The Procession [Minato, Pharos]
Title: The Procession
Author: umarekawareru
Fandom: Persona 3
Characters: Pharos/Minato, of sorts.
Rating: G
Warnings: HUGE SPOILERS for the end of P3. Seriously, don't read unless you've finished the game.
A/N: You know that writing meme that everyone and their mother did a while ago, the one that said something like put your music player on shuffle and write a drabble for each of the first five songs that come on? Well, I thought I'd give it a try. This is only one song, though, so I guess I'll post the rest when I write them. Today's song is The Procession, by Elfin Saddle (link goes to mediafire, btw).
He opens his eyes.
At first, he sees nothing. It's like the light is avoiding his eyes, or rather like his eyes avoid the light, not knowing what to make of it after being in the dark for so long. He considers the possibility that he may be indoors, but something is off. It's the breeze, he decides. The breeze is too strong. It envelops him. His body feels frozen.
He flexes his fingers slowly, trying to work some feeling back into them. His muscles protest every movement, as if they've forgotten that they're supposed to flex and relax and transport him around. The ground beneath him is soft and comforting; he palps, trying to figure out why the texture feels so familiar, so intimate.
He hears footsteps approaching. The ground absorbs the sound almost completely, but by then he has already recognised who they belong to.
"Hi," says Pharos, stops right by his side.
He wants to say something in return, like long time no see or what do you want, but his voice refuses to cooperate. His throat feels paper rough, like the walls are stuck together. Breathing like this would be impossible. He's lucky he doesn't have to.
"It's okay," Pharos reassures him, voice barely above a whisper. He can see the boy's enigmatic little smile in his head. "You'll get used to it."
He can see other things now as well. His eyes seem to be adjusting to the light, slowly, although there isn't much to be seen around here. Only the moon in the sky, bright and full and remarkably not-green. That at least is reassuring, but reassurance isn't getting him any warmer. His limbs feel like they might freeze and fall off any moment now. He digs his fingers into the ground, and it fragments into a hundred thin layers he can hold in his fist. That's when his mind catches up.
He's lying on a bed of black feathers.
"It's okay, I'm here," Pharos repeats over and over again, dropping to his knees next to him and moving him gently so his head rests on Pharos' small lap. The boy starts stroking his hair gently, almost lovingly, but his touch offers no warmth. He can't supress a shiver. "I will never leave you. It's okay."
He sits up with some effort, turns, throws his arms around the boy, clings. He's shaking even more now, but Pharos' arms hold him with surprising strength. Their grip is vice-like, protective even; he doesn't think he could break away if he tried. So he doesn't try. Pharos smiles into the juncture between shoulder and neck, and pulls back just enough to kiss his cheek.
(He's not sure how long they stay like that, but that is irrelevant. After all, they've got all the time in the world.)
Author: umarekawareru
Fandom: Persona 3
Characters: Pharos/Minato, of sorts.
Rating: G
Warnings: HUGE SPOILERS for the end of P3. Seriously, don't read unless you've finished the game.
A/N: You know that writing meme that everyone and their mother did a while ago, the one that said something like put your music player on shuffle and write a drabble for each of the first five songs that come on? Well, I thought I'd give it a try. This is only one song, though, so I guess I'll post the rest when I write them. Today's song is The Procession, by Elfin Saddle (link goes to mediafire, btw).
He opens his eyes.
At first, he sees nothing. It's like the light is avoiding his eyes, or rather like his eyes avoid the light, not knowing what to make of it after being in the dark for so long. He considers the possibility that he may be indoors, but something is off. It's the breeze, he decides. The breeze is too strong. It envelops him. His body feels frozen.
He flexes his fingers slowly, trying to work some feeling back into them. His muscles protest every movement, as if they've forgotten that they're supposed to flex and relax and transport him around. The ground beneath him is soft and comforting; he palps, trying to figure out why the texture feels so familiar, so intimate.
He hears footsteps approaching. The ground absorbs the sound almost completely, but by then he has already recognised who they belong to.
"Hi," says Pharos, stops right by his side.
He wants to say something in return, like long time no see or what do you want, but his voice refuses to cooperate. His throat feels paper rough, like the walls are stuck together. Breathing like this would be impossible. He's lucky he doesn't have to.
"It's okay," Pharos reassures him, voice barely above a whisper. He can see the boy's enigmatic little smile in his head. "You'll get used to it."
He can see other things now as well. His eyes seem to be adjusting to the light, slowly, although there isn't much to be seen around here. Only the moon in the sky, bright and full and remarkably not-green. That at least is reassuring, but reassurance isn't getting him any warmer. His limbs feel like they might freeze and fall off any moment now. He digs his fingers into the ground, and it fragments into a hundred thin layers he can hold in his fist. That's when his mind catches up.
He's lying on a bed of black feathers.
"It's okay, I'm here," Pharos repeats over and over again, dropping to his knees next to him and moving him gently so his head rests on Pharos' small lap. The boy starts stroking his hair gently, almost lovingly, but his touch offers no warmth. He can't supress a shiver. "I will never leave you. It's okay."
He sits up with some effort, turns, throws his arms around the boy, clings. He's shaking even more now, but Pharos' arms hold him with surprising strength. Their grip is vice-like, protective even; he doesn't think he could break away if he tried. So he doesn't try. Pharos smiles into the juncture between shoulder and neck, and pulls back just enough to kiss his cheek.
(He's not sure how long they stay like that, but that is irrelevant. After all, they've got all the time in the world.)