#sewingyoukai

A field of flowers. Long sprawling softness that reached to a glittering seaside. The heat of a summer evening. It was all nice. It was all calming. There he could forget war, he could forget pain and fear for even just a little while. 

But then it would burn. No matter how much his brain tried to twist the dream to make it go out, it burned faster, brighter and hotter. The source of the fire was always in the shape of him. Some things don’t deserve to be burned, including himself. So even as the fire surrounded him, he screamed and begged for himself to stop holding the torch to the delicate flowers and tall grass.

He woke with ragged breath, and a pain in his chest that made him whimper out. He knocked over a glass at his bedside to the tent carpet below. He reached then for Jajuka, sleeping silently five or six feet away in a chair he was forced into. His own tent was too far away from Dilandau. 

Warmth filled his hand, and the pain ceased. 

“Ga.. ti…” Dilandau moaned, his blurred vision could barely make out his face, but the strong hands and the bright eyes were all he needed. He could be blind and would know each of their breaths, the footfalls, and their laughs. 

He held the hand tightly in his own, hearing the drips from the water at his bedside. “You’re bleeding… all over my carpet,” his lips whispered. Why should he say such a thing? Gatti was there, the last days were worth all the pain, loneliness, and confusion.”

He said nothing, but Dilandau could feel the pressure as Gatti sat on the bed next to him. 

“What took you… so long?” He scolded and sniffled. The thought of his subordinate brought the scent of blood and burning to his nose. “No…” A wave of nausea traveled up his stomach and into his throat. 

The closer Gatti came to him, bending over his form in the bed, the more that nausea came with the realization. His vision cleared just enough as Gatti’s mouth passed by his cheek to his ear. 

“Let go,” he said. His voice was unmarred by the central split from his head to his stomach.

Dilandau’s eyes could only see the alseides unit being split it half at the time, but knowing that this was what the other’s death had been sent him over. His hands reached to push the cadaver off of him, but only sank between the divide of his chest. 

“It’s time, you have to let go.” His voice was too clear, and too resound but Dilandau couldn’t speak to retaliate. 

He felt himself being peeled away from the top layer of his own skin. 

‘No… not yet!’ Dilandau screamed in his own mind. His memories flashed to the Sorcerers and the cool metal forced under his skin. The tiny pinprick to the tearing of his muscles destroyed the memories and the emotions tied to them. 

Because of that, he couldn’t remember their laughs, and the familiar strides across metal floors. This haunting hallucination had brought it all back, but at a cost. 

“Let go.” 

His eyes filled, but all he could see was a blur of red. He was fighting tooth and nail to stay like this just a little while longer. 

Gatti above him froze, his face grew solemn as bits and pieces of his edges decomposed. His eyes sunk inward, and the last of his gaze told Dilandau he was waiting.

Dilandau watched the process of Gatti’s last moments as a corpse being taken over by scavenger bugs and flowers. His hands slipped from Gatti’s open chest, the body crumbling onto the blankets between them. All he could do is silently wish to scream. 

Something strong grabbed his shoulder, and the image fell away from his eyes.

“Lord Dilandau!?” Jajuka’s golden eyes showed more than alarm, but concern. “Ce-“ 

Dilandau’s attention finally snapped into place, no longer was he just floating outside his own mind. He stared at Jajuka for a moment before screaming out and scrambling out of his bed. “Who… who are….” He stopped as more and more memories came back. 

“Lord Dilandau, are you ok?” He asked. 

The long hair, the kind eyes. “Jajuka… yes…” His hand went to his splitting head, and the image of Gatti flashed behind his eyelids. 

“I will fetch you some more water,” Jajuka whispered. 

“NOW!” Dilandau snapped. His voice whined, urging the beast man to hurry outside so he could break down in peace.  

Jajuka was beyond the curtains of his tent when Dilandau crumbled forward in his bed. He grasped tightly at the sheets, trying to rip them apart but found it only angered the muscles in his arms and fingers. He knew he wasn’t everything he was raised to believe. Waking up in the graveyard, Jajuka, the lapse of memories that didn’t belong to him but felt like he was in a mirror. Only he was on the wrong side. 

For a moment, only a small one, Dilandau blamed himself. But the well of nausea came and suddenly the feeling of hatred came again like he’d been dosed. 

No, this was Van’s fault, and the woman’s. She called down that pillar of light that changed him, that unlocked something he never wanted to go back to. He brought the witch from the Mystic Moon who could see through his men’s cloaks and taught Van to see through them as well. 

When he killed Van, he would find her and kill her too. Then as the world spun into chaos, he would exact his next revenge on Folken, and the rest of the sorcerers for making him forget. 

“Let go,” Gatti’s voice echoed. 

He debated getting out of bed and walking off the sensation until he was tired again, but the shift outside the door secured him to the bed.

The door opened, and Ryoun’s form could be seen in the faint candlelight on the other side of the wall.

“Yeah, goodnight,” he had whispered to someone else in the sitting room.

Chesta could see the light catch the bit of wetness on Ryoun’s skin and hair between his lashes. He must have came from outside, probably trying to find the immortal leak in the roof.

Ryoun struggled with his tunic top as it clung to his back from wetness. Water droplets hit the floor as he tugged it over his head. Only to shake off some of the rain from his hair, now longer than he’d ever seen it.

More water hit the floor as Ryoun pulled the twine from his hair, and cursed as a few strands popped. “Damnit,” he whispered.

Chesta involuntarily shuffled some, and quickly shut his eyes fully to avoid being caught up so late.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Ryoun asked.

Chesta buried his mouth underneath the edge of his blanket. Eyes closed, Chesta couldn’t see where Ryoun was, but he heard the heavy footfalls as he came closer.

Chesta was keen on not getting caught, he was good at playing dead from the incident only a couple years before. He could easily regulate his breath, calm his heart, and ease his muscles to feign sleep.

The thin mattress sunk a little as Ryoun’s weight was added beside his own. Then the blanket came off his shoulder just slightly Chesta had curled up a little, and tried to fake a moan of discontent.

Ryoun was quiet, most likely examining his shoulder with his ever stern face.

“Good,” Chesta heard. “Finally healing a little.”

The weight lifted from the bed. “Maybe now I can get my head on a little straighter…” Ryoun had sighed, his voice now further from Chesta. Then he laughed lightly, as if his words had been part of some punchline.

The littlest peek showed the youngest dragonslayer that Ryoun had leaned over his own bed to open the window. He grabbed the stick that held it open and anchored it between the frame and the flap. He sat down on his bed overlooking the moonlight that poured in over his feet.

Ryoun was quiet, thinking only to himself despite Chesta’s desire to become a fly on the wall in this small collection of moments. He didn’t understand why Ryoun would need to get his head on straight, the idea spurned many conspiracies Chesta imagined.

“I need to stop listening to Gatti so much,” he said suddenly. “Ryoun,” he told himself. “Just punch him next time he makes a remark.”

But Ryoun shook his head despite the other Ryoun’s suggestion. He smiled, despite the dilemma he seemed to have.

“Why take on anything that idiot says when he doesn’t realize he’s got what he wants?” Ryoun chuckled. “I’m going insane, that’s official.”

Chesta wanted to say so much, ask what hell was going on. But he kept his face buried in the blanket, eyes partly hidden from view.

Ryoun sat up and stretched. His shoulders slunk forward over his knees as he started to shake and ruffle through his hair. Some strands still wet and stuck to the back of his neck and shoulder blades as the moonlight poured over his skin. His hands dropped from his hair, his head still hanging down.

Chesta felt his heart race as strange considerations entered his mind. He wanted to stroke those waves and curls. He shuffled to turn away from Ryoun.

“Chesta?” This had apparently caught Ryoun’s attention.

Chesta again didn’t respond to the inquiry, heart beating faster under those thick covers. He stared at the wall and kept his eyes only a tiny bit open to watch the shadows.

He could say that this is how it was meant to be, how his life was going to end or how he’d spend the rest of his life, growing old. His younger self was angry, not wanting to stick to this idle agenda.

The other side of him, the one he listened to the most, was content.

He was content being at his commander’s side, he was content with following this person who was just as lost as he was. He was content to suffer the complex emotions and the unrealistic desire to just storm off when they became too severe.

He was content to sit alone and be frustrated because he had restrained his own personality. He stuffed it inside a shape of someone who wasn’t even sure he belonged.

Content? Or was he being complacent?

But there he was, still there, still sleeping remotely close. Even though their argument had turned nearly physical, how it nearly reset Dilandau to that state of half processing, half dead. How he wanted to apologize and wanted to beg forgiveness.

How everyone was now against him.

Gatti knew it was always going to be him, versus everyone when it came to Dilandau. His role had bypassed a line much sooner than it should have. Ryoun, for the most part, ignored and let them be. Well, let Gatti be, there was no them in their relationship. Just Gatti, being Gatti, or who they thought Gatti was.

Dilandau had been sitting, looking up at the stars when he thought everyone else was asleep. When he laid down, Gatti unwillingly moved closer. His body knew what it wanted. His heart and mind were the ones that had refused to believe it was right.

He felt something tickle the top of his hand, then warmth. For a moment Gatti found it hard not to let his face skew into a bright, warm smile. Then part of him, from deep within threatened to overload his mind with emotions that he didn't want. He was the cry-baby growing up, but it was one of those things that everyone but him seemed to grow out of.

The hand disappeared, and he heard Dilandau turn over. His fingers dug into the pallet underneath. His body reacted by aching, and his eyes opened to see Dilandau’s eyes closed. Finally the other was asleep.

He didn't think this through, one moment his skin was aching, his body rolled and he reached for the other. The next his mind tried to stop him, his first fear was that he was trying to kill Dilandau. His hand found the other’s neck in the dim light. The other’s hair sliding between his fingers as he pulled his head up. He accidentally kissed the bit of skin over his cheek next to the bridge of his nose, then lower, barely missing the corner of Dilandau’s mouth, then finally landing on his lips.

This wasn’t an accident.

Dilandau didn't wake, nor react to the stolen gesture. Gatti willed himself to stop there, but not even he listened to his better judgement. Another kiss was made, only harder, pushing the other’s mouth open. His teeth clinked up against the others and suddenly those eyes, the deep red orbs had caught him.

Like he had been caught stealing, Gatti let go. He scooted himself back, and covered his face. “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I shouldn't have kissed you. Please forgive me Lord Dilandau.” Gatti turned over.

Dilandau remained quiet for the moment, probably processing what had just happened. “It’s fine… Gatti, it’s fine.”

He didn't reply, it wasn’t fine, it was well beyond the realm of fine. It was chaos in his mind and he couldn't even fathom what brought on this action. He’d told himself if it was going to happen, it’d be when he knew the other’s feelings for sure.

“If you stay that far, they will think something happened again.” Dilandau whispered.

“I shouldn’t be that close.” Gatti pulled his arms up over his face, trying hard to calm the ringing in his hears from how fast and loud his heart had beat.

Gatti felt the other grab the back of his shirt, tugging at it.

“It’s fine.”

Gatti wanted to scream that it wasn’t, but after a few controlled breaths, and released tears he spoke. “I’m sorry, goodnight Lord Dilandau.”