Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

summer event: june 10th - August 31st
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 The Language Of Saints And Sinners, @Sarah/Mattie | 2160BC, Babylon
Jun 8 2018, 04:23 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
2160BC, Babylon, Babylonia. The first incarnation of Loki (Nikanuur) and Matthias (Isiratuu), brothers and Archdemons and lovers in the present timeline, their sixth reincarnation, brothers and victims in the first one that began in: Babylon. Class: awilu (upper). Occupation: traders. Trade: silk, spices, pottery. Origins: Bell Beaker.
Loki:
user posted image

Mattie:
user posted image
Nikanuur rushed through the corridors of their home quietly. His feet, pattering over the cold surface, were silent, as silent as a cat’s, his body winding past rooms and long, dangling cloths draped over space acting instead of doors. Similarly to their city, even the houses were built with narrow passages. Theirs was whitewashed, two-story, wrapping around an open court that could be overlooked from the second floor, which had its open corridor wrapped by thick, strong and waist-high wall with a protective overhang that defended against the whims of the weather, and the mighty glare of the sun often standing proud overhead. Nika paused to rest his hand on the balustrade, glancing down over its edge onto the court that was empty at this time of the day-- although the constant skittering of feet on the flower below him told him that the house and its servants were out and about their business.

Their mother, as Nika knew her, and their father were definitely banded together already as the house patriarch and matriarch, even though nobody doubted that more power went to the father. His youngest sister was presently learning from the second youngest, poring over texts and their clinical, picturesque writing that told a story. Where his older sister was, Nika didn’t know. Five of them and his late hope was their mother wouldn’t think of birthing a child again. Their father’s seed, though commendable, had too much strength to keep peace in these crowded walls, and Nika imagined a reality where his home was much quieter; just him, and one another person, and the sounds of ceaseless heavy rain that wouldn’t stop after a freezing cold winter. For months it would rain.

Nika looked away from the court, missing a servant crossing through it into their room, and rushed on forward, his bare feet abandoning position. When he came on to it, he first brushed back and clung into the heavy veil guarding entrance to the room occupied by three men; a man, his wife, and the child finally growing old enough. But when Nika glimpsed in, looking over its insides tensely, he only saw one man here; sprawled on the bed he shared with his wife, looking exhausted, dormant, as though he had tired himself out after a long night of fulfilling his duty as a husband. A voice in the back of Nika’s thoughts said, this is your future. The way he tensed, barely nineteen soon and yet to be wed, clenched the pit of his stomach and eased his arm over it in a drape. He rested his hand on his hip. And held.

He stepped in.

Cautious and amused by how his entry opened the veil for the door, streaming through enough early morning sun (that announced this late six am time was ripe waking up time) that it would show the particles of dust, and light, and cast a cone of the latter on Isira’s naked calves. Somehow, seeing them like that made Nika want to stand himself against the wall and gasp. His smile, nervous, and yet gentle, shown in a subtle stretch of a mouth he’d had called a woman’s, remained boldly despite the shivers in his head, a hard, guilty agitation as he walked farther in, the cloth swinging close behind his frame and his form disappearing in the room of his brother and his wife, and their boy, that he had no right to invade for being this old already, for the roaming quality of his gaze. Nika had nothing to defend. If asked, he’d deny he had looked at Isira as though a hungry man; over his shoulders, the covers over his frame, the nude legs, his head. It rattled Nika's breath. He propped a knee on the bed, and swung forward, hoisting himself by his palms flat on the bed.

“Isiratuu,” he whispered. Trusting there would be no interruptions, and the dedicated husband was left to sleep half an hour longer, Nika leaned down to nose against his brother’s jaw, and shifted lips to his ear, and whispered--

“Wake up, brother.”

He smiled against his skin.

And tossed himself back, lying down on the spot normally occupied by Isira’s woman. There, cheeky, though with a cold, angry flare in his whimsical gaze, he rested reached out to lightly slap Isira on his shoulder, and jest, “Did your wife exhaust you so?”

It must have been a productive night. At this rate, Isiratuu would soon have another boy, or a girl, and he’d grow his family and his wife would be his greater half he could trust until the end of their life.

Nika’s heart felt nervous and cold. And coldly, testing, he smirked.

His hand curled a bit as he lifted it off Isira’s shoulder, then opened, and rested down on the same abused spot, winding down it in a stroke.

“Was she demanding of you?” he asked, something emotional in his whispered tone.
@Sarah

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 8 2018, 10:43 PM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
His name was there, in the hollow behind his ear, tones lower than he was used to and it sounded all the sweeter for it. A well beloved melody to the internal structure of his ear, it bounced about in an echo that tickled and warmed the surface of him, though his mind was still hours away from ready to wake. An arm slung over his eyes to combat the streaming of the early morning through every crack and crevice it could, like the stink of something foul when you only wanted to eat something sweet and warm— and he could have laid there for an hour longer in a semi-conscious state that allowed his mind to finally rest. A gift of serenity he’d not receive as the bed he laid in shifted beneath the weight of another, a cheeky young man who had no business but was there all the same.

The hand-stitched blankets strewn across his frame were warm and mildly suffocating though they weren't needed as the sun warmed the walls of their home to radiate and see its people warmed or rushed out in a fleeing to cool off.

A lid pried open, halfway as much as to be called such, would peer his tired face at the brother that sprawled out along his side. Sinewy and tall the younger man met his singular gaze with the same vibrant hue of spring blue. Tired, Isiratuu looked it as he offered Nikanuur a soft smile the stretch of which would hood his gaze to a close as a subtle sigh purse from his lungs and eventually, seconds later, rolled his head to the side to peer at him proper. The tug of the covers that draped over him was tight and oddly uncomfortable, the sort that shifted a leg in a propping that tented it better over his middle.

”And suppose she did,” it lacked the convincing argument of question as it lapse from his tongue in a drawn that was roughed by sleep. It sounded half as convinced of this, a convinced that he knew would have been easily disproved (however wrongly so) by the discomfort of his frame and the half hard state of his waking body.

Arm relaxing back to his side and Isira’s gaze lapsed to the ceiling to trace the patterns in the whitewashed clay as he examined the idea of Nika’s voice and attempted to rattle the sleep from his form. ”Mm,” it rumbled from his chest as a hand reached to slip a knuckled along Nika’s jaw, bumping playfully, warmly against his chin as he whispered so low it was no guess as to who the secret was for—

”You’re lucky, little brother,” his smile was warm and wide. ”You’ve no pawing wife and fussy child to waste your hours meant for sleep,” it was playful, even as it sounded seriously from his tongue. A yawn would part his lips, covered by the back of his hand, chin angled away in a moment of sleepy lids and shuttered gaze. ”If only we could all be so lucky.

“Resist for as long as you’re able, dearest Nika,”


Whispered warmly--

His chuckle was low and a few, a trio of them that ended in a hum. An arm curling around Nika’s shoulders to tug him against in a blasphemous hold that was better perpetuated by his own wife. A woman not here, gone off to tend to the feeding of their boy and some silly trip to the market for something. Isira had only been half listening if he were being honest— but he’d tug his brother close all the same, saw his cheek rested against chest as his lids refused to open for a few long moments. When his voice came again it was gusted and hinted at the verge of another languid need to yawn—

”Are you ready for today? We’ve a market trip and some other such drivel to tend to… and a surprise,”

The latter tipped his mouth, and his chin, the latter pressing cheek to rest against Nika’s forehead as his eyes yet remained at a close.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 9 2018, 04:02 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nika felt his bad mood freeze. Although there was only some warm light in the room here, he could see the exact shape of Isiratuu’s smile. It made everything in Nika’s narrow world feel warm and wide. He smiled.

She had then, huh? He killed the bad mood that inched on him to spring up. Shrugged one shoulder. And where his brother watched the ceiling for a brief instance, Nika watched him; his profile, his cheeks, his nose. There was so much about him to admire. Did his wife? Did she ever at all? When they lay together, did she trace his lips, did she call his cheeks so sharp she feared she’d cut her palm. Did she caress them regardless of this in repeats, over one and then the other until she was cupping his face in hers, feeling all the better for this threat of injuries she forced on her skin.

Did she?

Did she look at his nose, the subtle curl of his hair that looked good however it was brushed back, whether straight or with a mild, teasing waves bunching its shape here and there?

Did she?

Nika’s heart was beating wild then. He smiled at the man, too many things bright and light in his gaze. At the bump, anyway. He ducked, belatedly, grinning at him, his cheeks blushing and he mimicked some coy and half-attempted retreat as he only shifted on the bed, lying there with the contentment of a woman waking up to her husband. At least, Isira's better had. There was something foul about her name that Nika blatantly refused to say. Like it’d be severing his tongue, or perhaps salting it, drowning it in the heaviest and most overpowering spices until no ounce of its once flavor remained to remember it by. Nika stretched his legs on the bed, keeping them straight. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

Resist. His mind drew a bitter, cruel blank, his thoughts shutting down for a moment, his sweet and mature age forgotten and the threat of a marriage soon impending tossed to the far sides of every corner in the world when his eyes were closed. A world dark and colorful only when the eyes were open. A logical condition that yet suggested that left to his devices in the night that darkled Nika saw nothing but gray and things drowned in thereof, shapeless. Cruel, perhaps, to say this kind of a man often warned that if he acted so much like the sun, blinding bold and full of laughs, he’d anger their fickle gods. They’d descent and take him off as an offering to Anu. It left Nika with the hard sensation of a violent shudder, although when he considered fear, the only one he discovered related to going alone.

He’d never leave without Isitaruu.

He was tugged closer, and closed his eyes at that. Cheek against chest and Nika looked ready to doze off before the day even progressed. His arm sat draped over the hip of the man, his head shifting in a nuzzle as he exhaled, and yet again he was back to say the obvious, “No”, a bit of a question in that tone. No? “When am I ever?”

"What surprise?"


He moved, off. Moved only so he could be on the same eye level as his brother, his arm in the same position and shifting down to roll the covers off in an idle act of baring. He talked into that, too.

“Mother will point me to all the women,” he talked, a whimsical, toying lilt. "She always does." Eyes down then as he appeared to want to look contemplative, not at all with the natural air of tease that belonged to him. Would have shrugged hadn’t he torn Isira’s covers off and giggled, in glee at what he saw, “Oh, no.”

Hard and flagging against his stomach for attention, the member was every undeniable evidence that despite all the nights they spent trying to make their son a little brother or sister, it wasn’t going so well.

Nika didn’t know why it brought him such a weird joy then. He laughed, loudly, purely, in a sound that carried, and returned the covers back over his brother in a whoosh of movement, pulling himself up to lie half sprawled across Isira's body, torso over a torso at an odd angle and his brother on his back just so Nika could tease--

“She doesn’t satisfy you~”

It felt so forbidden to say that.

Ducking head, but only briefly, he’d end up perched atop his brother, one arm draped over his chest to lean against, the other hoisting him up proper with a palm to his face and Nika would stare down at his brother with wide, wild amusement and teasing warmth. His hand would end up tapping its fingers right over the man’s naked skin. One tap, second tap, and then another and another.

Nika waggled his brows just then, before appearing contented for everything happening here.

A stretch in his lips and his smile was tickled and impish.

A heat in his eyes as he found a way to free his hand from the trap of his weight and caress his brother’s sweet face.

“Should I beckon her,” he spoke. With an echo to his tone. It felt everything unbearably knowing and warm.

With the twinkle of humor deep in the sky he had in either eye.

“I should tell her her husband is in a need of assistance. I will have her lavish on you, my brother, like no other woman can.” He cocked his head, hooding his eyes in a tease, before bowing his head and bringing lips to lips.

“What will you think of then?” he questioned, winding his hand down Isira’s face-- over his neck, to his chest--

Whispered--

“When she sits atop of you like I almost do now?”

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 10 2018, 12:28 AM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
”If I told you, it’d not be a surprise, now would it,” his lips tipped then, a warm and fond tilt that saw him smiling faintly and an index fingers reaching to boop the end of a nose that only just brushed against his jaw. A small little button of a thing that charmed as well as the rest of Nika’s face so often did. It was anyone’s guess as to why the man wasn’t suffocated beneath the likes of a sea of suitors, regardless of the seeping reach of his whimsy he was a man with a family well off. A man attractive and of appropriate age, there should have been any vast number of faces lined up waiting to settle their forms beside him like he so did with Isira. A lovely warm cheek pressed against the side of Nika’s chest and it seemed only rightfully so, no matter how squeezed his chest, oddly and difficultly. In a manner than already mourned the death of a man and his youthful exuberance beneath the weight of adulthood and family.

Isira thought nothing of the chilly wafting of air, his attention, expansive and blue, peered at the man who laid beside him, his lips moving to form words after their mother and the pretty faces she continued to shove Nika’s way—

His eyes would flicker then, following those of Nika’s own, the land at the warmed flesh that lie against his stomach. Discomfort but it was nothing he was incapable of dealing with. It was an immodesty he shouldn’t have shared with Nika at all and yet it bothered him very little. A pair of growing men who’d shared a room through their most trying times and it was nothing new, to either of them, an unfortunate note to some, but for men, also a fairly common one. There and then gone and it was quickly returned back beneath the blankets it’d been hidden beneath before.

”Nika,”

It crooned in warning where it maybe should have tutted, too wont to latch itself onto the chuckle that’d not quite appear. It was a blasphemy, though perhaps one true, it was nothing that should be spoken of between brothers— nothing that should be spoken of between brothers who were at current naked and not and sharing the expanse of a singular bed. A taboo that touched his cheeks with a flush of pink as Nika teased and lean close, the warmth of his skin smelled of the night and the clinging of the bath house the day previous, of the subtle hues of rose and the perfumed spices that littered the waters cloudy when kicked up by wandering feet—

”I’d think of all the little more sleep I’d not be getting with not one, but two crying children, and a needy wife,” his cheeks bunched softly as an arm banded around his chest and flushed them in a riding of cheeks and a hug that would see him shifted and rolled to his side in a tight squeeze of the man that hovered and teased the senses. ”If only it could simply be the two of us once more. How I miss the simpler days,” hummed softly, a vibration that rumbled chest against chest as his arm loosened its hold in a release that wasn’t likely to see one fleeing from the other. ”Not that I’d not miss the embrace of Amata…,” it waned off then and there. The tight of a body was nothing that seemed to drive him in the case of Amata, though he did his duty, the state of him now suggested as much as his lips did not—

He could live without the heat of her.

”Go, see if mother needs help with the little ones, Nika. I’ll tend to myself and then we can be off~”

Nosed at his cheek and released him, arm draping languidly along the ridge of his side before he shifted to roll himself back over to press his back to the bed once more. Eyes soft and wandering over the brother with him as he was shooed so they could see themselves off in all due haste and before the sun grew too high and the heat of the day sweltered and blistered their skin—

Shoo.

His chin stated as he watched Nika peel himself away. The absence of him smoothed out Isira’s features in something he wasn’t sure how to even describe. Nor was he able to define the shift of his eyes as they pinned themselves to the subtle sway of hip, made to by the long length of Nika’s pinioned legs. Cheek rested against the bed then and he watched the man leave, however quick or slow he’d go. The sneaking of his hand beneath blankets was nothing half as coy as it should have been, nor was it as halted in its coil around the hard flag of himself and well before Nika had even disappeared into the depths of their family’s home.

Tugged in repeats and he’d not have admitted to a soul where his mind wandered, not even himself as his cheeks flushed and his breath eventually hitched to see his palm a thing that need be cleaned before he saw himself dressed and followed behind his beloved little brother.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 10 2018, 01:51 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nika. it was like a warning. Nika ignored the sound. Blinked, merely, in soft, coy, and teasing happiness as Isira mentioned children, and something in Nika’s eyes happened to darken; but you will, he itched to say, but you will, in this world at least that had him as married he most certainly would end up with two, or three more. Most people did, and even upper class was expected to follow in the tradition of expanding their numbers. Perhaps their skin was too pale, their sporadic prior homeland something that their parents did not talk of with fondness although they sang praise about their ways, but they were still viable bachelors bending to the mores of this land. In Babylon, they’d marry a woman, love not required and they’d share a home, and pray at a room in their home dedicated to their gods. Like one of theirs was. They’d have children, and help their population grow. An honorable path for any right citizen, one that already pawed at Nika for attention, and his blood, unpredictably, went cold; it ran through his veins like freezing winter.

Nika tried to shake it off. The tension that had gathered in the pit of his stomach was random. His cheek was rubbed, his expression duly confused, and warm. He blinked at his brother, feeling his heart beat out a nervous, painful rhythm. Why? He questioned. His voice was an impossible thing again; but you’d not, he wanted to say, but the idea of it, the idea that a husband would not miss the presence of a wife so dedicated and beautiful, was just wrong. He pouted when Isira rushed him off, and began to rise, still looking down at his brother--

“Don’t take long,” he said, before hopping off the bed. A last, wayward look at his brother, and he wandered out of his room.

And outside, he waited against the wall.

Nika didn’t dared to breathe. As still as a tree when there was no ill weather, he stood on the spot, breath bated, his hand over his chest right where his heart beat, as though he could stay its screams, whereas his other hand lay draped over his abdomen, suspiciously.

He knew what Isira was doing. With the fleshy sounds of his activity, and the slapping of skin against body there was only one possibly answer, and yet Nika stood rooted where he’d leaned, frozen, parched, with a look of guilt wide in his eyes. Why moisture gathered there was a mystery for another day. But why? And how had it? And why did he stand here, listening to this red activity? Nika told himself to move on from the spot. Where minutes ago he’d felt true joy, all of it had found itself replaced by a sense of horror deep in his frame. His mind swam to how a man with a man was regarded; shame, it was a shame for that to happen, warranting a public punishment.

But what if it was your own brother?

What sort of punishment lay in wake for that?

Nika suppressed the sudden need to shed tears.

He must have liked men, that was it. That was why he never looked at women with much enjoyment, and hated to imagine himself between the legs of one one future day. He had seen his older sister naked, he had seen the hint of her bush, and her heavy, swollen breasts that hung over her chest.

He had felt nothing except a cold curiosity.

Tears pushed out of his eyes, eventually.

He knew he cried. To his side he looked over the top of the wall that wrapped around the second floor. Their home was alive with noise, their servants, their parents and their sisters all meandering about to do their daily tasks. The sun burned down on his person.

And Isira was done, soon after.

Nika’s eyes opened wide. Something took a hold of his beating heart. When it pumped blood, it was many times more ferociously than before. His chest hurt, and he had lead in his feet instead of warm blood. He didn’t move. Panicked and pale, he stood where he had leaned what must have been for long minutes, thinking over every scenario in his head when he was caught here. His brother would be very right to warn him not to be so disgusting again. Maybe, being the dutiful son he was, he’d grab him by the arm and tug him, screaming to their mother. Marry him, marry him! Because he falls to depravity.

The veil parted.

And Nika rushed out of the spot with a burst of energy he no longer wasted another moment.

His head over his shoulder, staring briefly at his brother before he was a sprite that would never be caught, bolting forward with rooms to one side and the hot sun to the side. A sprite, then, of hurry and gold.

He wiped his tears and joined his family.

In the hall downstairs they waited, his mother who immediately spun in a greeting of him, fussing over his hair and looking over his face.

“You stared into the sun again,” was her reprimand.

“I did,” he agreed, bowing his head to rub at his eyes. She swatted his hand. And lowered it, although her touch was warm. She brushed his hair back again, looking over his shoulder with a wide, beaming smile as her eldest and first came down, and she greeted--

“Isiratuu.”

The fondness in her tone was unmistakable.

Although he had been a son born of duty, in the years of rearing him she had grown to adore him. Nika looked at her greeting of him, at her hands on the face of him, and he smiled, watching it.

His lips sat stretched in a smile for a few moments, eyes hooded, touched and calm despite the raging of his blood in his veins. Again, everything on his person hurt and ached. Nika rubbed the spot above his heart. And he looked up, locking eyes with Isira.

Their father behind their backs, telling orders to a servant, and Nika found his his eyes on Isira’s for a moment.

His chest squeezed so tight his heart had exploded.

Don’t tell her, he mouthed to his brother. Don’t tell her I listened, and his lips shook, his eyes wide, emotional and begging.

Still red from his crying.

He looked away, and wandered away from here. A few steps away, his father stopped him.

One hand on Nika’s shoulder, the other below his chin, angling it up.

They were going to the markets now. They were passing all their knowledge on their younger and only other son.

And choosing him a wife.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 10 2018, 11:44 PM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
It’d not take him long, the flesh against his palm eased quickly and efficiently and while his mind wandered it was nothing he’d have confessed, to anyone. The way his mind canted to something golden and blue, the high cheek bones and the streamlined face. A youthful exuberance that fluttered his middle as well as he knew his own was waning. That it had, years earlier when his life had been determined by the dedication he was expected to make his life. And he would, if it preserved the warm dimples in his brother’s cheeks and the whimsy that best described his every movement.

The swing of his legs and the the soft touch of his hands, the wide of his smile when he was excited or the subtle softness of him when he’d rested his head on a shoulder and committed himself to the moment—

It’d not take Isira long, the strokes of his hand coupled so easily with the wandering of his mind and he’d see his seed painted over his own palm in a short amount of time. Far shorter, he’d reckon, than it usually took when he had his wife scattered over his mind, or her legs bracketing his hips. With a sigh he’d see himself from the bed and his hand washed before his clothes were tugged on, their fit clean and well fitted to his frame, a picture his station. Fingers wet and run through the defiant curls that topped his head to see them tamed and brushed back before the veil about the door to his room parted and saw him stepped out. His cheeks were still a bit flushed as his eyes landed on Nika.

The boy’s eyes were wide and his feet hurried, but it wasn’t where he’d been or what his mind would piece together about what he’d done, it was the wet that touched his face and how the sun caught it in a glinting reflections before they were swept from the surface of his skin. Brows furrowing slightly and he watched, paused outside his door and watched the man as he ran off like a man with wings upon his feet. Isira’s heart beat hard and slow for a few seconds, a bleating that hurt his chest. A hand pressed against it to see the pressure relieved before he spun and followed, the well crafted leather sandals that clung to his feet making more clatter than his feet would have, though their noise was still soft and pittered even as it pattered.

”Mother,”

His tone was warm though audibly distracted as his mother bypassed his brother to press her hands to his cheeks. Isira stared after Nika a moment longer, a difficult expression on his face, wrought of concern and a lingering wonder after the reason for his tears. he desperation in Nika’s eyes would see his own shifted to meet the features of his mother, shorter and he’d needfully bend at the waist as she fussed over him. ”Mother, please,” warmer still and he stayed her hands, lips brushing over her knuckles before he released her with a question—

”Has she already left?”

His mother knew of whom he spoke, even if Isira’s eyes were on Nika again, her beaming smile was feltan heard more than he’d take actual note of it as she spun a lovely little tale of his wife and son and their leaving sometime earlier. Distractedly he’d bend as she swept a glancing kiss over his cheek murmuring a faint ”thank you” before he met with father and brother. His father was only just ending his thoughts on a wife when Isira’s shoulder stationed itself in front of Nika’s, protective even as it’d dragged itself against in a slight push that would settle them, side by side.

”A wife at the market? The same place we buy the pigs?”

He sounded both amused and offended and for no real reason he could make sense of, the latter softer and cowed a moment later as the broad of their father shifted his attention to Isira. There was no backing down in the eldest son, though duty would dictate his tongue less cheeky as his name was issued as his only warning—

”Very well,”

Issued with a sigh as a servant rushed in spouting some hurried desperation after the fleeing of half the chickens. Immediately their father was bustling by in a dash to see the livestock back where it was meant to be—

”Do you—”

Waved off and Isira would sigh once more murmuring his low ”very well” in the wake of a muttered shove to see them off to the market and joined post haste. Everyone scattering and the moment suddenly quiet, a pair walled off in a bubble soft and warm. Isira’s hand would find Nika’s, palm over palm and he tugged him along, hurrying them from the house and onto the dusty road that would see them to the market.

The sun was yet soft in the sky, nothing that would beat them mercilessly, their feet patterned across the ground beneath them until the chaos of their rushing parents to see the livestock back in pens, waned off behind them. His fingers tightened, not yet releasing the hand he clung to.

”Why the tears, Nika... mother needn't ever know.

"She'll never hear it from me, I swear it.”


His voice was warm and low as he reassured the man beside him, they needn’t whisper and yet Isira would regardless of need. Neither was there need to see the man pressed to his side, his hand finally abandoning Nika’s to see an arm around his shoulders in a soft hugging of their sides together as they walked the mile or so to the market to see after their father’s business and the silly notion of obtaining a wife like she were something as easily purchasable as was a hog or cow—

Ridiculous.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 11 2018, 03:20 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nika wouldn’t observe the interaction. He tensed as he caught wind of the mention, feeling so forbidden he’d have preferred it whispered, or he imagined it as a whisper; the woman, that woman, and speaking of women his father was saying nonsense, and Nika eyed him with the same, patient, and cold indulgent look he’d learned from his brother, the same look he had been taught to don around those who had no understanding for his person. In the depths of his psyche, doing so irked. Feeling petulant, he only barely contained a meanly spirited comment, just then Isara stepping into the situation and handling it with such a poise that Nika’s stomach tightened. He tried not to look at him, and forced his attention on their father. Quirked his brow at him, smoothing him a look of utmost calm and control.

Perhaps he should not have.

He tensed.

It was a bit later, and they were finally on their way to the market. Pointedly, Nika didn’t look at Isira as he said what he said. His eyes, dead and straight ahead were doing a tense job of pretending he was focused on other tasks. His cool, grim grimace of everything business faltered naturally when he attempted to borrow more undue credence by the jerk of his chin upwards of his chest-- the reveal of his neck, however, and the weird next shine in his eyes that followed at once, were the pair that proved he was everything but detached. He looked, in the wake of their combined, vulnerable and uncertain.

But at least he could keep up with the pretenses, if nothing else. To anyone looking his way, he’d have been example of a snobby upper class.

“There is nothing to hear, is there,” he asked in a delicate tone back. “I--”

It was the tug that did him in like a knife to his back. At once, pulled to Isira’s chest, Nika helplessly bowed his head, his featuring softening, his well-rehearsed words of protest dying, and his hair in his face, mere few strands that trickled the side of it. He said nothing. Perhaps his compliant, soft silence should read as everything that needn’t be said.

But it would not last.

It was with a flurry of motion that Nika would return back into his room when their day was over. At least, they had just returned from the market. His parents weren’t aware, after all he had taken the best kind of class from his first and foremost guardian; Isiratuu had been a great teacher, his tone often crisp, his elegance since long Nika’s and yet underneath Isira’s careful guidance groomed to something swift. He’d not be any akin to his brother in everything, he’d be a copy, he’d be a spitting image in some cases, and in most others ever resemble that burning sun that often burned the corps.

He’d maintained a face of calm.

All throughout the news he had been declared ready to for a wife himself.

She had dark hair and had stood in the distance.

She’d been shown to him, look there, the arrangement between the families mentioned to him as his father haggled with the meat merchant, selling chops for twice the size than their worth whilst the mother quietly spun around her younger boy, blowing first into his blonde hair before she got her lips to his ear and whispered--

There. The younger daughter of the silk merchant.

Iltani.


It was politics. If they tied their families, they could control most of the silk trade in the city, with the southern region of it still belonging to their third biggest competitors with only two sons too old and since wedded to wives of their own. Nika’s older sister, too, had a husband, her wedding planned for the future and now.

Now he’d have one too, a woman with a full, big chest, long, black hair and a pretty symmetry to her face that made her stand levels above the likes of Nika’s sister, though she was more on the handsome side, than gorgeous. She was sixteen, as well. Even a bit old for her age.

Preserved for the right man as well as had been Nika until he concluded-- the marriage had, in fact, been arranged years back. The children had had the rare opportunity to age up so they'd finally understand the burden they'd carry once they met in bed.

In repeats making children.

Nika imagined sharing her bed.

In his room where Nika had rushed, excusing himself minutes after their returned, he draped his arm over his stomach, and tried to process.

Tears rushed to his eyes.

His heart trembled, his stomach churned. The possible had become reality, and stood in the center of the room he’d used to occupy with his brother, Nika looked more lost than a single stemmed flower down on the floor of the market they’d just gotten back from. His eyes, wet from the moisture, tried scanning the walls for answers in their confusion, and his body, frozen solid, ached to move though had found mysterious, and vague comfort in the lack of motion. It was like as long as he didn’t move, and stayed here in this exact familiar spot, none of it could come true. He’d be alright, he’d be released from this duty because he’d just never budge from here, and with a few long blinks, he could will this from reality.

He swallowed the sob that wracked his figure.

“What is it?” he asked. He had, after all, seen it. With his back to the entrance, if the cloth draped over the middle of it would be moved, it would send the sun inside his room in a cone of color, along with a shadow of the entering person just about canceling the former.

What is it?, he had asked, with a miserable tremble in his tone.

His eyes were cast down, sad, and defeated.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 11 2018, 09:07 PM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
It was as eventful a day at the market as it always was, checking on prices and making sure business was still all in working order. It was something Isira could have done on his own and without the meddlesome hovering presence of their father, nothing he’d have labeled as such any other day. But his mind snagged and his eyes continuously lingered on the Nika as he strayed or fell behind, the bedraggled presence of him that was nothing half as vibrant as usual. A thing his father praised him for with a pat on the shoulder several levels too strong and jarring when his attention was pinned on the young man he’d seen fit to finally tame. The frown that rested on his lips spread there only after their father had wandered off and left them in the hands of Isira’s concern.

It was nothing that would be answered now, not with so many prying ears and eyes.

Isira’s chest squeezed, a longing, tired and lengthy beating of his heart would see him peeled away as they returned home. It felt bittersweet as child was plucked from the ground and wife dutifully attached to his hip, her arm slung around his waist— his eyes lingered as they wandered, stuck on the young man he left behind in the fussy hands of their mother as he wandered through the courtyard of their home, the trio long left behind and nothing but silhouettes before his eyes peeled away and he offered the woman beside him a placating smile and saw the boy at his hip back to the ground in a rushing of tiny, excited feet that would pour them out back into the wide open expanses of their surrounding yard and. Shaded by trees and boy would chase the chickens about before his mother tutted and left Isira to stand there and watch them.

Fondly.

Dispassionately.

Hands in the pockets of his cotton pants and he watched them a while, before the sounds of his parents turned his ears back to the house.

His mother at his side and she took the other, adorning him as his wife had though her presence was well known and warm as she lamented over Nika’s whimsy. ”Mm,” hummed as his arm draped around her shoulder. Her words would see him frown eventually, Amata stationing herself on his other side, hands clasped before her as they all watched the boy rush through the tended grass, patchy this late in the year and beneath the unrelenting heat. ”He’s not peculiar,” the son tutted at his mother, her frown as displeased as Isira’s tone had been.

”No?”

”No. He’s simply, Nika,”

It was laced with warmth, the gentle lines beside his eyes gathering to sew him through with warmth.

Fond.

Passionate.

Their mother looked half convinced and half not, the former due to the tone and the spread of Isira’s smile that her own face mimicked as he pulled away, brushing a kiss along her temple and one against Amata’s lips, the crook thereof. ”I’ll talk to him, look after them,” punctuated with a hum as he squeezed his mother’s shoulder and slipped himself off, leaving the pair of women to look after the boy as he did as he was always bade, however much this was his own choice or not, to look after his younger brother. A duty driven by a passion he had no real means of understanding as he climbed the stairs to the old room they’d once shared.

Veil lifted and the emotional tumble of words from Nika’s mouth would see to his frown and the release of the veil. The cone of light there and then gone as his feet brushed forward to see him stopped just behind, hands curling around shoulders in a squeeze that warmed his heart and clenched his stomach oddly.

”Nika,”

Crooned and stepped forward. Chest to back and arms about his shoulders, Isira stood himself there, cheek to cheek and staring at nothing in particular, nothing special.

”Shhh, I’m here,” leaned against, in a motion that swayed them ever so slightly. ”Everything will be okay, little brother~” His voice warm and he’d step back and see them faced, hands shifting to see Nika’s fae wiped clean in a diligent tending that hooded his eyes and creased their corners in a soft smile. Thumbs over cheeks and his shoulders would be squeezed again, in tandem, up and together like he meant to squeeze some bit of happiness into his frame.

”Let’s get out of here, for a while. I have that surprise for you still,”

Stepping back and he’d motion in a need to see Nika following—

”We can talk on the way... out of meddlesome earshot,”

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 12 2018, 02:09 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Nika.

Nika didn’t move. Standing where he had been found, he was a statue for the moment, he was a home within a home because in his mind, nobody could move a home. You could take it down and destroy it. You would not move it. He closed his eyes. I am a home.

He sniffled.

He tried not to, a promise he made to nobody, as nobody was here to listen. Sniffled. Because Isira’s hands were on his shoulders, because he was here, because he was here… because he was here, and it made the pit of his stomach unpleasantly flip, and his heart clench. Didn’t Isira remember earlier today? Was he truly so bound to his duty he would ignore when his own blood and flesh was this sick, incorrect thing? Nika would not turn his way.

He tried not to let out that shudder that passed out his lips at the touch of their figures.

His lashes fluttered.

They remained opened in a peer afterwards, and he was standing still on the spot, his arms long by his side and tense there. He was focusing on some blank spot ahead, but his vision kept blurring, his mind dancing back. Isira had such a lovely tone, was it true that his wife by the mane that Nika never put on his tongue like he didn’t the clay or the stones found on any path, was it true that she didn’t adore it the way it deserved? Was it true that she didn’t brush through his hair the way earned? Nika hadn’t seen it. They might have reserved these affections for the private of their room, but Nika hadn’t seen it.

He hadn’t seen it.

And their boy looked already so much like his father.

More tears rushed to his eyes.

He turned his head when Isira moved them.

He didn’t look at him. Don’t make me!, he was mentally screaming. Don’t look at me.

His eyes remained screwed shut, his breaths shaky. Isira’s tone was so gentle. What if he opened his eyes, though, and his expression was different? It may have been a rouse. He had never known Isira to lie, though. It may have been a rouse. Slowly, Nika opened his eyes.

His lashes were wet.

His vision as well.

“Earshot,” he echoed, as though he wasn’t sure he had the means of making that happen. He looked right, he looked left, and he shuffled a bit on the spot. And started off, with his closed eyes. They opened a second later.

He found the energy for this action. He wasn’t sure how. He felt Isira’s hands on his face like they hadn’t left. Heard the soft echo of his tone like it was the only music he’d ever hear now until his final days. He heard and felt it all in a sensory combination of experiences that felt more punishing than anything. The way of the world for slapping his cheek for not looking at Isira when he could have.

I will now, he thought, nervous.

I will now, he added into his thoughts, and he screamed it with passion and a loud, strong tone.

I will now!!

He tagged with. He looked up at his brother almost pointedly. The sun would dry Nika’s eyes quickly.

Already, the trails they had had had evaporated, and his mind jumped quickly between exit routes out of here, going over each and every he had tackled in his years of sneaking out without anyone’s notice. They would go down one, as well. It was like making a childhood dream come reality.

For a moment, despite knowing it was nothing but his fantasy, Nika pretended that they were running away from here. If they did come back, and they could come back, it’d be to being either younger, or some other version of themselves that wasn’t married, neither man a slave to how the legs of his wife held him in place. Or to the child she popped out months later from between them, small, innocent, guilty of no crime safe for wearing the blood of the brother that Nika had never wanted bound. They sneaked out of their house, at least Nika saw it as sneaking, walking out of there through the front door and he rushed out then, as though the warning shouting of his mother would summon him otherwise like lasso. The streets were still full.

And narrow, with buildings on either side of them and their windows either lacking, or far high up to will a climb. Pausing to let Isira catch up, Nika smiled as they stood side to side, and despite how the world around them had stood high buildings all around, the sun found a way to shine down. It touched his eyes.

Blue.

They stood, facing each other, and Nika forgot the world.

“Lead,” he said, and he walked with his brother as that happened. Between the buildings, past the people, their numbers only casually beginning to thin, and into the parts of the city that were beginning to distance them from its economic and financial center. Nika watched Isira’s back with bated excitement. His hands balled.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, though it sounded like a bark. Too much excitement in his tone there. He reached out. Grabbed the hem of the man’s clothes, fisting his hand in it as though he’d beckon Isira to stop.

He didn’t.

Nika’s smile was mischievous, and a forbidden degree of warm. In its pinning state on his brother, it was definitely wrong.

“Is it the market?” he guessed, pretending he didn’t know they’d missed it a while back.

“Is it the baths?” he asked, pretending the same.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 13 2018, 12:14 AM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Leaving them behind then had never felt a freer experience to Isira’s mind, like a pair of hooligans rushing from the scene of their most recent crime and surely they were rushing, in every need to be out of this place with the objects they desired from within its walls; each other, to be sure. His lengthy stride wouldn’t hurry even as his heart and stomach were steps ahead and running, tethered to the wings at the heels of his little brother and his own need to flee this place like it’s caught itself on fire. In his hand sat a burned match that would soon crumble and leave no one the wiser, save for perhaps the soot upon his fingers.

If there was any, Isira would see them diligently cleaned and with every loving and careful care he could muster for a man he would defy his mother to call anything the same small squeaking bit of perfection she’d birthed into this world.

And he was.

And he was every bit of that same innocent and perfect soul.

Isira watched him as he rushed forward strides and ways ahead of him as he finally breached the house and stepped into the sun. Knew then that it caught his hair just like it did his brother’s, that golden halo that sat upon his brow, all tousled and lovely and shifting about in the warm arid breeze of this place. The streets were bustling and he’d quickly catch up to the younger of his kin as his feet finally slowed and the methodical and careful steps of his own fell into perfect time with Nika’s own. Standing there a moment, their feet close and the world slowed and quiet— a glance to either side and Isira’s knuckles would brush along the jawline of his brother, a sweeping gentle touch that would have caught glances had there been anyone to look their way. A secreted moment that curled his lips and shone his eyes shades darker than Nika’s then.

Warm and molten.

Turning and his feet shifted them into motion as they skirted around buildings and towards the edge of the city, in a direction they never went, because of danger and it’s lacking proximity to the market they stuck to closely to. But they wandered, Isira’s hands in his pockets and his face brimming with mirth as Nikas attempted to guess, the soft tug of hands at his hem would smooth a low chuckle from his throat as they slipped from the hold of the city center and into the lower class area, their houses smaller and almost sad in comparison—

”No, no, neither,”

Still he’d offer Nika no such answer as they wandered quickly through the dirty streets on the far side of town. It’d open into a field, and even this was sad to look at, the crops all in some state of peril and thirst, but beyond stood a forest and it was there that Isira pointed them, jumping over rows of sewn cotton and corn and they’d rush through the tall swaying wheat as they brushed up to the edge of the forest. It looked mottled and dark in the span of only a few fee that could see as the underbrush thickened feet inward.

”You mustn't tell anyone, this is our secret~”

Crooned to the man as his hand found Nika’s and his slow meandering pace quickened to a rushing, skipping thing that slipped them through the brush, everything that clung and grabbed hold of them as they did. Snagged and still Isira rushed them forward in a need to hurry, so suddenly that it might have been stated he’d borrowed Nika’s personality for the moment. Poured his excitement into his own limbs and they ran for ways and ways.

Nearing the spot and Isira stopped suddenly and turned his attention to the man beside him, pulling him to an equal stop before spinning himself around to press to Nika’s back, hands over his eyes and lips brushing against the shell of his ear. ”Close your eyes,” waited a moment before murmuring a soft ”are they closed?” and then his hands slipped and he walked around, placed himself in front of before Nika’s hands were clasped around his hips. Lead them forward once more with a whispered mention to keep his lids drawn.

A secret of only the best proportions.

When he stopped the sun was streaming down and the land smelled wet and verdant—

Fingers uncurled from his hips, Isira stepped forward and to the side, Nika’s hand still clasped for a moment.

”Okay, open them~”

And the world was wild and wet then, the little bubbling oasis in the sandy ground cropped ‘round by the forest and it felt perfect and free then as Isira’s fingers slipped from Nika’s and released him into the world at large. Hands tucked back into his pockets, Isira watched his brother as they world opened itself in a bright and shining perfection that rang true of magic. A little pool of it not but dozens of minutes away.

His smile, if peered upon then, would speak of of their freedom in such a fond and deeply resounding manner.

”A secret just for us—”

It looked like the beacon of love sat there on his face and for only one other person.

”Nika~”

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 13 2018, 04:24 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
No, neither, and Nika widened his smile at that.

“Of course,” he managed to say, simply smitten with the view of his brother for a moment. It was the most forbidden memory, the one from a moment ago. Isira’s hand on jaw and still, minutes later, it was felt where Isira had touched him. Were Nika the type, he’d have touched it too, a palm right above the charred spot. His eyes closed to the chuckle.

He wouldn’t talk much throughout, or even not at all, engaged in every detail of their escape and acting as though by the act of talking he’d be interrupting the flow of the moment. The way that the buildings were passing by them, the way that the part of the city they were in clearly reflected in its appearance, and even those of the people that walked here, how the sun had more of a naked access here where the buildings were shorter, and how the smell was also different, less human and more naked world. They rushed past the fields of corps, and Nika was both excited for where they walked, and even sad, randomly, as he fought to look behind himself never, ever again.

His own need to return was as dead as the lamb they’d had for dinner yesterday.

The forest of palm trees had been apparent for a minute, and yet Nika hadn’t hoped to enter it. Like a land of the forbidden, it looked perfectly uninviting and dangerous, and to him, that made it inviting. He bated his breath, looking over at Isira with a look of excitement-- and he held hands with his brother, so tight he never planned on letting go. Nervously, he swallowed. Right ‘round the lump in his throat.

Close your eyes.

It came so suddenly, Nika didn’t even recall the moment that Isira stood himself behind him, hands on his eyes. It held his breath. Again. He blinked, and obeyed, fluttering ‘em both shut, his breath still to be released, his body angered for the lack of breathing and the breath released in noiseless, staccato gasps.

Isira, he almost said then and it’d have been the most impious whisper ever said.

He rushed to answer.

“Yes!”

The shoes were in the way.

His hands on Isira’s hips, he was the blind following the lead of another, seeing flickers of light in front of his person though keeping the eyes shut, stubbornly so. He batted away every naughty need to look before Isira said it was okay. They finally reached the place--

The air smelled a bit wet.

Open them~

It had to be a dream.

Sitting in the nest of all this genuine greenery, the little pond in its heart, earning it the name of an oasis, it shimmered with an actual and tranquil life. The air around it was scented pleasantly by the untouched waters that lay in the pool of it, and the surrounding greenery, with trenches of green everywhere they looked just added wilder character to it. It made their sandy, often monochromatic world seem like something impossible.

Nika walked in closer-

He gasped.

“Isira,” he spoke, and he rushed towards the water and knelt at its edges. He scooped a bit of the liquid into his palm.

Drank from it.

Stood up.

Looked around himself and spun them. Arms out and open. His eyes closed.

Isira, he had the want to say again.

Instead, he toppled back.

Clothes on, he was soon wet as a cat, landing into the water with a loud splash. It disturbed its surface.

He was submerged for a cool second, before standing in its shallow water, waist deep and standing himself with a swing of his figure that sent the water on him soaring through the air above in an arch of shimmer. His hands were at his face, feeling the cheeks. He exhaled.

Tore his clothes off without the involvement of any literal tearing. It was discarded, tossed aside on the bank of the oasis, first the top and then the bottom as they hit the green ground with an actual noise. Heavy from all the water. His shoes were afloat. Pushed to the shore too.

He hit the water again, tossing himself back like he’d want to float up there.

Submerged for a second or so before out again.

He shook his head, side to side, for a long seemingly time. Slowly. And slowly. His hands on either side of his head though away from the skin, so he could hit them with the rain of the water that he shrugged off himself. Just like that. He walked towards the bank of the oasis, a slow step at a time, a sway to his frame until he was out. When he stood there all naked, it was in the embrace of the water taking a while to drop off his frame, it was in the hug of this cooler hair, in the shine of the sun, in the shadow of the closest row of trees heavy over him, bending like an overhang.

He knelt himself down on the ground, and stretched himself out. On his stomach lying first, rolling in the green surface until it stained his skin in places. It tickled over his neck, and everywhere.

He turned on his back.

His legs, stretched long, dipped his toes into the water, and Nika pleasantly shivered.

He chuckled, too.

It rang like a song.

Laughing suddenly and happily, he rolled again to the side, closer to a bigger growth, grabbing its stems to bend them his way like a pillow he would hold beneath himself. He smelled, all of them.

Eyes closed.

He would release them, a blade of tall grass at a time, not seeing how they sprang again upright. His eyes, as they weren’t seeing anything much, blocked off vision so he could focus on the sensation of the water drying on his naked person. So he could feel how the sun hugged him, and the smell of all this vivid greenery.

He smiled, into all this. The purest and cleanest smile he’d ever managed.

He turned on his back, one leg pulled up to his chest, bent. The other stretched long. His arms on either side of himself, his breathing heaving, louder.

His smile present, his eyes closed, still or again.

A second passed.

And happily, he began to laugh. The sun, the water, the smell and Nika arched his back, laughing away softly as he did, possessed with mirth.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 13 2018, 07:28 PM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Nika’s gasp was everything sweet and effortlessly there, a little breeze whispered through the air at the behest of his deflated lungs. How such a soft noise could ever fill his chest with so much discomfort Isira wasn’t sure, but it grew tight then, a deep and resounding tight that wanted to cut off his air. He’d continue breathing, though the intake was slow and methodical, an almost background operation that he’d not note as it grew shallower and softer, the rest of him attuned to this man so well he’d not be interrupted in his watching, not even for the act of breathing.

There was everything like joy to coat the man as he rushed forward and eventually say himself plunged into the depths of this little sun-warmed pool, something degrees cooler all the same, and wet and filled with little pebbles and smooth sand. It was a little secreted place the likes of which Isira had only seen a few times in his life and never this close to their home. How it’d been kept secret all this time he wasn’t sure but in this moment it was everything perfect— even more so than the first time he’d found it, a moment which widened his eyes and beat his heart to the sound of longing. Longing that Nika had been there with him to stumble forward and fall into this place like a child planted themselves face first upon the first attempt at walking.

It was made all the more so now by the exuberance that was Nika.

Stood off and back from the scene, coated in the shade and Isira watched like the protector over something sacred, a statue set there to ward off all evil as it slung forward with its grasping dark fingers and red eyes. He’d not move for long whiles not until clothes were thrown and even then, minutes later. Saw them all righted and stretched out across the rocks to one side of the pool, set there to dry in the sun so as not to cause Nika undue issues when he saw himself clad again.

He looked a golden haired sprite then, flitting about the oasis in nothing but his skin and his mirth.

It patterned Isira’s heart in a manner he’d depict as odd, but also, beloved.

He’d move then and only then, when Nika stretched himself out across the bank, his body hugged by the carpet of grass and everything wild and emerald. He looked gorgeous, a thought that tempered and softened Isira’s mind as his feet displaced and carried him closer, carried him near and deposited him next to. Knelt there, bending low, beside and too close, hands bracing against the ground to either side of his head and lips pressed to Nika’s forehead in a soft caress that brushed them both over in a warm pinked sensation that bespoke of love. The world felt war and wonderful as his lips stretched a smile against Nika’s skin and his frame shifted to stretch itself out beside. Depositing him in a manner that painted them there, beginning this moment as they’d begun the day; side-by-side in a world soft and filled with wonderment. A world that washed all his worries away and slung an arm beneath Nika’s neck and across his shoulders. A pillow that drew lazy patterns against his shoulder as he laughed and giggled—

It was a sound that tossed the pit of him into a frenzy he couldn’t describe.

“One of the donkey’s startled some weeks ago, she found this place and then I found her,” depicted the story back, their father too busy to chase after valuable livestock and so Isira had gone, hacked his way through the forest to find this little piece of heaven. “It was darkening, the day, and this little hollow was strewn over in stars. I wished for nothing else but that you’d see it then. It was an impossible dream… for whiles at least,” his tone murmured, gentle and lilting as it swayed from his tongue like a lullaby in the middle of the day.

His arm hugged Nika closer then, urging him to a repose that pressed him against Isira’s side as his eyes wandered the gentle sway of the palm trees overhead. Their wide green leaves were everything shading and magical. Fingers that clasped over this little place like even the gods themselves anted to keep the world at bay, to keep their favored children safe and innocent within the careful fit of their palms.

“You’ve shed too many tears today, Nika,” his gaze lapsed to the side in a wash that settled blue over blue, smile warm and wandering, a slow meandering thing that would eventually part to peek the pearls of his teeth. “I do hope this helps,” his smile eased away a bit as Nika’s hand was captured, palm pressed to the center of Isira’s chest, the cotton that slung over him parted gently to gap, allowed skin of skin as the beat beyond tattooed itself into the skin of his beloved brother. “Perhaps you can feel it? The breaking of,” eyes glanced down where his heart resided, where their skin touched and warmed. “Perhaps not… it does,” informed in a tone whispered, that saw his eyes back to Nika’s own, his smile stretching once more.

“I love you. More than the others, more than them all,”

Stated so simply and easily, a fact made as such, in a tone secreted and just for one.

“My dearest Nika. I wish you’d not cry. I wish the world understood you as I do,”

Fingers squeezing the hand pressed to his chest and he’d release the hand, his hold loosening to see it off it was wanted to be.

“The world isn’t good enough for you. Only this place—” his gaze lapsed to the whole of the shade that swayed above them, it saw his smile gentle and warm itself— “only this place and its green and cool, its gentle magic… only this will ever be good enough for the likes of you,

“My sweet boy~”

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 14 2018, 03:42 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Some distant voice in Nika’s head said to warn Isira against joining him.

His eyes, already heavy, fluttered, and shut, and then opened, the kiss received with every compliance of a child beneath the bend of their mother-- at the core of him, however, Nika felt everything red and not childish. His breathing paused, held, and then resumed, increased. He opened his eyes, watching the familiar shape of Isira’s features with a boldness that almost didn’t become person. It was also the most him thing to do. He watched as his brother laid himself down on the ground next to him, belonging there despite the cage of his clothes. Nika himself would be quiet.

He had ceased his laughter a while ago. Watchful, and silent, he observed his brother by his side where the man had lowered himself, in an embrace of green and the colors of this mystical and isolated land. Nika didn’t doubt others had discovered it. It was exactly because it was so rare and so stunning that there were no rumors about it. He feared, immediately, that their privacy was short-lived. His features didn’t reflect it.

Donkey, and which?, Nika wanted to ask, in his mind going through their names. He would be the fool that named them. One and another, he was shouting their names into his thoughts, his eyes, hooded, and low, cast over with the appearance of heavenly calm, a mild twitch of a smile on his mouth, keeping low. It was such a tale, such a story he wanted to have been told when they were children. Full of fortune, and luck, and excitement and a sense of marvel that immediately widened his smile by the lick of his amusement. He nodded, somewhat, on his side and pulled close to Isira, and looked like he’d rubbed face over the arm under his head, cheek over the skin it used to rest. A second later, his calm froze, and fell.

Eyes wider, and emotional, they began to shimmer with unshed moisture, slapping them in reds all over from one corner to another. He didn’t cry, but he also didn’t blink, and he also looked down, and eventually screwed shut his eyes. The song of his brother’s heart was surely punishment. Nika began to shake his head.

No, no, don’t talk, don’t talk, although he didn’t say that. He looked up-- up, met eyes, and made a face, and stayed like that, as though Isira’s words had had a forbidden and unlikely freezing effect. When Nika searched his brother’s smiling face, surely it was to find his answers there. Then, again Nika ducked his head.

What to even say?

My sweet boy--

He shuddered, and had to stay silent.

“It doesn’t make it better,” he explained, in a voice that was respectful but small. He didn’t bother to hide his own anguish, or its stubborn push to his lilt, suffocating it in a taint that Nika would have admitted sounded ugly. He swallowed, nervously. His hand remained on Isira’s chest.

Where it was presumed to belong.

He curled it.

“I think of the wife I’ll have,” he said, a tremble in there, “and I think unhappiness. You dedicated yourself to this life but this life isn’t where I see myself. I see you in my future, and I see us together. And I don’t quite know why…”

He shook his head--

“I… don’t…”

He looked up, a vis-a-vis that filled Nika’s eyes.

And I don’t know why, he thought to himself, his eyes on Isiratuu then. And only on this man. At once, Nika’s stomach clenched.

I love you. More than the others, more than them all.

Nika’s eyes went all soft.

“Oh,” he began, in a defeated, warm tone. He smiled to match it, and spoke, “I guess it makes sense,” he said, a mysterious it that hadn’t yet been given shape in his head. It. It made sense. For he looked at his brother and he saw a man. Nika knew this was the first time he was letting himself fully feel what he’d been feeling for all of eternity. Right at the bottom of his stomach, in the chest of his, making it feel tight and shaky.

Isira was a man. And Isira had been a man for a while. What did it matter, Nika argued, they were brothers? He had noticed his manhood a while ago. Isira stood so firm and so strong, he had the body that dried any mouth of any woman who quaked with some unfathomable urge that both spread and opened her legs in turns. He had a fierceness on him, and it was cold where Nika’s was all heat. Order, purpose, and duty were sworn to him, his second skin. He walked with his back to the pandemonium of the lower-ranked, shaped far too exactly not to attract. He reminded Nika of a house, often, something worth your time and presence. Or a piece of pottery well-worked on, with a smooth, unblemished surface that pointed to your hard work, and intricate paintings with their limited options.

He reminded Nika of everything good in the world. Arousal stained Nika’s vision, too young yet to stand the object between his legs.

What did it matter?, he asked again, that they were related? They had come to this world from the same man and woman, and had grown together, and shared the same bed until Isira was too old and had to be given to a woman.

What did it matter they were men, too? In some parts of his mind, Nika wanted to figure out how it would work, and he knew with the startling immediacy of someone who’d indeed learned how to hide he was listening to words not meant for his mind.

He knew, and he ducked his head.

He knew, and this knowing made him replay this course of thoughts, from the last to the first until he faced that reminder of Isira being a man, and his own careless abandon for his blood.

Nika looked up with horror.

Only pride, the one and the same he shared with his brother and their parents, stopped him from confessing what was on his mind. He looked into Isira’s eyes, however, with an understanding that made his own seem pale and wide.

He clenched his jaw and swallowed it all down.

He failed.

“I will not marry her,” he said, as he lifted his gaze.

“Though you are my brother, I only adore you. My heart is yours. And my body will be too.

“I will never lie with another person.”


He swung himself up upon those words, looking over the surface of the pool, with wonder, and horror. If he was searching it for answers, too, maybe he’d be luckier. He made a face, soft--

And then he sobbed, in defeat. His hands to his face and it just hit him. He collapsed, immediately.

His body whole, his mind can’t have said it. It was haunted by the images of his brother, and the way he had permitted himself to feel his disgusting attraction filled him with images he had never thought of.

He saw scenes of intimacy, he saw himself wrapping his arms around Isira and tasting his lips. He saw himself by the man’s side, the only partner Isira needed.

Though Isira’s confession had been warm he deserved more than a leech like Nika. Nika fell into the deep hole of conviction Isira deserved more.

And that despite this, Nika wanted him with a selfishness that he had let loose and there was no holding it back.

He wanted him, as his and his even legally. Should they marry? There was no world where they could. Could they run? Nika was split. With one side arguing Isira deserved a world with a wife and lovely children who’d appreciate him eventually as had Nika, albeit sans this taint.

But the other side, it didn’t care. Mine, it screamed, he’s mine, mine and mine alone! It is me he loves.

ME, AND ME, NONE OTHER!


And perhaps there lay the core of Isira’s suffering, that he loved wrongly. Nika was met with a discovery he had not anticipated. His sobbing, gross and ugly, stilled.

I want him, he thought to himself.

If I cannot have him, I will not have anyone else, he added.

I cannot have him, repeated.

Nobody will have me, also added.

And if I am not to be had, and he cannot be had by me…

There would be no world where Isira was burdened by the whims and stubborn of one brother.

Nika found himself staring at the surface of the water. So young, so innocent, so beautiful.

A huge grief struck him, and the sense of injustice as he bade it a farewell that he had no want to leave in their parting.

I don’t want to go, he began thinking, I don’t want to go.

I want to stay, and love, and bathe, I want to be here!!!

But,
his mind whispered.

There is no place for you here.

Not even
, Nika himself added, by his side…

Loudly, he wept again.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 14 2018, 06:04 PM
93
posts
1964 Archdemon Luxury Hotel Owner
The Corruptor
A kiss like never before. Somehow you open the door, to how I feel inside. Blood red sunrise. I'm burning fast, I'm in love with you. And every time I move close to you. There's a fire in the room.
Hell
Loki-sexual
obsessive // shipped w/his brother
Mattie / Ninian

awards

clandestine corruption
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Isira’s face fell almost immediately, such a sad and concerned moment for the man as his brother lamented this whole place and this moment, helped approximately nothing. It was understandable in a sense though there hung no context there before his eyes to better the moment with anything like clarity. It was still something Isira knew ran deep, it always did when it came to Nika, a man who felt more and expressed more than most people were ever privy. A man well before his time and in an era that shunned him for what he was and what he wanted to be. His features fell though, a frown that looked pained. A man wounded by the upset of his brother, a sibling he was too close with to ever not feel offended by the cowardice the world offered him in constant repeats for the audacity he had in challenging everything.

A world wrong where the man himself was clearly right.

Oceans of blue situated on the hand upon his chest as it curled and settled there like it belonged. Longed to fuse itself there and never leave and it might have been his imagination, or so Isira would think for long moments before Nika spoke in anything like clarity. It was blasphemous and even as it came Isira knew he’d not rebel against it. Would not see it painted there before him and balk in a view he’d claim hideous and wrong. A sunset vibrant and he understood what it was and how it colored the world, how it colored Nika were he to stand himself before it. In the eyes of the world it made his black and silhouetted, the world vibrant behind him in every manner of color soft—

But the world had always perceived him as a being wrong.

Isira saw him from the other side, one painted over in the same context as was one of the most gorgeous of natural sights. All pinks and yellows, tones golden and rosy, royal and purple and the every expanding dark of the navy night.

I see you.

It began and ended there.

It was everything he understood and nothing he could disprove, a fact made so factually he dared anyone to disprove it as anything but the truest of true. A color primary and in that moment, though it was slow and steady and nothing that raged in the pit of him beyond the unsettled fluttering of wings against the walls of himself— it shone itself as the color red. Pure and simple. The color of love. Of lust. Of everything warm and heated and soft and gentle.

Of passion and one that would have damned them both had it been anything Isira could rightfully latch himself to, to feed himself into it and surely they’d be cast to the streets where they’d maybe live happily, in their little hut built of poverty and shame. But they would be happy, the underlying structure of them would be, he knew. But duty… his mind cried it like a babe wailed into the night when it grew too cold, turned away by society and everything taken from its immediate surrounding. A child abandoned. He was a man born of it, duty, one that couldn’t set aside the notion for the simple sake of himself. But it’d never been himself he’d done this for, not really. He’d never understood it fully until the moment Nika cried out in such a huff that the world narrowed down on this blasphemer—

“Nika,”

It hissed as his hand clasped over the other man’s mouth. Wanted so badly to see the words stuffed back in, not for himself but to ensure the world didn’t strike him down in a bolt of lightning as they rested there in the grass. It was a hold soft in its clasping, his eyes imploring gently after the man’s silence. Paused them both in the wake of it, waiting for the gods to answer, for the village they lived within to come racing with fire and pointed sticks in hand. Surely someone had overheard as he’d shouted it in a voice so booming in Isira’s mind that it couldn’t have been missed by anyone.

“Nika, I—….”

But he was gone then, sat himself up and in the wake of him Isira had nothing. He also had everything sat there on the tip of his tongue.

I know

I can’t.

I adore you, Nika.

I feel the same.

I can.

I will.

I love you.

I—

It made none and every sense in his mind as he struggled with it then and there, his person left behind to lie there in a daze that stared up at the sky, just off center to avoid the sun, though he knew not why. It’d have maybe nee kinder to burn the whole of his vision from their sockets. See it gone so he’d have no more duty, cast out like a leper and without vision… he’d never see the man beside him again, but he’d not need to. Even then as his eyes lapsed over the jut of his spine and the manner in which it wavered in his fit of sobbing, the narrow and sleek of his form that began at a wide and ended in the narrow of his waist—

He needn’t see him again.

Isira knew him too well to not know him, even if he saw nothing but black.






The moment had been soft as it had been eye-opening and while their time had lapsed into holding and murmured words meant to soothe, not each other but the moments that would come— an quiet promise after another promise, that things would be alright. That he’d make it so even if he had to strangle it from the world around them. The moment had been soft and even so society didn’t strike them down as they reentered it. Neither did it embrace them as they were meant to be. Duty was still there, stood there in the door of their family home like a woman scorned as it stared from behind irritated and haughty eyes. It would see them parted for days, as would the preparations of everything Nika had sworn not to see through.

A family excited, where two were not.

Were two labored under the weight of a love dictated wrong and abhorrent.

There was nothing so wrong about them that Isira would have balked at the opportunity that cast him back home, back home to the man who’d been left behind as the women all flocked to this lovely dark-haired girl. Their father dictated duty be done and so the one left behind—

But so too was ledger, all scribbled over in dots and dashes and Isira’s feet were fleeter and their father distracted by patrons in the local market. The time was his own and he’d see himself home and cast through the doorway without a second thought. The floor wet from its cleaning and it smelled of damp earth, a smell that both reminded and haunted him in kind. Stood in the center of their home, its roof missing there and the sun hugging the surface of his curls as his voice rang through the open hallways—

“Nika~”

Slipped from him even as his feet shifted to the clay stars that would see him up, and up seven more times before he was spat out on the second floor.

The house was quiet and the name upon his lips was echoed once more, softer and quieter as he wandered in search of his golden haired brother.

--------------------
user posted image
Jun 15 2018, 05:27 AM
140
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
They’d bring her dowry. It was like something in his head, quite like the ringing of a very big, inelegant bird right next to his ear. Dowry. Nika would end up helping around the house more than would ever be remembered. He helped, while his inertia doubled.

And the days would disappear one after another.

He had her on his mind, like a ghost. He continued to see her where he walked, often freezing tense when a flutter of dark, long hair would conjure up her image in his head. She was not beautiful. Although pleasing to the eye, with a very stark, and unusual symmetry to her face that he considered even eerie the second time they met, she was more on the handsome side. Lips a touch too narrow and an odd, startling sharpness to her cheekbones and her nose like he was trying to transplant the stencil of his brother’s face to create a foundation for hers. She stared at him with a shyness that didn’t fit her, just like the sky would appear wrong if the moon climbed it in some error. But still, he didn’t consider her hideous. She danced in his vision, beautiful, he supposed, in a manner that he didn’t think would ever make sense to any person. It was because she was different, and in this difference, Nika found a sense of calm. On the day that he was alone, their home only housing two additional servants whilst the parents flirted with the affairs on the market, he thought to her more than ever. The dowry was prepared. He could give it to her on the third occasion they met, ever, the first real one where they actually talked.

She was sixteen. It was such an important reminder in the head of his, Nika failed to shake it. Old, a little bit, to be getting wed. She should have been thirteen when she was promised to her first man, her chastity kept safe and advertised as her most selling value. He knew his had been. Untouched and ready for his first and last woman ever. Until death did them part. Smart, educated, well-read for their times and a good trader who’d soon take over their family business, splitting it down in the middle with the elder brother. Nika believed his value had been reduced to a number of words that he himself could spew in a manner of seconds. If he wanted to, he may have done that even now. He already had, once. In the past days, he’d been singing them to himself like the more often he remembered them, the more he became the man they apparently referenced. He thought that the man from their description and himself were not one and the same. Nika slowly rose from the perch on his bed, and walked out his room down the long corridor with an open side on the left. If he peered there over the railing, he could see down into the court. There, the servants would be bustling, although as was expected of them, they were as noiseless as everyone’s secret. Nika leaned over the doorway, and then, the cloth that often billowed in the open space of it hit him when he his hand released it. He ducked back behind it.

The knife that he removed from the sheath at his belt would not be viewed for its gleam. He knew how it looked. He sat down on the bed once more, and there stared at the empty space for a moment.

The silence in his mind was the strangest noise he had heard in his life. When it continued, uninterrupted and long, he believed he was hearing a voiceless lullaby sung right into the epicenter of his chaotic thoughts. It would explain however he was juggling this appearance of calm, whilst his knife lay heavy and cold over his palm, along with his plan. He wished, actually, that there was a way to postpone this. That he could be disturbed.

He wished for a way of leaving a message behind. He would beg they tell the young woman it was no doing of her own, and from the bottom for his heart, with the last few drops of his blood he wished she would find someone worthwhile to her.

He wouldn’t leave a message to his parents, oddly, and neither to his three sisters. Their names were like the seasons in his thoughts, constantly changing though sometimes one more stubborn than the others. He thought to only one of them the most. The rest fluttered.

Nika didn’t dare to think his name. He wouldn’t say it out loud, he wouldn’t whisper it. When he was gone, it wouldn’t be to the taste of him, in his mouth. So alive. So fresh. So bitter, leaving him jaded in the final moments. He would be gone, in silence, and he stared at the wall, for a moment, the knife to his arm.

When he sliced, he wondered, first, how he had found it in his heart. In his mind, he saw the oasis. He tried to keep it curtailed and in a far, far off land that he’d never been to, and thus he had nothing to scream at, unjust. He closed his eyes.

His skin scrawled. Even the other wrist would receive the same treatment with the knife so sharp it wasn’t any hard, although it did feel like cutting through meat and he was thinking of everything smooth and easy, and he pretended he was it.

He was foam.

The knife cluttered down, and made him frown. On his bed, thinking things over, Nika sat, something hooded, soft in his eyes. How long had it been since they were gone? And how had he dropped the knife? He’d not wanted to. He’d make that a thought.

He’d not wanted to, he was sorry. For the noise, for how it grated on his gentle ears. It was such a gritty and cheeky sound. It wanted to draw on him a hundred pair of worried eyes. Hush. It wasn’t needed. Nika let the gravity drag him down. He lay on his side, his arms stretched long and his mind constantly warring with the eyes’ need to cry. He’d not let the tears fall. He saw the oasis again as bright flashing images where one quickly replaced the one before it, and was replaced in turn, just as quickly. He didn’t know how he would describe this. Everything was so fast, replaying like he were in the memory. He had, maybe, done enough harm replaying it. He saw it, then, again. The strength he had had a minute ago was away. Where? Come back.

Come back, my love.

I need you the most now.

He saw the memory without the power to spare himself the effect of the shimmering soft surface of the pool staring up at him, so calm and nice it made his eyes water up. He was submerged in it, reliving that cool, riveting plunge. His skin shivered. He felt the water over him, both very real, and at the same fading. He’d never live it again. Even now, hush, the memory paled as it went on, repeating out of some must, and because even in this memory he lay hapless, and limp on the green ground. He wanted to say he’d remember the sky. It became cloudy, and all he saw was the dawn of dark.

He didn’t even hear Him come.

He wouldn’t hear Him sit next to him.

His breathing was shallow. Rapid. A sick, horrible feeling sat in his stomach. In his chest. In everything. The strength to move was no longer his own. He was thirsty. There was such a feeling of being parched in him now, he needed to drink all this water in this pool to survive.

Isira.

And Nika would look into Him with something like recognition, and the calm of someone who also had no real strength to feel much outside. He had no focus. He was seeing the oasis, he forgot what green looked like.

He had sworn to himself he’d not make his brother’s name the last thing he ever thought and said.

Isira.

“Isi…”

He had promised himself…

Even as he lay, a great pool of blood dripping over the edge of the bed where he’d left his arms. It would be easier to get off.

“Tell… her…”

Tell her. The girl. The woman. The one who was sixteen. Who had a handsome face. The name of who he had forgotten. Even principally he had not learned it, so he’d never have to think about the sort of a name they had intended him to whisper with love and care.

Tell her.

“It… was… not… them… twas…”

Panic kicked in. And watered his eyes. It sped his heart for the one final furious time. It jerked his limbs, and his fingers around whatever was inside them.

The air

Tell her.

It wasn’t them. It was--

I promised myself.

I--


He had no thoughts to think.

His heart skipped a beat-- and his lungs, they couldn’t breathe. And so.

He didn’t breathe.

Forever since this point on.

The oasis had just been a dream.

--------------------
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