['Old' for Az and Nayru just make it work and make it happy >[ ]
Old: I’ll write our characters growing old together.
Azrael squinted at his reflection in the looking glass. In all the years that had passed since his encounter with the shadowling in the Desert Colossus, his identity as a human had never quite settled in his mind. It was only now when the years revealed themselves in the lines of his forehead and the grey streaks in his hair that it was a little easier to accept as reality. He half expected the grey to shift into white at a moment’s notice, the undeniably human face he saw reflected about to morph into that of a monster. But of course, it wouldn’t do that. It hadn’t in years.
“Squinting won’t help the wrinkles, Az,” a singsong voice chided him. Azrael turned to where Nayru stood by the closet, dressing in deep blue as she so often did. Her hair bore streaks of grey as well, though Nayru’s grey hair was frustratingly few and far between in comparison to Azrael’s.
“It’s not the wrinkles so much as the hair,” Azrael chortled, leaving the mirror to meet her on the other side of the room. “I half expect it to change any minute now.”
Nayru shook her head, chuckling lightly. “No dear,” she replied gently. “One of the unfortunate side effects of mortality is that you’re stuck with that now.” Tying the sash on her dress, she turned to face him, brushing his untidy hair back from his face. “Not that it isn’t becoming, mind you. Suits you rather nicely, you know.”
“You’re horribly biased,” Azrael noted, placing his hands on her waist. “And it helps that somehow you’ve aged far more gracefully than I have. I don’t recall this being a part of the agreement.”
Nayru laughed, patting his cheek gently. Somehow she was still as magical and radiant as the day he’d met her; laugh lines had done little to change this. “Biased, maybe,” she acknowledged. “Doesn’t stop me being right.”
Azrael sighed in mock frustration, but his face remained frozen in a grin – seemingly a permanent feature on his face when he was around Nayru. “Stubborn as always, I see,” he noted quietly, pressing his nose to her hair.
“You and me both,” Nayru teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Kafei awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. Was I having a nightmare? He thought, sweat beading across his forehead. He tried to lift his hand to wipe it away when he noticed he wore shackles on his wrist. Suddenly aware of where he was he started to call for help, trying his best to pull away from the wall. He was bound too tight, the cuffs cut into his wrist and he started to bleed. Oh goddesses.”Someone please!?” He called loudly. He heard movement to his left.”You’re awake," a familiar voice purred. Oh.. oh no oh no. A soft hand gripped his chin and forced him to stare at her. “I’ve missed you.” He closed his eyes tightly as the softest of pressure touched his lips. She sighed heavily before pulling away. The sharp sound of a slap across his face echoed throughout the room. “You taste spoiled." He grunted before shooting a glare at her."Anju. What are you doing?" Surely Jasdaë would come for him. Did she even know he was missing?.. wait.. Jasdaë was-”I’m taking you back," she said as she took a handkerchief out of her pocket. She used it to wipe her mouth and then his. "I don’t want to be taken back."”I didn’t want you to leave but we both want what we can’t have, now don’t we?”"Anju," he gasped as her nails raked across his face. "Anju." Her face started to distort, her skin falling off in chunks and shriveling. Her skeleton started to poke out of her face and her dress became long and tattered like on of the Garo. Kafei’s eyes widened when Garo Anju came forward pressing her skull against his.”You disappoint me, Kafei.”Kafei woke up with a start, his hands covering his forehead feeling as though he had been burned.
The young princess arrived first. Ghirahim gave a low bow to the halfling, "Good evening, milady, I'll be your mode of... er, transport for this evening. There is one more fellow coming and then we can be on our way!"
Honestly, it came as a surprise nobody had caught Deku Princess yet. Her height alone was off-putting enough--
The Garo returned with a bumbling young man smothered in icing and reeking of alcohol. Ghirahim's lip curled slightly and he glanced at the masked figure helplessly, "Is this really our other 'figure of importance'...?" There was a sigh.
"Very well, you two. Come here and take my arm-- err..." He cast a look at Deku Princess, "You wouldn't mind if I ah, carried you?" he asked, offering his arm to the drunken Terminian prince as he did so.
