Mikleo wasn't one for sitting still, not one for indulging in self-pity, not one who would let himself be defined by his loss, not one to stew in his mourning. This he had decided. For Soreys sake and his own equally.
But there was no denying it was hard. Life so far had always been a two player game, always with the same partner. All his own loves felt so hollow on his own. He kept on with archaeology and in the brief moments of joy that came with a new discovery he'd forget and call for Sorey, and when he remembered he wouldn't respond, the joy was lost. Academic discussions with the voices in his head were useless. But he'd have to keep moving forwards. He was a water seraph after all. Water was meant to move, water left still would just turn fetid.
He'd been preparing for this, but in a different way, a way that wouldn't be so sudden. When he was 10 Gramps thought he was old enough to tell him the true difference between Seraphim and humans, that while Mikleo was still in the prime of life, Sorey would wither and decay, the links in his mind would dissolve and he would die. That time was like a disease for humans. He had spent three whole days crying in a nest of blankets, refusing to see Sorey, telling him that it was a bad headache. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing him that way. He could have never left him though. It was Sorey.
This wasn't like what he'd had prepared for. He'd been snatched away from him as a young man. Not snatched, he'd thrown himself away from him.
Mikleo wanted to slap himself at that thought. It wasn't about him. Sorey had made his sacrifice for a cause, something far bigger than the both of them. When Sorey became the shepherd he was no longer his, he was everyones, and his sacrifice was for everyone.
Mikleo was looking for his bigger cause. He was so sure that once he found it, he'd be able to ride out the centuries.
Because all he had to do when he got caught up in his misery was remind himself that Sorey wasn't dead. Yes, he had taken a hiatus from living for an indeterminable number of centuries, and yes it was unclear how much of his memories he would retain, but the positive upside was that he may become a seraph like him after his ordeal. What were centuries when you could follow them with eons?
Centuries were still centuries. He'd not quite made it to two decades so far, so he still had a humans scale of time, maybe with years the years would seem shorter, but that would still take so many. It felt like a mountain after he had just climbed up a hill. He would climb that mountain. He'd be climbing it without Sorey but he'd be climbing it with a confident gait and without a tear on his face. Maybe there would be a smile. He would find adventures of his own on his journey up this mountain. He wouldn't take the dry, plain, direct route up the mountain, he would make diversions for adventure, to visit his friends, maybe make new ones. Maybe he couldn't see the summit for the clouds but he knew that when he reached it, Sorey would be there.
But mostly he wondered how my times he had to cycle these thoughts around his head before he could go to sleep.