Disclaimer: This series is an LGBT slow-burn fiction that contains heavy politics and sensitive themes like profane language, murder, war, cultism, fictional religions, non-consensual events, PTSD, racism, substance abuse, misogynistic undertones, a...
"You know that I can't Nita, not until he's back."
"I assure you, love, he will come back."
"No, I don't trust that horned bastard. If they'd find trouble wherever the inferno they've gone to, I swear..."
"Oh, Queen Ingrid help us! when will Sovenians stop detesting the Ocmenians and start on trusting them?! I assure you Ian, he won't be the diplomat sent in our lands if he doesn't know how to handle himself well- both with words and actions."
"Bah! don't talk about trust with me woman. You instructed me to drink that Stallion-fucking-Stupor this morning and look where it led to!"
"It was only for the best! It was supposed to elevate your deepest desires against your sense of control, untying your most natural tendencies- like a truth serum of one's emotions. I was hoping it would push you into a love confession at least-"
"Enough! I almost ravished the lad and I won't believe that my emotions were responsible for that..." The Frostguards scattered around the snowy plaza broke their posture upon overhearing his words, but they can't do a thing.
"Viri's tits... You almost raped him? The Stallion's Stupor was supposed to unleash your deepest desires Ian! not your sexual drive-" Anita stopped upon a realization.
"Oh, shit... But we both know that if I won't intervene in your life nothing will happen between you two because you're too afraid."
"Fear is far from patience Anita." Ian muttered in a gloom. "And I am wise enough to know that he needs more time to make him realize my devotion." Determination glinted from Ian's sad eyes.
"You mean another 13 cycles of your boring weekend routine with him? Love, Laguna Gazhafina came in the portrait for just half a day and Sion is already out of your grasp!" Anita's laughter masked her annoyance, "I'm honestly going to switch ships if you're planning to get him after 13 more cycles."
"And I'm going to sink that ship." Ian'drah warned. The Gray Lady leaned up to kiss the Sailor on his tear-dried cheek.
"I know you will." She whispered.
"If you won't ever find him today, just know that I invited the Diplomat to my province later at dusk, Sion might be there too." Anita says as she lifts her dress, stepping up to the carriage to travel back to Graygreen province.
"Farewell pup." Ian bid.
"Anytime love, let's just hope you find him sooner." Then she departed, her carriage distorting beyond the walls of ice that embraces Dirge.
The restless Sailor continued his search, slamming the Apothecary door with no care if it would unhinge or break, he knows for sure how he is more unhinged and broken than anything as of the moment. But in the darkness of the Blackmercy Haven, a derailed presence mirrored the unspeakable exhaust that Ian reeled into, as if the cause of the eternal sufferings in the Inferno took form and hid in the dark corners of the apothecary.
"Have you seen Sion?" The sailor asked through the room, slouched like a damp flag still raised to wave for a dead country.
"I haven't." Miriam answered back, words barely audible, her clothes stained with mud and her hair matted with dried blood. She can't even manage to get angry when Ian rudely barged in the apothecary, for what she's currently feeling puts all faces of anger below its feet- Depression.
Ian joined her on the couch to stare blankly at the closed window. They sat in silence like two hallow bottles forgotten in the dark, and the only way to break the omnious quietness between them is if one of them starts to crack.
"Where's Sion?" Miriam returned the question.
"I don't know." Ian's voice cracked.
"I'll ask again Ian'drah, where is my Son?"
"I really wish I know... " Ian whimpered, his hands grasping hard on the netted hood he made for Sion as tears rains down on it.
"Simply dissapointing, really. I hope you didn't forget our deal you fuck-faced hound." Miriam spat out in disgust. "I thank the gods above that you, who grew up to be big and strong, have the muscles to compensate for the brain. Is it even there? I bet the only time there's something between your ears is when your sucking Sion's dick... Which only happens in your fucking dreams... "
"Oh and you never wake up! if anyone puts themselves in your shoes even the most half-wit ass in this City would understand right ahead that it is 'love' they feel if they look at my son." Miriam detested, "and the first thing I bet they'll do is to fuck my son senseless!"
"But what did you do instead? Huh?" Miriam turned to the weeping sailor, "You defiled the pure daughters of Dirge just to think that maybe doing so would change your feelings, but oh shit, it didn't work innit?"
"Shut up, I need more time... "
"You need what? More time? Time my ass to the nearest gates of inferno Ian! What you truly need is my cheering on the side of the bed to help you finally fuck my son on it!"
"And if you think I hold so much anger, ohhh boy you're obliviously damn wrong! You hold more feelings for him than this goblin-milked anger!" Miriam's head shivered, her smile spelling rage in all languages.
"Just tell my son that you love him so you won't be horrible like this my darling." She whispered slow and sweet like how a scholar would instruct an ogre.
"Come on, tell me that you love him."
"You know that I love him..." Ian whimpered.
"Really? Shit! I still don't believe you..."
"I said I love him." He turned to face Miriam
"Really now? I'm not convinced, announce it to my face you worthless fuck!"
"I love your son! alright!? " His saliva splattered on Miriam's vile smile, shout shredding the silence of the whole slums outside.
"Now now, that's what I've always wanted to hear." She held the hands of the heavy breathing beast, and soon, the light of the afternoon barged in from their door, blinding them with sunlight.
