"Aisultan, you are my courage."
Lucidity first appeared in Elijah's mind as he snapped awake. The distinct tingle of Aisultan's body shaking in his arms. The cool breeze passing by the almost neon-pastel clouds—and the silence of his mind, now echoing with the chirping insects. Sorrow quickly overtook this brief wonder. His chest hollowed.
He couldn't cry though—Elijah wondered why.
Perhaps Eli, in his own time, cried enough for the both.
"Aisultan," Elijah whispered, petting his hair. Aisultan made a hoarse noise. He refused to elaborate, perhaps to restrain the amount Elijah would decipher of the bits and pieces through the raw, broken-up voice. He could only bear the man's weight with a firm embrace, letting him sob quietly.
Elijah rubbed his cheek against the silvery hair, before admiring the ring on his hand. More stunning than even the fanciest jeweler shop; perfectly fitting Elijah's own personal, more lowkey taste.
He knew Eli made it in mind for him.
Even then, he was looking for a way to ask for Elijah's forgiveness.
Elijah spun the ring once around, before knocking his temple gently against Aisultan. The pinching pressure of Aisultan's fingers around his waist loosened, and Aisultan hesitantly, carefully looked over at Elijah. His eyes were puffed up and red at the corners. Elijah handed him a well-prepared handkerchief, which he used generously.
"Your eyes."
"Hm? What about them?"
"As crimson as the jewel on our rings."
Elijah looked down at the ring—a ruby—crisp and gleaming as he tilted it back and forth above him. Elijah laughed lightly, "Really? That's interesting."
Aisultan stared at him blankly.
"What?" Elijah tilted his head, replaying his words. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"You feel different."
"I do feel different," Elijah laughed again, fidgeting with Aisultan's hair—it caught in his hair, causing a low yelp. "Sorry," he added, "I don't know what's come over me. Everything's a little strange right now. Was your fur always this soft?"
"It's the same as ever. It's ah, you're more peppy than usual. Less tired and lethargic. Less of that angry, attractive frown etched into your face."
Aisultan then laughed at Elijah's well-timed expression, before apologizing. He tentatively forgave Aisultan and continued.
"Perhaps... the reconciliation of Eli, of our shattered power, resolved that for me." Elijah paused, His eyes trained on the outstretched tortoise biting away at the teasing tail. "To wake up without any pain is—like I just cleaned a centuries-old lens."
'Why though,' his wrathful spirit screeched in his ears. 'Why are you the one who gets to live? To love freely without pain?'
The venom shriveled the lingering awe—melting down into a thick, mucosal sludge of regret. Pathetic, helpless regret.
"I don't know."
"Know what?" Aisultan asked.
"Why I... and he..."
Elijah sank his face into Aisultan's shoulder, unable to handle the angered rejection he knew full well would light up Aisultan's face. He knew Aisultan disliked this sort of speak. And yet, the thoughts continued to poison his mind and overtake even the uplifted fog of agony. It didn't matter how the painful weight of bricks no longer strained atop his shoulders, choked out his anxious rest, and haunted his time away to exhausted seconds. Because... Eli was gone.
"There's no need to know right now—as desperately as you hope to. In time, you'll come to an understanding."
Elijah faced Aisultan—the imaginary phantom of disgust dissipated with the low, grounding hum of his voice. Eyes, a swirling pot of mercury-gold. Relaxed brows. Upturned lips enough to smile yet betrayed a loss in the curve of his cheeks.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
The dry taste of Aisultan's lips kicked Elijah's heart into a thudding gallop—his thumb ran over Elijah's brow.
"It's okay—but no more apologies. There's never enough time to live consumed by regrets."
*
Together, they buried the shell of the tortoise.
Lost in his own mourning, Elijah spent months cultivating the perfect, unique specimens of flowers—merging large, bushy petals away from thorned stems and jagged leaves—all intermixed in a display of alternating day-night coloring dependent on sun and moon alike. Where, according to Aisultan's shameless compliments, was his magnum opus of flower composition thus far.
"Shush," Elijah laughed—his voice clear and lighter than ever before. Aisultan adored it—by the day, it seemed Elijah's mood soared, enchanting every action he devoted his time to.
"No," Aisultan insisted, "it is. Truly—it's wondrous."
Even Lucas, Alyssa, and Fen'ra had stopped by too, all chiming in on the garden work. There, under sunlight and shady parasols, did another active party whisk into life—all carrying a bright joy imbued into them as if by the radiant star itself.
The next decade erupted into a period of scrambling conflict—for Alyssa and Fen'ra, the queens of their respective demonkind, announced their union as lovers to the public world. With their irrefutably strong grasp and endless display of partnership, the tension between both vampires and werewolves eased from its original storminess. Under Alyssa's spontaneous willfulness, the first cross-demonkind ball was organized. Many more, according to Elijah's firsthand experience of her excitement, were set in stone for future dates.
Lucas maintained his position as the head of the town's lead priest. Interestingly enough, his community prospered. By day, many folks experienced his generosity and kindness, thus cementing the church as a pillar of the community. By night, a unique crowd of demons slunk in with all sorts of tangled problems waiting to be sorted out by Lucas's waiting ear. When Aisultan inquired of the intention to ever settle down with a partner, Lucas could only scoff.
"Why by the Saintess would I ever get a partner?" His tongue clicked as he set the tray of light red loaves of bread atop the altar table. Dozens of ghoulish grey arms snatched them up in an instant. Their faint, haughty "thanks" echoed through the church with ghostly whispers.
"You and the rest of the community are more than enough to occupy my time."
Aisultan and Elijah pressed no further, seeing as Lucas was content with such a life, even into adulthood.
Elijah and Aisultan lived as they never had before—Elijah whisked to see the daytime views and kissed breathless beneath nighttime excursions, never failed to have a smile on his face. And yet, there was yet to be a single night where Aisultan had not caught the somber gaze looking out to the opaque, starless sky—where the moon asked him questions to which he spent long minutes forming an answer.
One night, on a full moon—Elijah turned away from the iridescent moonlight and snuggled into Aisultan's bare chest. His leg draped over Aisultan's with a lazy sway, matching the undulating sway of the fluffy tails cushioning him.
"Aisultan."
"Yes?"
"I want to travel with you—to your home village—since I know you need to return. Eli's always wanted to travel, the moment he became trapped by daylight—desperately so. But now, I feel ready to want it for myself. I've never traveled out far before, so... I trust you'll lead the way."
Aisultan kissed the tightened clasp of their fingers until they loosened with Elijah's breathy chuckles. "It would be my joy to be your guide, Elijah dear."
"It'll be perilous though, won't it? And what if we can't sustain ourselves? And if it isn't as you remember? It all scares me—the black void of uncertainty in my stomach."
"We will account properly for the journey to come. And if danger is near—I will always be there to protect you. And you will always be there to protect me."
Elijah exhaled a breath rugged with electric tension, "Right."
In time, the moon danced through a complete cycle—a month escaped their sense of time as they spoke goodbyes and prepared for the journey.
The enormous moon hung low and bright, once more. Aisultan stepped out of the courtyard gate. Elijah's soles sunk into the grass as if his own vines trapped him down. The flowers all around wafted the scent of safety—the comfortable, floral sensation of home. He adjusted the straps of his luggage before a fluffy tail flagged his attention. Aisultan extended an arm through the gate. The moon crowned his crystalline amber eyes, bowing down to silver royalty.
The tangled chains tying down his ankles snapped with a crisp ring—Elijah stepped forward. His hand met Aisultan's. And soon enough, he had stepped past the confines of the manor with no intention of returning to the new future. The cool, mint wind and dusted evergreen pines flew by, bouncing with the stars alongside Elijah's laugh.
"That wasn't too bad, now was it?" Aisultan asked.
"No, it wasn't as torturous as I imagined."
"Torturous, Elijah dear—you make it sound as if I'm going to drag us through the ocean bed and past volcanic plains."
Elijah grinned at him, fangs peeking out with a playful glint. His crimson gleamed; the fairy-red flashing with hints of Eli's swirling energy.
"How would I know? You are the guide—and also..."
He looked up at the bold white moon painted iridescent atop a black-violet canvas. "I feel relieved, with our hands held like so, and our footsteps in matching gait.
Aisultan... you bring me courage. No wait." Elijah paused with a contemplative noise. "It's more than that. Aisultan, you are my courage."
"You've reversed it, Elijah dear. The infinite courage shining down on me—it originates from you."
