jamie
His journey had been taxing.
He had not meant to be gone long. Not that it mattered any. Not that anyone was keeping track. But it had taken him days to recover from the effort it had taken to summon the first portal. And then days to recover from the effort it had taken to summon the second, failed portal. And then weeks to walk back to Pangea.
Weeks because he had to stop frequently to catch his breath, to rest the sore muscles, to lay down his weary head.
But he is here now. Here, where there are precious few shadows for him to be lost to. Here, where he must seek out the darkness. And sometimes he wonders if perhaps he might be better off someplace else, someplace where the darkness could always find him. Someplace where he was not reminded constantly of his strangeness.
It has been days since he returned. Days since he tucked himself away in a cave not unlike the one where his mother gave birth to the twins and slept. And slept. And slept.
He emerges now, some days later, and blinks into the sun.
He has grown accustomed to all that light. Absorbs the heat heat of it until it feels like burning alive. Until it’s almost unbearable. But he is darkness, something like an idea, and though he has a heart he is not convinced that he can die. How can he, when he’s already a ghost?
He sees her. She is hard to miss. His antithesis. And he moves toward her, much like the first time they’d met. And, much like the first time, the breathing is shallow and labored by the time he reaches her.
“Beyza,” he murmurs and he smiles his cheshire cat smile, steadily meeting her gaze. Unlike the first time, when it had burned so terribly just to glance in her direction that he had spent the entire interaction staring resolutely at the red clay underfoot.
“It’s nice to see you.”
@[Beyza]