a question

“Kaelor.”

The immortal in question snapped to attention, a thrum of excitement running through his body at being addressed so openly. “Yes, my lord?”

Silence stretched between the two figures, half illuminated by the ringed planet Annureth overhead. The very top of the Obsidian Spire held a small platform in the center of the tall spines of the tower, low walls doing little to shield them from the wind blowing around them. Kaelor stood patiently, hands clasped behind his back, for Lord Nocre to speak again.

He could wait an eternity for his Lord.

“Do you believe in souls?”

Kaelor blinked, taken aback by the unconventional question. “My lord?”

Lord Nocre shifted to face his subordinate. The light from Annureth threw half his masked face into shadow. His white hair cascaded around his shoulders, softened at the edges by the blue light above, lending him an almost ethereal glow. He wasn’t wearing his full battle armor, only the black steel of his chestplate peeked out from underneath his dark robes.

“The concept of a soul,” Lord Nocre said. “Do you believe people have them?”

Kaelor clutched his hands together tighter, a faint blush rising to his pale face. “I cannot say I’ve given it much thought, my lord.”

This was unusual behavior from him. Kaelor wasn’t complaining about it, however. How long had it been since they last spoke like this? So casually? So easily, as if the years they spent together made them more into merely Overlord and his general?

“I could find the answer for you, my lord,” he continued, daring to look up at his Lord’s face. His mask didn’t have obvious eyeholes, but Kaelor knew where to look anyway. “I am sure the Codex Library would have a book on the subject, scholars that would know the answer, or have theories on the subject I can peruse for yo—“

Lord Nocre held up a hand, cutting him off. “I want your opinion. Not some text read back to me from a book.”

Kaelor froze, brain grinding to a halt. His opinion?

“I would like,” Lord Nocre took a deep, shuddering breath and dug the nails of his right hand into his upper arm. “To hear your thoughts. Please. I cannot…I do not…please, just speak.”

“Yes,” Kaelor twitched forward, as if poked from behind with a hot iron. “Yes, my lord. I—Willpower. It would have to originate from somewhere, yes? The well from within in which Conjurers draw upon their power, and the Willpower in which Conduits and Conjurers alike shape their magic.”

Lord Nocre’s fingers dug further in his arm, blood welling from underneath his nails. His legs trembled, and Kaelor rushed to catch his elbow before he crumpled to the floor. 

“Nocre-!” Kaelor exclaimed, lowering them both to the ground. “Forgive me, my Lord. What is wrong?”

Lord Nocre let his general gently pull his hands away from his head. His breathing came out in wheezing gasps, barely audible over the worried hum of Kaelor’s magic permeating the area around them. 

“Nocre. Please, tell me what is wrong. Let me help you.” Kaelor squeezed his hands, whispering a shaping word he rarely needed to use.

The drying blood under Lord Nocre’s nails faded as the wounds slowly closed.

The warlord shook his head sadly, holding Kaelor’s hands up to his masked face. “You cannot save me, Kaelor. It’s too late for me to stop it from happening.”

Kaelor's face erupted into a blush at the contact, but he tried to push his blasphemous thoughts away and focus on what his Lord was saying. "What—what do you mean?"

Lord Nocre pressed his face into the palm of Kaelor's palm and sighed softly. "i'm sorry."

auuuuu so delusional am i hahahaha. i love these two btw. doomed for all eternity. lord nocre doesn’t know about kaelor’s infatuation with him and also cannot reciprocate his feelings so that makes it even better.