HUNGER INSIDE ME (I COULD EAT GOD)

He had always planned on coming back for her. But days had become weeks, then months, then years. To stay away had been to keep her and the . . . had been to keep them out of the line of fire. It had not had the desired effect---one almost-dead, one supposedly-dead, but hells.

He had not predicted the outcomes he was now seeking to change.

He had not predicted that the kid would be this stubborn either, but he supposed that while the cat had come, some birds of a feather still sought to flock together. And she deserved that kind of stubborn loyalty, really. It just meant that his secondary priority was now to keep the kid from getting himself killed. And this kid---Lyon, he reminded himself---was definitely not gifted with a good sense of self-preservation.

Thus, Solomon sighed deeply as he supervised the k--- Lyon as he purchased some travel supplies with the money Solomon had given him. They really should get going, rumour had it that some dark guild was making moves towards obtaining the "Glacified Demon" and Solomon really would prefer if they would not get it.

A random assortment of quickfire headcanons

his birthname is Solomon Acilio, and he goes by Solomon in his private life and by Sol among his close friends.

he is a tea drinker, coffee makes him too jittery and jittery does not mix well with any power that requires a lot of control.

Solomon hates Invel. It started out as irrational pettiness, but Invel called himself the greatest ice magic user ever once and Sol has since decided that this man needs to be humbled. The greatest ice magic user ever, as far as Solomon is concerned, is Ur.

Sol respects women.

there was a reason she kept her feet bare. delicate and silenced footfalls made it ideal for avoiding others, her stealth often used to her advantage. such a trait was rare amongst the demon gates, most of the others inexplicably loud. so it wasn’t easy to sneak up on seilah, but he was a special case.

she didn’t take notice of him until she felt the flutter of her hair as he breezes past. seilah halts in her steps, hands remaining folded within her sleeves. brows knitting with skepticism, her lips tighten to a frown. bottomless, black eyes stare as if peering past the man. she tilts her head, basking in the hesitation she provides. seilah enjoyed mind games, but silver wasn’t one to fall for them. so instead, she offers a brief wave of her hand as if swatting a fly. gliding past, she answers simply with a shrug,  “ —out. ”

seilah kept her personal excursions to herself most days. not even kyoka being informed of such feats. it was something they wouldn’t understand. something that only the ‘human’ in her could. before she exits, there’s a pause. turning her cheek as she reconsiders her options.  “ given the recent fall of our ‘allies’, i believe he’s growing wary. ”  her tone is quiet and ominous. she fully faces him as she continues,  “ so i … volunteered for a fact-finding venture. ”

a cant of her head, curiosity etched to her expression — a ghost of a smile arises upon pale features. “ i’ll be heading to the liliaceae forest. you … look like you could use some fresh air, dear silver. if you’d like to accompany me. ”

he shrugged as he quietly followed her --- she was his favourite colleague to spend time with,  was someone who did not keep rambling about zeref’s greatness the way others did.  sometimes,  the fact that he was playing a role was all that kept him from snarling at the others and,  not for the first time,  his patience was wearing very thin.  few things sunk deeper beneath his skin than anyone’s assumption that zeref might care about something they did here on a level that went beyond my pawns play their part and fall onto their swords when i command them to.  it was irritating.

and yet --- he had to keep himself in check.  to show his hand before he was truly ready would be a blunder of unimaginable gravity,  something he could not erase.  as little as he cared for the demons of tartarus,  even for most of the other gates  . . .  he could not permit them to become the rock that broke his patience.  not after he had been patient for centuries.  not when he had greater goals in mind than to be the boy king’s personal boogie man for the less human of his subordinates.  though truly,  silver often thought,  as proud as some of the demons were to not be human,  their flaws were no more difficult to exploit.

he still remembers how it felt to descend, reaching the earths crust like he were a falling star. the chill of the night air, the coldness of the world around him were all that greeted him upon arrival. this was supposed to be his best chance — a chance at a better life in a world that would nurture the goodness which found home in him. his light flickers as he faced the alleged truth of his circumstance. abandonment. not friends nor family came for him. his cries were unheard. his pleas fade into white noise. once all that grief, that sorrow, that loneliness subsided — he began to feel nothing at all.

the demon king was the only one who offered his hand to him. the only one who addressed his worth. the only one who hadn’t yet abandoned him. sigurd was only a child, wide-eyed and clinging to the hope that someone would want him. so he took his hand. darkness imbued in his grasp, creeping up sigurd’s arm like a rotten tendril — planting roots upon his flesh.

years have passed since he arrived. reaching the age of ten, his new name was bestowed upon him: sting. an alias which represented the burn of his power, the singe of his light. it marked his position within their hell, his final test only to come.

sting sat alone along the empty passage. hands cupping his light, eyes focusing upon the cracks where dead weeds had crumbled. a mischievous smile lifting at his lips, he turns his hand so that his palm faced the ground. a faint ray shining, bathing the withered plant for a moment. a few seconds pass, his careful gaze unwavering. then — it was as if life pulses back through its veins, color returning to its cells. a bloom even struggles to open. at the sound of the man’s voice, sting pulls back in quiet surprise, the light snuffed out. the flower . . . dwindling again.

“ father told me to wait here. i’m supposed to . . . meet with miss seilah soon. ” he speaks formally, pulling himself to his feet with haste. bowing low, he attempts to remember his manners. this man didn’t spark as much unease as the others. perhaps it was the fact that he looked the most human. after a moment passes, sting couldn’t help but continue. he loves to talk — and so few listened to him. “ but i’m looking forward to it. miss seilah always reads to me. ”

father.  it took no small measure of self-discipline for silver not to scowl because mard did not deserve this.  because whenever he heard the word,  he thought of the child that had been torn away from him,  away from ur.  they had been robbed of the chance to be parents --- and they would not have raised their daughter,  their bright star the way mard had raised sigurd.  it was a moot point,  now --- he was trapped in hell and ur was . . . ur had become a wizard saint of all things.  somewhere,  a higher power had to be laughing,  but he was not laughing along.

‘ ‘ seilah does enjoy her books, ’ ’  silver responded sagely as he patted down his coat,  happy to reassure himself that he still had the book the other demon had asked him to procure for her.  then,  he sat down on the floor nex to the book --- to tower over most everyone the way he usually did was occasionally thought of as threatening,  according to some,  and the kid was no one he had to threaten.  not yet,  at least.  there might be a conflict of interests a few years down the line.  ‘ ‘ so,  let me see if i have something for you, ’ ’  he went on as he searched his pockets.  he was in the habit of bringing back strange things from his travels,  solely because he could hide his true interests among all sorts of curious knickknacks.  humming quietly to himself,  he stacked up several magazines --- for research,  were anyone to ask --- as well as a copy of vriour’s magical theory for beginners that he had found in a secondhand bookstore.  ‘ ‘ don’t suppose you want to read the long anticipated interview with wizard saint makarov dreyar in the sorcerer weekly,  hm? ’ ’  he asked as he raised an eyebrow at the blond.  ‘ ‘ if you do,  that’s cool --- just let me clip out feldt’s interview first  . . .  i am curious about her tips about growing plants under difficult conditions. ’ ’

zeref was still out there and ultear’s job wasn’t done. she wondered if it showed how tired she was, how…open maybe she was now to all this that she did not immediately begin interviewing solomon for everything he knew about zeref. she wondered if this is what they called development. even a year ago, she would have done it all. perhaps almost dying changed her more than made her weak. she watched as her breath made little puffs of air in the mountain’s cool air, it was proof she was here, somehow and she was alive.

ultear absorbed her father’s words, hanging off of each and every syllable as if they were the key to something, her redemption? she didn’t know. maybe she just liked the certain timbre of his voice; how even that made her feel more calm. ur had a similar effect and it was, quite frankly, embarrassing.

accepting her fate, she wandered over and sat next to him finally. for the first time in many many years (before it was trained out of her) she slumped in the bench and let out yet another sigh. “i know i do. i just…” ultear shrugged. it seemed unfair, in some way, that she had her parents and so many others didn’t. that she would get them back in a way and yet…meredy…the woman’s eyes closed and she could see that burning village. ultear helped do that. the guilt was hard to let go of now that she knew it wouldn’t just be erased. seven years since that pipedream went away, since the symbol of hope that was zeref crashed down—and she still was getting used to it.

(disregard the fact she recently did do some successful time turning but at a cost.)

“i don’t want to let her down. it seems…unfair. to her. to so many people. i mean—she already got stuck with me again. and the whole…” ultear wiggled her fingers in the air, as if that summarized the whole saint thing. her words, which she was normally good at, came out weird as they were still so new. “it’s why i thought That whole thing was funny, since she abandoned me and all.” a wry smile picked up her mouth and she shook her head, her hair tickling her cheeks with the motion—”obviously she didn’t, but i grew up thinking it. it’s one thing to know a fact and another to experience it.” she paused for a moment before she added, “sorry, but, i didn’t even think about you. i did think you were annoying when i met you briefly that one time.”

‘ ‘ i didn't want to leave you before you were born,  either. ’ ’  he spoke calmly,  but he was wrought with emotions.  she might say that her reproach,  her resentments had been reserved for ur  ( and what an injustice this was when he had been the first to leave )  because she had not cared enough about who her father might be which almost stung in a rather unique way,  but this did not mean that he absolved himself of his guilt.  he had had time to ponder about how things might have unfolded if he had stayed,  if he had faked his death years earlier.  would zeref have cared enough to send someone to confirm his death?  it was hard to believe;  the boy king had been all too careless with his pawns at all times.  what would have been another on the pile of corpses?

then --- unpredictability had always been zeref's trademark,  he reminded himself.  it had been a gamble he had not wanted to take,  not with ultear and ur on the line.  if it had been the right decision,  he would probably never know.  maybe he had made everything worse when he had left,  maybe he had set the ship on the course that had left it wrecked on fate's shores,  but there was no guarantee that any other choice would have had a better,  a kinder outcome.