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“What the fuck.” He whispers to himself. Against his better judgment, he unbuckles his seatbelt and gingerly unlocks his doors, sliding out and taking in the whole scene. Taking a few steps forward, he looks down, and at first, he thinks he’s hallucinating as the ground seems to undulate, but squinting, he can make out little things crawling across the tarmac and then realisation dawns. On the road, baby turtles are shuffling along, barely visible in the quickly dimming evening light, and the man whom he’d at first assumed was having some kind of episode had stopped his car to protect them from the birds.
“You gonna help or are you just gonna stand there and gawk!”
Phainon and Mydei help turtles cross the road, and then they fall in love.
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When the blond boy had seen him sitting out on the ice, he’d thought that was the end.
Nightmares of men finding his people dragging them up in nets, cutting them open like any other fish, suddenly felt so real and imminent that he’d actually stopped breathing, freezing in fear as the boy stared back at him, his eyes just as wide. Then he’d smiled at him, like Veritas was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t run away screaming; he’d actually had the audacity to step closer.
Veritas knew he should’ve dragged him beneath the ice as soon as he was close enough to reach, for the safety of his people, he shouldn’t allow this boy to live, but–
Veritas and Kakavasha live in two different worlds, destined to be at odds, but neither of them has ever played by the rules.
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“You’re so beautiful.” Phainon giggles and Mydei’s skin heats up a few more degrees as Phainon watches him, his eyes still heavy with passion and something softer that Mydei can’t bring himself to name. “Did I ever tell you about what I thought the first time I laid eyes on you?”
Just your average afternoon with Mydei and Phainon.
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“All true visionaries are heralded as lunatics.” Anaxa scoffed at her, still managing to keep up his facade even as he lay in her arms, shivering like a kitten left out in a thunderstorm, closer to death than any man should be comfortable being.
“You equate the minority with the rule when the reality is most madmen are just that—mad.”
Anaxa is dying, and Aglaea can't understand why he doesn't care.
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“Usually, when I become sick, I choose death and am reborn healthy again.” He admitted readily, surprised Phainon hadn’t guessed as much. What was immortality good for if not to rid yourself of mortal inconveniences like illness and injury?
As the look of horror spreads across Phainon’s face, Mydei realises he has gravely miscalculated.
Phainon is sick, and Mydei has no idea how to relate.
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