(no subject)
The Maybe is a fairly new and complex place of mine, one I still haven't quite mastered in terms of where things are and how things work. Its little towns are few and far between, and vary in terms of technology and styles of living, but the little eastern shoreline towns and farms are barely half of this place, and I keep edging westward and finding things I didn't expect. I could write volumes about this place, even if no one would read them.
Beyond the mountains with their cliffs and outreaches, and their cold, unyielding surfaces, there is a field, and in it, beings whose faces are as unforgiving as the mountain's stone. To look upon them is to set loose the whole of time itself, in all its dragging weight, and the sound of their mournful ticking is like dead things under the earth, for that is what surely awaits you if they should catch up.
(Note: Vaguely related to a roleplay Kelley and I did, where a war was taking place between the our two cities. Amard was the leader of a troupe of soldiers, and at becoming gradually more possessed by his hatred for the Savochian vampires, was unwittingly literally possessed by loose demons of the religious sort. Long story short: possessed by gods, he went bonkers, killed some people, and it was Not Cool.)
(Note of Note: Picture is just cute, not overtly romantic. Not much to it other than their old friendship, but hey, I won't stop you from thinkin' otherwise.)
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The smile that greeted him when he returned was enough to make him sell his soul away all over again - Frontier's eyes absolutely glowed with relief and joy at the sight of him, and Amard could only start lightly as he danced forward to wrap his arms about his midsection. He stiffened, hands poised to push him away, but he could not force himself to do it.
He was soiled, shamed. To touch Frontier with those hands would damn him more than he had already managed. His gods had spoken. Used him as their vessel for destruction, and left him silent and shellshocked, with memories of things he could not understand.
His frame shook as Frontier moved to pull his mask away, gasping at the condition of his face - streaked with black from every direction, pale, eyes hollow. He knew. Amard's tremors became worse at the thought of it, please, condemn me, punish me, but do not look at me with those eyes. You would forgive me, which is something I do not deserve...
Thin fingers ghosted across his face, and he was speaking to him though Amard could scarcely hear him over the buzz of his mind, concentrate on his words when he touched him so, the hands only moving away to lead him along, to wipe away the grime from his face with a warm cloth.
He felt numb, following Frontier, trailing after him with dead eyes, but with every brush of his fingers, he could relax. His eyelids would flutter shut, and Frontier would murmer to him while he cleaned his face and hands, brushed his hair back. Little prayers, old songs. The feeling of 'home' washed over him, and his hands rose of their own accord to grasp the ones before him to keep from drowning in it, and oh, he smiled; Frontier's smile was like needles in his heart, an ache that seemed to break pieces from him with every sigh and laugh. And Amard could only smile faintly back.
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