Chapter Text
Years after the fall of the divine monarchs…
“I’m sorry, miss,” the man rasped. “I promise I’ll have the money next time. I just really need the hard stuff right now.”
“That’s what you said last time, as well.” The barkeep sniffed, a severe expression on her face. “I thought I made it clear when I said I expect full payment for everything you’ve downed.”
“I know, I’m really sorry,” the man hiccuped. His breathing sped up, as if he was just realizing what was at stake. “I’m trying my best… but lien is so… so…”
He shook his head, long and unkempt hair sending sweat everywhere. “I promise you’ll be paid. I just need something in my belly, please…”
“And how many more times will I hear the same thing from you, eh?” hissed the woman. “I refuse to be part of this song and dance any longer than I’ve already been. I refuse, I say!”
“PLEASE!” the man wheezed. He shambled forward, a moth drawn to the light that was the bar’s doors. “I’ll pay everything later. I just need… something hard…”
The woman stepped back as the man staggered towards her, her face suggesting she had just evaded a plague-ridden pest. The man dragged his feet as he advanced, heedless of the person standing in his path.
From the crowd that had gathered around them, a man emerged stomping towards the drunkard. Passing the barkeep, the newcomer brought his shoulder forward and slammed into the man, knocking him down to his arse.
“You deaf or something, ya bum?” The man sneered. “Lady’s already told you to bug off, didn’t she? You’ve been a right nuisance for several weeks at this point, so how about you do everyone here a favor and find a hole to rot in without bothering anyone!”
The vagrant flinched as the crowd muttered their assent, several people looking down at him with disdain. Within the audience, a hand grasping a rock was raised, and the man held his arm up. Blood joined the grime on his body as the stone cut into his skin.
Scrambling to his feet, the man stumbled away with arms shielding his face as the crowd jeered and threw more objects at him. The people persisted with their shouts of disapproval until he had turned the corner, hopefully leaving the street for the last time.
In the woods outside the village, a man breathed heavily as he lay limp against a tree. He shivered as a strong breeze passed him, his tattered clothing doing little to block the cold. His head was raised toward the canopy, eyes occasionally squinting as orange light pierced the foliage. In truth, he was not searching for anything particular; his mind was a thousand miles away, already where it wanted to be. Or rather, where it could not move on from.
Moisture began coating his eyes as images of a bygone warmth raced through his mind. He saw a woman, whose beauty remained eternal even as fair skin turned sickly pale and turquoise eyes became black as abyss. He remembered their interlinked hands, conveying a love that transcended lives - hands that would find their way to each other no matter the distance. Then he remembered the tangible proofs of their love, carried in his very arms. He remembers getting lost in four beautiful pairs of eyes from four beautiful angels he was infinitely proud to call his own.
Then he remembered the fear. Fear of witnessing the person his beloved had become. Fear of facing the truth the two brothers revealed to him. That a monster had taken his other half’s place and it was his god-given duty to put her down. He just never expected that she was willing to tear down everything they had built - both from brick and their very blood - just to defy the ones who scorned her.
The pain from reminiscing reached an unbearably painful peak, and the last of his will to live - in this body, at least - left him in a pathetic sob. The truth of the matter was that wasting away in this forest was no different from how he was carrying on in that village - whether it be from alcohol or the elements, his body was swiftly and surely decaying. Closing his eyes, the man was prepared for the next time he opened his eyes to be in the following life…
… Only for them to snap open as leaves crunched nearby. Turning his head to the source, his mouth gaped in surprise at the person looking back at him. The silver-haired woman - quite short even for a lady - surveyed him with an impassive expression. She held a long stick in each of her hands. On one stick, a bag was tied to its end - suggesting a wanderer who packed light. As for the other stick…
The man’s pupils shrank. He recognized the design. He had seen many a staff of its kind, and had even wielded some himself. There was only one issue.
He had only seen them in the world before this one.
Before his mind raced further, the woman finally spoke.
“Ah…” she intoned in a surprisingly deep voice. The stoniness of her face melted, giving way to a near imperceptible smile. “Found you.”
