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Summary
"Perhaps you'll find another soul to torture,” Corvo teases, “Another tired middle-aged father who is so desperate for your fickle attention."
“There is no one else,” the Outsider replies suddenly, voice fierce. His brow pinches just barely. “There is no other soul like yours. When you’re gone, I’ll wait to find you again, when your soul is reincarnated in a thousand or so years.”
Corvo’s heart is thudding in his ears and the Mark burns hot on his skin, under his wrappings, like it's about to burst into flames.
And then, as though caught being too sentimental, the Outsider’s hands drop slowly from Corvo’s face. He looks away, voice quiet when he says, “Don't die, beloved. It would be so troublesome for me.”
Corvo Attano and the Outsider, in a dance not yet occurred, and so very, very human. Or, the transformation of a lifeless god to a god in human flesh and blood with a living, beating heart.
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Bookmark Notes:
One day I'll stop losing this fic like my will to live
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