Kiflya

He doesn’t quite look like Sinclair. Well, he does, but not your Sinclair. He’s definitely older. Like he went through a massive growth spurt, which somehow feels like the most unbelievable part of all this. His hair is longer too. You don’t notice at first since the front looks almost the same. His clothes stand out the most. They look worn and unfamiliar, like he was pulled straight from a battlefield.

When you first met, there was something menacing about him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but his presence genuinely frightened you. The way he stood felt heavy and unyielding. His gaze wasn’t even on you, yet you could still feel the weight of it, sharp and unsettling. Then his eyes found you, and everything shifted. It was instant. His expression softened, like a switch had been flipped. He looked almost as stunned as you felt. Seeing someone from your past is no less overwhelming than meeting someone from the future. That brief moment of gentleness was enough to tell you the truth. He really was your Sinclair after all.

You reach for him without thinking. It feels like the only right thing to do. He doesn’t move right away, as if holding himself back, like someone keeping a careful distance from a flame to avoid getting burned. You step closer anyway and wrap your arms around him. His clothes smell of smoke and things best left unnamed. It hurts to realize the future he comes from hasn’t been kind to him. For a moment, his hands hover awkwardly, unsure of where to go. Then one settles on your head, gently patting it. You used to be the one always messing up his hair...

You slowly look up, finally meeting his face properly. Your eyes trace every detail, as if trying to commit them all to memory. A thin scar cuts across his left cheek. You lift your hands and gently cradle his face, your thumb brushing over the mark with care. He looks confused for a moment, then a small smile tugs at his lips. His gloved hands come up to hold yours in place, a quiet sign that he’s finally letting himself give in. He leans into your touch and presses a soft kiss to your palm, never breaking eye contact. Heat rushes to your face. You can’t help but wonder if the age gap makes him feel bolder, or if he’s truly changed this much.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of relationship you’ll have in the future. Maybe the moment he appeared here today changed everything, and you’ll never see him again. Even if he vanishes when he returns, even if his only purpose was to show up here just this once, you’re glad you could be a place of comfort for him at the end. And if nothing has changed at all, you hope that you’re still there for him when the time comes.

You laughed at this in your mind, no, Phainon is too selfless to think that way about his parents. As he spoke, you silently admired his face. Who would have thought that a sun-kissed village, hidden behind the veil of time, would give birth to such a snow-white gorgeous man.

It makes you wonder if such a handsome guy would have a line of local girls after his heart. And not just girls, every mother would want to have such a hard-working son in law with beautiful eyes as deep as the sky. The sky... of course, the difference between you and him is like heaven and earth. Although, with his vanity, he doesn't belong among the clouds of Aquila either. You can't fool a Titan with your tearful story. However, your heart has long been deceived. Perhaps, if you pray enough to the Titan of Love and Beauty they will spare your fragile heart. Yes, that would be wonderful...

The Kephale's sunrays glisten, you involuntarily close your eyes, and Phainon's voice becomes fainter and fainter...

“[name]...? [name]!” you suddenly open your eyes, and before you is the face of a troubled man. “Are you okay?” his hand is held in the air near you, as if hesitating whether to touch you or not. How oddly hesitant of him. A sinister thought flashes through your mind, about how much you want to hear what the highly respected heir is thinking right now. Your silent, soul-searching gaze frightens him more and more with each passing minute. “Would you like to dance?” without giving him a chance to answer, you grab his hand and pull him toward you, too close, he stepped back, keeping his distance like a true gentleman, but not letting go of your hand. “Right here? Right now? Have you hit your head?" rude, yet he has never looked so pathetic before, it's as if you had asked him to marry you and move in together. Such torment brings you sick joy. “You're not telling me about home again for no reason, are you? That means it's wheat harvest season. That means we have to honor the blessings of the Titans.”

He stood rooted to the spot for a moment. Now you had not only confessed your love, but also suggested getting a puppy, allegedly. What’s wrong with him? A hero should be more confident. However, his eyes softened and he really listened to what you were saying. If you look closely, you'll notice a beautiful pink glow on his cheeks. "If the priest(ess) of Phagousa themselves says so, then I cannot refuse."

I recently decided to translate δ-me13.exe into my native language because the text is too difficult to understand, as is everything related to “geniuses”, the words are too darn complicated. And I… have something to confess.

I never took robotfucking, or what Lygus is now, seriously. But there's something about him being a genius capable of creating life, literally, if you've read δ-me13.exe you know what I mean. It's like listening to a nerd, looking at him with loving eyes, only the nerd is a 1,000-year-old “mad” genius capable of creating God. Who has lost the meaning of this world and wants to burn all knowledge to ashes to start all over again, just to feel the thrill of discovering fire without the annoying droidhead taking over his mind, even if it means the destruction of the universe or his own destruction. I need him to mansplain all the Emperor Wars, the cave allegory, and every 33 million cycles of evolution to me

I don't know how else to describe this atmosphere: his boss theme, his plot twist, his way of thinking, his character, his sick and twisted actions, his mind.

Is this like having sex with a robot? I know you're not physically capable of providing me pleasure in a traditional sense, but just being around you is stimulating enough. Keep talking pretty Antikytheran. Scepters blah blah. Caves and shadows blah blah. I'm almost there

The summer wind whistled beneath the windows, carrying the voices of children spending their last free moments before the onset of golden autumn. All the locals were preparing for a festival dedicated to the titan of the earth, Georios, in gratitude for the day when the titan shared knowledge of agriculture with the people of the world. The main event is the solemn procession of the "Celestial Curtain", led by priests and priestesses carrying a large sacred veil that casts a shadow from city to city. This veil symbolised the protection of the earth from the scorching sun and prosperity. The canvas, blessed by Mnestia, carries incredible magic, and every year it becomes more and more beautiful. No one ever misses such a spectacle... except for one person, of course. "Did the boys pick on you again?" a voice was heard near a large tree. "Or is this a new experiment? How many fallen leaves do I have to get tangled in my hair to become a tree? The correct answer is: none, because your head is already as hard as bark", came the amused laughter. In response, there was only a stoic remark: "Move away, you're blocking the light". To which came an equally pompous reply: "You chose to sit in the shade yourself. If you want light so much, sit in the field, you idiot". This time there was no response, but instead you were quickly knocked down by a blow to the legs, and you fell next to him in his shadow. "It's too hot". The boy mumbled all this, not taking his eyes off the latest scientific breakthrough. "What's your problem..." you asked bitterly. "You're my problem", he said without hesitation. "How romantic", your mood changing quickly. "Not at all", the boy muttered. "Speaking of romance, Anaxa~" "Anaxagoras." "You're not going to miss the harvest festival again, are you? You'll come with me, won't you, please". The conversation immediately turned to pleading, because the answer was quite obvious: "Don't even dream about it. No way". Of all your conversations, this is probably the quickest refusal. You immediately pouted, your fingers delicately running through his silky hair, picking out tangled leaves as gently as possible. You are always very gentle with him, or rather, the gentlest in the whole world, but such wonders do not impress him. Therefore, it is time for heavy artillery. "I heard that this year's theme is dromas~ travellers say that they borrowed a dromas from Kremnos itself for the celebration..." You whispered right into his ear. Goosebumps ran down Anax's back. He shuddered at the very thought of it, a giant dromas, a warrior dressed entirely in gold. Each scar could tell its own unforgettable story. Was such a spectacle worth the collapse of his will? The laughter next to his face quickly brought him down to earth, his mood ruined, but... "All right... I'll go. But only for the Dromas." Before he realised how naively he had agreed without thinking, it was already too late. "For your own good, if you just lied to me, don't even think about coming within 5 metres of me unless you want to get hurt." "Why would I lie to you, my dear Anaxagoras?" Without giving him time to react, you tilt his face towards you, quickly kiss him on the cheek and swiftly retreat, leaving him dumbfounded. He calmly places his hand where your lips touched his skin. At least this time you got his name right...

note: the festival is based on Skirophoria or The festival of the Skira. Summer celebration of abundance and harvest.

Their conversation is killing me brah. Two losers communicating

Attempt 1)

"There's only one bed.. You're planning to share or am I the lucky one tonight?"

"my body is conditioned for 36 hour of vertical rest"

"Hm, standing above me all night is unnerving, don't you think?"

"I'm also trained in concrete floor sleeping"

Attempt 2)

"Let's play a little game. If I win, you owe me a secret. If you win... I owe you a favor. Anything you like"

"I am not to share classified information. But I can recite my favourite field rotation, if that qualifies. As for the favor, I would request early access to the weekly mission report"

"...sure"

Attempt 3)

"You always sit so far. You don't have to."

"the distance allows optimal coverage of both entry points and lines of fire. Sitting closer would compromise my reaction time"

"you're lucky you're cute.."

"I am trained to be non-threatening in civilian zones. If my appearance is a tactical advantage, I will continue maintaining it"

Attempt 4)

"Funny, how quiet it gets when it's just the two of us."

"This structure is soundproofed. No external traffic in a 400 metre radius."

"You always keep track of your surroundings with such precision?"

"Yes. Including yours, Mr. Aventurine"

"Even now?"

"Your breathe rate has slowed. Likely due to low light and reduced adrenaline"

Attempt 5)

"Tell me, if I kiss you right now... would you stop me?"

"...If it is part of your distraction technique, I will not interfere. However, I must advise that such behaviour could compromise situational awareness"

"You really have no idea what you do to people, do you?"

"Negative. Should I request an external assesment?"