Dreaming Ends

“Oooh, yeah, let’s attack my psychology now because we all know how fucked up Shand is, and he’s the only one, so that’s the start and end of everything, isn’t it?”

There is lightning jumping out of his fingertips now, and the agonizing pain of it through his veins and in his brain just feeds his anger. He doesn’t want to hit low, to play dirty, but something about the furious gleam in her eyes pushes him to it.

His brow is furrowed and his jaw is set, his face cold and detached, like it always gets when things get too personal too quick. Of course, his words never stay that way to match.

“I️ saw the screwed up shit in your head, too. The stuff you didn’t want me to see because oh no, then maybe you wouldn’t be the perfect one anymore and then maybe you’d be just as in need of saving as the walking disaster.”

He’s clutching the thin blanket on he bed now, the lightning jolting around it and there’s a real possibility that between the two of them, this house burns down all the way but he doesn’t care.

“I’m the one who can’t. Freaking. Die. Luna. So what do you suggest I do for all of eternity? Stand here and look pretty and never try to do anything of consequence ever again? What am I supposed to do, watch you die and then throw my hands up and say oh well, there goes the last person I know of anywhere who means anything to me. I️ can bring her back and she wants to be here, but nah. I️ might break a nail in the process. Really? Is that what you want from me?”

He shakes his head as Olvreign comes back to mind, the goddess that he’d killed. Is she forgetting that part?

“So maybe she would have possessed me for a million years. Bummer, sure. But you don’t understand this- a million years, what is that? A drop in the bucket to me. It’s nothing. We’re not playing the same game here at all but you’re still holding me to all your rules and somehow you think that’s fair enough to get all offended about it.”

"I'm holding you to the rules of being a halfway decent person, Shand."

The way she rolls his name off her tongue is anything but pleasant, in fact it sounds like she's putting any and all disdain she can into the sound of it specifically, the comment about the screwed up things in her head hitting a little too deep.

"As much of a freak as you are and have always been, I know you still feel pain. You feel pain just as much as I do or as much as a normal human does. You forget that? Did Olvreign slapping your own little-twisted memories in your face not remind you of that?"

She wants to get personal now. But she doesn't.

"I didn't keep memories from you to seem perfect. I kept them away because I am afraid of them myself- And see, there you go again, thinking it's all about you. Like a child upset his friend didn't share a secret with him so obviously, the secret and reason must be about him in some way. You're so damn insufferable."

Luna sees him struggling with the lightning but she's not afraid. She's afraid of a lot of things, but not him, probably much to his displeasure right now.

"Where'd you lose yourself in these thousands of years, huh? When'd you become an asshole, anyways? I'm offended on your behalf, but forgive me, I know how much you hate that I care about you because it would be so awful if you had to life forever alone but Luna living alone forever is fine. Not like she's been alone most of her life anyways so what does it matter if she has to spend the rest of forever like that? Is that what you were thinking? Sad little Luna only knows how to be sad so let her be miserable forever by herself knowing she's the reason yet another person is in pain."

Ivor has to let go of her arm at how hot her skin gets, especially after the last little statement but she can't bring herself to back down. He thinks he's the only livewire uncontrollable one but he needs to watch just how far he pushes her.

There are still things he doesn't know, just as she's sure it works the same for her.

His teeth are gritted and something in him breaks. There is a huge, ear splitting clap of thunder right outside the house and his eyes flash for just a moment before he suppresses it.

The yelling, the finger pointing, the anger. His head is killing him and the room won’t stay still for anything. He falters a little bit, falling to his elbow on the bed but not missing a beat. He won’t seem weak right now, hell itself be damned.

“You sound like an insane person. I’m selfish because I was willing to give up my life, or agency or whatever, to protect you and give you a life. I️ wasn’t stupid, I️ didn’t take Olvreign at her word. But I️ knew I️ could take her. And I️ did. And here we are, you right side of six feet under and breathing. So I’m sorry for doing that and succeeding and making you mad. I’ll go slip into a feverish fugue state and leave you and Ivor both to huddle over a cup of moldy tea and hate me together. Bye.”

Shand lifts his hand to wave at her like the ass he knows he is, but he can barely even move his arm, so that doesn’t happen. He closes his eyes to keep the room from spinning as he feels his temperature soar.

Like a challenge, a fire erupts with a sickening crack, blowing the window in the room clear out, not willing to be outdone by the thunder.

"Go back to your own world and rot alone!"

She spits the word at him, not caring if the fire blaring up from her arms makes him uncomfortable, gives him more of a headache, makes his fever dangerous, it's good if it does and she hopes the scars on his face burn in reaction to her.

Pushing away from Ivor, who seems extremely uncomfortable having stood there for all of that, she storms out of the room. She doesn't know where she's going, this is her own house, but anywhere is better than here and with him.

Her legs carry her swiftly into the surrounding forest taking the main stone walkway only for a few steps before she takes off running down a barely visible narrow dirt path completely overgrown, burning the branches in her way into oblivion. It won't consume the forest, she won't let it, but she has little patience for walking gracefully right now.

The night is cool... But dark and some deep part of her longs to hold that stupid pearl necklace or hear him try to reassure her that it'll all be okay in his irritating voice but she comforts herself with her flame.

Alone, just like she's always done.

Thunder rolls off in the distance and she curses his name, shouting it at the sky, knowing the oncoming rain is his fault somehow, like intentionally forcing water down on her to drown out the fire and take that away from her while blocking the moon and stars from view like some last spiteful act of his own rage.

But, knowing this and against her better judgment and growing fear, she pushes her legs forward even beyond the ache she feels, losing herself in the expanse of thick trees, her steps practiced from years of experience on this same trail of overgrown roots and weeds.

“Oh don’t worry, at my earliest convenience I plan to.”

He winces at the blinding light of the fire, but remains unmoved other than that as she storms out.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He snaps at Ivor as he more or less falls into a sleeping position, every bone in his body aching and his joints boiling and burning.

Somewhere off in the distance, he hears the high pitched snark of the dragon, but by the look on Ivor’s face, it’s just in his mind.

He’s going to have to get used to that again once he goes back to rot in his own world alone. Everything will be in his head again. Or not, but there won’t be anyone to tell him any different. Oh well.

Then again, there won’t be anyone to cut him down and make him feel like a selfish basket case bastard.

Which of course he’s not.

He exhales with a rasp and closes his eyes and the dragon fire immediately fills his sleeping vision.

He can hear Ivor creaking down the destroyed hall, but that’s the last he senses of reality as he feels himself falling farther and farther into the fever as the dragon fights the goddess for his body.

The sight he sees is not his own mind nor is it his own world. It's a dark place with multiple levels, stairs leading to nowhere, moving paths. Some things are upside down while others are right-side up, the remaining growing out of the ground, walls, and sky at a variety of odd angles.

Everything looks like it's made of white stainless marble but it's hard to tell for certain under the shadow of the darkness that hangs over the place, casting shades of gray and purple everywhere. Nothing makes sense and it all seems pointless, everywhere to go and nowhere to be all at the same time.

Shand blinks a few times as the new location comes into focus or as much as it can given the sickening haze that sits over everything.

The most important thing that comes into view is the form that caused this all, the form that brought the two of them together all those years ago but started things in motion long before that, tail flicking to and fro as it always did.

Nameless is the only source of light in the space other than something far off behind Shand. At first, it looks like the fox stares at him acknowledging his presence here, but it doesn't greet him.

There's an aloofness to him that seems strong even for his sociopathic mind, like this is before he learned to attempt to project emotions for the sake of others' comfort.

Even when Shand calls out, Nameless stands proud and unchanging and it can be seen that he actually looks past Shand, towards the other source of light.

The fox shakes his head then sets off towards the light, passing right through Shand as he does, his destination a very familiar window looking out onto a world but it is swung wide open and nothing seems ablaze on the scene it holds within its pane.

A person sits below the sill in the shadow the light pouring in from it casts, knees pulled to her chest and head firmly tucked against them.

"How long are you going to sulk?"

Nameless's voice is distant, seeming like he'd rather be anywhere than here, bored by the scene and emotions before him.

Luna looks up at him, finally lifting her head. Her hair is disheveled, choppy, several locks cut off at her shoulder and the rest hang at multiple different scraggly messy lengths, the longer pieces matted in what appears to be sweat and dried blood.

Her red military uniform is torn beyond repair and a large bruise decorates her right eye. Cuts, lacerations, gashes, bumps, bruises, scrapes, burns... You name it and she's got it.

Her eyes are red and swollen but there's a sharpness to them as she watches the creature approach. She's hardly recognizable and it makes it even harder to determine it's her because she doesn't say anything in response, keeping her voice to herself.

"You can't stop them so don't sit here and be upset over it."

As he speaks a crowd cheers from outside the window and her head snaps to the noise instantly, clearly recognizing some of the voices mixed in with the rest.

They scream and cry out for justice, demand the "witch" be found and killed. They all demand her blood spilled and curse her name. The things they say that pour through the opening are awful and beyond what most people would believe another person capable of saying.

They yell in anger at her existence and demand she shows her face just so they can erase it from the world, wishing she had never been born, that her parents had drown her like tradition states all Aterkin should be as infants. Their hatred is beyond comprehension.

She quickly turns her face from the window, pressing it back to her knees, but she doesn't cry, she doesn't curse them back, just sits silently and listens, hearing those select voices louder than the rest. There's a heavy tiredness to her broken posture like she doesn't have the energy to react anymore.

Nameless's tail swishes, irritated by her lack of response to his question.

"Would you welcome a distraction? I have something to share with you."

Shand watches the scene unfolding before him, arms folded, still smarting from the exchanged words with Luna. Even though it's clear that Nameless is either ignoring him or can't even discern his presence at all, Shand continues to talk to him.

Maybe he's preparing for his eternity rotting alone still.

"Nameless- I️ don't know what you're doing here, but Luna's being a jerk to me right now, so I️ don't need your little visions to try and pull sympathy from me or get me to apologize. She did it this time."

Nameless, of course, ignores him, and he feels the spiking pain in his head. It takes him down to one knee, palms on the ground to try and stabilize himself somehow.

He's in this world, in this dream, but he can still hear the splitting screech of the dragon and the cracks of lightning blazing in his head, burning his skull, aching behind his eyes. The sweat drips down his forehead, but still Nameless keeps going.

Nameless stands wordlessly, refusing to budge until she responds... But she still doesn't.

"I have to ask, Fengari. Do you want to die?"

Her knuckles turn white as she grips her arms, the cheering for her life behind her seeming to grow in volume and determination.

Still not verbal response.

"I have seen the future and you were part of the equation for fixing your world, stopping Olvreign but I never told you the role you are to play."

He's detached from her, even when she finally looks back up in his direction with a small spark of curiosity, clearly wanting to know exactly why he's dragged her from her world to sit in her own mind and misery.

"You are not the hero of the vision I saw but the guardian of the one who will actually set things right-"

A sad laugh escapes her mouth but it's airy like forced out by a blow to her stomach, as if expecting no less than to be nothing but a secondary character.

Nameless waits for her reaction to pass before continuing.

"As such you will die. You will die giving your life so that he may live and save the world from Olvreign."

Luna's eyes widen as a shout sounds from outside the window. It looks like slow motion when she finally stands and the effort looks like it takes nearly everything she has left in her. Her right leg is bent awkwardly and an out-of-place bone can be seen pushing against muscle and skin where it doesn't belong and she clutches her exposed stomach tightly, feeling a wave of nausea pass through her.

She takes a painful limp towards Nameless, attempting to be intimidating but failing in every way, looking more and more pitiful each second she merely exists.

"I what? I'm sorry, I'm going to die for someone I don't even know to swoop in and become the knight and shining armor?"

The only thing she can control is the ice in her eyes but it seems to do little against Nameless.

"I'm going to die, that's my fate? That's why you saved me? Just to raise me to be a better sacrificial little lamb? Dying so that all those people can glorify someone else for fighting for a future that I fought for years before him and bet my existence on? Is that what you're saying?"

"You don't need to repeat me. I already understand the situation."

Breathing suddenly becomes a chore, Luna's chest heaving nearly like a panic attack is coming from the sheer rage that swells in her and the labored movement shoots pain through every bone.

"You missed that little detail as I laid dying under Olvreign's foot. You told me you could save me and help me protect the world."

As much as Nameless sounds different from the version of himself that Shand met, Luna sounds worlds different, her tone lacking life, cold and callous, heart jaded. Her words are hisses through a raspy raw throat.

"I didn't lie to you, did I?"

Her hatred in comparison to his indifference sets a tense scene, something heavier than whatever had happened between her and Shand earlier.

"Withholding information is still lying, fox. You... You used me. You used my fear in my moment of dying to agree to be your little errand girl without me knowing what that even meant. Saving someone from death one moment to die at a different point is just putting their blood in your own hands. You didn't actually save me like you promised you would!"

"Would it have mattered in the end?"

The question cuts through her own angered rambling and arguing.

"You were going to die one way or another, so what does it matter when? At least this way your death serves a greater purpose."

"You're talking about a human life-"

"You're no human. Besides, human or Aterkin, you are no different than livestock to my kind in relation to power and livestock never gets to decide when it dies. They serve their purpose in life then serve a purpose for a different being with their final breath."

Luna seems at a loss for words facing his logic, like this is the first time she's seen his true nature and the weight of the pact they made weighs heavy on her.

"How dare you-"

The movement is so fast that it's impossible to see until the new scene is set: Luna falls back against the sill and Nameless, far bigger now, towers over her, his large face so close that it threatens to push her back to a long fall with a painful stop, eyes burning a bright red.

"Again: What does it matter when you die but rather why you die? I did save you: I saved you from a meaningless death. I have found you a new reason and purpose yet you're more upset by the fact I just delayed the inevitable? It's not about you, Fengari Estenor. It's about your world."

He backs away from her but she can't stay stand, slipping down from the window, back sliding down the short wall, knees folded under her. The giant fox looms in front of her and her shocked expression, eyes filled with fear, do nothing to move him.

"If you really wish to die, I can fulfill that wish for you, but you will die without even the slimmest chance of clearing your name and you risk the safety of your world with that selfish desire. I would think about it before answering."

Nameless turns his back to her and walks away, back towards Shand, leaving Luna to stare after him in the shadow of the window.

The words, all of them, every single sentence Nameless uttered, hang in the air and she hangs her head to look down at her lap, attempting to collect her thoughts to the constant sound of people longing for her end outside the open window.

Shand pauses between waves of pain and fever to watch Luna in Nameless's retreat, if it can even be called that. Seeing her in such a state, despite his protests to the not listening Nameless, still puts stones in his stomach and makes him feel hollow, hurting.

She had known. She had known? Something about this new realization sits heavily on him, causing a rush of regret, bitterness at Nameless, and so many other emotions he can't even identify in the moment.

She had known she was heading down this path, and she hadn't liked it. Nameless had known she didn't want to voluntarily give up her life for someone else, for their glory.

What a far cry that girl was from the one who had stood in Shand's subconscious just the day and repeated that phrase over and over to herself. It's not about you.

That's like a gut punch to Shand, too. She'd accused him of being selfish? His mind goes back to his darkest moment in that cage, the point Olvreign might have won if not for the anger.

He'd realized it then, too, hadn't it? That he was selfish. Arrogant. Chronically pushing people away in fear, yet also deathly afraid of being alone. What a miserable waste.

But there's something else he'd realized before now, too, wasn't it? Something about that scene with Nameless sparks a memory in him. Maybe not a memory... maybe a dream?

His head is spinning with dragon fire and pain and he tries so hard to concentrate on this thought- he doesn't want to lose it in the purple smoke and haze from this world or in anything else.

It's like it's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't spit it out. All he can think is fever, fire, pain.

Nameless's form stops right beside Shand, still not meeting his gaze, but something about his presence is different, like he is fully aware of Shand now.

"You saw it. You saw her fate just as I did."

Things in the room start to rumble and crack, falling to pieces right around them. The window shatters and bursts of white fire shoot up around everything, consuming it all.

Lightning strikes the ground from somewhere far above, rippling through the ground, folding the floor in on itself.

Everything changes. There's not sprawling confusing cityscape, no darkness, no haze, no Luna. It's a grass field, one he remembers well, and some blades not too far away shake and bend as a creature writhes and thrashes around under their cover.

Nameless looks over his shoulder at the spot but doesn't move towards it, silently pointing him to seek the answer on his own in this distant but familiar dream.

The haze in his head is so hot that it's nearly blinding from within now, but he knows where he is.

Everything comes back in painful, forceful bursts backed with bright light.

He sees the forest clearing, the animals dead.

Flash of light, and he sees the back room he's been wracking his mind over. The back room of the bar, back in that limbo dimension that is barely more than a distant dream.

That back room that he should have gone into first, but hadn't and had set into motion events that, frankly, he sometimes wonders if he'd be the same person he is today without.

But that backroom. The minimal bed frame, the stark white linens.

The field. The bird writhing in the grass, blood spilling and pooling and spilling some more. The agonized thrashing, the crescent shape on its deep purple breast.

He'd seen her death. His visions had predicted it, back forever ago the very same day he'd met her.

He had seen this. He'd held her in his arms as she'd died, but he'd watched it happen to her long, long before.

Shand can't hold his head up now, and it slams into the floor of somewhere- somewhere he's not entirely aware of.

He had known. He could have stopped it.

He can see Nameless now, like he's looking up from the floor of that back room, spinning dimensions and giving him cryptic warnings before waking up to a completely new world.

A world of a different place and time. The world of the Blind Fox.

A place that holds its own haunting memories for Shand- some agonizing, excruciating, and some beautiful and pure and perfect. All of them still following him around in his head today because he had seen Luna's death, and Nameless hadn't liked it.

His head is a swirl of intense emotions and even more intense pain. He wants to reach out and punch this version of Nameless he sees projected before him, but he can barely even pick his face up off the floor.

He wants to run and scream and break things. The time wasted, the pain he'd been through just because it was Nameless's idea of a game- toying with all of their lives and emotions because he didn't have any and couldn't run the risk of ruining his own precious vision of the future.

There is a lightning crack in that room, now, touching the ground right in front of Shand's face where he lays sprawled helplessly on the floor.

His vision is fading and everything is starting to blur, but he sees huge talons, feet with scales and the shadow of wings on the wall, and he sees long light blue fabric trailing on the floor carrying with it the sound of a monsoon, of a thunderstorm.

It's the last thing he sees, that anger and confusion and horror at himself is the last thing he feels before everything fades to black and he ceases to be.

He wakes up on another floor- the floor of Ivor's back room. He lifts his head with a little effort. The window is still blown out, the glass littering the floor and the ground outside.

The sun shines fiercely through the vacancy, searing Shand's eyes as he struggles to adjust from the blackness.

He drags the back of his hand across his own forehead. The sweat there is cool and his forehead is no longer hot to the touch.

He is sore, aches and pains from the day before creaking after him as he moves and he winces getting up, but at least he can move now. The fire in his head is gone, the dragon chased back down to his depths again, until next time.

Everything feels somewhat normal. Another normal morning alone.

Until Shand remembers the dreams, Nameless, Luna. He staggers out of the back room, limping slightly but determination overruling the pain, to find Ivor.

Ivor stands by a front window, looking out of it with a cup of tea in his hand. His shirt is rolled up and stained, having been awake for hours to attempt to repair the house.

He hears Shand greet him, staggering out of the hall.

There's little time for Shand to react. Ivor has crossed the distance between them and lands a fist with the momentum square into Shand's jaw. The man may be older now, but he's still well trained and ready for a fight, having kept up his muscle strength over the years.

Ivor doesn't explain himself at first, letting the attack sit there in his silence, not caring about any conclusion Shand comes up with on his own.

"So this is it, huh? You're gone for ten years and then you just come waltzing back? Do you know what it's like to have the woman you married more attached, closer to, a man dimensions away? All because they have the stupid ability to share dreams or some other crap? Things were so much easier..."

He huffs, storming to the kitchen table, yanking a chair out to sit down and hold his head in his hands. There's a sort of long-coming acceptance in his defeated posture.

"This is it, huh? This is where you take her away finally. Lord knows I'm not going to live forever so it makes sense. Besides..."

Back straightening, he finally sits up, looking Shand in the eye but unapologetic about the punch.

"She never did love me, not like that, and there were a lot of times where I questioned the same thing. Do I love her like that or did I marry her out of necessity... Of pity? There was a girl I knew growing up and Luna always mentioned her like she was trying to tell me to go after Elaine instead. Did she know how I really felt before even I did? Then why did she say yes? Was she really so lonely she'd have to marry a man she didn't love?"

Ivor keeps rambling, looking up at the broken ceiling, really more talking to himself than to Shand. It's obvious Shand's presence and all the events it's caused has stirred up already storming thoughts within Ivor's mind.

"I guess it's only fitting then that our flimsy marriage with no solid basis come to an end like this, the woman running off with the man that actually saved her and the fool stays behind."

The smell that comes from the broken mug on the floor is something much stronger than tea and the sweat on Ivor's brown helps confirm as much... Still, his claims aren't entirely wrong.

Shand dreams of Dakara, the woman he loves, so you'd think Luna would dream of Ivor... But she hasn't. She never has. And that's not something she's trying to hide.

"Maybe I should have listened to Luna all those years ago when she kept telling me to find Elaine again... She was trying to hlep, I just didn't see it that way."

Shand stays, leaning against the wall, trying to let the throbbing in his jaw pass over him. The punch was solid, he'll give Ivor that. Placed well enough that it manages to reopen some of the healing wounds from Luna's fire, from the day before.

Still, he leans against the wall, strength coming way too slowly, and listens. He figures he owes Ivor that much at this point.

"Hey, I️ said I️ was sorry about your house."

Shand shrugs, trying to lighten the mood, knowing immediately that he's failed. He sighs, letting his legs fold under him as he slides down the wall into a squat. If he sits on the floor, he doesn't think he'll ever make it back up again.

"I️ didn't ask for this with Luna, just so you know. Still, I️...I'm sorry, whatever that's worth."

Shand rubs the back of his neck, fighting the same emotions from the day before that whisper hotly down his neck that he's nothing but a destroyer. A selfish, arrogant walking hurricane who deserves to rot alone, like Luna said.

But there's too much else swirling in his mind to entertain that fully now. Besides, it's not like he's short on time.

"I️ suppose we're both in the same boat, here. I️ just want her to be happy... and, obviously, alive. I️ wanted that pretty bad."

He huffs out a short laugh that ends prematurely as he watches Ivor, smells the liquor. And if there's anything Shand knows well, it's an alcohol induced spiral.

Shand pushes himself back to a standing position with a grimace and makes his slow way over to Ivor, letting his hand rest on his shoulder unobtrusively.

"What is it you want me to do? If you want me to go, I'll respect that. It may take me another day or two because I'm pretty strung out on dragons and goddesses still, but. I'll go if you say."

Ivor eyes Shand for a long moment like his drunk mind can't properly think of a decent thought to say.

He finally settles on forcefully pushing Shand's hands off his shoulders, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the front door.

"I haven't seen her all night. She ran out after your sorry ass passed out and hasn't been back."

It clearly takes a lot for him to stay upright in the chair and he sways constantly.

"To the side, there's a little dirt path. Follow that through the woods. You'll come to a small clearing eventually."

This obviously isn't the first time Luna has done this and, much to the benefit of Shand, she's taken care of any branches that may be in the way by burning them down, making the walk far easier for him than it was for her.

Outside smells fresh from the rain the night before and the ground cups several puddles that reflect everything above perfectly, rippling when leftover water from the tree leaves drips down into them.

Things are oddly calm, more peaceful than it feels like they should be.

The dirt path is nothing but mud at this point but the roots that cross over it time and time again give proper footing for anything looking for a walk deep in the forest after the storm.

At the end of the long winding path is a small clearing, a brief break in the woods and, at the center, a small gray headstone.

Luna sits huddled over it, cheek resting on the top of it, eyes closed and breathing heavy, tranquil and asleep, blissfully unaware of the new day as the foliage above helps to shade her face from the harsh sun that's attempting to filter through and disturb her.

Her hair is still dripping wet and her clothes are soaked, mud splashed up all along her boots and legs. She clings a bit to the worn stone for comfort, having spent the entire night out here despite her own fear of the dark.

Shand pauses a moment at the end of the path to lean over, catch his breath, give his head a moment to catch up and clear from the constant ache.

He slowly starts toward the clearing, fighting back flashes of his dream clearing, in his dream wood, where everyone he knows and loves has died before his eyes.

This place is different, this place is different- he repeats it over and over in his mind to try and give himself some peace. It doesn't work, but he repeats it nonetheless.

His legs threaten to give out, but he keeps walking nonetheless. She still sleeps peacefully overtop the gravestone.

His foot catches a stray root and his ankle cracks, and he curses under his breath after a sharp intake of air.

Luna's head jerks up, roused immediately from her deep slumber on high alert.

They stare at each other for a few moments, each one in silence. Shand doesn't come any further, but kneels down in the grass right where he'd been standing. He doesn't trust his dizzied head with the altitude anymore.

He swallows and looks down, all around him, something to say to take the tension away. After what he'd seen last night, his dreams of Nameless and his rememberings from their past, the cross words exchanged between them feel dissolved into nothing.

There are bits and pieces that still hurt. More or less because Shand knows they're true. But he doesn't want to harp on those hurts now.

"Did you dream, too?" He asks, voice low, husky, trying to hold back all the emotions that threaten to come spilling out if he doesn't close his mouth.

Her back is sore from having slept hunched over in the same position for hours and having to snap to alertness so quickly definitely didn't help.

Luna watches him very carefully, taking in how every movement is an excruciating struggle for him and a better part of her wants to help but her still raw emotions keep her pressed to the stone, blue eyes wary like she's afraid he'll spew insults any second, not really knowing if she could keep up with a heated debate right now.

"Dream?"

The word seems like a foreign concept in the face of death but also everything that happened with visions, goddesses, and memories yesterday. Her eyebrow arches as she tries to think back on the sleep she was just disturbed from.

"I believe so? I think it was of some memory with Nameless... Yeah, that' seems right. Back from the first years I stayed with him."

The more she thinks on it, the more the tired fog in her mind begins to fade and the more the can remember of last night. Right, it began to rain on her walk to the grave but she still stayed out here all night, eventually falling asleep clutched to Nameless's small tombstone.

That explains the dream. She always dreams of something to do with Nameless whenever she visits this place.

But if he's asking about it, if he even has to ask in the first place...

"You saw it too?"

It feels a bit awkward to know he is still so connected to her mind considering all the harsh words they threw around yesterday but even more so considering how she cursed him to be alone and rot.

"Yeah."

Shand leaves it at that for a moment, taking a deep breath in, savoring the fresh smell of the earth after the rain. He's always loved that smell. It hits him that the rain, the storm the previous night was probably his doing, raging on while powers fought violently within his mind.

But the rain is gone now, and the world feels lighter for it. Brighter, cleaner. He wants everything to feel like that, him and Luna. Water under the bridge. But that water is always rising, swelling, pulling everything under and eroding everything in its path. Just like everything else he touches.

He eases breath out of tired, heavy lungs. He knows he has more to say to her. More about what he's seen. He doesn't know how she'll respond, with things as tense and raw between them as they are. He wants to apologize, but for some reason it feels like the words would be misplaced in this moment.

Instead of an apology, he stands in a rough, slow way that grates every joint against itself. He moves closer to her slowly, testing out bones and ligaments in movement. When he's near her, he slips his jacket off and lays it lightly over her shoulders before taking a few steps back from her and inching himself slowly, tightly back to the ground.

"There's something you should know. I️ remembered some things...one thing, really."

He's struggling to talk about it, not sure which emotion is going to take the lead in his voice or his face when he finally says it.

"I️ heard Nameless tell you he'd foreseen your death. And that's what made me remember, Nameless tried to get me to forget, to distract all of us from it, actually, so I'd just let it be, and I️ guess it worked but last night, I️ remembered."

He takes a huge breath in, his face already contorted with worry over how she's going to take this.

"I️ saw your death, too. In a vision. The day we met."

Her eyes drift down to the jacket around her shoulders as she speaks and it, oddly, has a very familiar calming impact on her to the pearl's bright encompassing glow.

It smells a little, like saltwater and smoke, but it's not a bad mix. Actually, she's sure the second one may be her fault for all the times she's shot fire his way in the past twenty-four hours. The thought makes her wince a bit.

She really did lose her cool, didn't she? Say some stupid things she'll never be able to take back, no matter how long she lives.

Luna's brow furrows, picking up on each shift and change in his tone before he finally gets out the thought that's on his mind.

"Oh..."

How is she supposed to respond to that? She knows how she wants to, but it's not his fault. Her hand tightens on the stone beside her, using it to keep her grounded.

"It seems like everyone can see my future but me, huh?"

There's a laugh but it's sad, defeated. The fact that not only Nameless but also Shand, someone with no connection to her world and its fate in any regard, saw her unchanging end and neither told her until it was too late hurts.

Granted, she knows Shand has an excuse and his excuse was Nameless, the one who used withholding information to his advantage.

But is she really destined to be like this forever? To be part of visions and prophecies, to never keep things unknown and shape her own future? She's not sure anymore.

Fate is cruel and unkind, it pushes her down and reminds her time-after-time that she doesn't belong to herself.

"At least I'm consistent across dimensions."

All of that said, she can't possibly fathom a reason as to why Shand sits in front of her with his head bowed, jacket on her shoulders like some sort of offering.

He just said Nameless kept him from remembering, so why does he look like his world is collapsing around him?

She tries to keep the tone light but it doesn't appear to be working.

"That's not what I️ meant..."

Shand rubs at the back of his head, ruffling his hair to give himself some sort of comfort.

"Well, I️ guess either way, we kind of smashed that whole vision of the future to bits, then."

He tries to match her light tone, her nearly carefree attitude, but he can't bring himself to it. He feels too heavy.

"Listen, Luna, you were right. I'm an asshole. And I've lost myself and a lot of other things in a lot of time alone. I'm tired and yeah, I️ hurt. And I️ just.... I️ couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, an eternity of this, just having to let you go. It was wrong of me to bring you back. You had some peace for once."

He swallows, eyes cast down as if he's working all this own in his own mind instead of out loud as he speaks it.

"I'm sorry."

He lets that settle on the air with a deep sigh, one that expands his ribs too much and stays with him. He doesn't dare to look back up, to look at her face, to ask her to reply, to ask anything.

After seeing Ivor as he was this morning, after hearing Luna lay out all her real feelings about him and their strange, twisted relationship, he's half decided that it would be best for all of them if he did go back to his own world, back to his isolation and shut himself up for all eternity where he can't cause any more damage or any more pain.

Her breath hitches in her throat and for once he's the most expressive one of the two of them, laying out his apology in front of her and the rest of his personal torment on his face and in his body language.

She's never seen him like this, at least not to her. Every hint of remorse she sees on his face, every time his own words and hers play in his mind... She feels like she's seeing herself and the reaction she's been trying so hard to store away.

He isn't moving so she moves for them both, quietly crawling towards him, and she hesitates right in front of him, not knowing what to do from this point, especially with him refusing to look at her.

"Shand..."

He keeps his head hung and it hurts her to know she did this. What she said is eating him apart, probably helping him form yet some other ridiculous plan in his breaking heart.

"Hey, look at me."

Hand under his chin, she gently lifts his face, demanding at least part of his attention. His skin is noticeably cooler than hers is and she becomes very self-conscious of her resting temperature, afraid to burn him yet again, but she can't let go of his face, that will only undermine all of this.

"You know what? I'm stupid and selfish, too. I was acting like an idiot because, if I am going to live forever, I couldn't imagine it without you, too. We're two selfish children, aren't we?"

Seeing his burned face brings a familiar sting to her eyes, seeing the damage she caused close up, noticing how even his own blood hasn't completely healed her attack over yet.

She very lightly traces over a mark with her finger, feeling the uneven texture of his burned skin and seeing him wince at the contact of her hot touch against his raw wounds.

"Oh god... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Her hand still holds his face up but hers now drops in guilt and a sorrowful apology, apologizing for her attack both physically and against who he is as a person, the wonderful, kind person that cares so much for her he'd be willing to defy death, fate, and sign his soul over to Olvreign.

He has nothing to be sorry about and she tries to say that over and over through the lump in her throat but she's not even sure one single sentence is coming out comprehensibly.

All she can do his hold his head high, knowing he has no reason to drop it like he's ashamed of who he is, and lose the strength she has to keep eye contact with him.

Shand feels hot tears springing up around his eyes and he looks down, trying to blink them back. He keeps swallowing, like his throat is trying to close in on itself.

Without looking for her eyes, he leans his head over slightly until their foreheads are touching, and nothing else.

He takes a long breath in and out, making the ends of her hair dance.

"I'm sorry if you didn't want to come back. You know how I️ am, I'll justify anything I️ want up and down until its twisted and backwards, and... I️ really am, I'm sorry for everything I️ said. I️ don't want... I️ don't want to leave things like this. Knowing you're safe, that's really all I️ want. That's all I️ could ask for."

He tentatively takes one of her hands now and presses the pearl into her palm.

"I'll probably be better off without this, anyway."

Luna's eyes widen at the sight of the pearl in her hand below her face.

"No."

She shakes her head against his defiantly and she can feel the tears slip past her shut eyes, down her face, onto both of their hands.

"I don't want this without you. You know that!"

Her chest heaves as he attempts to say goodbye and, if there were any whole piece left to her at this point in her life, it's crumbling now.

"I told you I didn't want to die, didn't I? You were just trying to help me and I... Oh god, I called you such awful things. Why are you just taking what I'm saying as fact? I'm an idiot, remember? A Lunatic."

Maybe if she jokes, brings back his own, happier words from a better time, he won't want to run away so much and leave her here with just this necklace to remember him by.

She shoves the pearl back at him, demanding he take it like the offer will reverse what he's thinking, shoulders shaking with every slob she tries to hold in at the prospect of an eternity without anyone by her side, without him specifically by her side, doing dumb rash things to his heart's content.

"You're not selfish, you're not. I am, that's why I don't want you to leave. Please don't leave me alone."

Her forehead stays pressed to his, afraid to move, afraid the second she does that he'll be gone.

"Luna, Olvreign is gone."

Shand is the one shaking his head now, telling himself to just grit his teeth and get through this.

"Ivor is here, and he cares about you, and your world is different. And you have the chance to live the life that you have always deserved. One that is about you. And we both know, in one way or another, however well meaning it would be, I️ would screw that up. I️ have a track record. That dumb fucking lamp."

He laughs a bit to himself, reining it back in before a lopsided smile can light up his face fully.

"Maybe, all this time, what's been keeping us together is just... not a factor anymore. You can have a normal life now. And that's the one thing, the single thing, I've never been good at."

He looks back up into her eyes now, and although she's now tearful, he's put an end to his tears and knows that it's finally time to be an adult. It's finally time to love her practically the way he always has inside- the way that's always gotten a bit lost in translation.

He tempers the speech with jokes and lightness, but inside, it's killing him too. He knows leaving her will mean going back to his world, sitting in a cave or a field or some isolated place alone. Drinking. Breaking things against walls. Just as he's done for so long.

Except this time, it will be responsible. Because she won't have to worry about him or fret over him like a mother. She can replace all the awful memories, the ones that bite at her the worst, that have kept her up at night, with new, good ones.

"You're doing it again!"

She can barely see him through her tears and that frightens her, like he's a vision that's fading from her.

"I'm asking you to stay, Shand! Don't leave me. If things do work out well, I'll live forever too. Live alone forever. I don't want that! And you don't want to live alone forever either, I know you don't, you dream about having someone almost every night, I would know."

It takes a lot of effort, but she keeps herself from yelling right in his face, keeping her voice quiet.

Or maybe she's not trying. Maybe this is as much as she can force her voice to do as the crushing reality of an eternity wandering a world alone begins to sink in.

"Don't tell me you brought me back just for that, I don't want to hear it."

It may be the wrong move, but she throws her arms around him, pulling him towards her in a firm unbreakable grasp, pressing her face into his shirt, allowing it to soak up her tears. It's not just his jacket: He smells like saltwater and smoke.

Neither of them belongs to a world because neither of them can factor time into their lives anymore so it would only make sense that they spend these rare existences together. No one else will ever be able to understand them, not like this.

He doesn't return her embrace immediately and it hits her at her core. God, it hurts.

"Hug me back, Shand! I'm never going to leave so just hold me!"

And even despite the emphasis and urgency she's putting in her tone, she still can't bring herself to scream into him, she can't get past the lump in her throat enough to do that. All she can manage is her terrified, shaking voice.

His chest is rumbling with shaky exhales and pressed to her, he can feel her shaking with her own sobs.

God, he wants to. He wants to hold onto her tightly and never let go, he wants to hold her more tightly than anything he's ever held in his life.

She's making it so, so hard. He wants to be selfish. He wants to just assume that their paths are meant to intertwine and connects like this. He wants to just skip off together merrily into whatever waits in eternity, but if he's learned anything, if he's grasped onto anything in the last two thousand years, it's that people like him don't get what they want. Or at least, shouldn't.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight anyway, trying to calm the sobs that run through her small body with the pressure of his embrace. He lets his hand rest on the back of her head as she cries into him.

How is it that no other person alive, then or now, can make him feel like this? Can push him so far from his natural limits, from what he thinks he can or should do.

It's just like it had been all those years ago, when Nameless had called him dumb and stupid and reckless for going into her subconscious, possessed himself, to save her. For going back in, for putting the stuff in his own veins when she was being torn apart by Corruption.

It almost makes him want to laugh, thinking about how Nameless had almost unwittingly started him down this deplorable cycle of reckless abandonment in the face of Luna's fate. It's something the sociopathic fox would never be able to understand, and as such would probably be amused by it.

Nameless. For the first time, Shand really notices the gravestone Luna had been leaning on. He realizes who it must belong to.

"Is that...."

His voice trails off, looking over her shoulder now, leaving the matter she's still crying over as if it's all been settled.