Chapter Text
"It's you." Emmerich calls, voice soft and deep and resonating through Nazrik's very being before he can even turn around to confirm who had spoken. "Nazrik."
When he turns, it is like all the moons that had passed had all boiled down to a single night and a long century all at once.
Emmerich is a picture of a mess, nothing like the Pretend God in his memories or the ever so ethereal of a powerful mage that helped killed two Gods. His clothes are for traveling, snagged and fraying, his hair ruffled with leaves and on his cheek is a small cut.
A human. Something Nazrik has not quite thought of in a long time. He had fallen in love with a human.
Nazrik's heart beats and beats and his tail waves once then twice.
"My mage." He says, quiet in the wilderness he now lives in, almost afraid that if even the trees hear, all will fly to the wind, unrealized. He had prayed with every moon that came. He swore he would wait but it is painful to think of it again now that the man is here. He cannot wake from this.
Emmerich's expression flickers; in wonder, in happiness then in despair, in grief. Nazrik wonders what made him look like that, like the memory of their confession in a silent hut. "Your tails." And golden eyes take to him. "Did you--"
"I waited for you." Nazrik answers and his breath shallows. He has barely gotten his hunt for the day settled and the cut on Emmerich's cheek is bleeding.
It just feels like they have never had enough time. Like they should never have even had time. His other soul. His mage. His Emmerich. He has waited for a long time, has looked for him, has made mistakes and all after, he waits between the chasms of fate and time between them.
"Your other soul." Emmerich smiles, his countenance just as bad. Nazrik cannot wake from this as Emmerich approaches him, as their hands meet, the mage bringing it to his face with a soft push. It has been a long time since he has seen the golden fields of Mirehold. Has smelled its scent.
"And you came." Nazrik's tails sway, his ears flickering. He feels like running, like a coward, like a fool. Emmerich is as warm and as soft as is in his memories, even in all his imperfection. His thumb swipes away the blood, and golden eyes look to him. In reverence. Like Nazrik has all he has been looking for. Waiting for.
"Let me stay," Emmerich pleads, hold onto his firmer. "Let me stay.”
"The world—"
"Has had its chance." Emmerich answers. "It has taken its chance. Yours is the one I wish for. I will beg if I have to."
"And time?" Nazrik pleads in return. Let this not be a dream. He steps closer.
"Anything is possible with magic, didn't I say?" And Emmerich smiles with a promise that says he will mold the world and its reality just to keep it.
"Then stay, Emmerich. Indulge me."
