11-19-2021, 03:23 PM
SO GIVE ME HOPE IN THE DARKNESS THAT I WILL SEE THE LIGHT
'CAUSE OH THAT GAVE ME SUCH A FRIGHT
'CAUSE OH THAT GAVE ME SUCH A FRIGHT
Perhaps it is cruel, for him to use his magic to keep his lover firmly in this state of existence with him. Perhaps it is an abuse of power, something Brennen strives to avoid; but he refuses to lose Nihlus. He has loved and lost before, to both natural and unnatural causes, but now it is different. Before he was physically powerful, a warrior of renown, but with little recourse against age and magic. Now, he is magic, and it is worth the expenditure to him to prevent his partner's loss.
If Nihlus truly wants to die at any point, he'll probably have to straight up ask.
This separation has been longer than some of the others, though, and Brennen feels guilty about it. Sometimes, it's too easy to get caught up in his own head, stuck in a sort of limbo space, and his loved ones are the ones who suffer. This time he has vague recollections of pulling others into his magical space - Nihlus, occasionally his children when they were dreaming, it's possible he raised an entire set of children in magical nonexistence though he'll need to find them to confirm if they were a dream. (He knows they weren't - he knows that their creation is the reason for his magical coma this time, but he isn't ready to think about it). Even as he's blinking awake, staring at the River stretched before him, wondering why he isn't home, he can feel Nihlus across the physical distance between them; he can feel both his lover's mental turmoil and the way his body is betraying him, age especially sharp without Brennen's constant, if subtle, healing.
Another breath, another blink, and he's on the beach of home. Heim. The warm sand underneath his hooves gives away as he shifts and turns, until his amber eyes lock on the equine bullet headed in his direction. He doesn't call back, his voice still hoarse with disuse, but he reaches out mentally with an unmistakable warmth, enfolding the younger stallion's mind into a welcoming embrace even as he braces for impact of their bodies and anticipates a physical embrace. Simultaneously, he reaches within for the cool soothing powers of his magic, reaching out to ease aches and protesting body parts. "Hello," is what he does manage when he forces sound from his dry throat, the word low and rough. It's good that he has the mental feelings to share, for these times when words fail him.
If Nihlus truly wants to die at any point, he'll probably have to straight up ask.
This separation has been longer than some of the others, though, and Brennen feels guilty about it. Sometimes, it's too easy to get caught up in his own head, stuck in a sort of limbo space, and his loved ones are the ones who suffer. This time he has vague recollections of pulling others into his magical space - Nihlus, occasionally his children when they were dreaming, it's possible he raised an entire set of children in magical nonexistence though he'll need to find them to confirm if they were a dream. (He knows they weren't - he knows that their creation is the reason for his magical coma this time, but he isn't ready to think about it). Even as he's blinking awake, staring at the River stretched before him, wondering why he isn't home, he can feel Nihlus across the physical distance between them; he can feel both his lover's mental turmoil and the way his body is betraying him, age especially sharp without Brennen's constant, if subtle, healing.
Another breath, another blink, and he's on the beach of home. Heim. The warm sand underneath his hooves gives away as he shifts and turns, until his amber eyes lock on the equine bullet headed in his direction. He doesn't call back, his voice still hoarse with disuse, but he reaches out mentally with an unmistakable warmth, enfolding the younger stallion's mind into a welcoming embrace even as he braces for impact of their bodies and anticipates a physical embrace. Simultaneously, he reaches within for the cool soothing powers of his magic, reaching out to ease aches and protesting body parts. "Hello," is what he does manage when he forces sound from his dry throat, the word low and rough. It's good that he has the mental feelings to share, for these times when words fail him.
BUT I WILL HOLD AS LONG AS YOU LIKE
JUST PROMISE ME WE'LL BE ALRIGHT
JUST PROMISE ME WE'LL BE ALRIGHT
Brennen
@Nihlus