Chapter Text
Sunlight streamed into eyes long used to unseeing darkness, to nonbeing, and the expansive warmth of the beam of light fluttered his eyelids open. Tytos quietly breathed in the new morning, reveling in the cool air that expanded his lungs. The quality of the light fascinated him and he did not dare to move, for fear that it might vanish; it dilated him, moving him into a deeper realm of being. Colors existed in a kaleidoscope of newness, pure and uninhibited by language or meaning. Ornaments hung from a space nearby, humming and chiming lightly in the bay-breeze, glistening like flaming coral, molten and waxy; shimmering like sunlight on an opal sea; flickering like emerald leaves against a washed sky. He had no words to make such comparisons--he could only feel the colors, bone deep.
Sounds from beyond his limited existence joined the colors; the far off breathing of the ocean; the slivering, mournful cry of a gull that would have jolted him upright had he not been too entranced to move. Voices of the waking townsfolk started here and there like jumbles of half-remembered music. Staccato bursts of conversation filled him with joy; childish laughter moved his mouth into a mindless smile.
He wanted to see the voices, and especially to see the gull that had uttered that piercing cry. He wanted to touch the chimes that sang in many voices from the window just above his bedside. The thought left his mind, and his body obeyed. A patchwork quilt fell lightly from his chest into his lap as he sat up, and for a moment the texture and frayed threads entirely diverted him. He ran his hands over the fabric and the connection was made; he stared at his hands in wonder, and at his stomach which had felt the blanket fall from him; these feelings had happened to him-- whoever and whatever he might be. He could feel. He was a being.
He stood, and swayed as the soles of his feet settled against the old wooden floor. He ran his toes back and forth against the smooth texture, and again he smiled. When he looked about himself, he was startled to find that the scene that met his eyes had changed. Direction entered his mind. He was above. The voices were below.
Like a man in a trance, his feet carried him to the window, and his outstretched fingers nudged against a hanging chime. It was cool against him, so smooth that his finger nearly slid from it. Color and texture tangled in his mind. The yellow light of the outside was warm. The greens and oranges of the chime were cold and slick. Yet the blanket had been warm and yielding, and full of all of those colors. And so he drew the correlation that color and texture were not dependent upon one another. After several minutes of studying the wavering chimes, his eyes slid out into a vastness that stunned him. Sky opened up above him, wispy cotton clouds drifting in purples and blues edged with gold; triangles and the flat squares of rooftops fluttered with carpets, shone with clay tiles. Perched upon white-spattered roof-edges were wondrous beings--moon-white and storm grey, with shining dagger bills as yellow as the sun. Long, sharp wings unfolded from silvery sides, and again that mournful cry burst forth as gull after gull lifted off into the air. Instinctual joy sparked through Tytos, and a wordless sound leapt from him as he leaned far out of the window, utterly amazed. The birds spiraled weightlessly up and up until Tytos thought they may touch the golden sun. Excitement billowed within him until he felt that he may untether from the ground and float after them. A snatch of laughter tore his eyes from the sky. The solid mass of the land of Vesuvia was equally overwhelming.
Building after building rose like giant steps from the bay up the mountainous flanks of Vesuvia. Clothing fluttered and flapped from lines strung between them. Trees whispered, glowing a brilliant, luminous green in the rising sun, bushes flowered from earthen pots and from little patchwork yards. Awnings billowed, oxen pulled groaning carts, dogs snuffed, and there, among all of them, were people.
Tytos gaped at them. He understood, intuitively, that the part of him that felt was the same as these beings striding around at their ease. He watched a woman hand over a few coins to another, and then pocket something small and shining. Tytos looked to his own hand, tried to mimic the motion. To his delight, he was quite capable of it. Eagerly, he looked again. There was a man running hands through long shining hair, smoothing it back from his face. He tried the same, and while his hand completed the movement, he was somewhat taken aback to find that his hair was not nearly so long. So it went, his eyes jumping from person to person, miming and delighting in the body that did as he asked of it.
Asra stirred at a wordless sound and for a moment he squeezed his eyes shut against the burgeoning sun. The cries of gulls and peals of laughter met his ears, though he could hardly rouse himself. He felt leaden, incredibly exhausted, and for a moment he could not quite remember why.
Tytos.
The memory of the night before crackled through him like like a bolt of lightning and he jolted up from bed with wide eyes. For a wild moment he was torn between utter relief and cringing embarrassment; the laughter he’d heard suddenly made sense. Tytos was standing naked before the window, in full view of the street below. Even so, Asra’s heart leapt. He was there. The love of his life was actually, really there.
He stood from bed and approached him softly, gently, unsure of how Tytos might react to existing once again--if he would be confused, or frightened, perhaps even unhinged. He curled fingers about his upper arm, slowly turning him away from the window, much to the dismay of the small crowd that had gathered, giggling, below. Asra pulled the curtain across the window and stared silently up at Tytos, into brown eyes that nearly reduced him to tears.
“Tytos...you...you must have so many questions.” He began hesitantly.
His voice washed over Tytos without much reaction, and Asra figured that he must be as lost for words as he was.
“I know it must be strange. I--I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Oh, uh...here, put this on, okay? We don’t want everyone in Vesuvia to see you naked. Unless you want them to.” He winked, trying to lighten his own awkwardness and also hoping to see that dashing smile cross Tytos’s face again. Tytos did not smile--instead he was focused upon Asra with the same uncomprehending joy that the gulls had brought about in him. Asra blushed at the open wonder shining in his eyes, and moved hastily towards a low chest opposite their bed, and from it he pulled a long white nightshirt.
“Here you go.”
He held the nightshirt out to Tytos. Tytos did not immediately move to take it. Instead he stared innocently at it as if he’d never seen such a thing, and worry flitted across Asra’s heart. “I mean...it is hot out.” He backpedaled. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. But you shouldn’t encourage them.” He tossed his head back towards the street with a smile that quickly faltered. He took a step closer, his eyes roving over him with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not running a fever or anything, are you?”
Asra placed the back of his hand against Tytos’s forehead, thrilling at their proximity yet dreading to find the heat of plague-fever. There was nothing, only the usual warmth of a healthy body. Tytos, however, marveled at this light touch. It was as if all the new colors and sounds and textures had condensed into something magical, something overwhelmingly elemental that pulled at a soul he did not yet understand. He knew only that he did not want that sensation to cease. Moisture gathered in his eyes. His lips parted, for he felt with sudden urgency that there was something that he must say to this person, and that words could convey his meaning; yet they swirled about his skull like a typhoon, meaning lost in the cacophony. His gaze dropped, the new sensations of disappointment and frustration rising like bile within him.
“Tytos?” Asra asked, his eyes tight upon him. The magician averted his eyes for a fraction of a second, yet it could not mask the fear wakening within him. Asra shivered and swallowed it down; he would not allow his emotions to affect Tytos, no matter how much it pained him. With a wan smile, he shook open Tytos’s nightshirt and, reaching, he pulled it over his head. “There.” He delicately smoothed out the wrinkles and took his hand and again, Tytos mutely thrilled at the touch. He found himself pulled so that he was sitting beside him upon the bed.
Asra held a careful silence, momentarily overwhelmed to be sitting with him on a beautiful morning, as they had done long ago. “What’s it like?” he asked quietly, unable to meet his eyes.
Again, Tytos did not answer. The sound of that voice was hypnotic, like a half-forgotten song heard in another life. He could not understand, yet it soothed him as a wave soothed the shore.
Asra swallowed at his stretching silence and finally met his eyes. The naked vulnerability swimming within those amethyst pools would have stricken Tytos mute, had his voice and wits not already abandoned him. The hand resting near his thigh was trembling. “Tytos...do you remember me?”
Uncomprehending, Tytos only looked at him, certain that something was expected of him, yet unable to comply. It distressed him, yet those eyes kept him from panic as his mind raced through all that he had thus far experienced.
Asra leaned in closer with a shallow breath. “Tytos?”
Tytos glanced away, studying the slanting ray of sunlight as it moved slowly across the floor, catching motes like a spider’s web. A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers desperately tight.
“Tytos?” Asra’s voice broke. “Hey,” he fell to his knees before him, his face stricken, “you remember me, right? You remember my name? Do you remember your name?”
Tytos swallowed, words lighting up here and there as if dragged from an impenetrable haze. Understanding was so close, yet it darted away each time he grasped for it. Something about the repetition of the word Tytos sent his heart racing. But he didn’t know why.
“Do you remember anything?” Asra's lovely face cracked with grief as he took Tytos's hand between his own, rubbing it as if he could force recognition back into him. Something went wrong, something went wrong! his heart screamed and for a moment he could not speak. Muriel's voice echoed through his mind. That thing might not even be him. Tears gathered, his chest tightening against a wracking sob. But he choked it back, reciting the promise he’d made to himself only minutes before: I won’t let my emotions affect him.
“I--I’ll get you some water, Tytos. You must be thirsty.” He stood, squeezing his hand with a smile that threatened to come apart at the seams. Then he hurried to the door of their little room. He shut it behind him and creaked down the narrow flight of stairs to the main floor of the shop. He stood for a moment like a lost child, small and dim, his eyes darting about the darkened, shuttered interior.
Tytos was back. But he was not home.
Asra sucked in a tight breath and brought a hand to his eyes. Grief crushed him then and he slid to the floor, his back pressed up against the display counter as he sobbed. The one person that he wanted to hold him, who could possibly make this better, was the one person who would not understand. Who did not even know who he was. He let it come, wave after wave. He knew by now that it was unhealthy to keep his emotions at bay; instead he let them run their course without judgement and without wallowing. And it would be far too easy to wallow, for already he could feel the self-pity and rage building within him, demanding some sort of explanation from the universe. Hadn’t he suffered enough? Hadn’t Tytos suffered enough? And now this?! It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t--he caught himself, pulling out of that self-defeating spiral. Then he dragged a hand across his eyes and nose, grabbed a mug off the counter and filled it in the bathroom sink with a shaking hand. He gripped the edges of the cool porcelain as the water flowed, consciously slowing his breathing and centering himself, listening to the water.
Water magic was his specialty, his natural inclination. At the mere sound or sight of it, he could be lulled into a meditative state that on its own often brought him to his gateway of the Arcana. Water had been his first teacher. He had learned from the element that there was great virtue to living as water; be fluid, unpredictable, do not stagnate, give life to those around you, crash with force if you must, move, even in your depths.
He would keep moving. He had no other choice.
I have him. There’s no doubt that’s his body. I just need to find some way to bring him home to it. He shut the flow off and nodded to himself in the darkness. This was a huge, heart-breaking setback, there was no denying it. But like water caught behind a dam, it would only make him more powerful; and someway, somehow, he would find a way past or through. Death had not defeated him. This wouldn’t either.
I will bring him back.
With a deep breath, he started back upstairs. Opening the door to their room, Asra found Tytos standing near the long picture window that looked out towards the bay, his white nightshirt fairly glowing in the sunlight. The deep sill had been lined with herbs and other plants, a luminous tower of selenite, a flashing quartz crystal, and a mess of books.
Asra gasped.
Amidst all that he might have chosen, Tytos had picked from the sill the potted succulent that Asra had brought him from one of his desert wanderings, a plant that Tytos had caredfully tended in his earlier life. It was not that fact alone that had halted Asra in midstep--it was the way that he was looking at it. Radiant care and tenderness bloomed from him as he touched the thick, waxy leaves, as if nothing could have pleased him more than that plant, and the love that it had contained; as if some deep part of him understood what his mind did not. If something seems significant, it is significant. Tytos’s eyes slid from the succulent to Asra, and he was once again lost in that shade of purple. Asra found himself now the focus of that same radiating tenderness. A smile started on Tytos’s lips.
Gratitude welled within Asra’s chest, and he closed his brimming eyes. He’s still in there, somewhere. He lifted the cup before Tytos’s face.
“You need some water.”
Distracted by the proximity of the mug, Tytos’s eyes slid to it. The mirror surface of the water delighted him, and his smile stretched as he caught a hazing glimpse of his own face. Amazed, he looked again to Asra, as if for confirmation of the wonderous fact that he possessed a face and expressions.
Asra understood suddenly what had caught his attention. He chuckled, bashfully. “That’s you, Tytos. Only you look better than that ripply version, trust me.”
Tytos touched his nose, fascinated as his reflection did the same, his gleeful eyes jumping again to Asra. He then touched his mouth, tracing his lips and tapping a tooth. He pressed over his eyes and rested a hand atop his hair. The barest ghost of a laugh passed his lips and to Asra, there had never been a lovelier sound. It softened the edges of his dismay and grief. “If you like this, I’ll grab the mirror out of our chest. But first, here,” he took one of Tytos’s hands and placed it on the mug, and layered his own on top of it. “Like this.” Slowly, he tilted it to his lips.
Tytos jolted at the cool wetness against his mouth and then, with an encouraging look from Asra, he swallowed. The water sluiced down his throat like ice. He loved it. He drained the mug and then finished with a joyful expression.
Asra beamed at him, though sadness still tinged his eyes.
Tytos, my love...there’s so much for you to discover.