Characters: NPC Alex and IC Alford Fandom: omg!Maou Rated: PG13 with maybe a side of R?
A Final Goodbye
Fourteen years. Fourteen years since he was stripped naked, beaten and humiliated. Fourteen years since his limbs shook with fatigue and his temporarily sightless eyes stretched wide in horror. Fourteen years since the stench of his sickly dried bodily fluids filled and stagnated in the damp cave that was his prison.
Fourteen years was a long time.
Alford wished he could say that in that time he hasn’t thought about those days more than a handful of times. Alford wished he could say that in all that time he hadn’t woken up slicked with sweat with his heart beating so fast he thought it might rocket from his chest. Alford wished that he could say in these past fourteen years that the crack of a whip or a lecherous stare didn’t make him want to crawl into his double’s arms for shelter and comfort--even though he never would.
And most of all, in these fourteen long and rapid years, Alford wished that it had been another fourteen or another thousand before he saw that face again. And yet, here, on the streets of Caloria where he was trying to vacation--trying to unwind and relax and spend time with his lovers--here he saw him again.
They passed wordlessly. Alex didn’t seem recognize him--probably the witch’s doing. Alford could almost say the same. The man’s appearance was drastically different from that of the powerful and youthful man he was then. His chiseled features had gone slacked with age and wear. His once flowing head of golden hair was sparse and dull. Time had not been kind. Alex had not been kind.
The holy sword sat in the inn. He had told Nibai to use it if anything went wrong. Nibai had not been at all fond of the idea, but he didn’t argue. He would be fine. Caloria was usually a safe place. Usually.
Alford was frozen to the ground. Kill him? Talk to him? Brutalize him for all the times he couldn’t accept the gentle touch of Gunter or the kind words of his double?
He did nothing. He did nothing and the crowd flowed around him as if he were nothing more than a tree or a rock--anything but a strong warrior who wanted very much to weep for fourteen years of unresolved anguish.
There, on the sunny streets of Caloria, Alford whispered, “Goodbye, Alex.”
There was no time to stop for the past. He had a future to get to.
no subject
Fandom: omg!Maou
Rated: PG13 with maybe a side of R?
A Final Goodbye
Fourteen years. Fourteen years since he was stripped naked, beaten and humiliated. Fourteen years since his limbs shook with fatigue and his temporarily sightless eyes stretched wide in horror. Fourteen years since the stench of his sickly dried bodily fluids filled and stagnated in the damp cave that was his prison.
Fourteen years was a long time.
Alford wished he could say that in that time he hasn’t thought about those days more than a handful of times. Alford wished he could say that in all that time he hadn’t woken up slicked with sweat with his heart beating so fast he thought it might rocket from his chest. Alford wished that he could say in these past fourteen years that the crack of a whip or a lecherous stare didn’t make him want to crawl into his double’s arms for shelter and comfort--even though he never would.
And most of all, in these fourteen long and rapid years, Alford wished that it had been another fourteen or another thousand before he saw that face again. And yet, here, on the streets of Caloria where he was trying to vacation--trying to unwind and relax and spend time with his lovers--here he saw him again.
They passed wordlessly. Alex didn’t seem recognize him--probably the witch’s doing. Alford could almost say the same. The man’s appearance was drastically different from that of the powerful and youthful man he was then. His chiseled features had gone slacked with age and wear. His once flowing head of golden hair was sparse and dull. Time had not been kind. Alex had not been kind.
The holy sword sat in the inn. He had told Nibai to use it if anything went wrong. Nibai had not been at all fond of the idea, but he didn’t argue. He would be fine. Caloria was usually a safe place. Usually.
Alford was frozen to the ground. Kill him? Talk to him? Brutalize him for all the times he couldn’t accept the gentle touch of Gunter or the kind words of his double?
He did nothing. He did nothing and the crowd flowed around him as if he were nothing more than a tree or a rock--anything but a strong warrior who wanted very much to weep for fourteen years of unresolved anguish.
There, on the sunny streets of Caloria, Alford whispered, “Goodbye, Alex.”
There was no time to stop for the past. He had a future to get to.