TANGO
When we reach the exit of the shadow and break free into Pythonia, Asra’s dead weight in my arms causes both of us to tumble headfirst into a rock. My back slams against the ground, and he rolls into a dark and misty boulder. He lays there motionless for a few moments, silver blood seeping out of his wounds. My heart drops in my chest, panic rising in my throat, eyes brimming with tears.
No.
As if he heard me, he stirs and loud, painful sobbing escapes him, his frail and bony shoulders shaking violently. I scramble over, my knees banging against the dirty stone. They’re definitely going to bruise, though the thought doesn’t seem to matter. When I reach his side and pull his upper body into my lap, I realize that the wounds on him, were much more severe than they were ten minutes ago. Blood stains my hands were they try to staunch the blood flow. The smell of metallic blood suffocates me in panic, my shoulders rising and falling quickly.
“Breathe,” My voice cracks on the word, tears swimming in my eyes, and dripping down my eyes.
His mouth opens, now looking up at me, sobbing quieting. He looks so…frail and broken. Eventually, his mind gives over to exhaustion and pain, and doubles over, tears and blood soaking my clothes. His head drops dully onto my collar bone, entire body shaking like an earthquake.
After a few painfully long heartbeats of us sobbing over each other, a dark shadowy figure appears from out of nowhere, and perches on a huge boulder in front of us. He regards us, pale elbows propped on his knees.
They make a satisfied grumble, smiling softly. I think. It honestly looks like he’s planning some sick joke.
“Can I help you?” My voice trills out, snappy and pissed off.
“No. But I can help my son over there.” He muses, and I realize I’m talking to Pythos. Asra’s loving dad.
“You do realize he’s bleeding out…?”
“Yeah. He’s got another hour before he does though.”
“What’s that supposed to mean…?”
Pythos grins wickedly, excitement filling his eyes.
“That we,” He says we like we know each other.
“Have time to talk.”
Great. Who doesn’t like talking with your *boyfriend’s Dad while he’s bleeding out? *
"So, tell me, when did you first meet my son?" He asks, leaning leisurely on a dark, misty boulder.
Asra keeps sobbing into me, entire body quaking with exhaustion and pain. His tears drench my shirt, silver blood soaking through his shirt and the ground. Asra’s grip weakens on my hand, his sobs slowly slurring into a half awake mess. I look up, timid but determined.
“Last year at a dinner party…”
“Doing?”
“We… I dunno-ate food and talked?”
“*Just* that?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
A blush creeps across my face and I find myself nodding quickly, not daring to speak and have my voice betray me.
“Good enough.” Pythos chuckles, eyes traveling over the dark landscape.
“Well then. Let’s get going.”
Pythos snaps his fingers, and the two of us are teleported to a huge room with a bed, a fireplace, two bed stands and a couple plush chairs. A soul stands at attention by the door, wearing a simple black shirt and pants, and it doesn’t seem to have feet, just mist. It wafts forward, soundless as it simply plucks Asra from my arms, and places his now unconscious self on the bed. I find myself staring, trying not to give into exhaustion. The soul takes no notice, quickly and swiftly mending Asra’s gaping wounds.
After a few minutes, I make my way over, kicking my shoes off as I walk.
“He’s gonna be fine, right…?”
Not as much as a blink in my direction.
“Ok then…” My voice trails off for a moment, concerning whitewashing my thoughts and face before the strange soul simply vanishes from plain sight.
A soft sigh rolls off my tongue, and I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers nervously drumming on Asra’s shoulder. While he sleeps, I take the time to look over the room more. The walls are a dark, almost black, purpled color, and the ceiling dotted with constellations of stars. A single window is set behind the bed, dark purple curtains pushed aside, giving us a wide, beautiful view of the misty dark forest to the west of the palace.
After a few hours, while I play with his hair, my focus drifting off, losing track of time. After about four hours. My fingers are still entangled in his hair, as his eyes twitch, like he’s dreaming. His mouth opens slightly, making his normally troubled, and anxious features look much more young, and peaceful. The dark bags laden under his eyes have become less heavy, and his skin, has a pinkish tint.
He looks so much better…
His left hand, which is bandaged reaches up to rub sleep from his waking, moonlight filled eyes, blinking sleep from them. He stretches, arms reaching back behind his mop of curly blueish black hair and his knuckles cracking. I yawn, halfway falling back into the mattress. Asra makes a quiet grumbling sound, and sits up on his elbows, trying to blink the fogginess of sleep from his eyesight.
“Morning bug face.”
“What time is it…” He grumbles, sitting up fully now, elbows propped on his bruised and scratched thighs, his head cupped in his hands.
“Like… six.”
Asra looks even more annoyed at this and swings his legs over the lip of the bed.
“I wouldn’t stand…”
As he gets up, his right leg gives out, the bandage straining across his skin. His knees bang on the ground, and an audible wince mutters from him.
“Never mind.”
An awkward silence passes over us while I go to help him up, hooking an arm around his shoulders so he doesn’t fall. Asra yawns again and shuffles over to a large door, only to find it locked.
“This leaves the fun option…” His voice has a mischievous and excited tone, a hint of sarcasm ebbed into it.
Asra turns on his heel, accidentally whacking me in the nose.
“Ow-!”
Asra winces and looks back over his shoulder. A twinge of remorse fills his eyes.
“Are you good?” Surprisingly, he sounds somewhat gentle and genuinely worried.
“I’m ok. Thank you.” A warm feeling spreads across my nerves. And it’s not from fire.
He nods softly, and about slams his head into the nightstand, narrowly avoiding it by grabbing the hem of my shirt, tugging me down with him. We both go down, Asra somehow manages to catch himself on the bed frame, and is now holding on for dear life. Me on the other hand, gets a nice bruise on my shoulder blade, paired with a side of confusion. I land harshly on my back, and the image of Ember being dropped before me and Asra the night before flashes behind my eyes.
No- no.
My muscles freeze as I turn to make sure Embers following. She’s been picked up by a mutant, it’s wicked claws holding her up by her throat. She screams, and I find myself chained to the ground, unable to move. Panic attacks my mind. I watch, helpless, stupidly suffocating in my own mind, an internal trap as Ember tries, and fails desperately to free herself. She engulfs herself in flames, which quickly die as the mutants ugly claws grip her tighter. Ribs pop, somehow loud enough over the commotion. She inhales and looks up, a single tear dripping down her face before the beast stabs through her stomach with a claw.
She hits the ground dully, like something as worthless as a rock.
No- no.
My mother lashes out, her slap recoiling my face so much, my head snaps to the side. Her scowl branded into my memories forever.
Tears drip down my face, all too familiar. She doesn’t seem to care.
Silent, unresponsive, obedient.
Mistakes, are punishable by death.
Pain is teaching.
How do we feel about the overall quality of Asra and Tangos relationship
