"Exile"
Note: The angsty angst that everyone's blaming Faith-mun for resulted in this. Consider it a counter point to this drabble.
He doesn't know quite how he will ask her this question. Erik knows that he will have to approach the situation carefully, will have to choose the most humble of postures and the most persuasive words. He will not make the same mistake that the other did. No, Faith is always first. Too bad he can't seem to squash the heart enough that he won't even have to make this request. His heart is foolish, despite his age, and he wants to have the songbird, despite the impossibility. At the very least, Faith can dispose of that dreaded scholar that tears Mag from his arms under the guise of lessons. The man asks for so very little and always does as told, so he figures he has a good chance at her granting just this one thing. Wrong.
Erik never gets the opportunity to sway her with sweet words. He is far too obvious. Mag's touch has left him weak, human. Alive. Faith is quicker, more cunning, and as she utters the painful sentence, doles out his fate, he wonders if he will ever see Mag again.
Time spent topside passes differently than below. Months above are years in Hell. This fact, coupled with Mag's wandering attention, creates countless hours of grief. Erik is certain that if ever the day arrives that Faith will allow him to return to his books, to her, Mag will have either long forgotten him or will hate him immensely for having abandoned her. The very thought amplifies the gnawing at his heart a thousand-fold.
But he will not say a thing to Faith. No. Never will he raise his voice in protest. It wouldn't accomplish anything. Fighting her would be an equally futile endeavor. Instead, he does his job efficiently, letting those green eyes burn with the anger he can't quite extinguish and imagining Faith in every person he tortures. It is a sad replacement, but the only one he has available.
At night he dreams of bare feet and miles of ribbons in all shades. Her voice comforts him with song. So, it comes as no surprise that he mumbles not Faith's name but "Canary."
He doesn't know quite how he will ask her this question. Erik knows that he will have to approach the situation carefully, will have to choose the most humble of postures and the most persuasive words. He will not make the same mistake that the other did. No, Faith is always first. Too bad he can't seem to squash the heart enough that he won't even have to make this request. His heart is foolish, despite his age, and he wants to have the songbird, despite the impossibility. At the very least, Faith can dispose of that dreaded scholar that tears Mag from his arms under the guise of lessons. The man asks for so very little and always does as told, so he figures he has a good chance at her granting just this one thing. Wrong.
Erik never gets the opportunity to sway her with sweet words. He is far too obvious. Mag's touch has left him weak, human. Alive. Faith is quicker, more cunning, and as she utters the painful sentence, doles out his fate, he wonders if he will ever see Mag again.
Time spent topside passes differently than below. Months above are years in Hell. This fact, coupled with Mag's wandering attention, creates countless hours of grief. Erik is certain that if ever the day arrives that Faith will allow him to return to his books, to her, Mag will have either long forgotten him or will hate him immensely for having abandoned her. The very thought amplifies the gnawing at his heart a thousand-fold.
But he will not say a thing to Faith. No. Never will he raise his voice in protest. It wouldn't accomplish anything. Fighting her would be an equally futile endeavor. Instead, he does his job efficiently, letting those green eyes burn with the anger he can't quite extinguish and imagining Faith in every person he tortures. It is a sad replacement, but the only one he has available.
At night he dreams of bare feet and miles of ribbons in all shades. Her voice comforts him with song. So, it comes as no surprise that he mumbles not Faith's name but "Canary."