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The apparition of his brother makes him pause; it’s new to see glimpses of his failures staring back at him, what with the ghosts of former grimwalkers haunting him throughout the years.
It was so unusual to see Caleb, and the twinge in his chest at the sight, though not shown in his expression, was something to note; his brother, standing before him, made him yearn for something he knew he couldn’t have again.
For a moment, Belos forgets the current form he has taken. He snarls. Hot, wet mud spilling to the ground from his bony jaw. The form in front of him is faded, but he can sense his brother’s presence.
It's cold. He can see the judgment in Caleb’s eyes.
As tired as he is, the expression fills him with anger.
“Don't mock me. I tried to save your soul.” He sits up on his haunches, to a threatening height. “It's your fault this all happened.”
Belos slashes his claws at the ghostly form of his brother, which stands and stares unflinchingly. The scythelike claws pass through Caleb without harm, and Belos shrieks in frustration as he tugs his arm back with difficulty. Lifting his limb from the ground, he makes note of the way his bones show through his monstrous form.
He feels heavy, perhaps exhaustion setting in after that basilisk had attacked him back in the human realm. If that beast hadn’t touched him, he could have easily stored up enough energy from the galderstone inside his creation to maintain himself, and perhaps regrow his body.
Caleb is unmoving, still, and with that ever-present judgemental expression. The same expression he’d worn when they fought about…Evelyn.
Belos’ form collapses underneath him. He hangs his head, exhausted from the movement to attack the apparition. His body is deteriorating alarmingly fast. Faster than it ever had before. For the first time, Belos fears that he may die trapped in this monstrous form with his brother looking through him. He snarls again, this time in dull, frustrated anguish.
What an awful place to die. Alone in the forest, without a soul to care about his remains. At this rate, he would forever be Philip Wittebane, the boy who never returned, instead of Philip Wittebane, Witch Hunter General.
A minute passes with nothing for sound but his ragged breathing and the rustling of leaves above them from the breeze. He’s certain that he can get up and…drag himself to another body, but gathering his strength to make a move like that would take time - he wasn’t sure he had that. Gathering his strength up, he feels rather sorry for himself.
He was going to die here, wasn’t he?
He feels something…wet fall out of his eye, and he realizes that he’s crying. The most powerful witch hunter alive was crying. It's a sick sort of feeling, self-pity. Something that isn’t common in his life. This is the type of selfish anguish you would expect from a child. Something he’d deploy when he wanted Caleb to bring him comfort.
He always felt comfortable crying around Caleb. Nobody else.
He feels the presence shift, and he’s sure that this ghost will just leave like the rest of them, as they all do in time.
Instead, he feels an odd weight on the back of his head from where he is hunched over. Fingers leading to a hand brush through his hair slowly, hesitant to go any faster, as if someone were petting a stray animal.
The move to look up is exhausting, yet he does so anyhow, and sees the ghost of his Caleb, standing before him now, hand on Belos’ head. Caleb still held the a judgmental look. Belos couldn’t focus too hard on the phantom, as the image shifted and blurred from both tears and whatever made up a ghost - or hallucination.
Belos freezes at once, feeling the touch. This must be a hallucination, he thinks to himself. The gentle touch of his brother was a lost, ancient sensation. A mere dream. He can remember those hands comforting him in times of need, hundreds of years ago. A quiet gesture of safety and love. Unsure of whether it is real or not, he leans into it, closing his eyes.
“Caleb…” he whispers, his voice ringing monstrous and foreign in his own head.
The hand cups his cheek, and surprisingly it feels real. It feels warm and heavy, sturdy enough for him to lean against. He could remember the last time his brother held him like that, back when they were just two younger men dealing with life on their own.
“Caleb.” His voice is weaker this time, and quivers with the tears he’d held back. Tears wet his sunken cheeks and his body is wracked as he sobs, pushing closer into the comforting palm of his brother. Caleb holds him steady.
He slumps more, energy taken away from him as he cries into his brother's hand. He feels chunks of his form slough off low into the dirt. He is unable to bring himself to call them back.
Another hand on his other cheek ought to have startled him, yet his guard is down for the only person it would ever be down for. He sinks into the feeling of being held in such a way.
He turns more into the hands, and without much thought to it, he pitifully licks at the digits once, if only to confirm that they were there.
Caleb recoils a fraction, perhaps in surprise, but doesn’t let go of his brother. Belos’ eyes snap to Caleb, and he can see a little smile on his face.
At least his ghost retains his good sense of humor, Belos thinks to himself. He feels slightly embarrassed about the action. Sometimes in this form, he has a tendency to take on more primal instincts than usual. It was helpful if he needed to frighten someone, but it often felt out of his control.
Knees hitting dirt startles Belos, as the apparition shifts to kneel in front of him. He could almost smell his brother from this angle, or at least he wants to think so; a hickory, slightly pumpkin-pie scent, a treat Caleb often baked for his younger brother on special days, when there had been pumpkin to harvest.
Thoughtlessly, he uses his own energy to flop, careless, onto the ground, head now seated in his ghostly sibling's lap. He lets loose a shuddering, wet sigh, feeling those hands hold onto him. He was certain that he would only be met with the cold, soggy ground, but as he feels the oh-so familiar warmth of his elder brother, he chokes up.
He uses his energy to wrap his longer, monstrous limbs around what he hoped was Caleb. He closes his eyes and feels a gentle touch. Fingers running through his long hair. The movement is slow and familiar.
Belos sniffs as he feels a vibration coming from the ghost’s chest. The ghost hums a nice, familiar tune from their childhood; one Belos could easily recall and recite had he ever focused on it himself in the past. It was nostalgic. He feels himself growing more and more calm, sinking into the touch, curling closer into his brother’s lap. He feels childish. This reminds him of kinder days, slower days spent with Caleb. He sighs to himself, and feels the world around him melt away, experiencing nothing but calming touch.
He wants to speak to his brother, if only for one last time; maybe tell him that he misses him, or that they should be together…maybe even confess to his feelings from then and from now.
Opening his mouth is hard, and when he manages to click it open, Caleb puts a hand slowly beneath, tucking it under Belos chin and closing his mouth. Caleb shushes, then, “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
Belos whines a bit, not used to hearing his brother’s voice. Caleb’s voice comes across as quieter than he remembers, perhaps achy from lack of use, but still strong.
A moment of silence falls between them, the previous humming not returning, yet the fingers going through his dirty hair never pausing in their action.
“I don’t forgive you for what you did,” Caleb whispers, then, as if telling a secret, “but that doesn’t mean I hate you; you’ll always be my baby brother.”
Silence surrounds them besides the distant chirp of insects and the slow, labored breaths of the creature curled up in Caleb’s lap. It is a calm night. Or at least, Belos can almost convince himself of the calm if he pushes all other memories from his mind. As Caleb holds him reassuringly, it becomes easier and easier to forget.
Where had this been for so long? This wasn’t the first time he’d caught glimpses of what he thought was his brother. What took Caleb so long to act?
Was it because he saw how tired Belos had been? Maybe he was here because of Belos’ efforts to rid witches from this world? He couldn’t find it in himself to rip his jaw away from his brother’s warm hold to question it, settling himself in for a little while, if only to gain his strength up and figure out where to find a new body.
Belos rests his eyes for a bit.
Opening them what seemed like a few moments later, he hears quiet laughter from his brother. “You fell asleep, old man,” Caleb purrs. Belos snorts at that, being awarded with a ruffle of his hair.
It is still night from what he can see. With how the dew has finally settled into the ground, he can deduce that he’s been here a while. Why was Caleb still here? Ghosts didn’t usually hang around for Belos, especially ones he’d…wronged in the past.
One of the hands taps him on the cheek, taking him from his thoughts, “You look troubled.” Caleb notes, his otherworldly hands going back to their previous actions of running themselves through his hair. Belos, still low on energy even from what he could perceive as an hour or so nap, grumbles in answer.
“Pip,” Caleb whispers. Belos raises his head a bit to meet his brother’s eyes. They’re a ghostly gray, but there’s warmth to them. One hand trails back lazily to Belos’ jaw. Not quite understanding the reason for the motion, Belos nuzzles into it all the same. He feels his chin being lifted with the ease of one person lifting the chin of another, as if Caleb is moving the memory of Philip, and not what currently sits before him.
“Hm?” Belos continues to watch his brother, almost idly. He still feels tired.
The phantom leans his head down, and Belos can almost feel the ghostly touch of his forehead as he makes to touch them together - an old act of fondness they once shared between each other on cold, depressing nights. His heart skips a beat as he watches the actions of his brother long dead.
Before he has much longer to think, or to even gather thought to what he is witnessing, a peck to what should have been the bridge of his nose startles him, Caleb moving away after the action.
Belos grunts in surprise. He recoils, feeling a shiver go down his spine as he stares, shocked, at his brother. Caleb’s act brought feeling back into his cold hands and sunken cheeks, and he can almost feel himself blushing. Caleb is smiling playfully, his hands still against his brother. His eyes are closed, his dark circles more apparent.
Neither moved for a while. Belos unsure of what to do, what to feel. Caleb opens one eye to peer at him, still smiling. Then he brings Belos’ face closer again, and the creature before him allows the movement. Caleb kisses him on the cheek. Lingering, quietly. Then he moves his lips to the other cheek. Then to Belos’ forehead once more, a ghostly laugh echoing in the forest surrounding them.
Belos’ confusion clouds his thoughts, making him unable to react at first. Then, a low growl sounds in his throat, and he moves to knock the apparition over, still half-expecting to touch the ground behind his brother instead. But the move is successful, and he pushes Caleb into the dirt with his powerful claws. Caleb appears unharmed, yet remains still as his Philip rears up with a sudden, angry energy. Belos roars from his chest as he stomps his claws down into the dirt beside his brother, scarring the earth beneath him.
He's confused - his brother kissed him in such a…lewd and sinful way. What confused him and angered him was the fact that he liked it. He shouldn’t like his brother like that anymore. Caleb had sat him down as a child and told him about the sinful acts of family courting, and of men who found a liking to other men. He moves to sit up, head tilted in his confusion as he stares down at his dear older brother.
“Why? Why would you do this to me? I don’t understand. You teach me one way, and then act in another. What’s wrong with you?”
Caleb does not respond to the question. His form shimmers and at once Belos fears that the apparition will disappear. Then, Caleb sits up, brushing the dirt off of his pants. He pats his ghostly lap, inviting Belos to lie down onto it. He still has such a soft, sweet smile across his face, looking up at his younger brother.
Still confused, Belos sighs. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get a straight answer to that question. And if he acts in anger again, he could end up destroying his own body. He slowly moves to lie down - surely his elder brother would not betray him once more? Caleb was…strangely warm and…inviting. He wouldn’t harm Belos. He never had.
Caleb’s hands reach to meet back with his head, and just before Belos had time to lie on his brother’s lap, and to where they were eye-to-eye, Caleb lays another gentle peck to the bridge of Belos’ nose. They remain in the a position for a moment, and Belos almost refuses to close his eyes for this; truly, how he wished Caleb would have done this a lot sooner. Preferably when they were both alive.
The moment ends all too soon for Belos’ liking. Caleb pulls back, his eyes opening and giving his brother another wonderful smile.
Belos wants to tell him how he’d felt, all those years ago, then; how he had been, and was now, sinfully smitten with his elder brother. How he ached for his brother every single day after his attempt to save Caleb’s soul from witchcraft. How he pined and yearned for somebody who was long gone and lost to time.
But he doesn’t get to, as Caleb reaches up to pull him down into his arms.
He realizes that he is flesh once more, inside of his original form, the muddy chunks of his cursed form spilling to the ground and slowly being drunk up by the earth, as if they were never there in the first place.
The feeling of shifting was usually a strange and dizzying one, and felt much like pins and needles and needlessly stretched skin, but this time he’d never even felt the slightest tingle, and the vertigo he usually feels with his curse had not hit him, even though Caleb had moved him so quickly.
Caleb holds onto him tightly, and he almost feels like a little kid again, being rocked to sleep by the only family he’s ever known and loved so, as Caleb gently rocks them both where they sat. Caleb runs one hand through Belos’ hair easily, and kisses his head tenderly, as if he were some beautiful and fragile relic.
“I love you so much.” Caleb whispers, kissing him once more. The kisses he gives are sweet, and bring warmth to Belos’ worn out body.
Belos can feel the tears of longing burning at the corners of his eyes as he wraps his arms around his ghostly brother, burying his face into his brother’s shoulder.
“Phillip.”
Belos looks up, into his brother’s warm brown eyes. “Yes?”
“Would you like to return the favor?” Caleb asks in a playful tone.
Belos feels himself blushing, almost impossibly warm while pressed snugly against his brother. He nods slowly; he’d kiss Caleb and hold onto him if he so wished of him. It’s the least Belos could do (even if he really wanted to, deep down). Caleb then taps the bridge of his own nose, closing his eyes as if to ask for a kiss there as well.
Belos hadn’t kissed another for…well, for as long as Caleb had been gone. Four hundred years, at the very least. They’d last shared such intimacy during their teenage years, comforting each other during some boring autumn day.
His lips were chapped. He’d long since forgotten just…how to kiss. Or so he thinks, before he leans in and it’s almost like the experience resurfaces as muscle memory guides him. He plants his own gentle kiss onto his brother, at the very tip of his nose, much like he would do as a child during play.
The feeling of doing so and getting away with it always made him giddy and excited back then. Now, he just feels the yearning for his brother in this phantom of him. He smiles, despite this, looking into his brother’s eyes. Belos is nearly at a loss for words from what he’d just done - such…intimacy between them was a rare thing, even back when they were children. It was surprising how comfortable and warm it made him feel. It felt like there was a deep warmth that had blossomed inside of his own chest at the kiss.
As he pulls back, feeling buzzed, he notices the smile on his brother’s face has grown more calm, serene. The warmth they share is intoxicating and comforting at the same time.
Caleb’s arms tighten just a little around Belos, before his hands reach up to feel along Belos’ clothing. “Stay with me a while, brother?” he asks.
With hesitation and just a moment more, Belos nods, resigning himself to rest with Caleb. Perhaps they could stay like this for a while. He could return to his mission to find another body soon enough. Caleb was so warm, it would be silly to leave him now.
The grimwalker phantoms that had surrounded them last night had all but wandered off, he idly noted by a quick glance around the forest. All that was in the forest, other than local fauna and flora, were the two brothers.
Caleb tucks his hand back behind Belos’ head, fingers tangling comfortably in Belos’ long hair, as he guides his brother back to burying into his neck, holding him there, to bask in the warmth and love he had to offer.
They laugh lightly together at their shared affection.
The body of the monster on the other side of the clearing was decayed, the flesh dripping down from its bones to the earth it previously should have belonged ages ago. The body is just a husk of its former self.
His brother didn’t have to know about his passing just yet…he wouldn’t let his brother glance to his own body.
Not right now, when he held him so close.
Caleb yawns, stretching his arms over his head, then flops over to the ground, bringing Belos with him. The pair nestle in the soft grass below them. Everything feels a bit fuzzy to Belos, as if he’s in a dream - though not entirely an unwelcome one. His fingers interlock with Caleb’s.
What were they doing again? Oh, yes, just resting for a while during a witch hunt, perhaps.
Caleb gently runs his other hand over Pip, pushing the toy mask out of the way as he brushes his fingers over his little brother’s head. The feeling felt of home, in all entirety, as they just lie here on a sunny morning in the meadow just outside of the old schoolyard.
The bell of the church in the distance was so clear, that Pip could barely remember what his previous goals had been; he’d been up to something mischievous, but that something surely couldn’t be as important as just basking in the sunshine with his favorite person, right?
His brother chuckles beneath him, the sound vibrating his chest. His brother then sighs restfully, “you’ve had such a long day.”
“Uh huh.”
Caleb stretches once more, his arms above him as his bones pop quietly with the action, grunting. He grabs the wooden mask from where he’d pushed it, looking into the beady wooden eye holes before idly tossing the craft into a nearby bush.
He loops his arm back over his younger brother, tightening it in comfort before loosening it back to pet and pat his brother’s hair. “Missed you, Pip.”
“Missed you too.”