[There's hardly any time between Phainon returning back to reality and Mydei beckoning for him to follow— but somehow, it feels like it's hours in between. The hand on his shoulder, the squeeze, the sudden shift in how Mydei tells him to come with him...
A part of Phainon is almost too terrified to go, to see what awaits him. What if it's nothing like he hopes or remembers between them?
Still, staying here is pointless, especially since the other fully expects him to follow after him. The Deliverer has nothing actually keeping him at the library, so he does simply get up and follow right after Mydei, noting the way they go, and who they interact with. For the first time in all of this, he stays quiet, observant of their surroundings rather than immediately assume anything. It's only after Mydei hands him the drink and explains his change of heart that Phainon speaks, very clearly listening.]
So your mother used to tell you stories like this? About past lives? [He finds that incredible, actually— not that he can honestly relate all that much, but it's... comforting to hear, in a way. He's actually glad Mydei has those memories (because he barely remembers anything about his own mother), they've clearly defined who he is in this life as well.]
She did, she likes to say the stories of eld are there to aid the people of today.
[ there is more too it than that. a thread hidden by her gentle smile and soft words, weaving it's way through everything she says and does, winding up and around Mydei's throat. he knows her well, loves her dearly, but he knows she holds a knife behind her back as she arranges the dominos to her liking. it is exactly how he ended up in this city in the first place.
Mydei twists the top of his own bottle off to take a drink, glancing off into the distance briefly before returning his golden gaze to Phainon. ]
Her favourite stories usually involve a lone hero who bares the weight of a world upon his shoulders. The trials and tribulations that faced him. And those who accompanied him throughout them.
A lot of old stories serve as reminders, yeah- I can see that.
[Phainon watches Mydei staring out into the distance, both hands on his own bottle, unsure of what else to do except listen. Normally that's something easy in just relaxing with Mydei by his side— but since the man essentially does not remember him like Phainon does, it feels... awkward. Like he's finished a story too early or gotten to a good part and can't say anything to anyone else for a while. It's hard.
That doesn't stop him from nearly choking on his drink a moment after he hears Mydei talk about Gorgo. Especially about her telling the other about a "weight of the world" hero and his companions. He coughs, loudly, shaking his head and clearing his throat right after.
Just how much does his mother actually know?]
Weight of the world, huh? That's awfully specific.
[As if she knew Mydei had someone he'd loved and cherished in another life, and knew exactly the struggles they both had.]
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A part of Phainon is almost too terrified to go, to see what awaits him. What if it's nothing like he hopes or remembers between them?
Still, staying here is pointless, especially since the other fully expects him to follow after him. The Deliverer has nothing actually keeping him at the library, so he does simply get up and follow right after Mydei, noting the way they go, and who they interact with. For the first time in all of this, he stays quiet, observant of their surroundings rather than immediately assume anything. It's only after Mydei hands him the drink and explains his change of heart that Phainon speaks, very clearly listening.]
So your mother used to tell you stories like this? About past lives? [He finds that incredible, actually— not that he can honestly relate all that much, but it's... comforting to hear, in a way. He's actually glad Mydei has those memories (because he barely remembers anything about his own mother), they've clearly defined who he is in this life as well.]
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[ there is more too it than that. a thread hidden by her gentle smile and soft words, weaving it's way through everything she says and does, winding up and around Mydei's throat. he knows her well, loves her dearly, but he knows she holds a knife behind her back as she arranges the dominos to her liking. it is exactly how he ended up in this city in the first place.
Mydei twists the top of his own bottle off to take a drink, glancing off into the distance briefly before returning his golden gaze to Phainon. ]
Her favourite stories usually involve a lone hero who bares the weight of a world upon his shoulders. The trials and tribulations that faced him. And those who accompanied him throughout them.
no subject
[Phainon watches Mydei staring out into the distance, both hands on his own bottle, unsure of what else to do except listen. Normally that's something easy in just relaxing with Mydei by his side— but since the man essentially does not remember him like Phainon does, it feels... awkward. Like he's finished a story too early or gotten to a good part and can't say anything to anyone else for a while. It's hard.
That doesn't stop him from nearly choking on his drink a moment after he hears Mydei talk about Gorgo. Especially about her telling the other about a "weight of the world" hero and his companions. He coughs, loudly, shaking his head and clearing his throat right after.
Just how much does his mother actually know?]
Weight of the world, huh? That's awfully specific.
[As if she knew Mydei had someone he'd loved and cherished in another life, and knew exactly the struggles they both had.]