[for a moment, his eyes close as Dohalim's forehead rests against his own. he's so warm, and it's a little amazing to him how much he missed it. there's melancholy there, as there must be after so much time...
he really will never change, Morax thinks. hundreds of years and countless reincarnations, and he's still just like this. his sweet, gentle treasure, so prone to taking the pain of the world unto himself. there's part of the brunette that wants to simply pull him forward, to lean in and hold him until that fretting dies out, until he's sure there's not a breath of concern left. that may take forever, though, and he soothes his own wishes with a simple press of lips to Dohalim's, a brush of fingers to draw away the tears welling in his honeyed gaze.]
Melqal... you are still a worrier, I see. You did what you must, and I would have accepted no less. What I was... what I had become... [there's a weary, shuddering sigh. he can still remember, may never forget. a hand rises, warm and gentle, to press against the other man's chest.] I had hoped you wouldn't have to recall any of it.
I must admit... I've lost track of the centuries. In some ways, I fear this has been harder on you than on me.
[he'll spare him the details. comparatively, remembering what bits and pieces he does isn't nearly as devastating as whatever his beloved may have suffered. being sealed had its upsides, when it came to how much he'd had to deal with. and-- moreover, now he takes a moment to really look at Dohalim, at who his Melqal has become.]
Time has changed much, but you look well. [a pause, something akin to concern there in his eyes. energy, particularly astral energy, has a funny way of guiding life forward, he knows. he may still be simply Melqal, but it's equally possible there'd been some kind of schism, and if his senses aren't mistaken... it's more likely to be the latter than the former. two pieces of the same whole, truly, coexisting with or without knowledge of one another. even if he's wrong, the next question is of utmost import.] What is your name, now?
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he really will never change, Morax thinks. hundreds of years and countless reincarnations, and he's still just like this. his sweet, gentle treasure, so prone to taking the pain of the world unto himself. there's part of the brunette that wants to simply pull him forward, to lean in and hold him until that fretting dies out, until he's sure there's not a breath of concern left. that may take forever, though, and he soothes his own wishes with a simple press of lips to Dohalim's, a brush of fingers to draw away the tears welling in his honeyed gaze.]
Melqal... you are still a worrier, I see. You did what you must, and I would have accepted no less. What I was... what I had become... [there's a weary, shuddering sigh. he can still remember, may never forget. a hand rises, warm and gentle, to press against the other man's chest.] I had hoped you wouldn't have to recall any of it.
I must admit... I've lost track of the centuries. In some ways, I fear this has been harder on you than on me.
[he'll spare him the details. comparatively, remembering what bits and pieces he does isn't nearly as devastating as whatever his beloved may have suffered. being sealed had its upsides, when it came to how much he'd had to deal with. and-- moreover, now he takes a moment to really look at Dohalim, at who his Melqal has become.]
Time has changed much, but you look well. [a pause, something akin to concern there in his eyes. energy, particularly astral energy, has a funny way of guiding life forward, he knows. he may still be simply Melqal, but it's equally possible there'd been some kind of schism, and if his senses aren't mistaken... it's more likely to be the latter than the former. two pieces of the same whole, truly, coexisting with or without knowledge of one another. even if he's wrong, the next question is of utmost import.] What is your name, now?