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"This is Mikleo. I'll get back to you when I can."
action | voice | text | video
"This is Mikleo. I'll get back to you when I can."
action | voice | text | video
"This is Mikleo. I'll get back to you when I can."
February 2023 TDM - Sorey
...No, that's not...
[He didn't mean it like that.
--This is weird. It feels weird. Like an itchy layer of fabric chafing his skin, one not so conveniently removed as discarding a coat. It lingers, and he hates it. He used to feel something like this around strangers, or people he wasn't entirely comfortable interacting with- he didn't know the steps, or the right words for it to be natural. It's not supposed to feel like this around Sorey. It's never felt like this around Sorey.
The problem lies with him, he knows. Sorey just woke up not that long ago, he hadn't had the time to change so drastically. Was it ignorance or wishful thinking to believe he could just pick up where they left off, that the centuries would have left him unmarked? Even stone monuments are chipped by the environment around them, over the years. Weathered storms, shifting terrain. He'd had no choice but to move on in life, learn to endure the days without walking beside his best friend, his brother, his partner. It wasn't the same, and over time he'd had to figure out how to navigate this new life. Sidestepped what was normal. He just... he needs to remember. Needs to figure out how to step back into the spot he'd stood before. Clinging hadn't done it. (Of course it hadn't, that wasn't him.) The banter had felt too harsh. (He's had no one to clap back with except Edna and Zaveid, and those conversations were always more snippy than they were with Sorey). But separating entirely isn't right, either. There's something... yeah, he's forgotten.
His hands curl in the fabric of his sleeves, arms tightening for a moment, before they release and drop to his side while he tries to figure out what to do or say next. One hand drifts habitually to his waist, fingers twisting anxiously around the leather cord woven around his tunic, until they touch the feather and he feels a soft wave of comfort. A coping mechanism developed over the years. Sorey's feather, a pure object he could carry with him as his vessel. He always felt better when he connected with his vessel.
....
Oh.
He's an idiot.]
Sorey- [Blurted out too quickly again, too eager, suddenly too hopeful that it might fix that weird, broken itch he can't scratch.] ...Sorey, can I... would it be alright if I...
[His free hand gestures towards Sorey like it'll finish his sentence for him, and maybe it will. Years ago the mutual body language between them was always understood, even when no others could decipher it. His other hand is still twisting around the feather, afraid to let go and lose his nerve.]
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A feather.
No sooner did Sorey realize that it must've been one of his than Mikleo's outburst startles his gaze back to his dearest friend's hopeful face. Can I, he starts, stops, shy? Embarrassed, or unsure? would it be alright, and Sorey finally understands in the seconds between Mikleo trailing off and his hand coming up to move between them.
Sorey shoves off of the wall and reaches out to grab Mikleo's hand between his own. That's right; it's always been him who's been the clingy one. Him, the mortal, the human who has to interact with the world as he sees it, as he feels it. Mikleo's accommodated him with that because they were raised together, and maybe even gotten used to it, but Mikleo's still a seraph.
Mikleo is a spirit.] Yes! [Sorey exclaims, perhaps (probably) too loudly, judging by the handful of faces that turn their way. He doesn't pay it any mind, tugging on Mikleo's hand as if he could pull him inside of himself.]
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If entering Sorey's domain again after so long had felt like returning to Elysia and passing into Gramps' barrier, phasing back into Sorey's soul felt like: an embrace, their grandfather's arms wrapped protectively around them when they were scared as children. It felt like: curling up with Sorey by the fire in his house, flipping through their favourite old books, learning the Ancient Tongue. It felt like: becoming Lailah's sub lord after fighting about it for so long, feeling their souls entwine and the armatus forming around their joined bodies, as easily as slipping on a warm sweater. It felt like: Sorey whispering his true name for the first time, feeling that thrill deep in his core as a string of fate tied them together, as powerful as any oath. It felt like coming home, but to his truest home, the only place he could really belong. Home is where the heart is, humans say. His heart is here, and a part of him had forgotten.
A thousand thoughts and feelings rush through his soul, as he curls up in his corner of Sorey's, mentally dusting off his own memories of it. Joy and conflict and unease and comfort and anxiety and relief, relief, such relief. Longing. Nostalgia. Regret. Loneliness. Relief, relief, relief.
I forgot this feeling.
(I'm sorry.)
It's been a long time, huh?
(Am I too different?)
I'm making this weird.
(I tried not to change. I wanted to be the same, for you.)
I don't mean to, you know.
(You know, right? You know?)
I shouldn't even ask.
(I still belong here. I'm still myself enough to belong here.)
It's stupid. It's no one's fault.
(You left me, though. You left me and I had to learn how to be me without you.)
I'm still me. Will you accept me as I am now?
(I don't want to be alone again. Don't leave me alone again.)
I missed you.
(I miss you.)
I miss you.
(I miss you...!)
He can't hide how he feels, bound together this way, the harpstrings of their souls infused, so Mikleo weathers the storm in silence, all of it pouring through him in a rush, until slowly, gradually, his presence settles into a familiar quiet. The ocean tempests quell, leaving behind a gentler sea, a clear sky safe to traverse once more. And with it, far gentler thoughts, feelings he can more easily convey.]
...Thanks.
[It feels inadequate, after all the rest, but with all they've been through together, and all that's happened between their last meeting and now, he figures Sorey will understand all the nuance. He's good at that.]
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It's what it feels like, at first; Mikleo dissolves and his breath catches in his throat, he reaches out his hands like he needs to cup the motes of light to his chest, to guide them inside of his soul, like if his palms aren't against his ribs then Mikleo will just spill back out. Of course, he didn't have to. Of course, that's not the case.
And then, underwater.
His feeling that Mikleo was somehow more hadn't been wrong; where Mikleo had felt like a cool mountain stream, now he feels like rapids. It's hard to tell if that's because he's gone so long without the strength of his partner in his soul, or if Sorey is now much weaker a Shepherd than Mikleo is a seraph. Mikleo's everything washes over him and the doubt and anxiety is washed away like silt, leaving Sorey worn down smooth like a riverbed stone. Mikleo's feelings trickle in like the beginnings of waterfalls thawing in the spring, a drip drip drip of 'sorrys' and 'miss yous' that makes Sorey stagger back against the wall.
Faces turn and so does he, fingers still cupped against his chest, scrambling for shadows and solitude to process this, to accept everything Mikleo is and remake his soul into a larger, kinder home. His face feels wet but he's not sure why; he's okay, happy even. Content, finally comforted. At home, that most precious shard of Elysia back where it belongs in the form of his lifelong partner.
Sorey finds a little alcove in which he can shove himself, curling in around himself as tears continue to roll silently down his cheeks.]
Mikleo, are you okay? [Sorey's voice is thick and wobbly, but there's no pain, there's no terror.
I remember this.
(I'm sorry.)
It has been a long time.
(You're never too different.)
I'm not doing much better.
(You'll always be my Mikleo, no matter what happens.)
It's okay.
(Of course I know.)
Why couldn't you?
(You'll always belong with me, just like I'll always be yours.)
I'd give you whatever you wanted.
(I'm sorry. I couldn't let the world turn into something that would kill you.)
Now you don't need to ask.
(We'll be together until the end of time.)
I missed you.
(I missed you.)
I love you.
(I love you.)
Nothing but concern and comfort, a love that transcends the word. I would give you my True Name if I had one, says his tone, I'd have given it to you the day I was born. He pats his chest gently, childlike almost in his desire to soothe any potential hurts.]
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This feels right.]
...I'm okay, [is at last his answer, quietly, as if even speaking his voice too loudly through their connection would shatter some kind of illusion or break down the walls around him and kick him out again. An absurd thought, of course, but he's missed this so much (more than he'd ever care to admit or had realized before) he won't take a single risk of cutting it short.] I'm... guessing you feel it, too.
[Sorey's crying. Can hear it in his voice, the hitch in his throat and the way he hunches over. Seraphim can't necessarily feel everything in their human vessel, but they can see into the heart more effectively, the barriers removed. It's part of the give and take of this bond, each side giving up themselves to link and share power with another. Gains and sacrifices, both. Sorey doesn't feel sad, but humans don't only cry because of sorrow. When emotions become too much, they just... overflow. He understands. This is the truest essence of belonging.
Quietly he spreads his presence outwards, like upturning a bucket of water, allowing it to pour out and fill in the empty cracks and crevices, flowing over the spaces where the other seraphim usually preside. It isn't the same thing as having them there, but now that he's in that space he recognizes how empty it feels, and how much worse it must have felt for Sorey before his arrival. The time and distance may have been different for each of them, but they've both been lonely, haven't they? It isn't much, but he'll do what he can to fill the void for a while.]
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Sorey keeps his hands to his chest, the pressure helping to keep him centered. It was...a lot, for a moment there. Even as he sniffs hard and tilts his head back in an effort to dry up the tears, it seems like it's going to take a minute.]
-hah, [he laughs, head still back, facing the sky as his eyes burn and blur the fairy lights above, his breath clouding up above them. Mikleo's flooding throughout his soul, even up to the other empty chambers, his cool spirit lapping against their metaphorical doors like a rising tide.] I really am okay. You don't have to worry so much.
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[There's a glimmer of humour in Mikleo's tone, familiar, testing the waters of how they used to be. It's easier, now that he's here. He can feel every metaphorical inch of this place, the atmosphere of it suffusing across his soul. Worrying about Sorey... that was his job, wasn't it? He looked after Sorey, and Sorey looked after him. He'd spent so many years looking after himself and the world - because what else was there for him to do? - but it's not like he never worried during that time. There was plenty to fuss over. Whether the bindings would break, his protections over the ruin would fail and malevolence would seep into where Maotelus and Sorey were sealed. Whether some hellion or (heavens forbid) a new Lord of Calamity might rise and target them. Whether the Shepherds and Squires who came after could endure and build their legacy. Whether humans would ever see seraphim widespread. Whether they'd truly succeeded, whether Sorey would be okay when he woke up-
This is... different. He's worried about Sorey. He's able to worry about Sorey, and not a million other things attached. It's just him. Just them.]
How about this: I'll worry just enough. If I didn't, how would you know it's really me?
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Like how a child clings so tightly so his most beloved family member. An almost jealous love, though maybe moreso due to the separation. He hadn't been ready for that yet, and he thinks Mikleo feels very much the same. Time together will mend this, of course. It has to.]
...do you just want to stay out here together for a bit? The stars are pretty.
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Yeah, I'd like that. Reminds me of that final night, right? Departing under the stars... makes sense that we'd find each other again like this.
[In a way they're fulfilling a part of their dream here, too. Humans and non-humans living in harmony just fine, here, and exploring unknown places. This world could be really good for them. Ultimately though, it doesn't matter where they are. If it's the two of them, they can handle anything.]