#349 words

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a much bigger bed. And open up our private quarters to a little more space,” she nodded again.

There was a pregnant pause. And Adra put his work down, cleared his throat and said: “Michelle. Whatever it is you are talking about. I do believe renovations are not only your concern.” There was a lot to unpack there, but this one could be discredited first.

She stared at him, frowning. He looked back evenly.

There was a deep huff, then: “But if she lives with us we need more space! Be reasonable, Adra! Seriously!”

For a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. ‘What’ would not result in any sensible answer after all. Instead, he opted for: “… did you already… acquire consent from the lady in question?”

“Mh? Oh, no, I just decided Gabe would life with us now. I love her! So she’ll live here and we’ll all be happier”

Adra blinked. Very slowly. Then he said: “… I believe she is married, as are you, for that matter”

She turned and looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then: “Aw, I love you, too! There is absolutely no need to worry! You are a great husband!”

Weirdly, this actually… helped. Or at least felt good to hear. Then he remembered that really hadn’t been the main problem.

He opened his mouth to question her more, when she already waved her hand at him: “I’ll go get her!” And left with a smile.

… maybe fierceness will get her through the positioned guards?

She certainly looked like she could.

…

He would have some time to console her in the evening. He hoped.

He swore— he opens his palms and reaches out for the skies.

He swore.

He swore—

She was a mirage, fading in and out of existence— ilunga flowing whilst the golden ickor in her veins. He swore; he apologized; he promised. She flung out the beast, iron instilled in tangled strings, drawing out each breath as if it’s her last. Querencia. He was home. The sun, the playful skies— Apollo was home. Now—

He will die.

Viktor breaks the International Junior Records.

Orion glows in the sky, a fervent caim that fills the broken promises in her heart. No one will know; Hyacinthus taking his last breaths to bloom hyacinths. No one will know, sedate roses stitched on every gap of his skin. His blood cracked open rivers. His last breaths casting the empty fogs whenever she cries, isolated and alone.

You aren’t alone.

Viktor smiles, youth springing with each step. Blue roses stitched in a crown atop his head, heavy metal hanging on his neck.

Do you know what blue roses mean?

They aren’t real. They are inconceivable realities----

She tells his stories on a warm hearth, her silver arrows stunted; Orion glaring down at her with lithe playfulness as he shines— breaths in from above.