Start by admitting that from cradle to tomb
Isn't that long a stay
Bastien had no idea how long it had been since his world had ended, but he did know that time had the gall to keep going; that in of itself was offensive. Outside he heard laughter; even worse inside the room Azrael occasionally smiled or laughed in his arms and he found himself resenting his own child for that. Rexanna would never hear the first words of the child they had waited so patiently together for, and he wondered if they were even worth listening for without his wife there.
Sometimes, he left Azrael sleeping on the bed opposite, sat on the floor by Rexanna's bed and leaned his head on the side, by her hand. If he closed his eyes and imagined just right, it could be like she was just napping; like he was waiting for her to awaken.
He was reminded of the great hero Achilles mourning his Patroclus, the rage and sorrow; the way the warrior had kept the corpse in his tent for many weeks after. He didn't have magical herbs to keep Rexanna's body fresh, but he hoped her Voice-given skin might hold longer than than the average humans: when they could step back out into the Hollowed Grounds, he would build her a funeral pyre more mighty than even those legendary heroes could have dreamt of.
Of course, as someone prone to dramatics, there was a part of him that had considered suicide: the door at the front of the temple offered an easy enough solution. The linchpin holding him back was Azrael, who would need a father: had this happened a week or so earlier, he did not know if he would stay. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and went to hold his baby again, softly singing a song from his past with a weak voice.
Sometimes, he left Azrael sleeping on the bed opposite, sat on the floor by Rexanna's bed and leaned his head on the side, by her hand. If he closed his eyes and imagined just right, it could be like she was just napping; like he was waiting for her to awaken.
He was reminded of the great hero Achilles mourning his Patroclus, the rage and sorrow; the way the warrior had kept the corpse in his tent for many weeks after. He didn't have magical herbs to keep Rexanna's body fresh, but he hoped her Voice-given skin might hold longer than than the average humans: when they could step back out into the Hollowed Grounds, he would build her a funeral pyre more mighty than even those legendary heroes could have dreamt of.
Of course, as someone prone to dramatics, there was a part of him that had considered suicide: the door at the front of the temple offered an easy enough solution. The linchpin holding him back was Azrael, who would need a father: had this happened a week or so earlier, he did not know if he would stay. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and went to hold his baby again, softly singing a song from his past with a weak voice.
Come to the Cabaret, old chum
Bastien
Base Code by Sky!
