from flesh to stone

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SAFETY

DEPOSIT

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[iures]

Welcome back Emil

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SIGHS & GROANS

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i see u there emil

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Visit Original Link

Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2, 1830

composed by Fryderyk Chopin performed by Martha Goldstein Ed. Orig. Lic. x (prev. x)

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isalarevas:

✗ ||   Instantly she runs to his side, kneeling down so that the boy could easily latch onto her. Quickly she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace as her cheek rested against his own. Bright was her expression— any worry she had instantly melted away once Emil was in her arms. Safe. That’s what he would be from now on, safe by her side.

         ＂Emil, da’len I was worried about you! I am so glad you have returned to me, have you been well?＂

Arms curled warmly, wide grin becoming a bright, pearly smile as he leans into her embrace, head tipping, temple pressed against her own where he let it rest familiarly. At last, he was home.

“Of course!” He hummed before leaning away as if to look at her despite the silken band that covered his eyes. “Everything is much better now, you know!” He wasn’t alone anymore.

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ＲＥＰＬＩＣＡＮＴ；

            ＂What matters is you aren’t hurt. For that I’m glad.＂

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His head lifts, as if he hadn’t expected such an amiable reply--as if he deserved something more venomous. Lips parted, breath drawn in before it was exhaled in a shaky gasp.

          “I’m... I’m alright!” He confirmed with a sharp nod. “And            you’re alright, right?”

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"Michael literally is all talk and no brain. Ignore him. "

He choked through a breath of his own, fingers lifting to curl into the pressed, silken garbs that hung from his shoulders; frame hunched, flesh pallid, almost sickly in contrast to the lively woman who felt so much like Kainé.

          “O -Okay--”

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Breathes immense clouds of smoke at.

He coughed through the dragon’s exhalation and raised his arms in defense of himself, staggering back and turning his head, choking through the smoky miasma.

          “S -Stop! Please!!”

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                            @excaecatus

✗ ||   ＂Emil!＂

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A grin split across his lips as he heard his name, head turning to face the source. He did not need to see her to know she was there, for he could hear her long before the declaration of her approach.

“Mamae!” He laughed at himself, at the way the syllables sounded, and he moved to greet her with a warm embrace.

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            ＂Emil.＂

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   “I -I didn’t mean to--”

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    mam !!

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ＲＥＰＬＩＣＡＮＴ；       A small smile crosses his usually dour face as Emil shifts to greet the dual guests. The Book fluttered about from behind where Nier stood– opting to voice his own salutations, as he put it, before choosing to float above the piano of where the small boy sat. ＂It hasn’t been that long, besides I recall saying I’d visit from time to time.＂         Steps taken in a long heavy stride toward a small table at the room’s center, of which a gloved hand lightly pulled a chair from. Sitting down politely he simply chuckles as eyes follow Weiss’ journey around the room. ＂I was home visiting Yonah not too long ago and she told me that butler of yours kept his word about sending letters.＂Yet he paused, a lighter tone to his voice that held a hint of a chuckle within, ＂Yonah also told me that she has another penpal too– she’s been very excited about her new friend Emil.＂

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     The boy’s grin was infectious, and it spread further        across his face like wildfire. So his letters were received        then? And legible? Hands drew back to link before his        chest in a contented clasp, and the younger of the two        (or three) seemed to simply radiate within his seat.

       “Friend?” He seemed delighted by the title he’d been         given, desperately attempting to keep his fidgeting at a         minimum while he put the appropriate words together         within his head. After being alone for so long, the social         skills he might have been once prideful of diminished at         an alarming rate. It took him time to articulate what he         wished to say that was presentable without his internal,         background processing interfering and causing him to         stumble.

      “It’s the least I could do.” He nodded enthusiastically, “and         besides, we all need someone to talk to sometimes.”

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⊰ Ⅲ ⊱ SHE’S fairly certain that everything that’s parted from his                 mouth has been punctuated by a question mark. But, if                 nothing else, they were simple queries – & generally             justified. Such odd emphasis he places on the single                 word; like he’s invested somehow in it. 

                Perhaps the hows of his own circumstances are not                 of natural origin.

              ❝ …There is no how. That is their natural form.                  Armisael is…like a Guardian Angel.                  My protecting Watcher. By that logic, you look                  like an Angel. So I initially mistook you for one. ❞

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    The ambient stillness that lingered filled the      cavity within his skull thoughtfully. That was what      they were? What he was?--No. His original purpose      was less benevolent, yet that was no choice of his      own. He didn’t want to hurt or maim, he just wanted      to help. His friends needed his help. 

                             ...But what of her?

    “I’m not an angel, miss,” he began softly, as if      becoming suddenly bashful, “but I can be! Or, well...      I can try.” His head tilted then as if in inquiry as he      hovered around her form before finally settling by her      side if only for a moment.

    “I want to help.”