#corvisque 03

balduran had long since accepted the unending reach of fiyero's love- it crossed over with his own ⎛ willem, safe in his arms at night, the sunlight casting a halo around his head at daybreak ⎠ , and he understood that her bond with this blond elf ran deeper than he understood ⎛ and what of the star-boy who walked the line between humanity and divinity? they'd yet to meet- ⎠ , but it didn't mean that he wasn't curious still. of zevran, balduran knew little. he'd thought to convince himself that he didn't need to know that much, because he trusted fiyero. and for a while, it worked. until it didn't. so, he began to seek the elf out on his own-

and it would be strange if he didn't decide to do so. with how forward zevran had been, balduran didn't want to come off as unappreciative or insincere with his words.

more than that, he knew he had to learn how to look at the other and not see the ghost of dradeel. not to feel the weight of a guilt and sorrow that had settled in him when he learned of his elven lover's fate. ⎛ tortured by jon irenicus, dying in battle. stranded on the island when balduran assumed everyone had died. he'd never thought to look after burying his crew, he'd been too shaken to really try to identify any remains. he should've looked, should've tried harder. should've sailed back to the grey harbor with dradeel and lived out a human life with dradeel and ansur and- ⎠

❝ there you are, sweetheart- ❞ warm, accompanied with one of those signature smiles of his-

Finding a dead bird at the doorstep was a sign of bad luck. At least, that is what Legato had learned as a child. With all of the coughing and wheezing that he was producing, he may very well be on the brink of death-- instead of the feathers of a withering corvid, long blue petals littered the ground beneath him. Legato Bluesummers knew that he could come to The Nest when in distress-- the encroaching plant life choking his airways and growing on his flesh was overwhelming, and he was not sure if it was a curse that could be lifted, or yet another anomaly that this treacherous island was known for.

Lingering at the doorstep like a spirit, Legato's tall form staggers forward, only for him to tense up when he hears footfall behind him. It could only be one of two people-- and when the disciple turns his head, azure spider lilies framing his face like a corpse being consumed by the wild life, he can only stare with wide eyes.