[ P ] Past Tense

Alphonse narrowed his eyes as he lumbered past the crumbling, slanted doorway. Belfast, seeing him, lurched to his paws as if he had just been caught slacking off. “Al—” "Why are you here?" Bel stopped, brow creasing as he met the old man's withering gaze. He took in Al's cloudy left eye and golden right. While the man's sharp, discerning attention hadn't waned, he lacked his air of bitterness. Gone were the demands of life that had shaped him into a wiry, feral thing. Instead, he was just—"Are you deaf? Go home, kid." Blinking, Belfast took a step forward only to earn a growl that caused him to shrink back. "You want to be like your mother? Stuck here?" “No—” "Then go. Death only brings peace when you've had enough of life." “Go where?” Bel snapped irritably then, the fur along his nape ruffling as anger cut through the gauzy haze of confusion. His muzzle wrinkled as, little by little, her started to feel a dull throbbing in his temple. An ache blomed within his shoulder and, when he tried to turn his head, he flinched. "Anywhere else," was Alphonse's answer. Bel opened his mouth to snap that Al was being terribly unhelpful when, almost immediately, he started to cough. His eyes squeezed shut and, once he reopened them, Al and the crumbling apothecary was gone. No, he sat within a hospital ward instead. He could tell from the strong scent of poppy which made him nauseous. The muscles tightened within his jaw as he pressed his back against the woody wall of the den he'd been tucked into. Glancing around, he saw the pale, thin lines of cobwebs. Dusky light filtered in from the uplifted roots that served as the walls of this particular "den". It provided shelter from the bulk of the elements while also leaving him visible to any nurses that might wish to check on him. Closing his eyes, he thought of Al. Dead, long-gone Al. It had been a dream, he knew that. There was no such thing as talking to the dead, not truly. And yet... he felt an odd flash of affection for the old brute. Had he seen his mother or his father, he might have not wanted to leave. Which, again, wouldn't have mattered because it was a dream, Bel reminded himself. But regardless, he felt... thankful. Alphonse had caught him when he'd been just an urchin, wasting away and preparing for death. Then, just like now, the bitter gent had dragged Belfast kicking and screaming back into functional life. And for perhaps the first time, Belfast felt determined to stay. His injuries hurt like hell and his brain was still addled with fog and pain but he knew that he wasn't going to keel over and bleed out simply due to lack of trying. He'd had that option—had felt it wash over him like a balmy blanket when he'd laid there on the bar floor with blood pouring out of his neck. Not unlike how Sinead had rested there, tears in her eyes after she'd begged Karnak to end it all. But where she had faded away, wilting like a peony born too close to winter, Belfast had felt undeniable fear. Fear that he was never going to walk again, let alone breathe. Fear that he'd never see her again. And it was that fear that had finally convinced him to live. Too little too late, Bel had thought before losing consciousness. Yet, by some miracle, he had awoken here. His brow creased as he tipped his head back to lean against one of the knobby roots jutting out from behind him. While his sigh was tinged with a groan from the pain, he couldn't help but smile wryly. “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Xandria

Of all the places he ended up. Why there? In those blood stained woods where she'd pleaded with him to live over a year ago when the sickness had been sapping away at his life. Fear clenched around her heart in an iron grip and once more she was stricken with that familiar dread. A crow cawed from between the branches, roosting amongst crimson leaves like a looming reaper. Xandria wasn't superstitious, but the fur along her nape prickled with unease. You better be alive, Belfast fucking Moss, she thought, feeling her throat tighten as she swallowed down an a lump.

Upon entering the hospital camp she hurried to find someone who could direct her where he was. What she didn't expect was resistance. Relationship with the patient? The question shouldn't have hurt, but it did. Wife, her heart wanted to say Friend. She'd answered after a moment of hesitation and the medic denied her access. Close relatives only. Xandria didn't accept that. She snarled at the medic, demanding he let her through. He did finally relent once he realised she was a high ranking officer, a very pissed off high ranking officer. Go ahead, Captain! he'd said with a squeak and scurried to show her the den.

Seeing him looking so small and frail, his familiar scent smothered in herbs, made her body quiver with rage and fear. "Bel… " she spoke his name, voice shaking with fear. "They wouldn't let me see you."

"They wouldn't tell me if you were alright…I-I need to know that you're okay," she requested, stepping further inside the den and looking at him. She needed him to say it so that she could stop sinking into despair.

code & art by claerie


@Belfast

He didn't see her at first. A dark ear flicked at the sound of pawsteps, his gaze still lingering on the intertwining roots above him. The sound got louder and he stretched his stiff legs, half presuming that this would be a nurse quickening her pace as she padded toward a different ward. Or his own, it didn't matter, but he was no longer in critical condition. Somehow, by some miracle, he was still here. Hmm. The corner of his muzzle lifted in a wry smile. "Bel… " He gave a start, one that he soon regretted as he whinced. Turqoise eyes met that of gold, one electric with worry, the other still shut from her wound. Some of the swelling had gone down but, seeing it again, he felt fresh vitriol in his heart. Before he caught himself, his muzzle wrinkled slightly, the memory of that ebon-furred bastard flashing within his mind's eye. And the silver fuck too, but that man hadn't almost stolen his life in an effort to give Bel a matching scar. Yet both addlebrained fools had tried, as if Xandria's misery was a plaything. It made him wish that he could have done more—"They wouldn't let me see you." Ah, yes, but that was the past. This was the present. Bel's agitated expression smoothed into concern as he, at last, appreciated the worry that thickened her voice. "They wouldn't tell me if you were alright…I-I need to know that you're okay..." She stepped in further and he realized that they hadn't been close like this in weeks. Since the last time he'd visited her in the clinic, they had maintained a strict distance between them. He had noticed the absence more palpably than he would have ever imagined. And while he was glad to see her, he hated that this was the circumstance that had shattered the barrier she had built between them. “I'm okay, I'm okay,” he answered quickly, his voice soft and earnest, mimicking a gentle shh that a mother might use on a distressed child. Or that a friend might use on a particularly drunk friend one night while she confessed her crime of murdering her father's killer. Straining slightly, he moved to sit up more fully, as if to prove that he was okay. “You don't need to worry, I'm not going anywhere,” he promised, the words leaving his mouth before he could reflect on them more. Immediately after, his lips pursed and he looked down. Only then, he realized how unfair it was to say that after all of the times he had tried to leave her behind in the pursuit of death. But this time, he actually believed it, even if he had lied so many times before if only for her comfort. “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Xandria

Her worry for him was merely the tip of the iceberg of emotions that crashed over her like an avalanche. The truth was Xandria was petrified and it took every ounce of strength she had to keep it at bay. Useless adrenaline burned through her veins. There was nothing to run from, no fight for her life, only fear for the man she loved. She was the soldier. It was meant to be her that risked her life. Belfast wasn't supposed to get hurt. He didn't fight. At least that was what she believed. He'd always been gentle while she was rough and thoughtful where she was reckless. He was a calm, gentle river and she was a wild, raging fire. So why did death follow him like a shadow?

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” his assurances rang hollow in her ears. She watched him silently, afraid that a stray breeze might blow him away or he might disappear before her eyes. He was ephemeral. She was all too aware of how mortal he was.

“You don't need to worry, I'm not going anywhere.”

"You could have died," Xandria pointed out, looking utterly horrified as she took in the severity of his injuries. She'd seen a man bleed out from a neck injury before. She'd been the one to tear into his throat. Imagining someone doing that to Belfast chilled her blood. "Do you know who attacked you?" she asked , her open golden eye wild with rage. She felt the familiar cold fury wrapping around like an old friend. It whispered sweet promises of pain and violence to come. The thrilling song of vengeance called to her like a siren and she fell under its spell.

"I'll find them, Bel. They won't get away with this," she promised him, voice cold and full of hatred.

code & art by claerie


@Belfast

He could see it in her eyes, burning like a none-too-distant fire. The scorching heat of her fear made him want to take her hands and pull her close, to make her understand that he had not fallen victim to the blaze. So he did, clambering to a crouch before drawing closer to her. Pain from the movement caused him to flinch—how could it not?—but he pressed forward, driven instead by a need to prove to her that life, at last, tasted sweet to him. “But I didn't,” he answered, moving to cover her paws with his own. If she allowed it, he would catch and hold her gaze. “I could have got what I wanted—what I thought I wanted—” He felt his pulse start to quicken as he voiced his thoughts aloud. As his heartrate increased, so too did the throbbing in the scabbed wound on his neck. “But I didn't. Laying there, brushing against death, I realized that I didn't want it. That I, instead, wanted to fight to be here—” with you. But he stopped before he could say that last pivotal piece. It was that same, gut wrenching reaction to self-sabotage, to stop himself from confessing his final epiphany as if he'd lost the right to. Who was he to, after so many weeks estranged, offer her a confession soon after a near-death experience? Would she believe it? Would it hurt her? The social politics of it all waged war within his brain, skittering around in nuances and complexities that Xandria might never have thought of even once. But he, being an urchin, being a child born to a family where love was so little, he couldn't help but wonder at what point he deserved love. Was that not what Nephele had warned against, however? "Do you know who attacked you?" Her question pulled him from the depths of his thoughts. The fire in her golden eye burned brighter and her shoulders seemed to square as of Odysseus' shadow lurked behind him. Belfast's brow furrowed because he did. He knew and he knew very well her promise before she even voiced it. “He won't—but you don't need to ensure that. Let him get away this once.” Bel said then, his voice stronger as he opposed her, although he still sounded pleading. “He gave me the clarity I needed.” And try as he might, he couldn't hate the bastard—for almost killing him, at least. He did hate the man for what he'd done to Xandria. But in forcibly making him realize his taste for life, well, Belfast owed him this mercy: that of tearing Xandria away from his trail. “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Xandria

Her stomach lurched with dread when she saw him wobbling to his paws. "What are you-" she began, but the words caught in her throat when his paws rested on hers. Xandria felt her heart flutter when he touched her and simultaneously ache at the memory of his rejection. The distance had done nothing to water down her love for him. He'd occupied her mind and refused to be evicted. A single burning eye glowered at him when he described his experience, his yearning for death and the enlightenment that it had brought him. "You think having an epiphany while you were bleeding out on the floor makes any of this okay?" she retorted angrily, her fur was bristling and standing on end. "When they told me you were here…. I wondered if this was the day I'd have to bury you."

Xandria grasped one of his forepaws in hers and pulled it towards her so that she could hold it against her chest and her pounding heart. "What do I have to do to make you stay?" Xandria asked, her voice cracking with pain and hurt. It broke her heart that she was in this situation again. Part of her had hoped, foolishly believed that she might have been enough to stop him from self-destruction, but here they were.

She clenched her jaw and tried to push away the anguish. It was easier to hate the one that had done this than face her grief. "Let him get away," she repeated in disbelief. "Why are you protecting him? He tried to kill you. He didn't give you anything. He left you to die," she snapped, wanting him to understand that this wasn't something she could sweep under the rug as easily as him. She wasn't high on life like he was. She was trapped in the horror of him almost dying and it was eating away at her. "You think he saved you? Why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I save you?"

code & art by claerie


@Belfast

"You think having an epiphany while you were bleeding out on the floor makes any of this okay?" ...—he opened his mouth to speak but stopped, unable to find the words to answer her. But that was because she was right, he had no excuse for her. Not one that he could say in a way that would make sense for her. For him, he understood it well. His fear of becoming his mother, the concern that he was destined to crave death just like her, to leave Xandria widowed. It took almost dying to realize that he had just been following a script he had written for himself out of a self-pitying, dismal view of his future. Learning that he didn't want to die was an epiphany—but it wasn't one for Xandria. She could never fully understand how much his childhood had broke him. Perhaps she could empathize but... it wasn't the same. Knowing what brokeness looked like and knowing how painful it felt were two different things. And he did not begrudge her for that because he loved her wholeness. So much that the sight of her in pain made him want nothing more than to take it all away. Belfast would trade his healthy eye for her inflamed one. If she was sick, he'd take on every cough, sneeze, and sniffle so that she could breathe easily. If she struggled to sleep, he'd stay awake until the sun rose so that she could dream. This life was so much more bearable with her in it. Yet he'd been the cause of so much of her anguish. Belfast closed his eyes, his paw against her rapidly beating heart. Rather than his own thoughts that urged him to push her away for her benefit, he thought instead of Nephele's voice. If I'd listened to the voice I wouldn't be here with you right now. I don't know what would have happened to me and I know it sounds cheesy, but… love saved my life. He hadn't understood her then, not fully. Slowly, he was beginning to realize what she meant. "What do I have to do to make you stay?" Belfast opened his eyes and, if she didn't move away, he'd gently press his forehead to hers. “Nothing, nothing at all. I'm staying.” Again he wanted to tell her that he loved her—but the moment was robbed by revenge. "Why are you protecting him? He tried to kill you. He didn't give you anything. He left you to die," she asserted and Belfast sat back slightly so that he could look at her. Her questions battered him and his ears flicked back as he searched himself for answers. Answers that would make sense for her. It was difficult because, by all logic and reason, she was right. "You think he saved you? Why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I save you?" There it was, the arrow to the heart. With more force than he originally intended, his voice echoed throughout the den, stern and final. “Stop—You saved me.” He moved his paws to her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, as if to pull her free from that horrific line of thought. “You saved me.” Belfast repeated again, desperately holding her gaze. “Coming back to you was all that I could think of, all that I wanted. That bastard didn't save me—he almost killed me, you're right—but I was too much of a self-loathing idiot to realize that I love you far more than I could ever hate myself.” There it was, that leap off of the cliff and into the abyss. After only a brief pause, he spoke again, softer now. “I didn't want to bring you down with me if I just started to fade away like my mother. I didn't want your life to be...” he gestured at the medical den they were in, the sadness of it. “... this. But it took almost dying to know that I want to live, with you.” Another pause, one to briefly flinch from the pain. He had refused all pain medicine as was his habit, and so the throbbing was constant, but not enough to distract him for long. “That I need to be here with you. And it's not worth it to me to risk losing you in the name of revenge.” After that, he took in a shaky breath before saying: “Just let me be a hypocrite just this once. I don't want to see you in here, or to worry about having to bury you too.” Like I've done to you so many times. “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Xandria

Xandria heard his promises. They offered her a light out of the endless tunnel of despair that held her captive. She was afraid to let go of her fear and bare her heart to him again. Betrayal hurt more than being afraid. It was awareness of her love for him that made her hesitate to trust him. If she believed him and he left her, she knew it would destroy her. Her forehead rested against his and she released a ragged sigh, taking comfort in his warm body, still very much alive and present. His heart beat thumped against her ear when she lowered her head to listen to his chest. How many more heartbeats did she have with him? She couldn't help the tremble that shook through her body when the thought came.

Stop- You saved me. The force of his voice made her ears twitch and jerked her head up, surprised by the firmness of his tone and the volume. You saved me, he told her again and she lost herself in those gentle ocean eyes of his. A tiny ember of hope began to flicker in her heart. She dared to believe the words he was telling her and let down her guard again. The rawness of the emotion that bound them together was palpable. She could feel the sincerity of his feelings for her. "Do you promise?" she asked, feeling rather childish to ask him such a thing. Do you promise you'll stay with me? Live with me? Love me? She needed to hear him say it, make those words into a promise that would bind them together for however many heartbeats they shared between them.

"... I won't go after him," she relented, lowering her head. Now that she truly knew the fear of losing a loved one she didn't want to put him through it. Her thirst for vengeance was nothing compared to her love for him. "I..I just don't want him to hurt you again," she admitted, revealing the driving force behind her wrath. It was to protect the one dearest to her heart. If she had lost him she knew that she would have chased his killer to the ends of the earth.

code & art by claerie


@Belfast

Do you promise? Belfast met her gaze with a soft, warm one of his own. Later, he would look back on this moment and recall just how right his nurse had been. But, in this moment, he could only think of Xandria. His heart was filled with her—the feeling of loving her, the sense of freedom in having finally spoken his truth without worrying whether he deserved to, and the regret in having hurt her so. It was a bittersweet mix of emotions but he savored it nonetheless because, ultimately, it meant that he was alive. He was here and he was still able to fix things. Before he could offer resolution, she gave a promise of her own. Belfast sighed with relief as she relented. He would not wake up tomorrow to find her gone, her scent trail guiding him to Sussex in hunt of the man that had almost killed him. Just as she would not wake up to find him gone, hidden away in some hovel and waiting for death. It would just take some time to convince her of that, but that was okay. He was, finally, willing to do the work. “I promise,” Bel murmured, gently using his muzzle to nudge hers up. Usually, he was the quiet one and she told the stories and led the conversations. In this moment, they were swapping roles, but he didn't mind. For once, it was his turn to lead—to draw her heart into safety just like she had done his all those years ago. “If he hurts me again, you have my permission to get him,” he offered with a little half smile, mirth dancing in his blue eyes. The worst of it was over, now it was time to fix what he'd broken at the start of spring. “I don't see a smile though, maybe you didn't hear me earlier,” Belfast mused softly, voice teasing and gaze warm. “Do you want me to say it again?” That little I love you had earned less of a reaction than he'd expected. Perhaps it was time to confess properly, at last. “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Xandria

The shock had numbed any elation she might have felt at finally receiving the answer her heart had longed for. It was with a tentative paw that she reached out to hold onto his. Xandria could see that his eyes were no longer dull lenses, they held the light of life within and she wished with everything she had that it would never burn out again. She would do whatever she could to keep that hope shining. It was a fragile little firefly and she was going to protect it with everything she had.

I promise, His words gave her the certainty she needed. It was more than just a promise it was the key to their future together. His muzzle lifted up her chin and she peered over at him, features flushed from this gentle touch. It was tender compared to the roguish waif that had rudely stolen her first kiss all those years ago. If someone had told her then that she would fall in love with that same boy she wouldn't have believed it.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," she promised him, golden eye intense with her determination to protect him. If he was in danger she would save him first so she didn't have to avenge him.

"Tell me again. Make it real," she requested, gaze betraying her vulnerability as she touched her nose to his. "I never thought I'd hear you say it.... I missed you, Bel."

code & art by claerie


@Belfast