A Twist of Fate

Status
Not open for further replies.
Over the wind and the crackling of the earth beneath his feet, Mallin could hear next to nothing. The effort of getting himself down to his knees was like lifting mountains, like the strength of his magic was trying to keep him up, trying to keep its vessel as close to the carnage as possible. The earth beneath his hand began to crumble as he braced his weight there, the other reaching - straining - until his fingers closed around the sword just within his grasp, a miserable sound in his throat. He needed to do more, needed to move faster, stronger, and he knew he wouldn't have much energy left for what needed to be done, not with the way his magic pulled away and seemed to try and take his physical strength with it.

Cryon's voice drifted to him in little more than thought, the Mage feeling the way his lover's footsteps came moving towards him as if in slow motion. He lifted his head to look, bleeding and uncontrolled, and could hardly bear the sight of his dearest one so distraught. It was all his fault, but he knew that this could be the last time he ever saw the man, and he had to look, had to commit it to memory so that he might take it with him wherever his soul would go.

I'm sorry. . . The Mage managed faintly as the storm raged on, voice inaudible amongst the whirlwind, and tightened his grip on the sword.

The final motion was the only one that happened with any speed, as he reigned in what little control and energy he had left to him and used it all at once. The weapon pierced through his gut in one fast jerk, in and up and out until half the blade had gone all the way through and out his back. They'd tried so hard, Mallin thought even as he tasted blood at the back of his mouth, felt it starting to pour over his hands where they held the hilt of the sword. It was all over. It felt like they'd just found each other yesterday, and now she'd gone and forced him to take it away, to once more ruin everything he loved with his own two hands. It wasn't fair. . . It wasn't fair.

His magic pulsed outwards around him just once more, dispelling into the air around them, and all at once the world went quiet and still.
 
Cryon felt like he had been the one stabbed as his steps faltered, his eyes flung wide in complete shock as he stared at his love holding the sword in his gut, the magic around him disappearing. The king could barely even manage a soft gasp of pain before he stumbled towards the mage, his hands shaking as he prayed that it would be just a terrible nightmare, something that he would wake up from with sweat on his forehead but finding comfort in the man that slept beside him.

Yet this was no nightmare, and Cryon's gasp turned to sobs as he fell to his knees in front of Mallin, his shaking hands tapping against the mage's cheeks before they gained more firm footing, running along his face and cradling it so Cryon could look at it, and see the desperation that still littered Mallin's face.

"Please...not you too," Cryon begged, a sob tearing itself from his throat as tears flushed his face, falling at a fast rate that dripped onto the crumbled ground around the mage, his fingers sliding along the skin of the mage as his thumbs wiped away the blood from his lips. His lips quivered, and he leaned closer letting out a louder cry as his adult persona fell away and he was left as the child that had just lost his best friend, his shoulders shaking as he begged in mumbling incoherent words to turn back the time and fix everything that had gone wrong.
 
The pain was blinding. Mallin saw only fuzzy visions of brown and red ground as he sat frozen in time, and only realized any seconds had passed when Cryon was there, when the man's hands were on him. The tug back to awareness had him shuddering and collapsing forward into the man, head coming to rest against Cryon's shoulder for support as one hand still held loosely to the sword, the other resting lifeless on the ground beside them. He felt cold to his core, with only the faintest warmth still stirring in his chest. He'd stopped the destruction, but at what cost? He'd promised himself he would never hurt his dearest love again.

"S- Sorry . . ." Mallin managed shakily when the man held him, trying not to cough, not to choke, not to taste the copper in his mouth or feel it soaking into his clothes. "Sorry . . . o- only way. . . She . . . She - here . . ." It wasn't fair. She'd dragged everything from his fingers again and he could only hope that with him gone she would have no reason to come back.

The mage's breathing faltered and sped, uneven and trembling in shock despite the way tensing made it hurt even more. "Need to - t-to sleep. . ." God, he wanted to keep his eyes open but it wasn't working. It wasn't fair. He wanted to stay. "I- I love you. . ." He managed, with one shaking hand, to reach for Cryon even as he rested collapsed against the man, fingers pressing into Cryon's side just to know how it felt to touch him one last time. "Sorry, Cry . . . sorry . . ."

He couldn't keep his eyes open. As the world started to regain its noise around him, the sound of his dear one's sobs in his ears, the mage's eyes fell closed and his hand fell limply away. For hours still his heart would beat, but even with a healer's best efforts he stopped breathing, and by all appearances was dead. No attempts could revive him, and yet his skin never cooled. With his heart not beating and his lungs not breathing, his eyes unresponsive to light when pulled open, and no amount of jostling able to rouse him, he was dead and yet would not go blue and cold as the dead did.

The mage's body did not decay, no matter how long it was left or how little care it recieved. He neither ate nor drank, breathed nor moved, but he refused to die. Slowly, over the course of days and weeks, should he remain unburied, it would begin to come clear that his injuries were beginning to knit. And yet, even when the skin closed and the wound looked as if it had never been, he did not wake. And he wouldn't, not until he had healed inside and out. The way his magic had put him to sleep, he couldn't come back until then.


((If that's too big of a skip I can change it but I figured I'd give you something for Cryon to reply to. Up to you if Mallin gets buried or not lol))
 
(It's perfectly fine and sorry for not being as active as I used to be, family crisis and moving in for college. I'm settled now though, so I should be able to reply normally again XP)

Cryon held his dearest one in his arm, his cries rising to wails as he pulled him as close as he would dare with the sword still in him. His body shook like he was trapped inside an earthquake, pain reaching every corner of his insides as he heard Mallin's words, and the pain began fresh and new and ever more painful. It took several minutes before the guards could come close enough to pull him away from Mallin and get him to the healer, along with the wounded guard, and Cryon curled into the smallest ball he could, hands in his hair and knees drawn to his chest as he let his pain out in his cries.

"Find her!" Cryon managed to shout when his initial grief has waned just enough for him to think of Mallin's words. His shout and sudden authority shocked the guards into action, scrambling to find the witch before she escaped. He didn't hold much hope of it though. The witch would have gotten away quick, and no amount of security could have stopped her anyways.

It was when the healer knew that nothing could be done that Cryon turned to alcohol to save him from his pain. It burned his throat as it went down, as he was never one to drink it very often, but it didn't stop him as downed swallow after swallow. He ingested as much as he could possibly hold, threw up, barely let the servant clean him up before he crashed onto his bed, curling up on the side Mallin had slept on and breathing in the faint scent of the mage, his heart splitting into two as he cried into the pillow, hugging it close to him and letting his despair make its way through the night.

The funeral was three days after, Cryon managing to keep face long enough to speak before leaving, not wanting anyone to even attempt to comfort him. There was no comfort in the world that could ease the pain, and his guant and pale face just showed how much that was true. Afterwards, Oma had attempted to get him to eat, but he threw it up before he could even fully swallow it down, and he went to bed once again with an empty stomach and heart.
 
((It's cool. Hope things are going better for you now :) and now time for a super awkward rise from the dead as I assume funeral means burial lol))

It was dark when Mallin's eyes opened. It was the first sensation he managed to register, and the next was the size of the space he found himself in, when trying to simply raise a hand to his head had him touching a solid surface instead. His body was weak and his mind foggy, and it was the only thing that kept panic from setting in when he realized he could feel earth above and below him, and all around. Buried, he realized, and at first couldn't remember why it might have happened, or why he should be concerned.

Out was the next conclusion, and when he reached for his magic he found it mostly depleted, along with a greatly diminished sense of his own physical strength. He hadn't breathed while he slept and so there was air enough for what little plan his addled mind could come up with. It was ever to draw the earth closer, pull it in through the smallest of cracks until it pushed the top of his confines up and he had to take a deep breath and close his eyes. Following his senses up was even more difficult, and he had only the strength for making the somewhat loose dirt solid enough for stepping on and dragging himself up.

When there was air again and so much light he was blind at first, the mage managed a decent crawl until he was a few feet from where his own coffin was buried, and laid on his side there om the ground with his energy depleted. He was, strangely enough, dressed well and - not so strangely - now covered in dirt from head to toe, and as he lay there trying to find the energy and the reason to try and move again he realized he had buried, and should have stayed dead.

Mallin thought he had never before given someone quite the same fright as when a groundskeeper screamed at the sight of him just lying on the ground and fled. Curled into a loose ball there with a feeling of the earth beneath him pulsing in his chest, the mage fought the urge to close his eyes and sleep all over again. He'd said he was sorry, hadn't he? There was someone waiting for him. He knew he had to get up even as much as he knew he couldn't, and so resolved to try and stay awake until he could.
 
(I wouldn't have a rise from the dead be any other way than awkward XD)

Cryon had never felt so devastated like he felt now since his parents had died. He didn't go to the council meetings. He did what work he could stand to look at before he went to bed, usually at noon or no later than when the servant tried to bring him lunch. He didn't eat, he barely drank, and the covers over his head was the only thing that kept him from the outside world, from the terrible fate that had set out to destroy any semblance of happiness that he attempted to have. He would eventually be able to move on, well, not really move on, but push himself to face the world again and do his work and lead his country, but for now, the council let him grieve and worked the background tasks to the best of their abilities, the older council taking the place of their now sickly king.

Cryon didn't even hear the scream, or maybe he did. He couldn't tell what anything was anymore, just the hunger that gnawed at his stomach, mixed with the sickness that tried to drag his stomach from his body. He had ended up dry heaving, and then choking up a little water throughout the day, and he had been sent back to bed where he was oh so familiar. It wasn't until a guard had entered, saying such strange words that sounded like an unknown language that had Cryon slowly raising his head, looking at the man with a crushing sense of hope that would kill him if it turned out to be false.

Still, he allowed the guard to help him up and they hurried as quick as they could to the cemetery, Cryon's footsteps uneven and off balance, but quick and almost panicked. When they got there, there was a small crowd of mainly guards and the healer, and his eyes fell on the breathing man on the ground, and Cryon felt all his strength leave him as he took in a breath, feeling both weak but full of sudden energy as he stumbled over, letting his hand touch the man's side as his shaking legs let him slump to the ground, tears of hope welling all over again.

"Mallin?" He called, his voice broken and his words thick.
 
Mallin was not extremely fond of being touched when he was so tired he couldn't make himself get up. He was very out of it still when the healer showed and got him onto his back, listened for his heart and his breath and watched the way his eyes drifted dizzily over the sky and the crowd that gathered. Something was wrong, the Mage thought, but for a long while couldn't figure out what it was or why everyone was staring and murmuring.

As weak as he had felt, no one had attempted to lift him yet, and so Mallin was still resting on the ground when someone else came to kneel by his side. The touch at his side drew his attention just as Cryon spoke, and the tired, distressed edges softened from the mage's features as he recognized the man. His head had cleared enough to begin recognizing people, by then, though he didn't know all of them, nor all of their names. The healer he knew, and a few guards, but Cryon was what finally caught his attention and held it.

"Don't . . . Don't cry." The Mage murmured weakly, coughing a little a the dryness of his throat and the dirt on his skin. He forced enough energy to reach for Cryon, to hold loosely to the arm that was close enough for it, took a slow breath and closed his eyes for a few long seconds before opening them again. "'M tired. . ." Cryon was here, so Mallin could rest now, right? Maybe somewhere inside, away from the starlingly bright sun and all the concerned faces. Was it him that was the concern? Maybe it was him. He had, quite literally, crawled out of the earth not long ago. Digging through dirt bare handed was hard, and he just wanted to sleep.
 
Cryon felt a little wave of panic reach him when he realized that the mage's eyes were closing, his breath catching in his throat as he grasped onto the hand closest to him tightly, whispering a few comforting words to the man before turning an accusing gaze to the crowd that had spread there, making them take a few steps back at the dark look in his features before he turned to the guard that had led him here, the man straightening under the look and keeping his face carefully neutral.

"Get him to the healer's," Cryon said, his voice catching some of the authority that he had lost in the last few days. The guard nodded, easing over to the man and sliding his arms in under the mage, managing to haul him up. Cryon slowly let go of Mallin's hand, his body shaking just the smallest bit at the effort of standing by himself. Still, they made their way through the castle hallways until they reached the infirmary, the guard laying the man onto one of the cots before stepping out of the way.

"Get water. He'll be thirsty," Cryon continued, his voice much softer as the guard gave another nod before disappearing through the door. He took a step back so the healer had plenty of room to make sure he was alright, swallowing nervously and ignoring the scratchy parchness in his throat.
 
Mallin made faint, displeased sounds when jostled by the guard, but hadn't any energy to protest being taken away from Cryon so soon. He drifted off more than once in the man's arms despite the shaking motion of walking and the unpleasantness of being carried, and was just barely conscious when delivered to the healers and laid down on something softer than dirt. It wasn't quite quieter there, but it wasn't a graveyard and he wasn't lying in dirt despite still being covered in it, so the Mage dozed once more.

The healer did his best to measure Mallin's health, checking the sound of his breathing and of his heart beating steadily in his chest, pushing away his clothes enough to prod at his stomach where the wound had been, his arms where he had bled through his clothing before he'd been cleaned and redressed for burial. As the man worked Mallin drifted in and out of sleep, and each time he woke his eyes would find Cryon and stay there, too groggy and weak to protest anyone besides his love seeing the marks on his arms. The way his body had healed each tattoo still had lines erased through them where the witch had torn through his skin, but there were no other signs of injury.

When water came Mallin was nearly asleep again and woke more fully only when the healer supported his head so that he could be given a drink. It was a slow process and he coughed some of it back up halfway through when he couldn't quite respond fast enough to the careful assistance, but eventually when there was some fluid in him he could stop getting prodded at. When the healer was out of the way Mallin had eyes only for Cryon again, and flopped a hand off the cot in an attempt to hold it out to the man and get him to come closer.

"Tired," he managed, somewhat croakily still but better. "Stay?" He was exhausted. Something terrible had happened, he was sure, and he couldn't gather all the pieces yet, but he wanted Cryon to be with him.
 
Cryon had remained in the infirmary as the healer had checked on Mallin, not wanting to move from the very room until he knew that the man would be okay. He sucked in a breath at the sight of Mallin's scars, but he didn't reach for them, not yet, and continued to bide his time as the healer gave Mallin a drink of water. Slowly, the king drew closer when the healer was away from the bed, not even hesitating to take the man's hand and sit on the edge of the cot, his muscles flexing and relaxing as he attempted to stay in a sitting position without the strength of food helping him.

"Of course, Mal," Cryon whispered, clasping tightly to the mage's hand as he drew the man's fingers up, kissing the tip of his pointer finger before letting out a relieved sigh when it finally sank in that Mallin was alive, his body seeming to almost slouch, hugging the mage gently, being careful not to jostle too much and make him dizzy.

"Don't scare me like that again," He whispered, although he wanted to say he was in all actuality devastated. His heart still stung from the after effects, and even with Mallin there easing that pain, his heart held onto the 'what if' notion that hung around his mind, reminding him that the witch was still out there, and that she could come after the mage again if she ever wished to do so.
 
Mallin sighed softly in relief when Cryon was sitting next to him, holding his hand. He wrinkled his nose a little at the kiss because dirt, but didn't protest for fear it would make the man think better of everything and let go. Exhausted as he was, Mallin still very carefully, and with much effort, turned himself onto his side as close to the wall behind him as he could get, so that there might be room for his dearest one to lie there with him.

Weary, burning tears welled in his eyes, two or three slipping free, and he held as tightly to Cryon's hand as he could manage. "Sorry, Cry," he managed faintly, clinging to consciousness only because the man was there and speaking and more pieces were gradually sliding together. The witch. She'd bested him again, stole everything from him, and he'd made so many mistakes he couldn't take back. "Sorry. . ."

He blinked slowly a few times, trying to keep himself awake and with no energy to bother trying to dry the tears. What little he had he spent giving the space in front of him a couple slow pats, hoping Cryon would bear the discomfort of squeezing so close to him on the small cot. "Promise. . . Won't go nowhere. . ." He had to fix things. He couldn't keep bringing this man so much hurt all the time, so he had to get better and not let it happen again. But now, he just wanted to rest.
 
Cryon felt his heart warm and he laid beside Mallin, squeezing into a semi-comfortable position on the small cot before working his arms around the mage, ignoring the dirt that made his skin feel dry as he stared at the few tears on his face, wiping them away with the free hand's thumb, "It's okay, Mal. As long as you are alright," Cryon replied, letting out a soft sigh and closing his eyes.

He rested his nose in Mallin's hair, and although the dirt scent was somewhat overpowering compared to everything else, he found the scent of the mage and his arms tightened, his heart stinging as the soft scent hit him. Mallin's side of the bed had begun to lose its smell, and he feared that he would have had to live without for the rest of his life once it was gone.

"Go to sleep, okay? Get your energy back and we can talk then," Cryon offered, opening his eyes and staring down at the light brown that covered the mop of Mallin's hair. It would be more likely that the mage would probably want a bath first when he woke up, but the king could live with that.
 
Mallin made a soft, plaintiff sound when told it was okay because it clearly was not, that much he knew. Still, he quieted and more tears didn't come, and when Cryon was pressed up close to him and holding him he felt more content than he had in a long time. He was dirty and uncomfortable and confused, and on top of it thinking of what had happened made him so afraid and guilty he didn't want to speak of it, but having his dearest one so close had him relaxing enough to let the exhaustion take him over.

It was long hours before Mallin woke again, with little more strength than he'd had before falling asleep but with significantly more awareness. He was in the healer's ward and he was still gross and uncomfortable, but there was very quiet activity around as the sparse staff went about their normal work, and it was so normal it almost made him want to cry. There was no witch, no destruction, no ruined wedding. Mallin had to wonder just how long it had been, and if they'd ever repaired the damage he'd caused. He knew that the hearts he'd hurt would likely never heal, but at the least they may have rebuilt the section of wall he'd torn down.

((Wasn't sure if you wanted Cryon to stay with him or not so I kept it short and vague))
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back