#♔ * v ; main ii .

[opyre]

and his tenderness still is unbeknownst to him ; some ingredient that shifts between and within the very make of his person , the fabrication of his cells . he is not tender , rather , tenderness is him . wholly and completely . even his wrath , despite his inability to hold it within his hands , is ruled by the warm light of a campfire . the heat of an inferno , the sacrificial wings of a bird that is to be martyred before its kingdom in a fit of disgrace ; madness . he is to never lose his composure , lest he be crowned duke of scorn . these thoughts stay with him like an old scar , wounds bound with time , flesh ever - marred .

still , when he meets jote's eyes , he is greeted with the present , and what is he feels is forbidden even by the thoughts of his own . life has played them a cruel hand , certainly . she dodges his glance just long enough to leave him hollow , cold , yearning for the hand that clasps around his in a moment's disappearance . he is graced , in the moment that their fingers lay platonically atop one another's , by an angel of divine spirit ; overwhelmed with something he will never accept as his .

her honesty is present in the way it always is , the way he has grown to know so well , and he is grateful for her transparency in a world built on fallacies . yet , he doubts . . . he doubts because there is something so far within his heart , born of the way he was raised , that he cannot trust the tenderhearted intentions of anyone , let alone someone who offers him protection . that is a wound of his that has known no healing .

❛ tell me , jote . if i were not - ❜ he halts his words , despite the serious press of his initial tone , knowing they are akin to sacrilege in a religion born of his existence , ❛ apologies . . . the thought slipped my mind before i could voice it . ❜ a lie ; an obvious one at that , as he is not one who often ' forgets ' , always speaking with meaning and well - thought intention . he supposes even now , he's let his guard down with her . . . as he's often guilty of doing . ❛ i am grateful to you . you do know that , i'm sure . ❜ and he dismisses himself , as if what he's said matters not at all in the tragedy that is their path .

there was something in his gaze that nearly hard her turn away, a tenderness that made her feel as though

his hand wrapped around her wrist, & she suddenly forgot what it meant to breathe. the gentle caress of his fingers against her skin brought heat & a flush to her face–––– one of the infinite reminders that the undying could never fully train the human out of her, that there was a living soul within her that could not be trained away.

jote was not so bold as to call him her home. though she returned the sentiment, it would be far too familiar for her station ( & she forced herself to remember that he could not mean it with the same conviction that she would ), but she would not let him think that she would ever consider changing her mind.

“ make no mistake, your grace, ” her words were gentle, but stern. her wish for him to know that she spoke in simple truths was clear in every syllable. this was, very likely, the closest she would ever allow herself to get to a true order in a moment that had nothing to do with his safety. “ the only way i would ever forsake myself on this journey is if i were to leave you. ”

she took her free hand into her own, a motion that she knew she could only manage because they were alone. in her heart, it was a necessity. she needed him to know that she meant this. “ there is no order that could tether me to you more than my own desire. ”

[opyre]

there is so often a void in his chest , physically , metaphorically , steeled and unable to be filled ; only worsened by the passage of time . it's haunting and aching , a yearning abyss that eats at him until he is breathless . in this moment , with his closest companion pressed against him , her words muffled by feathery blonde , he feels complete . for a moment , he will relish in the reprieve from nothingness . he feels warm , despite the chill in the sunless air , alight only by the moon that watches them .

she assures him , ever politely , of her present wellness , and he nods . he'd not have her overextend herself for him . not now . not again . too many risks have been taken in accordance with his existence , and if he were to lose the only one who truly knows him as he is now , he'd be lost without a place to call home .

she is his home .

starting from those simple gestures of sharing each other's company , then books they've read , and stories of their experiences . she listened as he voiced his memories into the air that he might not forget them again , or rather , if he did , someone would know of his ventures . she holds his closeness in her hands , and it is a rarity , a crystal jewel that exists nowhere else . not in all of valisthea .

jote speaks of the fondness she'd heard of clive , and joshua smiles despite the slight sinking in his stomach . he wishes he could see him again . he wishes that he might know him for who he is now , just as jote , but such a dream is far off now . even if they were to reconnect , they'd know nothing of each other . the world has changed them .

he laughs slightly before he speaks , airing his uncertainty into the atmosphere that he might not have to deal with it any longer , ❛ i often was . it was rare that i would feel that happiness in our earlier years , but my memories of such untroubled days could set my soul at ease , albeit briefly . ❜ he places his hand atop her lap , and he wishes that he might hold her , but forgoes the thought as quickly as it came . he's undeserving . ❛ i used to wonder what it was they'd say about me as a child . what sort of tales were told of me , jote ? ❜ he offers a light - hearted jest , though it carries earnest undertones .

she did not dare to allow herself to believe that he thought spending time with her was a pleasure, but the mere thought had her heart thrumming faster against her ribcage. for once, jote wished for his ignorance, lest she need to find an excuse for her quickened pulse. he need not explain what memories he meant, but she listened anyways, selfishly relishing in the reminder that he looked upon those days as fondly as she did.

they had been but children then, & she would bring books & notes to his room far later than her guardians would allow. it was the only way she had felt a part of his recovery in those early days, before they had asked her to share her magic with him, & elation often came with the memories of evenings spent huddled together, sharing whispers between yawns & watching the shadows at the door for any who might intrude on their reprieve.

it was these moments, late & dark & quiet, where she felt as though she could temporarily cast away the expectation that came with the title undying. she did not turn away his closeness, & the warmth that came with was a balm on her soul. she knew, already, that she would rest easily at his side when the time came. but first, she wished to set aside his fears. “ you needn't worry, your grace. ” it was a soft reply, murmured into his hair. “ i will tell you if i am too tired to continue. ”

her head tilted, resting atop his own, & her eyes shut. like this–––– his warmth against her, the world around them ignored–––– she could pretend to still be young & foolish, that this would just be another sleepless night of learning more about one another.

“ i remember enjoying the tales of you & your brother the most. ” it had soothed a curiosity in her, soothed the ache of wondering of her own family. but, most of all, “ you always looked so happy when you told of your time together. ” her sudden laughter shook them both, but she found herself uncharacteristically unapologetic. “ & it showed a side of you i had been unprepared to see from the stories of the proper phoenix i'd been told as a child. ”