#deathvow

✦ —— ❝ so, uh... ❞ it's not often he has to rely on a vocal pause, thinking just speaking from the heart the easiest and best route normally; however, with nothing to say, alm falters and uses it as a crutch. he had been hoping to run into the man sometime before his coronation ceremony, but now that the man was in front of him, he realizes he didn't plan a course of action.

When he says those words, it seems to be entirely out of nowhere. They’re not in the midst of battle, or being held on the Ark and forced to fight to the death. It’s quiet…all of the kids have been put to bed, all of the chores have been taken care of, and the two of them can just sit together, enjoying the calmness around them as they hold each other. So for him to say that…his mind must be far away from where they are now. She looks up at him worriedly, her brows knitting together as she tries to read his expression for signs of trouble.

“I…I can’t imagine what might have brought that on, Escher…“ The closeness between them doesn’t seem close enough as she tries to push away the unpleasant thoughts that threaten to rush to the forefront of her mind. Escher, dying…once upon a time, it was a thing that she wished to see happen before her, and at the end of her sword. She’d almost witnessed his death during the Ark Arena, and it may very well have happened if not for her decision to tell him what he needed to know in order to stand once more.

The threat of the disease that threatened his life, whatever it might have been, is no longer, though it left plenty of damage in its wake. Even now, she feels a sense of dread with the onset of chilly weather for fear of how it might affect his health. If she hears him cough, she’s at his side in an instant to check if there’s any blood. And of course, she could never kill him…not after how far they’ve come. Yet, his promise not to die unless it’s by her sword remains.

This place must be meddling with her sanity, though. The gods will always forgive even their most sinful child, if that person seeks their forgiveness. They never abandon anyone; if anything, humans are the ones who abandon the gods and the spirits. Escher is clearly not the sort of person to seek out forgiveness from the gods, however, so he may never get it.

She can’t help but flinch as more blood comes up from his throat before her eyes...it’s painful to watch, even if the person in such a state is more than deserving of that pain and more. His face contorted in anguish and frustration as his usually gleaming white teeth are turned red, blood dripping down his chin while he’s bent over as if the weight of his sinful existence is crushing him...he truly looks like the monster she knows he is. So why is it that she struggles when gets to witness such greatly deserved suffering? There’s an emotion she can’t quite place, and it’s not pity. He deserves none of that. It isn’t the reminder of teachings from the priest and the sisters who treated her like family, either. While they may very well be calling to her from the afterlife, telling her to remember the importance of mercy and forgiveness, his sins are too great for her to forgive...especially when he shows no signs of contrition at all.

At first, she pauses; hearing Escher make such sincere pleas out of the blue like that is a rarity. Be that as it may, though…he sounds tired. Troubled, even. Maybe, as he held her, just moments following the light being turned off, Escher already anticipated that he’d have trouble sleeping, or that he’d be plagued by nightmares. She doesn’t like pry too much into his past or his worries…she’s found that it’s best to let him make the first move on that front, so that he doesn’t pull back from her even more.

Even so, she can satisfy a simple and honest request that might make him feel better, at least for the time being. She smiles sleepily at him, moving up toward his face.

“Of course…” she tells him, almost in a whisper. “As many times as you want…” She can’t help but take a little time to trace her fingers gently over his features, being able to make them out somehow as the very tips of her fingers seem to possess memories of his face in all of its sheer perfection.

She starts by pressing her lips softly against his forehead, lingering there for some time before moving on to give him a little kiss on the very tip of his nose. She kisses one cheek, and then the other, and then right beneath the meeting of his jaw and his ear. She hopes he’s feeling as much at ease from receiving her kisses as she is from giving them.

Finally, she gives him the longest one yet, delivering that to his lips. She stays there for a while, taking her time. They have plenty of it.