#animasend

over the years, he had learned what it was like to expect nothing, whether it brought satisfaction or simple disgust. this was the way of the world, and he had nothing if eons but to watch over everything. closing his eyes could never stop the horrors from behind the curtain, but Marie. Marie had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and learning to read her cues had made him understand more than anything this: she did not want to be alone.

how could he live with himself if he did not look for her?

relief is a privilege he rarely allows himself, but as the seasons have changed, he finds the air inside his lungs being punched out of him. it is not that kind, it could never be kind; instead it is visceral and raw and familiar, and he does not fight it. he feels his mouth open, and ridiculous as it for someone that has no need for it, he takes a deep breath. he had been worried when he had arrived at their home, concern turning into fear when her absence told him nothing.

“Marie.” her name is the only sound that leaves him, eyes wide in palpable relief, as his tongue stays tied in knots. he does not want to ask how long it has been since she saw him; she has always been strong, and people could confuse that with coldness. that could not be any further from the truth, she was more than anything that what she showed to the world. “... Were you waiting here?”

Wasn't he also something that came to be- made out of others, forced to knit himself together in soul ⎛ sometimes, his body did not feel like his own- because it wasn't. Not really. He thinks of lightning storms and how he had changed. He wonders if he died then, or later. ⎠

❝ Beast of the End ... ❞

No, that wasn't it, was it? She wasn't simply a Beast. Once upon a time, she was a young woman with hopes and dreams. Hadn't she been chasing that story of hope, too? ❝ I would hope, though, to call you another name. ❞

⎛ Who am I now? he thinks, without my light, I am no longer Supreme Deity. I do not exist at the beginnings and ends. This body does not remember how it felt to be struck by lightning. When did it become this difficult to recall something like that? Or has it always been that way? When will I be the boy who ran with wolves once more? Or is that lost to me forever? ⎠

❝ I hold no ill will toward you- even if it is the task of the Grand Servants to battle Beasts. Will you offer me your name? ❞ What he means is: I cannot wrap this place in my light, for it has burned out. What he wishes to say is: I have only a human heart left where my divine core once was, and I am vulnerable. What he hopes is that kindness was not something misplaced.

He wants it to last.

"Oh nono. You don't get to die. I'm gonna keep coming back for you every hour Sherlock. Your pain and misery will not end here."

Bad news: Despite Holmes knowing the future. A VERSION OF Traum still happen.

Good...news? Ruler Moriarty dragged though the portal by Holmes in a last desprate gambit for his friends.

Now laying down face first in a ditch and losing despite all of his powers back. Holmes weakly typed on his phone to sent a message. He did had the urge to do the recent meme he saw online. But ever the gentleman. Holmes bite his tongue.

to: my employer

by: Local Detective

[txt] so.

[txt] how much is it gonna cost for you to save your lackey?

[txt] One of the alien god servants have came by the way

he keeps staring. Marie is still distracted.

blinking, he tilts his head and it happens without warning. fingers slowly slide down to the fluff, careful to not yank it off and then, his face changes. it is not that intense but slightly in the manner how his hand plays with the bunny tail, almost too focused. another day, he would pretend to keep everything to himself but — that rational part is far too gone, replaced with an innocent stare as his other hand joins in the endeavors.

All your semi-hiatuses will be noted!

his hands filled with firewood, iloren walks into the clearing to join olga. this has become somewhat of a routine. when they first met it had been a while since he could enjoy the convenience of magic outside. lighting a fire is not the most difficult task in the world, but there's a reassurance in knowing he won't have to do it if she's joining him for the evening.

walking over to her, he hands her a few of the sticks. ' give me a hand, ' he asks quietly before kneeling and assembling the wood to make a shape that will both catch and hold its flame.

he's done this so many times that he couldn't count them, but he enjoys the process each time. to spend it with somebody he can relax around, an extra pair of eyes watching the woods around them. being in the woods already reminds him of home— being here with somebody else moreso.

All will be placed on semi-hiatus for you!