Love’s Tender Chokehold
Asra Alnazar x Elvira Casimiro
In which Asra is honest with his resurrected apprentice and feels the weight of his emotions.
He should have never suggested that she get into the romantic poetry.
Sure, he was glad that her reading had greatly improved. And oh, was it just amazing to see her drawn back to the book of poetry that she had indulged in so many times before she had slipped through his fingers. For a moment, Asra could pretend that Elvira had never left (or, more accurately, that he had never made the mistake of leaving her). He could pretend that they were both the same lovestruck teenagers that they were when they met, back when they were still green and hopeful. His mind drifted to the first time he listened to her recite the poetry in the shop, chin resting on his hand with what could only be described as a goofy grin of pure admiration on his face. A hearty chuckle echoed in his mind, belonging to Elvira’s aunt Marina as she cautioned her niece to “be careful, lest your friend allows your words to carelessly pierce his heart.” Little did she know, he had been careless enough to allow her to pierce his heart the very moment they met.
But as quickly as the gentle embrace of the memory had set in, an all too familiar throbbing guilt rose to the surface. He shouldn’t allow himself to get lost in her words, knowing that they were not for him anymore. These were no longer the words that passed their lips when they lied tangled together in the dark of the night. As far as anyone but the Arcana knew, all they would ever be again were the words tattooed on the half of his heart that still belonged to him (although he knew that there would never again be a part of his heart that didn’t belong to her). He tried to tune her out. If he could focus on the inventory for just one moment. But, once she finished a poem, the magician found himself asking her to read another, if only to lose himself in the lilt of her voice for a while. The soft comfort of his affection would slowly eclipse his guilt for a stanza or two, before he submitted himself back to trying to focus on something other than her.
“Master, have you ever been in love?”
Elvira’s words shattered Asra’s careful concentration, and he hated his heart for responding to her question before his brain could fully process it. The organ threw itself against his ribs like a frightened bird in a cage.
“Me? In love? That’s a funny question.” He kept his back turned to her, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the way he all but stopped breathing.
His apprentice huffed in response and tilted her head at him. “Yes, you, silly. I’m not being funny. I’m just curious. So? Have you?”
He half-turned to her, raising a cloud-colored eyebrow. The sight of her was enough to make his heart jump up into his throat. She sat on the counter, legs crossed with the book in her lap. Just like the last time she recited poetry to him. He knew it was better to lie. It’s not like she would know. The less she knew about the truth, the safer she was. That had been his reluctant policy ever since the last time the truth landed her in a deathlike slumber. There was no telling what would set off the catatonia. It was not worth the risk. He knew that.
“Master?”
But then, Asra remembered her as she was when he first saw her: a wide-eyed teenager with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. He first saw her under the warm glow of festive lamplight, and he was sure that she had been sent down from the heavens by the way she shone. Her eyes seemed to hold a galaxy’s worth of stars. The cacophony of the revelry around him was drowned out by the beating of his own heart. Everything around them faded away, and for a blissful moment they were the only two in the world. He remembers his tongue getting tied when he first spoke to her, and he’ll never forget damning his heart for speaking out of turn. But, she laughed. And, oh, was it a beautiful sight. They spent the night as many did during the Masquerade: talking, laughing, and twirling to the music that poured from every crevice of the city. Even when she was called back inside late at night did her presence linger. He fell asleep that night to the echoes of her laughter. Only the Arcana knew how many times he fell asleep to the sound after that. He didn’t know it yet then. But, everything that anyone else had called “love”, Asra had called “Elvira”.
“Once.”
He had said the word so softly, it hardly even registered to the magician that he’d said it aloud at all. He tried to find it within himself to curse his heart for betraying him once again. But, if he couldn’t tell her the truth, this would have to be enough.
“Really?” Elvira swung her legs over to the other side of the counter to face him, eyes sparkling with interest and hugging her book to her chest. Gosh, those eyes. They were like fields of dew-covered clover, and, oh, were they so easy to get lost in. But now they were looking up at him, waiting for an answer to her question, blissfully unaware that the truth was far more complicated than she would likely ever know. “Who were they? What were they like? Where are they now?”
Asra tried not to wince at her excitement.
“She was... a friend. We were young and naive when we met, but our love was... everything. It was all-consuming. To me, it was as if she hung the stars in the sky. She was so warm. Fiery, actually. She had no problem putting me in my place the moment I stepped out of line. But she was fair, caring. When we were together, it was like the world was kinder. We had so many plans for the future. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her...” He trailed off before he forgot himself. He had said more than enough, and he inwardly cursed the open dam of spewing emotion that he called a mouth. Turning from her was all he could manage to do, if only to hide the pain and guilt in his eyes. “Anyway, that was a long time ago now. She’s not here anymore. In the end, she went somewhere I couldn’t follow. That was the end of it.”
The silence that hung between them after his revelation was thick, so thick Asra swore he could choke on it. It was just a confirmation of his fears. What he spoke of would’ve been better left unsaid, if he just hadn’t given in to his heart. It was stupid and irresponsible of him.
But then, there was the sound of rustling cloth. And then the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor. Finally, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, and the whole world shrunk down to that one single point of contact. Asra’s entire body stiffened, eyes widening as he turned his head slowly to look at the head of ebony colored hair that rested against the back of his shoulder. Her hold was firm, but not too tight. Still, it managed to leave him breathless.
“E-Elvira?”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Master.”
He placed his hands on hers and patted them, letting out a slow exhale he didn’t even realize that he was holding.
“It’s alright, Elvira. People leave, they drift away. It’s a fact of life, really.”
Elvira’s arms quickly unwound and Asra turned to face his raven haired apprentice. The gentle fire in her eyes burned his own as he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her.
“I won’t.”
His breath caught in his throat once again at the sound of Elvira’s declaration. For a moment, time stood still. How was it that, after all this time, she could still stop his entire world with a mere sentence? After what seemed like a brief eternity, he let out a puff of air.
“Evie, I appreciate th-”
Elvira crossed her arms and furrowed her brows, cutting him off. There was a spark in her eyes, one that Asra knew meant that he had struck a nerve. Her glare was like magic itself. It was the kind that could stop anyone in their tracks.
“Don’t do that. I mean what I say. Even if I’m not here physically, I’ll always be with you. Isn’t that what you tell me?”
Asra didn’t even bother arguing. How could he, when she put it that way? The firm conviction, the resoluteness. That’s just how she always was. If he closed his eyes, it would be just like listening to her scold him before everything fell apart. A chuckle escaped his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Alright, alright. I give.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. He chuckled again when Elvira gave a self-satisfied nod. What a stubborn woman she was. Asra would argue that it was her best quality. He watched her walk back over to the counter and hoist herself up to where she was sitting before.
“Elvira?” She looked over to him, eyebrows raised slightly. “You know I mean it when I say that, right? About never leaving you.”
She stared back at him in silence for a moment before shrugging.
“Of course you do. Honestly, I don’t blame you. I’m a delight to be around.”
Laughter bubbled up from Asra’s chest, and it was the lightest he had felt in what felt like eons. He set down his inventory book and pulled his step stool over to where Elvira sat on the counter. He leaned his elbow against the smooth wood, resting his chin on his hand. He looked up at Elvira, his beloved apprentice, his resurrected love, and smiled.
“Go on, you delight. Read a couple of more poems for me.”