Work Text:
We dive through crystal waters, perfect oceans
But no one told me not to breathe
And now the weightlessness recedes
A wish was granted, a grand raft built, a crew around the pyre, making way.
The Swordsman emerges, head held high, soft body in his arms, a wasted life.
Flames shooting up to the sky, the King lit the fire, the gathering crowd endless, bidding silent goodbye.
A soft music emerges under the Musician's boney fingers, lyrics known but not hummed, the melody floating, leading ashes to the night sky.
Memories flashing through thousand minds, of beaming smiles and powered thighs, delicious meals and grand confessions, headstrong soul and lifelong friend.
A sob cuts, the Navigator falls, mute screams scrapes her throat, cursing the gods and everything unholy, damned be all, just give them back what was lost.
Time crawls slowly, watching the fire consume the frame and free the soul, the mind long gone, and all tumbled down.
The Swordsman stands, head still high, watching, gaze fixed, remembering, hand steady on a sword, not leaving, guarding until nothing is left, and after still.
I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher
Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire
The Swordsman shot up from his first nap in a week, breathing heavy, with crackling fire in his ears and brilliant blues, piercing his soul, watching him. The nightmares came and stayed, couldn't escape, deserved fate.
Memories, real acts, whispered words meant for soothing, haunted him endless, the presence of the Man lingering, being everywhere he looked, smiling, shouting, loving, fighting.
A life cut short, a dream never reached, the caught up past spitting curse and submitting its will. A constant fight against the unknown, against time itself, baring teeth and overthrowing gods of evil, they walked a dead man's path, never abandoning hope.
Time, inevitably, came and the two of them went willingly, knowing honour, sacrifice and debt, the walk to the place slow and silent, a simple handhold meaning more, than words could ever convey, their hearts heavy, throats tight.
A bloody hug, a genuine smile, soft words and bright eyes and it was over, heart stopped beating, tears started flooding, fury erupted and everyone knew.
A King put down his straw crown, never to be lifted again, forever marking a place, where a nakama laid between dying words and loving hands.
I will travel far beyond the path of reason
Take me back to Eden
The Swordsman dreamed of the Man, always and forever, with blood on his hands and confessions on his tongue, a heart filled with love, a future alone, eternally fused with a ghost of The Man, who was Eden on his blood soaked land.