#kylem

Kylem tries to regain his breath. His chakrams lay on the ground, lost in the battle. He had just managed to take one of Seoham’s swords for himself on his last attack. Now they are looking at each other across the room, each one with a sword on their hand, both pointing down. There are a hundred things that Kylem wants to say, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Seoham lunges again, his sword up. Kylem diverts the attack easily. Years may have passed, but he knows Seoham’s moves like they are his own. That’s why he recognises an opening after they exchange a few blows. An opening that shouldn’t exist. That’s why Kylem goes for it, his sword swinging towards Seoham’s throat, knowing full well that he will block-

Kylem stops.

He barely has the strength to stop his attack before it reaches Seoham’s throat. His blade touching his skin, a small drop of blood appearing under it. Seoham is still, his arms limp against his body, his eyes closed. When he feels the touch of the blade his opens his eyes, slowly.

Kylem feels his heart hammering on his chest, not because of the battle, but fright. Because he had almost-

He feels anger. He feels hate. Towards himself, the situation, the b- no, not the boy in front of him. He pushes forward, his sword moving to cross the front of Seoham’s throat and he pushes, yes, pushes at the boy’s chest with his other hand when he doesn’t move back, letting the blade pierce more into his skin. Kylem hears Seoham dropping his sword to the floor, the clattering loud on the empty room. He moves them until Seoham’s back is against the wall, pinned there by Kylem’s sword, their faces close.

Kylem looks at him, searching, even if he doesn’t know what for. Answers, reason, feeling. But Seoham’s face remains impassive, somehow giving away less emotion than a statue could. Kylem looks at his eyes, those impossibly coloured eyes that he can’t get out of his mind, doesn’t matter how hard he tries. Their eyes stay locked on each other for a few seconds, a hundred years, and Kylem does something he had never dared to.

He pushes his mind.

He lets his mind out to find Seoham’s, his presence familiar and foreign at the same time. He can’t really get inside Seoham’s mind. He is too trained; he had taught him how to protect his mind himself. But he can still feel something around him, so strong it would be impossible to mask.

Sadness.

Complete and overwhelming sorrow that knocks the breath out of him.