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to drown

Summary:

Lemurians don't drown.

... Or so Rafayel thinks.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Lemurians don't drown.

 

He thinks of it in a different way. In the sense that, they physically cannot drown. Because how would they if they were perfectly capable of breathing underwater? How would they if they knew never to fear the sea, the source of their livelihood and upbringing?

 

... It's a curse, then, when he fails to realise he is drowning from his emotions instead.

 

Waterfalls of emotions rushing through his mind, cascading over and over one another. A constant drone, a haze, hell maybe even a fog that envelops his head, snuffing out any light that dared to escape. Blurs clouding his vision, eyes going glassy, he can't see, he can't see he can't see hecantsee-

 

"Rafayel!"

 

Her voice pierces like an arrow. A glorious beam of sunlight after a rainy day, the shimmers of a sun rising after the dark of night. Tingles crawling over his skin, goosebumps turning it coarse as she holds his hands. A tight squeeze to his calloused fingers that he had kissed so many times before. A smile so warm he feels like he'd melt like Icarus.

 

He doesn't realise the tears streaming down his face either. Doesn't notice her fingers wiping them away, until she is chanting his name over and over like a mantra. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel-

 

Ah, that's right. That was his name. His name. Not someone else's. She was calling for him. For him.

 

Not the sea god whose mistake cost his nation. Not the assassin whose attempts to repent are always met with failure.

 

She was calling to Rafayel. To him, Rafayel.

 

A Lemurian curse escapes his lips as he crumbles, akin to a deck of cards. Fragile, unstabilized and yet light, only supported by her arms as he tumbles into her embrace. Holding her close, hiding his face, as if doing so would stop her from seeing more of his tears. Tears that never stopped, would never stop, as long as that bothersome weight was strung around his neck, constantly chaining him to his past (lives) no matter how he runs from them.

 

He wonders if she would hate him if she knew. He hopes she never finds out.

 

If only to continue having moments like these.

Notes:

it has been a hot minute since i posted anything here. whoopsies.
will be trying to post a bit more now and not being paranoid of writing wrong. because yeah that's kind of what's been holding me back.
perfectionism is the enemy of creativity :')