#sparklington

 Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

 “Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

 Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

 “Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

 Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

 Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

 Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

 Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

 He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

 To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

 Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

 Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

 Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

 That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

 Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

 Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

 Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

 They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

 He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

 Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

 “You’ve got to be careful with that.”

 “-Thinking about Tom.”

 Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

 “Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

 “We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

 “I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

 “Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

 Jordan turned away with a huff.

 Wait.

 “Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

 “Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

 “I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

 Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

 Weird.

 “I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

 “Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

 Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

 “Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

 “Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

 They were in front of the Town Hall now.

 Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

 Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

 “Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

 “Looks so.”

 They stalled for a second.

 “I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

 “That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

 With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

 “I want to. Since it’s you.”

 Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

 Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

 It really wasn’t that deep.

 ---

 The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

 The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

 The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

 Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

 There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

 And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

 Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

 Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

 Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

 After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

 He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

 “Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

 Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

 Wag sank into it quickly.

 If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

 It didn’t.

 Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

 “Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

 He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

 “What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

 Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

 “That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

 Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

  He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.  

 “Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

 Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

 He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

 He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

 Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

 “Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

 “Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

 Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

 “How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

 Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

 “To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

 “But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

 You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

 “But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

 “There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

 He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

 “And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

 Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

 “But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

 “Which side are you on?”

 “I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

 Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

 “It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

 He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

 “Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

 “Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

 “Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

 “It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

 “But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

 “I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

 “Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

 “I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

 Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

 Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.”  Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

 “I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

 “I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

 Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

 After all of that, surely he does?  

 Silence.

  Right?  

 He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

 Still, he was scrutinized.

 Holy shit man.  

 Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

 “I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

 Wag relaxed. He had a point.

 Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

 He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

 “Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

 A thought struck him.

 “Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

 Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

  “I’m a wizard.”

 A narrowing of the eyes.

 “I’ve been a wizard.”

  He sat back in his chair.

 “I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”  

 Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

 “No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

 “I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

 “I killed a god to become a wizard.”

 Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

 He’d never get one.

 “So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

 Well. It seemed Martha found him.

 Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

 So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

 She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

 Oh dear fuck.

 Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

 It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

 No, it couldn’t wait.

 The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

 Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

 Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

 Calm down.  

 It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

 But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

 Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

 Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

 The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

 “Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

 Fucking shit.  

 He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

 Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

 Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

 Get your shit together man, now's the time.  

 “Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

 Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

 He took a deep breath.

 “But I’m not what you need.”

 His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

 “What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

 “I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

 Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

 Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

 She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

 He held his breath.

 “You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

 No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

 “You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

 “No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

 She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

 “I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

 Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

 “I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

 “And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

 Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

 Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

 “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

 All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

 She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

 The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

 “Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

 Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

 Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

 She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

 A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

 “Until we meet again.”

 Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

 He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

 From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

 Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

 Was this better or worse?

 A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

 Tears.

 He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.