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006 » how to turn back the time
fanart by tamaon2525.bsky.social.
for louis at archdaemon.
fanart by tamaon2525.bsky.social.
for louis at archdaemon.
fanart by tamaon2525.bsky.social.
for louis at archdaemon.
fanart by tamaon2525.bsky.social.
for louis at archdaemon.
no subject
His instincts around magla have never led him astray. There is something of note here, something resonating between Wilhelm and the book he cherishes so dearly. It brings to mind the unusually raw quality of the boy's magla, as though he simply radiates it—but magla emerges most under specific conditions, spun from the threads of anxiety. Perhaps there had been a near-animalistic desperation haunting his every gesture back in the auction house, but Wilhelm has seemed nothing but wholeheartedly delighted to simply be here, basking in Louis's presence like a flower in the sun. Even in the face of the eldan lilies, he had revealed no flash of flame-scorched memory, nor trepidation over some perceived wrongdoing Louis must have committed, only a quiet melancholy. If anxiety shadows him, he does not show it at all.
And yet the aura of his magla is potent. Intoxicating, in its own way. Raw and near unadulterated, quiet as it is—as though it pulses from every pore.
How had Louis not taken note of it sooner? ]
No doubt we have both read it a great many times. [ A slight sardonic twist of his mouth—but it goes as quickly as it comes. ] But very well. A brief passage, then, before we rest for the evening.
[ He slips into bed as well, graceful even as he settles. It feels—strange, decidedly. Louis has been wary of would-be assassins for a long time, his paranoia well-justified with the enemies he has made on account of simply existing, but Wilhelm's presence is almost a comfort. Nostalgic, even, with the way the gold foil of the book's cover glitters in the soft candlelight. He looks back into Wilhelm's bright, mismatched eyes, and then he reaches for the book.
There it is again. The slightest flicker of magla, resonating gently. Has it grown stronger in the past hour, solidified with the more time Wilhelm has had the book back in his grasp? He had been separated from it for what must have been days at the hands of the slavers, kept just out of reach. Had it taken until now for that tenuous link to strengthen?
It was not a mistake to keep Wilhelm close, then. Every enigma he unknowingly presents—Louis will unravel them all, take them apart, until he has a name for the feeling that has grown roots in his thoughts.
The novel, so large in Wilhelm's hands, is small in Louis's. He eases it open, the whisper of the binding soft amidst the quiet turn of pages. Then Louis finds the first chapter. The familiar illustration—people's silhouettes splashed against a backdrop of glittering, glass buildings, breathtakingly evocative even in the limited colors of the ink. ]
"The young traveler was amazed by what he saw. In this world, there is only one tribe. All people accept each other, and no soul is born into discrimination."
[ Louis's voice settles into a hypnotic rhythm as he reads. It is not the orator's charisma he wields now, as he would for his speeches. It is something somewhat more subdued, pensive. ]
"In such a world, there is no need for sorcery. A megapolis is built through learning and labor. Towers of glass that reach the heavens. Safe nights with no dark shadows. Busy streets well traveled." [ A pause, and then he reads on. ] "And in the laws of these emotionally satisfied people, it reads: All lives are equal."
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His eyelids droop. He feels very nearly lulled to sleep by the hypnotic tones of Louis's voice, low and powerful even in this quiet reading voice.
By now, Louis has undoubtedly come to this conclusion, but even so — no assassin would possibly be like this, even in a honeypot operation authored by the Church's most evil strategies. And what dastardly schemer would have placed such an innocent lure before Louis Guiabern, anyway? Even if Forden knew — even if he suspected Louis Guiabern's provenance, and he quite possibly never has — no one in Euchronia would think that the great and mighty, the infallible and invincible Count Louis Guiabern might be swayed by an innocent elda boy curling up to him in the dead of the night. No one would imagine how his heart might feel, reading a book published decades prior, one which was long banned by the Sanctist church. No one would think — no one would suspect... ]
...
[ This feeling between them — what could it be? Will feels it, too, as he closes his eyes and sinks deeper and deeper towards slumber.
The boy himself says nothing, though he makes a soft, appreciative sound of comfort, but the way in which this reading soothes him is obvious to see. Tentatively, he twines his arm with Louis's at the elbow, breathing out slowly. It is almost as if speaking the words of the book is an incantation which can control him, and right now, Will's orders are to sleep. ]
no subject
Quietly, Louis eases the book closed and reaches around Wilhelm to deposit it gently beside the pillow, where it will lie for the remainder of the evening, like a charm to ward off the boy's nightmares. Despite the motions, Wilhelm does not stir, only clinging to his arm. For several moments, Louis looks his fill now, studying him without concern of scrutiny. The faint magla current ebbs and flows, clearly not something that was consciously being manifested.
Where his touches were clinical before, this time, Louis reaches out to skim curious fingertips over the boy's cheek, then over the soft strands of a lock of hair framing his face. ]
...In that utopia, the elda would be no different than the others, free to walk unfettered through the land with no need of magic or defense against the forces that would sooner see them turned to ash than granted passage. And yet you seem as though you would languish in such a place, robbed of the magla that clings to you so.
[ Wilhelm is too untrained, too unfeigned in his reactions. He may have crossed Louis's path by some stroke of serendipity, but for all that he is sweet in his naivety, this, too, must be ruined. A necessity that Louis will handle himself. If the boy is to stand amongst his retinue let alone by his side before Euchronian society, he will have to learn to fend for himself even in the absence of Louis's protection. He will need to learn what it means to withstand the schemes and machinations that thrive in the capital.
Lest he be another innocent executed for Forden's wretched schemes. That pretender playing at being a nurturing hand for Euchronia's most unfortunate would no doubt delight in having another elda butchered, and especially if Louis shows him any favor. What happened years ago must not happen again, and Louis has long exhausted every avenue available to him in fully unraveling the truth behind the incident that has haunted him so long.
Another task to handle come tomorrow. For now, a flick of a finger and the wisps of a wind spell smother the candlelight. Louis shifts Wilhelm so they may both lie down properly, and after a thought, pulls up the covers to properly ensconce them both.
Soon, he too closes his eyes. ]
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