Blaise thought he'd forget.
After all, it wasn't often a creature as simple as a human was granted immortality. How in the world would they accommodate for centuries, no, an eternity's worth of experiences when he was only born with the capacity of a mere 80 years?
Yet, magic, as always, continued to surprise him, and he was left to reminisce over times that felt like only yesterday, when in reality, they had faded into obscurity and old dusty findings.
He woke earlier that day, met to the surprise of young magics and the human girl alike.
The air was stale, with the slightest hint of lemon that hung in the air. The bed bounced and squeaked with even the slightest motion.
After years trapped in the form of chains, a bed was a welcome diversion. Yet that still didn't erase the splitting headache the squeaks created.
"You look horrible." He said.
"Thanks." She replied. "You aren't the first to comment on that, jerkwad."
What was her name again? It was a man's name, he remembered that. Same freckles and golden hair. She almost reminded him of a younger, angrier Wesley.
He brushed Wesley from his mind. There was something here, something itching in the back of his mind that he knew he was supposed to be focusing on, something crucial.
He pulled at his hair. His foolish mind couldn't even scrape up why he was here. His simple foolish mind that trusted too easily, loved too easily, fell too—
"Aemulus really did a number on you, huh?"
Chimed one of the magics from the back. His wings were so massive that Blaise almost considered them a cloak or cape.
Aemulus. Who was Aemulus, and why did the name pierce his heart with cold, icy dread?
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warmups and excerpts
बेतरतीबA place where I put writing warmups and excerpts for stray ideas. Stick around if you so desire.
