cannot waste it.
There is precious little of good in the world; Ahe wants to hold it as close to their heart as possible.
"Oh, really? Do tell."
The memory fades; Thrymr has stumbled back from the window sill, eyes widened, fingers trembling. For a few seconds, he's lost track of where he is, his heart pounding in his chest, a painfully fast rhythm. His breathing is coming out in rapid gasps, in unsteady, erratic pants, and he feels as though he can't get enough air into his lungs to breathe properly. Emotions are twisting inside of him, thick and coiling, and he can still feel the brush of lips against his skin, the warm, secure feeling of a pair of strong arms around his waist, holding him steady.
He doesn't understand. He's not sure he wants to.
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 12:34 pm
( Backdated to November 30th / Wordcount: 1130 )
Lost
He goes back.
A part of him doesn't want to. He still remembers the way he felt, standing in the window of that little room, just trying to figure out what's happened to him, what he's seen. Confusion has left him dazed and unsteady for the past two weeks, and in spite of every attempt at keeping the thoughts at bay, Auguste has though of little else when he is alone. There has been plenty keeping him occupied; he's gotten into too many scrapes and bruises, and there have been some youma squabbles here and there, and with his dance lessons and team exercises, patrolling, classes, and time spent with friends, Thrymr has managed to fill his head with a variety of things.
But he keeps coming back to it. He keeps coming back to the feel of gentle hands on his shoulders, of soft lips against his skin, and he can't forget them. The feel of them, almost physical after the initial memory, have faded now, but it's not so easy to lose the knowledge of what he's seen.
What he felt, inside of his heart. Auguste has never felt such passion before, such blinding, overwhelming love for another human being. He loves Colin, he knows he does, and he loves Lorne and Nadia and the rest of his team in a different capacity, but not like that. Not the sort of powerful, sweeping emotion that clogs the throat and makes the heart feel as though it's going to burst out of his chest every time he looks at them. Auguste can't remember ever feeling that way, and isn't sure it's even possible for him to.
And alongside the fear, alongside the confusion, there is a curiosity, a deeply welled yearning to understand. Auguste has no idea who this Tarren is, but he can't help but want to know more. It's like a piece of a puzzle that he had no idea existed until now; a singular piece without any guide or direction as to where it leads or what picture it makes when everything is put together. It's hazy now, like a badly tuned radio, wavering in and out, and Auguste had grappled desperately with it to try and understand it.
So he goes back.
His homeworld looks the same as it did when he last left it. Thrymr isn't in the same place as he was the last time, but beside an expansive platform now, set in the center of rows and rows of raised seats that surrounded it on all sides. It's clearly a place meant for ceremonies, or maybe celebrations of a sort, and Thrymr turns slowly where he stands, looking around at everything.
He takes a step onto the platform.
There were so many people. Ahe pushed through them, tears stinging the corners of their eyes, and the sense of decorum and calmness that had held them for so many years is slipping away. All that they wanted right now was to get away, to walk away and leave and not see anyone ever again.
A hand closed around their upper arm, tugging firmly.
"You mustn't just run off like that, acha.
Heli. Of course. Ahe could barely take two steps without their attendant noticing, and Ahe felt both annoyed and amused at Heli's ability to pick up on things that no one else would - and his constant presence.
"Leave me be."
"No."
Ahe turned their head sharply, mouth opening in a gesture of utter astonishment at the refusal, but no words came. Heli dragged them gently over to the edge of the platform and helped them off with an ease and a grace stemming from years of practice, hands on Ahe's waist to lift them down. Ahe wondered, not for the first time, whether it was worth it to get irritated at him, but it was very hard to muster up enough anger for a man who'd done nothing but support them for the past several years.
"I know you are upset, acha," Heli murmured, as he guided them away from the throngs of people, music ringing in their ears. "But showing a bad face in front of your people is ill advised. That is better left for when you are able to be alone."
"I don't want to be alone." The words were bitten out with more force than intended. There was a flush to Ahe's pale cheeks, and their feet had slowed the fight leaving them for a sadness and a weariness that seemed to settle too heavily upon their slender shoulders. Ahe lifted a hand and pressed it to their face.
Heli was silent for a moment, and the said quietly, "I know. And you are incredibly strong, acha. You have been strong all this time, and you can be strong now."
"But I don't - "
"I know you don't want to," interjected the attendant, and he was standing in front now, warm hands holding both of Ahe's upper arms gently but firmly. "I know, Ahe. But this is what you promised yourself to do - and him. You told him you would keep going as you always have been, did you not?"
Ahe looked away, eyes glassy, overly bright. For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them, but the sounds of the celebration were loud and cheerful just beyond the way. Heli held on carefully, and then, after a moment, reached out and drew Ahe into his arms, smoothing a gentle hand over their hair.
"You will meet again," Heli whispered, and Ahe's shoulders gave a great shudder, slender fingers rising and fisting in the front of Heli's robes.
Thrymr stands there for several minutes after the memory fades away, and the emotions are even more powerful this time, perhaps because this is the second time that he's been here, the second memory that lays atop the first. He places a hand against his chest, blinking rapidly against the flow of tears that have suddenly threatened to spill over, his heart in his throat.
And yet...and yet in spite of all of this, in spite of the fact that this memory only adds to everything that Thrymr is desperate to find out, he feel a strange sense of let-down. It takes him a moment to realize why that is.
Because he wanted to see the man called Tarren again, as his former self had wanted to see him. Because he wants to look at the face and wonder about him, try and figure out who he is, to see if maybe he's somewhere in the world that exists now, or whether he's just lost in time forever.
Because Thrymr wants to feel the way Ahe did when Tarren looks at them.
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 12:57 pm
( Backdated to December 15th / Wordcount: 1043 )
Beginning
The next time he goes back to Thrymr, he searches.
The world is old and lost to time. There are leaves and branches overtaking many of the buildings, as though attempting to draw them back into nature with them, and some have splintered and broken because of this. There is not a lot of glass on Thrymr, he's noticed. The windows are mostly shuttered and tied, and though he remembers from the first memory his attendant Heli having a pair of spectacles, it seems that that was the limited use of such a supply. Most of Thrymr is wood and twine and flora and fauna.
And beaches.
Thrymr spends the better part of fifteen minutes simply wandering one beach in particular. He gets no memories; a disappointment that he hates, because he doesn't want to look forward to them, doesn't want to feel the sense of loss that he does every time he leaves his homeworld. His feet leave imprints on the white sand and are washed away easily and simply by a smooth wave that comes up the shoreline and then retreats back down.
It makes him sad, looking around, seeing such a place deserted. The second memory showed a thriving populous of Thrymr, loud music and bright laughter, a cacophony of voices that drifted across the sky. Now there is nothing left but empty reminders and empty buildings with no inhabitants.
It's very sad. It's very lonely. Thrymr knows full well that even if it were possible, he would not be able to stay here on his own for very long. Even with his almost overwhelming desire to understand and piece together the fragments of his memories, he can't stand the thought of being alone. It makes his heart ache, makes his chest throb painfully even thinking of it, even considering it.
He continues along the beach until he reaches a field of flowers. They are of all shapes and sizes, all colors, bright and cheerful and wonderful, and Thrymr kneels down, reaching out a hand to let his fingers graze over the velvet petal of a pink one, a small smile on his face.
"Tarren! Put me down!"
Laughter rang out, echoing across the deserted beach.
"Never," came the declaration, and Ahe prodded at the broad back they were currently suspended over, gasping and squealing with mirth. Draped over one broad shoulder, their hair in elaborate, twisted braids up against their head, all they can really see is an upside-down view of the water and glimpses of sand.
"What are you doing?" Ahe cried, helplessly laughing, and Tarren's grin was sadly unable to seen.
"Carrying you away into the wilderness," he said cheekily. "What else? You're mine, aren't you?"
"Even if I'm yours, that doesn't mean you have to pick me up," Ahe gasped, but a thrill of pleasure had run up and down them at the very thought, coiling low in their stomach. They wiggled, and felt a warm hand brace against one of their calves to keep them from tumbling over.
And then suddenly they're toppled over, back onto their feet in front of Tarren, and Ahe staggered, gasping, but Tarren had already grabbed them and hoisted them up against his chest, arms sturdy around their waist.
"I thought," he said devilishly, with a grin on his handsome face. "you liked it when I picked you up."
Ahe's heart skittered in their chest. "I do," they said breathlessly. "Just - not like that - "
"Mmm. I'll make a note for next time," said Tarren and kissed them, hard and fast. Too fast, because just as Ahe was sinking into it, Tarren had pulled away, dragging them forward by one hand. Ahe ran along behind him, fingers interlacing, and tried to ignore their face was flushed red.
"Where in Cosmos are we going?" Ahe laughed, and Tarren said, "Be patient, we're almost there."
The field was just up ahead. Tarren slowed his steps once they drew nearer and grinned, turning his head to look back at Ahe with an expression of boyish delight on his face, squeezing the fingers he still held.
"Here?" Ahe asked, perplexed. "Why here?"
Tarren knelt, sifting through the grass and the flora until he straightened again, a small, delicate pink flower held in his hand. He took a step towards Ahe and then tucked it gently behind one ear, fingers sliding down their neck, under their jaw so that they could tip their face up to look at him.
Ahe felt as though their heart was about to stop.
"Just because," Tarren said, his smile tender. "You're as beautifully perfect as ever."
"Am not," Ahe whispered, but Tarren had pressed his lips to theirs again, pulling them close, and Ahe lost any denial they might once have held.
His heart is aching.
Thrymr sits now, at the base of a large, craggy rock formation that overlooks the beach. His back presses against it somewhat uncomfortably, but he doesn't care. His thoughts are far from the rock, far from everything else except the memory that has now twisted his thoughts, increased his pulse.
His hand rises slowly. Trembling fingers skim across his lower lip, as though Thrymr can taste the remnants of a ghost of a kiss left behind by a memory. His eyes are burning again, and his face is wet, tears streaking over pale, lightly freckled cheeks and leaving lines of dampness behind.
And Thrymr feels...cheated, somehow. As though he's been given a taste of something, but not allowed to have the rest of it; as though time and space are taunting him somehow, letting him feel these powerful, drowning emotions, but not understanding them or feeling them in present day. It's like some enormous cosmic joke, and Thrymr can't help but wonder why. He hasn't done anything wrong, that he knows of, and he tries hard to be as good a senshi as he can be - so why, why is he being tormented like this? Bits and pieces of something he doubts he'll eve fully understand, and it hurts.
He draws his legs up to his chest, knees bent, and Thrymr wraps his arms around them and presses his face to his knees, a sob escaping.
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 1:59 pm
( Backdated to December 30th / Wordcount: 1211 )
Time
The holidays for Auguste are spent with his friends. He does not have any intention of returning to France, because his life is in Destiny City now. It's where he belongs, finally, for the first time in his life. He feels warm and safe and happy surrounded by these people, something he's never experienced before, something he didn't even know existed.
His thoughts, however, keep returning to his homeworld. Auguste has tried not to give in to his desire to return, because so far, all it's resulted in has been pain. It doesn't matter that there is a confusing sense of love and longing mixed in with this pain, because most of the pain is the love. That's what hurts the most, because Auguste doesn't understand it. He doesn't know who this Tarren is, doesn't know how he came to love his past self, doesn't know what happens to him, where he is now, how they even met in the first place. It aches, not knowing, and yet Auguste doesn't want to know.
He doesn't want to feel this heartbreak any longer.
But there's no avoiding it. He can't pretend that he hasn't seen the memories, because as brief and as fragmented as they are, the painful longing inside of his chest demands that he go back; that he learn as much as possible. And Auguste thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he can go back and get more information, then he can stop the anguish deep within his soul.
So he returns, once more, to his homeworld.
This time, Thrymr finds himself in a vast field - the most colorful field that he's ever seen, even more so than the one on the beach. It's enormous; the ends of it stretch outwards every which way so that it's hard to discern what lays behind, the little, thriving populous a distant view down below. The field is raised up somewhat, at the base of two craggy mountains, and is one of the most beautiful things that Thrymr has seen on his homeworld.
He walks through them for a while, and though many of them are shriveled and dead, the majority of them still seem to be thriving beautifully. He doesn't know what this place is called or what it was for, but something about the field feels...peaceful. Gentle, almost, like a calming balm against his soul.
There is a tee stump a short distance away. Thrymr walks towards it and takes a seat on it, drawing his legs up and resting his arms on his knees as he surveys everything in front of him.
"Thinking?
Ahe looked up from the notebook they'd been writing in, a smile on their face."Good morning, dear heart," they said lightly, and stretched out a hand, Tarren's fingers sliding between their own with ease and giving them a gentle squeeze. "Did you sleep well? I'm sorry for stepping out while you were still asleep, I didn't wish to wake you."
"You're fine." Tarren bent his head, brushing his lips across Ahe's. "I slept very well, thank you. And I knew you would come here; the Dellian Fields were always your favorite, after all."
Ahe's cheeks turned a little pink. "You know me very well. And yes, they are my favorite, it is just...a very relaxing place."
Tarren had seated himself beside them on the grass, and one arm was looped around them from behind, fingers gently smoothing up and down Ahe's bare back, while the other was across their lap. Ahe slid their own arm across Tarren's bare shoulders, the two of them entwined as easily and as comfortably as if it was second nature to them.
It felt natural. Sweet. Wonderful. Normal.
"What are you thinking of, my love?" Tarren murmured, and Ahe turned to look at him, smiling.
"Just...this field. All of Thrymr," they said.
"What about it?"
They were silent for a moment, and then said, "I feel...very fortunate. I feel as though not many get to experience what I do, get to have what I have. It perhaps is arrogance, or maybe foolishness...but I have not felt this satisfied in such a long time. I have good people, and I have good friends, and a good life."
"It's not arrogance," said Tarren quietly. "That is a good thing, Ahe."
They turned their head to face him, their expression tender. Their free hand lifted and slid down the side of his face in a gentle caress, smoothed over his brow, skimmed over his temple and rested against the swell of his cheek, until their palm was pressed flat against it, cradling Tarren's face.
"And I have you," Ahe said softly. "Even if I cannot see you day to day, the mere fact that I have you at all is a rare and beautiful gift that I did not foresee and for which I am incredibly, eternally grateful for. You are the light of my life, my dearest man, and I cannot say that nearly enough."
Tarren's hand reached up, and when he pressed it against Ahe's fingers, his own were trembling. He rose up on his knees, and Ahe watched him, their heart pounding a slow, rhythmic beat against their chest as he mimicked the gesture, his own hand against Ahe's cheek now.
"You are my heart and soul," Tarren murmured, and his kiss was like a breath of air, like pure wonder. "And I will love you through this lifetime and all others, if you will let me."
Ahe's eyes fell shut, and there was a dampness to their lashes.
"I will love you always, Tarren, not of Crims, but of Thrymr."
When the memory fades, Thrymr is still sitting on the stump. He stays there for a long time; he doesn't know how long, but by the time he gets up, his legs are stiff and his body protests the movement after being still for so long. His head is spinning, and every step feels like it takes a monumental amount of effort.
He feels the heat in his eyes, feels the heat in his face. He wants to curl up on his side and remember the way he felt, wants to cherish the feel of those gentle fingers and warm lips and remind himself that they once existed. But strangely enough - strangely enough, the ache in Thrymr's heart has eased a little. He doesn't feel as agonizingly lost as he once did, in spite of all of the questions still burning through his mind, all of the unanswered, hazy memories, and he knows why that is.
Because even if he has no idea who this Tarren is or what became of him, even if he has no answers, he knows, at the very least, that this love between the two of them was something so cherished that it felt imprinted in their very veins. And fortunate - that was what Ahe had felt, what Thrymr feels now. A sense of overwhelming gratitude that there was even such a time that that love could have existed at all.
He still wants to know more, still needs to learn more, but at least, for now, he understands just a little bit more than he did.
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Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 3:16 pm
( Backdated to January 15th / Wordcount: 1833 )
Forever
He's been dreaming of a man he doesn't even know.
When he fall asleep at night, Auguste can see whiskey colored eyes and dark hair; can hear a laugh in his ears that isn't reminiscent of any of the people he knows, gentle and amused. He can feel strong arms around him, arms he's ever even felt before, seen before, and yet the sensation of them is so real it's almost as though they're a legitimate memory implanted into his mind.
He dreams of the man called Tarren, of soft kisses on a white sand beach that taste like sweetness, of whispered words of love in his ears that sound like warmth.
Auguste almost doesn't want to back to Thrymr; he's afraid of knowing the ending of the story, afraid to find out if there is a happy ending to all of the memories that he's been getting. The ones he has now are full of wonder and adoration, and yet there is a lurking feeling of apprehension and uncertainty that dwells in Auguste's mind; an impending sense that the happiness between his former self and the one known as Tarren will not last.
He wants it to. He desperately wants it to, because he's always believed in happy endings, and he's always loved seeing love make people grow and change into something wonderful.
But whether or not it will is an entirely different story.
He knows what happens eventually. That the war begins, that all is later lost, but what becomes of those that lived before it? What becomes of the two lovers whose souls seem somehow so intricately entwined that it seems impossible, cruel, to separate them? Auguste has never known love such as the love he felt while in those memories; has never known the sheer passion and intensity that had filled his senses each time he lapsed into them, and it frightens him, the force of it.
Is it even possible to feel so much for one person?
He decides to go back, because it's important. Because in the end, he needs to know, otherwise it will consume him.
Thrymr is as he left it. The planet is quiet and beautiful, even in its emptiness, and this time he's in what he remembers is the sanctum once more. It is a sizable room; Thrymr looks around it with silent contemplation, his heart in his chest, wondering what being here will be like this time - what memories he will discover while walking the floors of a place that was once so thriving.
Nothing comes to him the first little while. Thrymr slowly explores the place, walking backwards and forwards, opening drawers and quietly examining the contents. Hardly anything is left, but it still makes him feel sad; this was once a place of respite, of safety, and now all it is...is empty. He hates the thought of it being so lost to time, so abandoned.
Just as Thrymr is assuming that this particular trip will bring him nothing, he feels it - an indentation in the floor that feels...off somehow. Frowning, he takes a step back and glances down, testing the feel of it by rocking back and forth on his foot - and yes, he can see it now: there is a distinctly hollow sound that comes from his footstep, not a solid one. The wooden boards beneath his feet are supposed to be completely solid, and yet...
Thrymr crouches down curiously, running fingers along the grain - and there it is. A tiny hole, no bigger than a finger's width, at the end of one of the boards, where the floorboard meets the wall. Thrymr hesitates, and then reaches down and slides his finger in, tugging on it.
At first it doesn't give; it's been a long time, after all. But then, with a creak and a little snap, the board comes up, and Thrymr looks down into a small crevice - a hiding hole, about a foot wide and a few inches deep, carefully concealed.
Thrymr's heart starts to beat faster inside of his chest. There isn't much inside of the place, but this - someone has hidden things here purposefully. Was it his past self? Was it Tarren? Someone else? But entrance to the sanctum is restricted, save for a few select people, which means that it could only have been one of the two of them.
There is nothing inside the place but a small, leatherbound notebook - and beneath it, a tiny canvas bag.
Thrymr pulls out the notebook and sets it gingerly in his lap, but his attention is drawn to the bag almost as though his body and mind are working on autopilot. He cannot tear his eyes away from it, small and hardly half the size of his own palm. He doesn't know why, but his fingers are trembling as he reaches for it, pulls it out, and it feels light.
Something is inside of it. Thrymr's chest is tight, and he turns the bag over, empties the contents.
A small, golden ring falls into his palm, and Thrymr is suddenly, abruptly, drowning.
"No, no, no, no - "
"Ahe - Ahe please - "
"No - no - "
The crash from the overturned table resounds across the room. Heli jumps back to avoid it, the expression on his pale face pained, drawn. He looks as though he hasn't slept in days, months, but he remains calm.
Ahe has never seen that expression on his attendant's face, doesn't want to, doesn't want to see anything.
"Ahe - " Heli tries again, visibly swallowing hard as he stretches out a hand towards his senshi, his master, his friend. "Ahe, just - listen to me - "
"No - "
Ahe cannot breathe, cannot think. They are falling apart at the seams, breaking into glass, shattering into a thousand pieces. Bloodied fingers are clenched in their hair, turning the snow white locks into smears of scarlet, and the remnants of a broken mirror lie on the floor of the sanctum, a few pieces of red - edged glass still lying where Ahe has thrown them.
"Ahe - " Heli whispered.
"NO!" Ahe shrieks, and they are dying. The world is collapsing in on them, and why hasn't it stopped yet? Everything is over, everything is gone, the light is fading, and yet here he still is, here he still stands. Why hasn't the world simply swallowed him up, as it should have when Tarren was taken from him?
Tarren is gone. Their Tarren is gone.
It's not true, it's not true, it's not - it cannot be true -
"I will see you again, dearest heart. Until then, remember that I love you," writes Tarren's letter - the last letter.
Until we meet again.
Ahe's throat feels closed off. They are hyperventilating, breathing coming out in staccato gasps, and then arms are closing around them from behind - the wrong arms, not Tarren's, not their Tarren's, they won't feel those again, and they fight it, scream until their throat is sore and their voice is hoarse, and lash out, kick out, struggle violently.
But the arms stay strong around them, and it's only when Ahe has pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion that they realize who it is.
Heli's lip is bleeding, but he is unmoving as he holds the senshi securely, pinning him back against his chest. His eyes behind the glasses are pained.
"Ahe," Heli says softly. "I'm so sorry."
And Ahe is falling apart. Their legs give way, and then they are sinking to the floor as the grief - overwhelming, all encompassing, suffocating - begins to truly settle in, and Ahe cannot stop the sobs that are wracking their thin body, cannot stop the pain from feeling as though they have lost everything.
They have. They've lost their world, their love, their home.
Everything is gone.
"Don't - " Ahe gasps out, and clings to Heli, their face buried in his chest, fingers digging into his arms. "Don't - take him - away from me p - please - no - p-please Cosmos no - "
Heli says nothing. There is nothing he can say, but he holds Ahe a little tighter, lets them cry, because that's all Ahe wants to do, all Ahe can do.
Their world is gone.
Tarren is gone.
He's on his knees. Thrymr's shoulders are shaking, gasping sobs shaking his entire frame, and he's bent over, the pain of the past seeping into the present, into his own heart. Thrymr's shaking fingers are clenched so tightly around the ring that it makes his knuckles white.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, how long he lets Ahe's grief infuse his own. When he finally raises his head, he feels weak, and unsteady, and he doesn't want to look at the ring that he holds, because he knows what it is, what it means. He uncurls his fingers from it with a great amount of effort; they feel stiff and heavy, and then it's there, sweet and small.
It's only then that Thrymr notices the name on the front of the notebook on his lap, and it's not Ahe or Tarren.
It's Heli.
With a little hiccup, brows drawing together in confusion, he opens it.
There isn't much written; it looks to be a simple diary - not even that, really, but a log of Heli's daily tasks. But one entry catches Thrymr's eyes, one of the last ones, and he reads it silently, holding up the little notebook.
I wonder if they will ever truly be the same again. If this is something that can be recovered from. The pain is so intense that I feel it will overtake them, and it worries me. Ahe still moves forward with their duties, but they are done automatically now, without the emotion they once had, and I fear they are losing to their grief.
I wish I could do something. I wish I could do anything. Trying to get Ahe back here after visiting Crims was so difficult, and yet we could not stay there, for anyone's sake.
I found the ring; I know it to be important, yet Ahe has said before that looking at it makes them feel like they are drowning, so I have taken it, before it can be taken. I will keep it safe for them, until they are ready to have it again.
I don't want to see them like this; it hurts. Honored Knight Crims is gone from this world and has taken a part of Ahe with them.
Thrymr looks away from the journal, and at the ring instead, his eyes blurring, his vision shifting. He holds it up to his face to see it more clearly and sees, for the first time, the inscription on the inside of it. His heart seizes in his chest, and Thrymr clutches the ring, feeling the grief sink into him once more, as the tears begin to fall again.
May we meet again in every lifetime.
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