A Change In The Horizon || The Lost One AU

19. Name Of The Feeling

So... This is a chapter that I knew I was going to have to make, and have been planning it for a very long time now. Yet for some reason, I had a lot of trouble writing it. But uhhh... enjoy!

~🌤~

A speciality dish of the elves laid spread on the table of the guest room. It had gone half eaten, the Watchers having been given had a bountiful supply of it all.

'You can sleep.' Miesall offered as he made his way to a chair and sat down. The dance still must be going on, but from their fields of vision, the village was quiet and bare with exception of them and Elisha.

'Are you sure?' Xelqua asked, frowning. He recalled how big of a day they've had, Salt especially. Falling into a village filled with (at least in his mind) murderous villains, psychopaths high on vile actions and overall terrible people must sure have put him on edge the entire day. He must be drained — today had to be the biggest day of his entire life!

But Miesall only nodded. 'You can sleep.' He assured. He brought his feet up onto his chair, changing positions a bit as though he were sitting on a pin.

'You've had a big day.' Xel noted in the air now.

Miesall shifted a bit even more, his gaze up in top west corner in the room, at nothing. 'I have much to think about.' He replied. At first Xel thought he was talking about the Listeners, but then he added. 'I have for a while.' It was just that tonight, under the pressure of a true threat that he truly had to confront this, to really acknowledge it was there. It always been, but tonight it burned hotter than any lava ever had, scolding him.

Xelqua frowned, wondering if he should ask what Miesall was referring to. He debated it for a minute before deciding maybe it really was about the Listeners after all. 'All right... you can take the first shift then.' He agreed, not seeing a use in arguing too much. He got up from the chair and got into the bed, closing his eyes and beginning to sleep with little time passing.

And Miesall watched, like he had done for a few thousand years already. And that night, he especially studied one thing in particular: the sleeping creature beside him.

He studied how the golden locks of hair cascaded down the side of the bed, nearly reaching the floor. How the covers were sloppily thrown over the sleeping being, nowhere near prim and perfect as a Watcher should be. How the very edge of his wing tips stuck out from the side of the blanket and off the bed. The way that his cheek gently rested upon the pillow, the way his body slowly grew and fell in a repeating cycle of breathing. His breath was soft and gentle, and the blankets marked his position underneath of them. It seemed that he had brought up his knees, curling them in on himself and thereby shortening his form. His mask obscured his eyes as always, and his lips were positioned in a small smile, likely noting the presence of a dream as opposed to a nightmare.

Dreams. All Xelqua had were dreams, it seemed. Dreams of people coming together, even enemies becoming friends with one another. A fantasy of peace and prosperity for all, as opposed to an ever impending war that could start tomorrow, or could start in a thousand years — there was no way to tell in the least.

What was it that allowed Xelqua to see such wretched creatures with such care? Miesall couldn't figure it out, but he knew that it was utterly reckless. It could cause some very bad trouble for them both. In fact, he was sure of it.

But more curiously, while he understood they were equally in danger, he found himself worrying much more for Xelqua. Sure, he was less likely to detect a threat, but his worry was far beyond reason. Illogical. Absurd. Why... why was this?