#fadesense

Perhaps, Ashur thinks, today will be the day.

After all, why not? He hasn’t managed to say anything yet; it’s clear that an ordinary day isn’t enough to overcome the hesitation that holds him back. Tarquin wouldn’t care, he knows. Tarquin doesn’t care about things like the solstice or the season or the hour. He could tell Tarquin at midnight on the docks, in the hot sun on a rooftop, in the freezing chill of an abandoned Shadow Dragons safehouse, and Tarquin wouldn’t care.

So what’s stopping him?

But perhaps today will be the day. Perhaps he will get up and lead his congregation in the Chant and kiss the heads of small children presented for his blessing and then go to the Pawn Shop and find Tarquin already there, already waiting, like he always is, and perhaps then he’ll say it.

Perhaps Tarquin already knows and he’s just waiting for Ashur to catch up.

Perhaps he’ll be horrified at the very thought.

Perhaps, Ashur tells himself, he’ll never know unless he asks.

He doesn’t want to change anything. He doesn’t want to break anything. But… he doesn’t want things to stay the same anymore, either.