On the roof of the world, they ascend. M/M, AU continued.
THE LIGHT OF AVALON
.
In Nepal there was a temple.
While wandering aimlessly on the fringes of Kathmandu, Merlin and Morgana felt pulled to a particular place, resonating with a frequency similar to their own. The air was thick and filled with incense, myrrh and sandal, potent yet evasive - the foreign magic beckoned them forward in a way that was familiar, ancient and immediate all at once.
He was hesitant at first, but Morgana had taken his hand and led them closer to the holy man. The crowds parted at their passing, spellbound unlike with any white people, and bowed at their presence.
While strange to behold, the old man in saffron robes looked nothing like intimidating. The sadhu, eyes dark and kind, face caked with red and ochre, smiled and reached out his hand to touch them.
The paint above his brow simmered - a drop of gold to match hers. (Morgana gasped.)
With opened eyes, Merlin saw nothing and experienced everything - countless emotions, their past and future - blended together into one cohesive whole. It felt as if they weren't lodged in the present, but floated above, experiencing it all in one prolonged moment.
At his blessing, their senses returned, made aware by the cool brush of reality where their fingers entwined, while the vision faded. The memory did not.