It’s after the war, everything is better than anyone could’ve ever expected. Rebuilding. Founding. Enjoying and experiencing new things without fear. Freedom. Torch and Clancy found their new roles, finally confessing what they truly mean to each other. Enjoying early sunrises, hardworking days making choices that benefit the community, late nights with deep belly laughter and camaraderie. A warm, sunny day, that cold feeling washes through Clancy again. Stealing his breathing, making him grasp at his chest. But there’s no bishops, no more rituals, the Glorious Gone now at peace. No reason to have that pit opening and swallowing him from the inside out. And yet, there it is creeping up his spine, digging its way through his heart and throat. Maybe they had it all wrong, it wasn’t the Bishops, maybe it was him the whole time. A cycle with no end. A fleeting happy moment rather than an end… Until a catalyst sends the next cycle in overdrive. He’s spacey, Torch notices, Clancy physically next to him but his eyes a tell, he might as well be a million miles away. But he takes Torch’s hand, blinking back to this moment and smiles. Knowing what will probably come. Choosing just to be, in the meantime.
