Minor PartiHikaAgnea
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Summary
“Crick,” Temenos says the knight’s name, hands dropped from Crick’s now healed wound as if he is burned. And perhaps, he is – scorched to ashes in the face of light most radiant. Temenos sighs, then looks up at those bright blue eyes. Round and wide and shining with light, like the stars in the middle of the night sky. “You must promise me one thing.”
Crick blinks, surprised. Tilts his head. “…Yes, of course. What is it?”
“Do not—” Temenos swallows. Needles prick at the back of his throat. If he lets go, he fears he may never see Crick again, and that simple thought terrifies him more than facing a thousand beasts ever could. After another pause – as he tries to gather himself together – Temenos closes his eyes and turns his face away. “…Wait for me tomorrow. Do not investigate on your own, no matter what.”
In which a simple decision challenges fate.
(Au where Stormhail plays out differently. Two souls, their roles mirrored, their fates intertwined.)