oh, the memories... (closed--for rxjah)
The magi was little for propriety; his time spent in Sindria had only encouraged his laziness and influenced that lackadaisical attitude he possessed. Ithnan would—on occasion—mention it’s hinderance in his magical studies, but thankfully for Judal Ithnan was patient with him—as patient as one could be. Unlike the magician’s colleagues, who would scold him, punish him and lay their hands on him in the most unkind ways. Very rarely did he receive an understanding, a lecture of all things.
No doubt this was the reason he found himself wandering overseas from his home in the empire; away, where he could visit the smiling face of the King who doted on him, l o v e d him—or so he would like to believe. And the company of her majesty’s generals. It was like—and he almost dare not even think it—a family.
It was absurd, t e r r i f y i n g to think what even Ithnan himself would do if he heard the whispers of these thoughts—what the emperor would do, or h e r.
The nauseating chill ran through his body and he instinctively curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants.
The only thing he looked forward to, returning the empire, was the royal children--his candidates, as Ithnan called them.
Only, he was still learning what it was to
understand choosing a k i n g;
he had blatantly told Judal the ruler of Sindria could never be his—but he just… didn’t understand. For all he cared, Sin was his; she was his beautiful, paradise flower; she was his angel—guardian or otherwise. But—and the word still tasted so s o u r on his lips—he loved deeply cared for her, treasured her even.
Not say, he didn’t treasure Kouha—who, if no one else, would always seek out his company. Or Hakuryuu and his sister, or Kouen and his little Kougyoku who he visited only in her room where she refused to leave, almost like she was scared.
Mei was always sleeping… always sleeping, and the few times Judal earned his attention was in the wee hours of the night when the little oracle sought company after a horrid nightmare.
Those nightmares had been plaguing his mind, haunting him and like—almost—they were trying to warn him. But what could possibly be wrong? Even the black rukh, as it mingled with the white—it seemed unnatural, but he’d hardly questioned it. Ithnan had assured him it would balance itself out soon, in due time.
It would be o k a y.
But his thoughts were interrupted—and his adventurious fingers as they picked at the flowers in the garden—when he heard that familiar call.
