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Angel Hunt Throughout the Years...
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Away from the shadows of the four story building and out on the vast grounds wrought with statues and guest houses, vast kempt grasses, winding pathways, gazebos and greenhouses, the Master of the house is as the building he owns –ever unchanging and locked within the shell in which he resides, his clear crimson gaze focused yet far beyond his task while the wind that blows across the greenery in small rolling waves seems to barely touch at the long snow white locks tied in a haphazard ponytail at the back of his head.
In the distance, the former Angel watches his Demon as he moves with the fluidity of flowing water, his scrollwork handled weapon weaving almost faster than his aging eye can follow as stance after stance is taken and done, a morning ritual of practice Fuan knows the other man has no need of yet does just the same. It’s a morning ritual that he’s spent every day of the last forty years of his second life watching, and one he enjoys immensely. Stepping from the shadows of the building and into the soft overhead light, Fuan’s strides are slower than they have been in the years previous yet no less graceful, and while the man he moves towards acts as he always does –as if he does not see him, they both know full well that it’s just another game to enjoy.
By the time the dark haired man reaches his taller companion, the effortless weaving of gleaming metal has halted, though Fuan notes that as of late, his Demon has slowed his show enough so that he, in his decline can reach him when he finishes just as he always has. There was once a time when he did not need to do such things for him, a time when he was capable of standing besides the other man as an equal, but that time has long since passed and now these moments increase, moments that neither speak of and both would deny should they be asked, yet happen just the same. It is just another kindness Jenova gives him, a kindness few are allotted and even fewer see -something precious the white haired man gifts to him, and him alone.
That gift, like the Demon himself, is something he has always treasured, and it’s something he will continue to treasure until the inevitable day when he dies.
[Always in perfect form, my Beloved] Fuan offers quietly, watching as the muscular frame before him straightens and the nodatchi in his clawed fingers snakes from view.
“And you as well…” Jenova answers simply, the lightest hinting of a smirk forming on his impossibly pale lips.
With a smile in return, Fuan can’t help the sigh that escapes him and the former Angel shakes his head, not at all surprised by the lack of any real response. Things have changed so much over the years yet Jenova remains the same. He is as he’s always been; a man of few words.
Unlike himself, unlike those who reside within the mansion and within his world. Unlike Jenova, he has changed much over the years. He has grown older and slower, and for years now he’s found the human body he resides in harder and harder to control –his mornings filled with more aches, more pains, and more difficulty in rising from his bed, his days spent wandering the halls of the house that have fallen almost too silent, and his nights spent held by those strong, ever unchanging arms.
His days used to be so different, so full, and so lively. He and Megumi used to spend hours engaged in conversation, and the mansion used to house so many more than it does now. But that too has changed and Megumi like himself has grown older, more quiet, more withdrawn into herself and the conversations they used to share have become so few. Those he calls friends rarely visit now and when they do, they serve as a constant reminder of what he once had and has forever lost. As he ages, his brother’s returns have also dwindled and it’s as if the other Angel can no longer stand to look at what he has become, as if he feels he is too frail now and will wither before him– the days that he used to see him becoming months and the months long since turned into years.
Much has changed, too much at times for his comfort, and yet one thing remains constant, one thing remains the same. [It is as it’s always been, just you and I, as before] Fuan smiles.
“Perhaps…” Jenova muses, “Though not entirely as before…” reaching up, glass tipped fingers ever so gently brush in long strands of gray peppered ebony hair.
Sliding his own hand upwards, tapered fingers enclose the Demon’s own, and Fuan snorts. [Was it necessary to remind me? Your tongue as always, is silver and forked…]
“Would you have this One any other way?” Jenova smirks, quirking a single white brow.
[You know full well the answer to that, you devil] the black haired man retorts, eliciting a quiet amused chuckle from his companion. [Do you… do you remember the first time we met?]
“This One… is incapable of forgetting” the Demon returns and without allowing Fuan’s hand to relinquish his own, he slides around the former Angel’s body, his free arm brought up to wrap his slender waist.
[You were so frail… so broken…] Fuan smiles softly and unable to help himself, his eyes close and he leans back against the one he loves, melting against Jenova’s muscular frame.
“It was not… one of my finer moments…” Jenova smirks softly and bending down only a little, his head tilts in to the other man’s side and his lips touch near the base of his neck, “I suppose.”
[I hated you then] Fuan snorts, long fingers rising up to wrap around the arm that holds him. [The Maker, how much I hated you…]
“And I you” the Demon smiles and straightening, he kisses a crown of white peppered hair. "though this One does have to admit, your stubbornness and pride did have its charm... even then"
[It was that pride that allowed you to live. Because of my stubbornness, I couldn’t allow you to die] the former Angel smiles, his eyes reopening to stare at the grounds that stretch out before them.
“Do you regret this now?” Jenova asks simply, a question they both know the answer to.
Silent for a moment, Fuan’s gaze pulls from the scenery before them and sliding his head back, the pitch of his seeing eye finds crystal clear crimson, [Every day] he chides softly, his words pulling an amused chuckle from the white haired man’s mouth.
Closing his eyes once more and leaning into the tall Demon again, both men fall silent, each more than willing to hold and be held by the other. The soft morning wind washes over their still figures, two stationary statues in a world their own and not for the first time, Fuan finds himself happy and contented. Content to remain still, content to be held by the one man he’s always loved and the only one he ever will love. Times have changed, just as he has changed. Those around him that he took for granted have left or are leaving and yet through all of the hardships, the pain, and the tears that has plagued his years there remains this man. This man who has both angered and delighted him, driven him crazy and left him overjoyed so often, this man who has frustrated him or hurt him, been cold and unyielding beyond all count –this man remains and has never once broken the promise he made.
The promise he made to love him until the end of time. The promise he made to care for him until the very end.
His time on this planet is now short and grows shorter by the minute, but here standing in place, immobile and unchanging is this love between them; love that he once thought to be impossible, a forbidden love between an Angel and an ancient Demon of olde. It was a love he died for and one that eventually brought him back. He will never regret this love and he will be eternally grateful for everything his Beloved has done for him in the name of the love they share. He will be eternally grateful for everything he has sacrificed and will sacrifice in the future for this love. Moments that have always been so very precious, fleeting, and that he knows cannot last forever.
[I… ] Fuan starts again, his voice barely a whisper, [will regret it for eternity] he smiles, and behind him, his Demon smiles as well.