Meeting Yonder (BxB)

Three (Lars)

François visibly stiffens as he turns to face me, his eyes filled with dread. He looks completely terrified. Poor guy. He has absolutely no clue what's going on. No idea where he is and what's become of him.

     My once hardened expression softens when I see the genuine fear written all over his face and drowning his expression. “It's okay,” is the first words I utter to him, unlike my comrades' usual rundown of who they are, why someone ended up there, etc., etc.

     I raise out my hands to him, showing off my palms to make him realize that I mean him no harm; though, I'm not so sure how effective that gesture really was in the long run. “François,” I begin, quietly. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

    “Who are you?” He then questions me, defensively. From his tone alone, I can tell he's panicking. “Who are you?” He repeats once more. “And how the fuck do you know my name?”

     I exhale, slowly, trying to find my words. I know no matter what I tell him, he'll still be on edge. There's no way to cure how he feels… Unfortunately. “I'm Adlartok Qannik,” I introduce myself to him.

     François raises an eyebrow at my words. “Adlartok?” He's not familiar with the name or its origins I can tell.

      “It's Greenlandic in nature,” I reply to him. “...Inuit, to be more precise.”

     “Oh,” François responds, quietly, still trying to calm his nerves.

      “--you can call me Lars though,” I interject. “I don't mind.”

     He nods, quietly at that before asking, “...and how exactly do you know who I am? I wasn't really the most popular musician, even if I did get to play in Paris.”

      I inhale, somewhat sharply. “Now, that's the part that might not help ease your nerves.”

     François swallows. “What do you mean?”

     I sigh. “I've been… keeping tabs on you.”

     François stiffens once more. “You've been—-” He stops. “Like, spying on me? That's what you've been doing?” The alarmed undertones in his voice start to rise, drowning all the other aspects.

     “No,” I correct, quickly. “Not exactly.”

     François huffs. “Then enlighten me, Lars.”

     “I…” I start to begin to explain to him. “I was alerted by Koios how things would play out for you. While I could not interfere with the events, I could save you from Xuviphas.”

      “What do you mean you saved me from Xuviphas?” He then asks. “How could you? Almost no one can.”

      “I mean that I'm an archangel, François,” I answer. “My abilities allow me to do so… Though, not often. It's taxing on the soul.”

     “So… what?” He starts. “...is the tux just required for archangels or something?”

     I snort at that remark. “Not required, no. It's just merely a preference for me. Others of my kind don't do as such.”

     “So, if you're an archangel… and you saved me… We're in…” François trails off.

     “Akkialon,” I say in response. “Or, rather, the shadows casted by it on earth. It's amazing how our realms bleed into the mortals’.”

     “Well, uh…” François pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for the chat. It was nice. But, I should really get going… Back home, to my own realm.”

     “Oh, you can't,” I say.

     François chokes. “Pardon?”

     “You're stuck here.”