#hostofthering

The sun was so warm. Warm and absolutely blinding. It hurt Malik’s eyes to stare into its raze and yet he couldn’t stop staring. He’d never been so close to it before! It almost felt like he could reach out and touch it! Which was just what he did, reaching out both of his arms and coating them under the bright light. 

“Isis! Look!” he chirped brightly. “The surface is so bright!” 

Isis was less in awe and more riddled with anxiety. “Malik, we don’t have much time--!” she huffed as soon as she closed the trap door to the tombs. “We need to make this trip quick!” 

Malik’s happiness dampened a little at that reminder. “I know...” he sighed before turning to face his sister. “You know where the market is, right?” 

Isis gave a nod and reached out her hand for Malik to take. “Stay close to me and don’t run off!” she said sternly. 

“Okay!” Malik replied, honestly only half listening to her. His mind was already racing with thoughts of the exciting things he’d get to see at the market. 

                                                       -------------

It was a twenty minute trek under the hot sun before Malik would reach the market. For a place so isolated from modern cities, it was still bustling with people.

Malik’s eyes were wide with curiosity and excitement. He tugged sharply on Isis’s hand. “Isis! Isis! Look!” he exclaimed, pointing at colorful woven tapestries left out on display. “They’re so pretty!” 

Isis smiled softly at her brother’s excitement. 

Soon, Malik was the one pulling her along through the street. Every so often, he’d stop and gaze in awe at an object he’d never seen before. 

“Is that a radio?!” he asked loudly to his sister when he caught sight of one. “That was in one of my books, right?” He was certainly turning heads, but it was nothing too out of the ordinary. “It sounds like it’s making music!” He was practically bouncing on his feet. 

“Malik, keep it down!” Isis chastised. 

The young child turned a corner and skid to a halt when he noticed another boy up ahead. What was most peculiar about this child was his very pale skin and white hair. He almost looked divine, like someone sent down from the Gods themselves. 

Malik gawked in silent fascination before abruptly letting go of Isis’s hand and weaving between the groups of pedestrians to get to the boy’s side. He idly heard his sister yell for him, but he was far more focused on getting closer to the stranger. 

Once he finally did, he lit up with a smile. “Hi!” he greeted with a wave. “I like your hair.” All of this was said in Arabic. It didn’t occur to him that the stranger would possibly not be able to understand him. 

For each 😡 my muse receives in the inbox, they’ll mention one thing they hate, are annoyed by, or that makes them angry.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away-”

*changes channel*

“Never gonna give you u-”

*aggressively changes channel*

“DUCK TALES-”

Day 16 You're....

symbol meme || CLOSED.

          He thinks of fate as a crooked old crone.

     She is old and gray, and her skin is clammy, and her back is hunched, and her face knows nothing of smiles or mirth. She wiles away her days toying with the innocent and the guilty alike, playing favorites or playing nothing at all. She hates those who are deserving of her love, loves those who have no use for it. And, above all, Mahaad thinks, she is beautiful beneath all of this---beautiful beyond comprehension or comparison.

And, aye, she’s at her games again, entwining his fate and that of this burdened boy once more.

They’ve known each other for countless years, though only one remembers in vivid detail. They are eternally bound by one gilded treasure now worn around the slender neck of a youth given too much purpose before his time. And like many times before now, Mahaad isn’t sure what to do.

But the boy is moving on his own accord---Ryou is coming closer, Mahaad realizes, and somewhere in the back of his flustered mind, his better judgement demands he do something, otherwise he’ll be hurt again.

Again.

Only, there is no hurt this time. Just a lad sidled up upon him, ear placed in such a position that the (now noticeably) rapid beat of the magician’s heart can be heard with ease.

They remain this way for entirely too long.

Mahaad clears his throat.❛beg pardon, bakura,❜

     “I... see.” Though really, he didn’t. It made no sense to him, why the pendent had caught his attention in the first place. True, it was an interesting piece of jewelry, something that would easily catch the eye of anyone who might so much as glance in its direction, but...

     That didn’t explain the pit of unease that settled in Mahak’s stomach at the sight of it, nor did it give him an answer to the other boy’s question. Was he sure? No, not in the least. There was something that seemed to tug him towards the ring though, something like an alarm sounding in his head.

    “Well, I’m... I’m not really-” And then there it was, that familiar pressure that he’d grown accustomed to during these past few months. Oh no.

     Seconds after its appearance, Mahak felt its release, and with it came a noticeable response. Books that lined the shelves around them suddenly flew from their places, and it was instinctively that the brunet slammed into the stranger, knocking them both to the floor so as to avoid them. In other aisles, Mahak heard other people crying out, some in surprise, others in pain as they were no doubt smacked by the library’s tomes. To say that he felt guilty for that was an understatement, and he was more than relieved when the wave subsided, the books once more going still.

     Mahak pulled away from the other boy now, and as he did, the exhaustion that always came with his outbursts followed. He felt as if he’d run a marathon, panting for breath in a manner that likely seemed strange, given the fact that Mahak had no reason to be breathless.