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Mortals were such feeble, useless things. They could not help but squabble amongst themselves, jockeying for power, wealth, status—sometimes going so far as to murder one another for those petty, pointless reasons. Xiao had watched it happen a thousand times, and always turned his back to it, focusing his attention instead on the true monsters: foul demons encroaching on this world, and fallen gods clawing their way out of their stone prisons.
Mortals, even when they lied and killed and stole… Xiao could not see them as monsters. Mortals were just… mortals. They were not his purview, or his responsibility. And they died so very easily, their bodies as fragile as glass, their lives as ephemeral as snowflakes.
Usually, when Xiao caused harm to a mortal, it was an accident of fate—something to be reflected on for a moment, and then set aside as merely the expected fallout of the dangerous work to which Xiao had committed his eternity. It had been centuries since he last raised his weapon against an ordinary human with violent intent. And even then, it had been a last resort, necessary to safeguard the lives of hundreds. He had never once lifted his spear to protect a single, solitary mortal's life at the expense of another's before.
So why was it that, when he saw that line of red open on that Traveler's skin, he could not resist striking down the perpetrator?
Xiao sat on the edge of a precipice, staring out at the mountainous landscape, as though the shapes of those familiar peaks might help him steady himself. He held his polearm in a white-knuckled grip, resting across his thighs. There was no trace of blood on the weapon. A half-breath after it had been yanked free of a chest shuddering with its first death throes, the wind had promptly wicked the blood away, as if to protect Xiao from the reality of what he'd chosen to do.
The blood was gone, but Xiao thought he could still feel it, on his hands.
He heard careful footsteps approaching him from behind. He did not turn his head.
"Thank you," a now-so-very-familiar voice said, from several steps away. A prudent distance.
"I do not need or want your thanks," Xiao said, letting a little bit of anger tinge his voice. But nothing else.
"I know," came the too-sympathetic reply.
Xiao bristled. He hated to be disbelieved, and it didn't sound like his words were being taken at face value. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He should leave. There was no reason to stay here any longer, no remaining purpose he could serve. Further conversation was meaningless.
He didn't move. He just kept his eyes on the horizon.
"May I join you?" the Traveler asked, softly.
For long moments, Xiao said nothing. But there were no sounds of shuffling feet or sighing, no sign that his lack of answer was being taken as either acceptance or refusal, and no further supplication. There was only a patient silence.
"Do what you want," Xiao finally replied.
At least the troublesome mortal didn't waste Xiao's time asking if he was sure. Immediately, he heard purposeful footsteps close the distance between them, and then felt the blunt end of his polearm lift half an inch to make way for two legs sliding underneath it, alongside his own.
Now there was a warm thigh pressed to Xiao's, like a brand against his skin. An arm brushed up against his own, in time with its owner's steady breaths. Breaths that might so easily have been snuffed out forever, not half an hour prior.
And that would have been fine. Should have been fine. Mortals died—it was what they were best at. Gods and adepti rarely developed a knack for it, and tended to linger. But, mortals, they could escape this world in a moment if they were so inclined, struggling free of any tie that might attempt to bind them.
Xiao seldom bothered to try. They rarely thanked him for his interference. But, it was an option. He knew that. He could've held the Traveler here for as long as he wished, had that blow truly been a fatal one. That should have been his first impulse, not plunging his spear into another mortal's body. Such a pointless display of sentiment, and unnecessary force. What purpose had it served? Dead mortals were not brought back by vengeance.
But he'd been taken off-guard. He hadn't considered the reality of the Traveler's demise before, and when he'd been faced with it, he'd reacted on instinct, lashing out with lethal intent. That was the sort of being he was, at the core, after all.
His gut clenched with the stray thought that, had the enemy been stronger and Xiao's power allowed free rein for too long, he might have caused the Traveler's death himself, purely by accident. Just as he'd done so many times before, to so many mortals whose faces he could not recall.
How long would it be before he could no longer recall this one? How long could he hold onto the memory of golden eyes and flaxen hair, before it all blurred and faded to nothing? A decade? A century? Inevitably, he would forget. And he likely wouldn't even notice that he had.
This was… vexing.
A shoulder bumped into his own, startling him out of his musings. Xiao chanced a sidelong glance at his companion, only allowing his gaze to linger when the Traveler kept on studiously looking out at the landscape rather than back at Xiao. All for the best. He wasn't sure he could tolerate eye contact right now. And he had a sinking suspicion that the Traveler knew it.
In any case, the Traveler looked well. Hale, and hearty. The only evidence that anything had happened was the bandage now covering the wound, freshly-bound enough that there was no sign yet of blood seeping through. Evidently, the Traveler had gotten medical attention while Xiao had been… distracted. That was… acceptable.
Something had settled down in Xiao's chest at this visual evidence that the one who'd caused his recent turmoil was indeed fine. For whatever reason, it appeared that it mattered to him that this particular mortal survived. When had that happened? And…
"Why you, of all mortals?" he said aloud, gruffly.
"Hm?" Inquisitive eyes turned his way. There was a little furrow between the Traveler's eyebrows at first, but it cleared away when the mortal caught sight of Xiao's face, as though the unspoken question's answer had been found in his guarded expression.
Perhaps it hadn't been guarded enough to fend off such a talented treasure-hunter.
The urge to lock himself away once more—to keep himself so distant from the mortal world that nothing like this could ever touch him again—rose in his throat like bile. He didn't want to feel this way—like this human had any conception of what he was and how he felt. He wanted to go back to a world where every mortal was the same, and he had nothing to do with any of them.
"You know," the Traveler said, too gently, "it's okay to—"
"To what?" Xiao snapped. "To play god? To choose one life over another? What?"
But his ire was only met with a perfect, steady calm. "To care. And to do things because you care."
Such a simple, straightforward reply. It knocked the breath out of Xiao.
"I can't," he choked out. He couldn't. "It's… I'm an adeptus. I don't—"
"You can. You do," said the Traveler, immovable as rock and piercing as wind. "And it's okay."
A warm hand settled itself on top of his, where it was still wrapped around his polearm.
He considered pulling away—turned the idea back and forth in his mind like a battle tactic he needed to refine before using. He wanted to shout a denial, refute this unprecedented claim. He longed to flee back to his comfortable solitude. But he did not do any of that. Just stayed perfectly still, more statue than living being.
The Traveler was still looking at him, patiently.
Fury rose again. "How can it be okay?" he demanded. "Why should your life be more sacred than any other mortal's?"
Unphased, the Traveler kept studying him for long, aching moments, before finally asking in a far-off tone, "Xiao… Did you know that I have a twin?" A complete non sequitur from Xiao's perspective, catching him wrong-footed. He cautiously shook his head. A twin? No, he hadn't known. But what did it matter?
"We were traveling the worlds together, but we got… separated." A shadow crossed the Traveler's face. "I'd do anything—anything—if it meant we would be reunited. I'm sure it's the same the other way around. But that doesn't mean either of us think the other's life is inherently more valuable than any other person's. It's just…" Thin shoulders moved in a helpless shrug. "We were each other's everything, for a long time."
The hand atop Xiao's squeezed gently. "No one is more important than anyone else, not really, in the grand scheme of things. No one should be. But someone can be important to you. And you can do what you feel you must, to protect them, and keep them by your side. Otherwise, what's the point?" The question was posed with a philosophical air, as though of course there was a point, as though there was no question in the Traveler's mind that something had to matter.
And maybe… some things did. Not in the grand scheme of things, no. But maybe just… to a person. To Xiao.
Something tentative, hopeful was stirring in his stomach. It was probably leaking into his expression, but the Traveler's gaze had darted away, so it went unnoticed for the moment.
Studying something in the vicinity of Xiao's knees, the Traveler seemed unaccountably agitated all of a sudden. Xiao was almost compelled to ask what the problem was, but he didn't need to, in the end. "We…" the human started, hesitantly. "We haven't known each other long, but… you're important to me, Xiao. And I was… when you stepped in like that, reacted like that… I was… really happy."
Pale cheeks flushed pink, brushed by eyelashes that refused to lift to meet Xiao's eyes. "And, you'll probably think this is an absurd thing for a human to say to an adeptus, but, um…" The Traveler's voice trailed off to a whisper. "I'd… do the same for you. Protect you, if I could. And if someone tried to hurt you, I'd hurt them back."
Xiao was suddenly very aware of the beating of his heart. He thought maybe he could hear the Traveler's, too, thrumming through the air. Or maybe that was still just his own pulse pounding in his ears.
And when the Traveler finally mustered the will to look back up at Xiao, hope and apprehension swirling in those sunlight eyes, something crystallized.
Xiao was seized with the urge to press a kiss to those pale-pink lips, and he let the impulse carry him forward.
The Traveler drew in a sharp breath, but didn't otherwise react for a long moment, long enough for Xiao to begin to regret letting his instincts rule him. He was abruptly certain he had erred, and he also strongly suspected that he wasn't doing this correctly besides. It wasn't as if he'd had any practice before. He'd seen humans kiss, and it had always looked fairly straightforward, but now that he was trying it, he found himself at a loss.
He was almost to the point of making a hasty and instantaneous escape and swearing a vow to stay well out of this mortal's sight for at least a decade, if not a century, when that soft mouth finally opened up to him, making sweet, pleased noises.
Xiao determined that he had, in fact, done something wrong with regards to kissing, because the Traveler reached up a hand to tilt the angle of Xiao's head just slightly, and the whole enterprise suddenly became much more comfortable. But he found it hard to be too bothered by the clear evidence of his inexpertise, consumed as he was by the pleasant feelings of lips sliding together and the vibrations from contented hums. He let the Traveler take the lead, mirroring each movement and taking cues as best he could.
It seemed like only a few moments had passed, but he noticed that his lungs had started to burn. He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to breathe like this. Should he be?
Light-headed, he reluctantly broke the contact between their lips, but didn't pull back very far. Drawing in heaving breaths, he pressed their foreheads together instead, trying to keep as close as possible. He struggled to find words for what he needed.
"Just… don't die," he said. No, pled. Begged, it felt like. "Not before I'm ready for it."
The response was immediate. "I won't. I promise," the Traveler said.
"You say that so easily," Xiao replied. It wasn't reassuring. He needed assurance.
"I mean it," the Traveler insisted, with utter conviction. "I can't die yet. I have something I need to do first."
"Hmph. If that's the case, then it would be in my best interests to prevent you from doing it," Xiao mused, which was met with a peal of laughter—though Xiao hadn't really been joking. A hand squeezed his once more, and this time he responded in kind, setting his polearm aside so that he could thread his fingers into that sword-calloused hand and hold it tight.
They sat there awhile, huddled close, breathing the same air, until the Traveler hesitantly broke the silence.
"But, Xiao," the human said, "you're strong. And you've seen generations come and go. I'm just…" The Traveler swallowed, throat bobbing. "You'll be ready for it, whenever it happens."
Xiao's jaw tightened, and he closed the narrow gap between their lips once more, this kiss more desperate than before. A little more practiced, too, but it was only their second kiss. There was still room to grow, Xiao was sure. But, would they have time for that? This kiss—every single kiss—might just be their final one, after all.
His hand had moved to cup the Traveler's cheek, almost without him realizing it. The soft skin under his fingers burned hot and bright, warming him through. But it chilled him as well. The hotter a fire burned, the sooner it would burn itself out.
…Ready for this mortal to die?
He wasn't sure he ever would be.