ᴡᴍᴍᴀᴘ: ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ

Forever

A/N: Have a stray lucathy, my loves. (Cause I don't like em lmao)

--

For the raven haired god, he who had always been alone his whole life, had finally found someone to share his forever with.

For he was born alone.


Then he met her. Brighter than the sun, with more sparkles in her eyes than there were stars scattered in the night sky. Her name is Athanasia.

He grows with her.

Her golden hair glowed like the sun at the peak of day under the moonlight. The way her azure gem eyes seemed to hold the whole world in them as he fell deeper into this unknown emotion called love.

How her every breath seemed to breathe life into him again when he returns after a long day in the forest. How her hands smooth over his face and he leans into her soft palms and tickling gestures. He loved looking at her face, how their dancing made him laugh, how he found new interests everyday because of her insistence.

He found that he liked chocolate. He found that he loved her.

His essence, his very magic seeped into her, night after night, morning after morning, and he believed, he truly wanted to believe, that it had stopped for her.

It had not.

For time ran on its own schedule, and not even gods could direct it to their will.

The way her hair had a tinge of gray, the way her hands trembled as she lifted her teacup from its saucer, the way her singing failed to finish as a cough shook her body. Her wrists were thin and frail, her nails paler than before, but her eyes as clear as ever, not a wrinkle to be seen as she waved him off as he hovered over her. Bringing her blankets of every material known to man, flying over tea from countries far and wide, poring over ancient tomes that skimmed over the one thing he needed to know.

What use was his life when he couldn't give it to the person he loved? What use were his long years when none of his knowledge could spare him any insight into what he had done wrong? But it was too late.

The Empire mourned for their loss, white flowers and black cloth hung from every entrance, music if any, were solemn. The skies were gray, the air thick with the promise of a heavy shower, one that would wash over the engraved stone.

He cried and thunder came down from the heavens to cry with him as his mana called forth a tempest so great, all would fall before its might.

And then, he was alone again. Along with this new found sorrow. This sorrow that seemed to claw at his insides and turn his innards the wrong way around. 

This sorrow that had replaced the happiness that had kept him going for the past century and his hand trembled as red sparks flickered in the air. His eyes, the color of rubies, shut themselves as he turned away from the cold stone, placing one last kiss upon the porcelain forehead in his parting.

But this time would be the last. His last.

No one noticed the disappearance of the god, for he had never been there in the first place. For his place was in the skies not on the ground. His name erased itself from the written books, pages finding themselves blank of any information, his likeness destroyed in the blink of an eye.

His name was Lucas. The disciple of the Light. The god of the forgotten magicks.

And he who had fallen in love with Athanasia of Obelia, made himself forget his own existence.

And then, he was alone again.

아타나시아, 나는 너를 온전히 사랑했다. 나를 잊을 만큼이나. 

"Athanasia, I loved you with my whole being. Enough to forget myself."