The slow drift of the windmill's sails, caught in the Autumn breeze, was keeping Blaze's job easy. Across this lifetime, she'd never once had to do as she was now. As the second blade gently rolled to her side, she caught it with her shoulder before lowering herself to crouch. From there a rope, secured to the ground by an iron stake, was used to bind the pinwheel still. Fuelled by the endless chittering of birdsong and an empty stomach, she got to work. Reaching up, then tiptoeing, before mounting the structure itself, Blaze undid a series of nine clips and took what they were holding in place. A pair of once muddied gardening gloves, a black nightshirt, a faded purple towel, a navy cardigan and a set of denim dungarees.
As she dismounted from the windmill, she dropped the gloves into a sizeable, albeit slightly shoddy, wicker basket before folding the other articles and gently depositing them. With no more than a rightly placed tug, the knot came undone and the structure began to shift again. Across the past four, going on five, months she must have bound and unbound this rope well over fifty times. As her skill performing such a mundane task had flourished, it was getting harder to ignore how long they'd spent here.
To Blaze's right, away from the windmill, the sun was lowering itself to sit on the horizon. The day was growing short; their humble station and its surrounding land were cast in an orange that made giants of shadows. Between her and the sun's eventual roost was a field thirty metres wide and twice as long. Unlike traditional agricultural plots, this one wasn't home to a solitary crop or even a rotated pair. Fruit bearing plants and vegetables, ranging from trees to tubbers, were withstanding a gale that was stronger yet gentler than that the windmill was enduring. Above the field hung Silver the hedgehog, cloaked in his psychic aura as he rustled free a harvest from the plants below.
She'd clipped his quills just this morning, another first for this lifetime. Though she prided herself on her elegance, it had been a rather awkward affair. The result had been similar to his usual hairstyle, albeit perhaps a little lopsided toward the right. He'd returned the favour and likely done a much better job. Her hair had grown out to the point that she'd had to braid it and, although he'd called the style pretty, it had proven much too cumbersome for the practical princess, so her ponytail had returned. Still, despite her own less than fleet snipping, all was not lost. The hedgehog's fur had been spared her efforts and was still so thick, so very overgrown. Even as the now adult hedgehog was silhouetted against the sun, Blaze could still perfectly identify all of his fluffy features. Then again, it wasn't as though there was anyone to mistake him for roaming around this long-spent world.
It took the next sail's arrival to divert her gaze from him, Blaze caught and quickly fastened it to the ground. A pair of white tights, her royal longcoat, a trio of handcloths, a set of black shorts and her sports bra were collected. The idea of airing her clothing so publicly would have set her cheeks alight five months ago, back when they were at the palace. Now the scent of fruit and floral potpourri, which they used in cleaning their clothes, had become mundane, casual even. The princess of the Sol Kingdom, who ruled over islands spanning far from her castle, was now doing her own laundry. No more maids, no automation even, just her. The comfort this control brought her was bizarre but, admittedly, only slightly unwelcome.
Blaze allowed the sails to spin again and cast her eyes up the stonework of their impromptu residence. Living in a windmill had felt strange for the longest time and she still couldn't bring herself to admit that the stout stone tower, with its mismatched brickwork and lonely surroundings, was special to her. Not being able to admit such and not wanting to admit it were two very different things though, Blaze had found herself falling in love with their temporary abode. Every little crack Silver had first promised to fill in, the grin of his face as he'd first showed it all to her; it was hardly surprising that she'd come to like it. They'd found it halfway up a mountain, the scene of its discovery after a solid week of searching still played in her mind. She wished she could be as brazen about her enjoyment of it as he was, but even thinking that was a foolish mistake. It was wiser to keep complaining about their perpetual struggle of keeping the building insect free.
Catching the final arm of the windmill and locking it in place, the feline reached up and felt the dangling material. Fortunately, the past day had been sunny, their bedclothes had dried. They'd had bad luck the past few weeks, spent some time sleeping on the mattress alone. What more, Silver's stitching looked to have held. Blaze immediately stepped onto the sail this time, collecting wooden clothespins in her mouth as she gathered each individual item. Though folding these articles wasn't strictly necessary, she realised it'd become routine only as she set them into the basket. With the pegs out of her mouth, set within their own smaller container within the basket, the feline picked up her work and turned to head for the door.
"Blaze!" She turned, the psychic was still hovering above their garden, "I'll be in to cook in a few minutes, could you start battening things down for tomorrow?"
"On it!" She called back. That alone was enough, but something additional rose from her chest, "Don't be too long!"
"I won't, I promise!" Even though she couldn't see his face, the smile in his voice tickled her cheeks and heart alike.
Turning before she could imagine him more vividly; she pushed her way into their living space, shutting out both him and the birdsong alike to embrace the quiet. The windmill had three floors but, truth be told, there essentially only really two functional rooms to the place. Machinery, specifically the grindstones and gears the windmill used to make flour, resided on the top two floors while the bottom had been a living space long before they'd arrived. Regardless of how quaint it all was, the homely visage sent a wave of relaxation over the feline. Her shoulders immediately slacked, her tail lowered and her ears softened, even though she'd rather they hadn't. She slipped off her shoes, setting them by the door.
Everything looked to be in order, as clean as they'd left it. On the far side of the room was a small hearth, the chimney from which stretched up the back of the building. In a pan atop it sat part of what was set to be their dinner, a pair of salmon fillets that she had successfully gutted. Having caught them only a few hours ago, the scent was thankfully weaker than that of their laundry. While she trusted herself to prepare ingredients like that, a practice he did struggle with, the cooking was entirely up to him.
A series of cupboards and drawers lined the wall around their cook-space, currently filled with food and evidence they'd collected. Just behind the door was their bed, pressed up against the wall, but it was the table at the room's centre that Silver had been talking about. It wasn't that the table was at any special risk of tumbling, it was small but sturdy, the objects on the table however were vital to their cause.
A chunk of the master emerald, approximately the size of a basketball, a map and a small journal bearing a certain insignia. Rather than deal with them, Blaze set the laundry on the bed and set to work folding up the two wooden chairs they'd managed to salvage. All three of those important items came from the same progenitor, Doctor Eggman. This time, the world's destruction was entirely the Doctor's fault. As had been explained in that journal, the scientist had attempted to even the playing field against Sonic by simply destroying angel island through the use of a giant cannon. He'd greatly underestimated the fallout from this however, as chunks of the island fell into the sea and forced the water level to rise, resulting in floods and storms worldwide.
By cowering within a submarine base, the scientist seemed to have become the world's sole survivor. Ten years after his attack, when the shifts had finally stopped, he'd resurfaced and found the world devoid of people. While he had at first foolishly enjoyed his success, he'd eventually come to realise how pointless lording over a dead world was. He'd searched the seas for the chaos emeralds but come up dry, only finding the sole hunk of the master emerald that was now in their possession. In order to time travel, one needed a whole emerald of any sort. He'd died trapped on an empty world and had written his final journal entry begging Silver to save both him and the world. A simple passing glance at the object collection was enough to renew the stiffness in her shoulders.
With the chairs folded away, she swiped up that journal and stowed it in one of the pull-out drawers beneath their bed. The chunk of the Master Emerald soon found itself in a similar position. She cast her eyes across the map before she went to roll it up though. It was a map of continental Spagonia, noughts and crosses littered the entirety of its eastern side. They'd been traveling west for months now, settling for a couple of weeks and scoping out the surrounding area before moving on. Getting an intimate understanding of a twenty-kilometre radius was difficult enough when the world was intact, let alone its current state, but she trusted in their instincts and that they hadn't overlooked anything thus far.
She rolled up the map, binding it with string before putting it in a drawer. With that all done, she flipped the table to sit on its top rather than leave it to stand on its legs. That way, if tomorrow was turbulent, it wouldn't fall and break. Tomorrow was moving day, tomorrow this house and its surrounding land would fly to the next site of their search. Perhaps they'd finally find a chaos emerald on the way, but Blaze wasn't holding her breath.
Sighing, unwillingly glad that those objects were out of sight and thus out of mind, she turned back to the bed. Above it hung one of the building's few proper windows, the others were more akin to small circular portholes. She couldn't see Silver from here, only the sky he was amongst. As pretty as it was, it didn't hold her attention for long. She shifted the basket to the floor before picking up the bedsheets, awkwardly stretching across the mattress in one direction before doing the same in the other. As bedspreads went, old beige with black stitches wasn't the most interesting of colourations (and the material was a little coarse), but it was the best they'd managed to find.
Following a series of climactic weather events, what scant sources remained suggested that civilisation had either been entirely destroyed or eroded beyond restoration. Not only had this been evident in Eggman's journal but in the remains the duo had uncovered, the windmill they'd claimed was one of the few intact buildings they'd found. To complicate matters, over the past two hundred years, plant-life had re-established itself on a global scale, retaking what remained of concrete and finding itself free to overgrow. This world was safe to travel, especially for a duo like them, but it was painfully difficult to investigate.
Though they'd brought a bag filled with supplies and necessities to this world, it was through this building that life had become truly survivable. She could remember them first establishing a proper base, finding suitably fertile ground to land the windmill atop and generating a sizable plot of farmland. Wherever they went, both the building and the land travelled with them; Silver would spend an entire day using his psychic powers to shift the whole thing miles. That way they got to keep their shelter and their food supply; things remained fully liveable. He'd wanted to name the site Angel Island Junior, a thought that still brought Blaze to snicker.
It was as she pulled the second pillowcase on, her fight with the duvet soon to occur, that she noticed the hedgehog had shifted into view. He was floating through the air, heading towards the far edge of their land and the forest that sat upon it. He was surely going to collect firewood for the night. On the days they weren't out scouting for emeralds together, or fully resting, an outlandishly domestic aura seemed to wash over them. They'd go about individual jobs, ranging from the aforementioned hairdressing and cooking to more individual tasks like woodchopping or building maintenance before reuniting in the evening. They'd share a meal and talk, how exhausting the day had been often determined how long the latter would go on for; they might stay up all night or quickly drift asleep. Would tonight be calm and restful or homely and neoteric?
Blaze caught herself as he drifted out of view; considering such a thing was foolish. It would simply be however it was.
The sun had now effectively vanished, but its light was still lingering, keeping them from total darkness. Living without electricity and other amenities had been difficult at first but she'd gradually gotten used to it. Both of them were plainly struggling with the fact that they were getting used to this.
She tore herself away from both the window and such thoughts as she began to stuff the duvet into its casing. If only she'd been able to bring the Sol emeralds, then they wouldn't be grappling with this whole situation. The dyadic aspect of her world and this had prevented that though. If the Sol emeralds left her world for an extended period, let alone reality as a whole, then there was a risk of her world and this fusing into one. By coming here with the emeralds she'd already know the disaster they'd be unmaking, though perhaps there wouldn't even be a world to arrive at. They'd done this before as a pair and taken no longer than three weeks each time. Just considering how long had passed and how her people might react made the princess' mouth dry.
Struggling with the duvet, she turned and flapped it out time and time again, but the bottom right corner refused to form properly. Gritting her teeth, she threw it onto the bed and began to knead out the corner manually. No matter how she flipped or pushed it, the cushiony mass refused to sit right. It took her far longer than she would happily admit but at least it was a distraction and, right now, she needed another one of those.
Once she'd straightened everything out, she reached down the far side of the mattress. They had found Eggman's journal within his submersible and with it had come a handful of boons. Though there wasn't much living space on the upper floors of the windmill, there had been plenty of tight spots to stow books. The few novels she'd brought on this mission had long been read and so when they'd found Eggman's ship and the library he kept onboard, they had plundered a good hundred or so.
From that nook she pulled out one of those very books, a small but dense tome recounting mythological tales from the city of Apotos. It was a place that Blaze had visited with Silver, albeit she'd never really spent much time there. The country was known for its history tied to philosophy, marble statues, sporting events and, most of all, its legends. Coming from another world and having lived a past life in a world without proper education, she'd known nothing of the myths of this world. Tales like those of Hercules and Achilles had made for wonderous distractions. The guardian had very almost finished the book and was sad to know it'd stoon all be over.
Another book would end, and they'd still be here. That thought stung, though she couldn't admit why. A distraction was desperately needed.
She took a seat on the mattress, not daring to lie in case she fell asleep before his return. With a snap of her fingers a small flame took purchase atop her left thumb, acting as a reading light. The little book, despite its bluntness in other places, had taken on a rather inspired structure. It'd begun with tales of the gods, taking aim at the mythology's beginnings and the likes of Zeus and Hera, before transitioning to the mortal plane. There, more grounded yet still fantastical stories were told like those of Achilles and Oedipus. Now though, with the land and sky spent, the stories had switched to focus upon the afterlife. Hades and its denizens; how they had reached their individual fates. The tales of this afterlife had opened by discussing an, up until now, little mentioned figure, Hades the god of the underworld.
The book had never been especially cheery, Zeus seemed to get away with far more than he ever should have, but it had gradually got darker and darker. Reading about King Tantalus, who stole food from the god and was thusly forced to starve, Ixion who was tied to a flaming wheel for all time, and the titans who had been usurped by the current gods wasn't exactly joyous, but it was thoroughly interesting. Blaze could see why these stories had endured whilst others had likely faded over time; the tales functioned both as a means to instil morals, such as not to steal or betray, but also worked as more general entertainment. The idea of discussing these stories around a campfire, though she wasn't sure whether that had ever actually happened, sprang to mind. Some of the legends were almost in the same vein as horror or ghost stories.
She'd just been starting the tale of Orpheus the musician and his beloved Eurydice when a familiar thunk stole her attention. A certain hedgehog had just made landfall outside the windmill, a fact that was confirmed by the awkward clunk of the door's rusted iron latch. The door opened, letting in more warm orange sunlight and Silver the hedgehog, clad in hefty walking boots and a set of grubby green gardening gloves.
In hindsight, her attempt at a haircut hadn't gone quite as poorly as she recalled. He wasn't as unfortunately lopsided as she'd first thought, perhaps due to the now relative shortness of his quills. Well, they were short as compared to his usual jagged mane. Despite his quills being the first thing to grab her attention, Blaze couldn't help but let her eyes wander. Yes, he was bringing an awful lot into the house with him, a mass of bundled wood was floating to his right, a half-filled sack to his left and a bowl filled with vegetables was held in his left hand, but none of them held her stare.
Though they'd only spent around half of the last six years together, perhaps closer to two thirds, Blaze had watched him grow from child into a teen during their prior lifetime and now from a teen into an adult. It was only around age seventeen that she truly noticed those changes though, her mental view of the hedgehog and his physical appearance had come into conflict. She'd always considered him thin and relatively weedy, but the broadening of his shoulders was proof contrary to that. There were other aspects to that change too of course, the height he'd gained and the sharpening of his jawline, aspects that she didn't dare dwell too long upon for more complex reasons. Less explainable yet obvious reasons.
"Fancy seeing you here," He greeted, shutting the door with his heel. It was an awful joke that'd somehow slipped into both of their mannerisms, but it managed to ease some of the tension on her mind. The evening, no matter how it would manifest, had begun.
"And what time would you call this?" She sarcastically tutted, half glancing back to her book, "I thought I told you not to take too long."
"We've just about used up the dead wood in the forest back there, I had to go further to find anything burnable," He explained, floating the collection of wood and kindling into the corner of her eyes, "It's a good thing we're moving tomorrow."
"It would seem so," Her gaze had flickered up as it approached, just in time to catch him suppressing a yawn with his free hand, "Will you be ready for it? You look tired."
"What? Of course I'll be ready. It'll be fine," He tried to smile but another, less subtle, yawn crease his face. Her gaze cut through him, "I-I might have gone a little overboard preparing for tomorrow, making sure everything was stable. I'll be fine after a good night's rest though! I'll cook and then I'll hurry to sleep, I promise," Despite his physical metamorphosis, Silver's core was still the same.
"If you're sure," The pyrokinetic smothered a reflexive yawn of her own, not convinced. She'd let him sleep in tomorrow, if not force him to.
It was strange but the actual exploration, in search of Master Emerald shards and the chaos emeralds, was by far the easiest part of this experience. It was practically comparable to going on a hike or questing through a jungle, not the easiest thing in the world but not hard given their individual skillsets. The greatest risk to either of them were poisonous plants or insects which, compared to the monsters and robots they'd fought, were mere trifles.
Maintaining and restoring their base though? Making sure that they maintained a decent food and water supply, ensuring that they were protected from the elements? These were issues they'd faced in Crisis City and only managed to overcome by moving constantly, never settling, and fighting with all their might. Here though, they had the capacity to live properly but maintaining such was difficult. They hadn't endured a hungry night since they'd established this moving site, but they hadn't dared spend a whole day resting. Cooking, mending, foraging or seeking out their goal, something had to be done every day.
In Crisis City they were simply living, biding their time and preparing to fight an obvious target, Iblis. Their primary goal was always straight ahead of them, unavoidable and clear even if the beast was unbeatable. Here though, they'd already achieved their primary goal. They knew when and how the world ended as well as how to keep it from ending. They simply had no means of setting phase two in motion and no obvious path toward it. Whilst it was undeniable that battling Iblis had been more physically demanding and a more literally difficult task, the mental strain of not knowing when they'd next be able to act hurt.
Silver set the fruit bowl within the frame of the upturned table, so very casually, before continuing across and towards the hearth. She wasn't sure where else he could place it, but something about that choice made her snort. Pears, apples and even a pomegranate now sat at the centre of the room. He set down a grain sack against that far wall, at least half filled with various vegetables. If her suspicions were correct about the time of year, he'd have mostly brought in sweet potatoes. They couldn't be far from pumpkin season either, but they hadn't found a single gourd in all of their travels. Then again, neither of them was supposed to be searching for especially interesting flora. They had a job to do, they always had jobs to do.
Their natures wouldn't let them claim a day of relaxation, no matter how much they wanted it for the other. But if one of them made such a suggestion, the other would insist that they shared it. That was a dangerous precedent to set. They were here to work, nothing more.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, scattering her thoughts.
"Oh, yes, I'm famished," She quickly answered, looking back down to her book.
"Alright, I'll start on dinner then. Do you want tea?" That question seemed so innocent, but it truly wasn't.
Blaze's nose wrinkled, "Do you think you've fixed the blend?"
"Not yet, but I'll give it another shot?" She heard him slip off his gloves and kick off his boots before beginning to pace across the room.
"As long as you try it first, I'm willing to give it another chance," She half joked, turning the page. Orpheus had just failed to save his beloved from the Tartarus, Blaze dared not to dwell on any potential parallels to past or current situations, "Try the raspberry blend, it was..." She searched for the right words, "More palatable than the strawberry."
"That's only because it was tasteless," He grumbled, "I'll try using more of it this time, maybe it'll have some kind of flavour."
She was less than confident with his answer but wasn't about to stop him. Water was the only real drink they had and, having both spent time in her kingdom, the loss of coffee and tea amongst other elixirs was taking its toll. She wasn't sure that mixing dried fruit with water was the solution to that, but he still had faith.
The sound of wood rumbling its way into the heart made her look up fully, he stepped away and revealed a small pyre in their fireplace, "Can I get a light?"
Blaze rose to her feet, leaving the book behind. As she passed by to approach the wood, flame still on her finger, she couldn't help but, for what must have been the hundredth time, take stock of him. Without heels to grant the illusion of height, he really was much taller than her. A head, perhaps a head and an inch. Did he think about these things? Surely he must have at one time or another, even just briefly.
Having caught herself staring, feeling the heat on her cheeks, the feline crouched down and laid her hand on the wood. With no more than a thought, fire danced from her fingertips to mingle and spread amongst the wood. From kindling to the larger blocks, she kept her hand within the hearth and nurtured the glowing heat.
Everything here was just so different, from the world itself to how they were acting. The simple act of lighting this fire, something now so normal to her, was once so alien. Using her powers in such a mundane way would have registered as foolish to her, a waste of her birthright that was entirely against convenance. Here though, with him? Like so many things, that breaking of etiquette had-
"Blaze? I think that's enough," His voice again shook Blaze from her daydream.
"Sorry, I just," She rose to her feet, he'd stepped in. There wasn't a single step between them, they were practically chest to chest. His yellow eyes had caught the firelight and were glowing so very brightly. She quickly looked away, the sunlight was just barely illuminating the greater room, "I'm tired."
Again, she didn't have to look to know he was smiling. His hand had slipped onto her shoulder, she felt her tail whip behind her, "It's been a long day, tomorrow will be easier. After all, I'll be doing the heavy lifting."
Blaze snorted as she turned from him, stepping back towards the bed. The joke wasn't especially funny, but she couldn't help herself, "That you will, but then I'll be looking after you for the rest of the day."
With no more than a thought he filled a small metal kettle with water, pouring from one of the many pots they'd filled with rainwater, and set it among the flames, "I can just sleep it off Blaze, you don't need to trouble yourself."
"You're so naïve," She tutted as she landed on the bed, "After tomorrow, me troubling myself will be the least you deserve, and I won't hear another word of it."
Having retaken her position with book in hand, she found herself distracted. The sounds and scent of his cooking soon diffused to fill their living space but that alone wasn't enough to rend her attention to shreds. The moment they'd just shared, they had to have stood that close a thousand times before. Why was it only now that such moments stuck with her? It hadn't only happened here, but it was growing all the more common. What was it about this space they now lived in, how much was it to blame?
Despite the upturned table at the room's centre, that bizarrely rustic domestic energy swept over Blaze again. Regardless of their reason for being here, no matter the world outside and the cause of its destruction, there was some strange serenity in all this. The simple wooden fixtures, the food, the books, their bed... even the casualness with which they could share this space. For lack of a better term, it made her feel normal. Living like this, with him forever within arm's reach, felt so regular, so right, so unlike what they'd known before.
As his gaze flickered backwards, Blaze could only pretend to read. She stared blankly at the pages and failed to process much of anything.
Truth be told, though she longed to think otherwise, this feeling wasn't restricted to these quiet moments in the windmill. It'd encompassed almost every waking moment for the past two months. Though she trampled it at every given opportunity, it was spreading beyond her control.
In a way it disgusted her, but she'd clung to that disgust for so long that it'd practically wrung dry. No matter how she told herself to dislike this, she couldn't find another reason worth fighting herself. She was a princess, the guardian of an entire dimension let alone the sole monarch of a kingdom; she was supposed to have shed her emotions and emerged as strong as her kingdom's foundations. It was the way things were, it was the way things always had been.
Her home was across a sea of time and space, insurmountable and unidentifiable, abstract yet so very tangible to her. Any room of her castle would make a better bedchamber than this tiny windmill by a factor of ten, from her bedroom to the cupboards it was all immaculate within an inch of perfection and perfectly insulated. Here though? There was wood on the brink of losing its varnish. Stairs that could break on any day. No more than a single bed to sleep in
Did she want to go back? Was she homesick? Or did she want to escape?
What did she want to escape and why did she want to escape it? Did she want to leave this world so that she could save the next, or run from it so that she could escape these feelings? She knew which answer she'd give anyone who asked. She knew which answer she'd give him. What was wrong with her?
What was the cure for it all? How could she escape this feeling?
Even in her thoughts, she hadn't dared to call this place home. In her heart though, she knew what this hovel made her imagine. It wasn't quite perfect, the world outside wasn't right, but this space was what they'd always wanted. Simple, calm, peaceful- a space where they could simply be together and while away the hours, domestically together. This was the home they'd always longed to have, to share when they'd fixed the world. It wasn't something they'd talked about, neither during their shared history or now, but it was an unspoken truth. When their task was complete, this was the only reward they wanted. A peaceful, relatively normal, life. Together forever, never apart.
And yet, rather than at the end of their endeavour, that reward stood here, in a world that they planned to annihilate from reality and replace with a better one. Could a better one exist? For civilisation absolutely, but for them? And with a truly better one would come the end of his task, what would follow that? Would they go back to their separate lives, could they after doing this for so long? Could he leave her, would he leave her?
In her world, if he stood by her, they'd never get to live like this. A normal life wasn't possible, not as long as she held her position as guardian and monarch. It was as though reality itself was taunting them through this shoddy windmill, trying to convince them not to change the past and testing how little they'd be willing to settle for. But they had to fight it, they were to live without reward, they were to live for others.
Blaze only noticed how close he'd got as he sat right next to her, a large wooden tray in hand. Atop it sat two separate plates, carrying pan fried salmon fillets and vegetables, and a pair of steaming clay cups. The scent of fish had filled the room so thoroughly that she could only now notice how it'd changed; the smell of wild dill and lemon now clung to every sniff. Unfortunately though, now that it was so close, there was also the matter of tea. While it had been too weak upon their prior tasting, she could tell from a distance that this brew was far too strong.
Blaze shuffled a little up the bed, making space for him to sit. The positioning was just a little awkward, sat shoulder to shoulder with the tray across both their laps, leaving little room to use cutlery. Fortunately, despite her endeavours to teach him table manners, the hedgehog had reverted to his prior method of using his psychokinesis as his eating tool. Before Blaze could even draw the cutlery he'd brought her, his mug had lifted itself into the air. She watched, quietly and knowingly, as he blew away the steam before taking a sip.
Immediately, his face twisted into a sour cringe, "I-It's, um…" She failed to swallow her smirk as he grimaced at her, "A little strong," He spluttered.
"It would appear so," The feline responded, cutting into her fish. The skin was crispy, thick enough to require effort to cut but not so coarse as to be burnt, "Are you okay?"
"I-I'll just get us some water instead," He gently shifted the tray fully onto her lap, taking both of their cups as he rose from the bed.
With no more than a psychic thought, he opened the door and threw out the foul liquid before resealing the entrance. He gestured across the room; the cups lowered themselves into a rapidly warming cauldron of water as a form of fast cleaning before hanging in the air. From one of the cupboards came a small pitcher of water that then proceeded to refill the mugs before they returned to him. His face still twisted by the sour occurrence, he took his place next to her, set her cup on the tray, before immediately taking a long drink.
He caught her gaze as he lowered the cup. In the corner of her eye, she saw the pitcher floating across the room, "I'll be fine, I just don't know that I'll manage to taste anything else for a while."
Finally, she raised the fish to her mouth. The almost creamy inherent flavour of the salmon, mixed with the slight bitter taste of the dill, immediately fulfilled her palette. Alike it, the slight crunch of the skin perfectly complemented the soft and flaky texture of the meat. The lemon he'd incorporated gave the whole fish a complex undertone, a more defined flavour.
"Such a shame, you've done a wonderful job this evening. I think this might be the best fish you've cooked so far," She complimented him.
"Really?" His eyes flashed with excitement, she couldn't help but notice a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, "I can't exactly experiment, what with our limited supplies and all, but I wanted to try something a little different today. "
It wasn't a lie, the food was wonderful, but it wasn't especially like her to state such. When they'd first arrived, she'd just thank him for the meal and tell him it was good. Recently her compliments had been building. It was only when she had that realisation that the pyrokinetic noticed that her tail had coiled around him.
Her eyes quickly fled him, returning to her meal, "I can tell. The lemon really works."
No response came but his excitement was plain. Once again, the whir of psychic energy entered the room as he began to feast, pulling vegetable and meat alike into the air before allowing them to glide into his mouth. It wasn't the cleanest or most polite method of eating, but it, alike many other things, served to remind Blaze of older times. The confidence with which he wielded his power could never go understated.
Even when he was a third of his current height, the hedgehog had always used his powers for the most mundane things. To grab a book from a shelf, to pull bedsheets over himself or to eat, it was all just so casual. Causal and formal, proper and improper; the surroundings they suited matched their temperaments so completely, no matter where they truly longed to lie. She mentally shook her head; acknowledging such things for too long made her temperature spike, a feat not born of her power but propagated by it.
Blaze partook in the vegetables, skewering a few chunks of pepper and onion. The slight char on their edge contrasted their wetter texture and its contrast brought out their flavour. She hadn't truly understood the concept of char on vegetables before her last bite. Had he intended to depict it so clearly?
Her better half insisted that he had, but her pessimistic side had always been stronger. She had lived in the lap of luxury, chefs from the world over were more than willing to cook for her and had insisted on doing so more often than she could recall. Yet these vegetables, cooked without oil in an aged pan, were better deserving of her introspection?
For whatever reason, yes. They were.
The princess found herself eating faster, attempting to smother her mounting thoughts with a bombardment of flavour. She knew it was unwise, she'd long learned that eating slow was key to making the best use of limited supplies, but Blaze couldn't help herself. The impoliteness of it too, though likely going unnoticed by Silver, broke through prior thought and the haze of flavour, as if trying to abet her. This was just all so confusing, so much was building from so many sources.
Her mouth full, she was forced to pause her assault on the meal. Golden eyes drifted to Silver only to clash with something unexpected yet not uncommon. Born of his habit, and her failure to curtail it, juice from their meal had somehow slipped onto his cheek.
There was a time when she'd act without hesitance but now her reaction felt so intimate, "You've got…" Their eyes collided and she felt her confidence shrivel even smaller. He was oblivious, so casually unaware. Her tongue felt heavy, she reached up with her napkin and smudged the stain from his muzzle, making explicit effort to avoid his gaze, "I'd prefer not to wake up with matching stains. We just cleaned the bedsheets."
"Thank you," By avoiding his stare she'd caught his smile, "But, um…" He shifted, moving in closer, and took his own napkin to her face, "There, that's better."
She felt her cheeks flare and immediately threw her stare down to her plate. It wasn't like her to let this happen; it was so unlike her. She'd had literal fine dining lessons, she'd been made to learn which forks to use and when, but now she couldn't handle a simple fillet of fish? What was this world doing to her, what was this life doing to her?
"Are you okay? Did we miss a fishbone or something?" He so bluntly yet genuinely asked.
"I'm fine, it's fine," She curtly responded, taking on a much stiffer posture as she raised her elbows and cut another piece of fish to size.
With only a few mouthfuls left on her plate, Blaze's slower pace resumed as she tried to prolong mundanity. For as difficult as this was, the night's true task was yet to come. He needed rest, she did too, though she doubted she'd get much. Soon this bed they were sat upon would be used for its proper purpose. Soon silence or small talk would claim them.
"Blaze?" He caught her mid-mouthful, Blaze dared to throw him another stare, "It'll be winter soon, right?"
All that tension in the air yet he had no trouble breathing, "In a month or so, I suppose."
His face twisted a little, as if he was forming some ludicrously deep philosophy, "I think we should get a barn."
"A barn?" She parroted, unable to hide the humour from her voice, "Aren't you carrying enough across the continent?"
"We need to store food for winter, the vegetables won't survive the cold," He quickly responded, justifying his claim, "That and jackets, we should get warm coats."
"You're so naïve," She hummed, taking another mouthful and leaving him in silence for just a moment, "But not totally incorrect. Salvaging supplies for winter would be wise, I suppose we could try to unearth a city. But a barn? There has to be a better way of storing food, even without electricity."
"Yeah probably," He hummed. She swore he'd scooted just a little closer, "Maybe we could set up whatever would be best inside the barn?"
His tail was beating against the bedsheets, Blaze felt the heat swell on her cheeks, he'd absolutely gotten closer, "Why are you so set on this barn?" She asked, quite a lot louder than she'd liked to.
"O-Oh, well, I just thought, you know," All of a sudden, he seemed to realise his foolishness, "It'd look nice next to the windmill, it kind of has the same aesthetic."
It was stupid, it was moronic, but those simple words sent Blaze into another tizzy. Was that his way of making the best of this bad situation? Or had he set down roots? Surely the former was the case, undoubtedly it was; this was just idle small talk, not something she should think hard about. He was just trying to keep chipper, say something stupid in the hopes it'd make her happy.
But what if he wasn't. What if she didn't want him to be?
"Don't be so foolish, we'll make it as small as possible so it's easy for you to transport," She insisted, almost certain she'd falter when he somehow came across the building of his desire, "B-Besides, whether or not you like how this all looks… it makes you stick out like a sore thumb," That was so far from what she'd meant to say it might as well have been back with her palace. Of course she couldn't ask what he meant by that, how could she?
"W-What do you mean?" He stammered.
More boldly than she'd dared act the past three days, feeling a rush of adrenaline, she snatched up his arm and pointed to his wrist, "No matter the future you're in, you look like you belong in a better one."
He met her gaze and held it for what felt like hours and his response was such an anti-climax, "I still don't understand…"
Blaze's face grew even hotter, "W-What I'm saying is…" They really were so close, those bright yellow eyes clashed so heavily with the glowing cyan source between them, "You always look like you belong somewhere better. From your glowing hands to your fur, you look like," She scrambled for words, "You should be somewhere things are easier."
"I don't belong anywhere Blaze," On their own those words would be sad, but his smile could make anything sound happy, "The only place I belong is with you."
Blaze felt her fingertips practically ignite, how could he just sit there and say that? How could he be so casual? So blunt? So naïve?
"Now you're just teasing me. Get back to eating, you'll need your strength tomorrow," She'd tried to be serious and stern but surely sounded more like an owner scolding a petulant chao.
Turning from him, she lowered her cutlery and quickly filled her mouth. The flavour wasn't as distracting as it'd once been, his face was still at the forefront of her mind.
"I meant it Blaze, the only place I belong is with you," The smile hadn't quite left his tone, but seriousness had taken much of its place.
"I-I know that," She bit her tongue, "I know you mean that. You just don't have to say it so bluntly."
She took another bite, trying to buy time, but he bet her to it, "How should I say it then?"
Unable to fight any longer, Blaze sighed and her mind spilled free, "You don't have to say it, because I know it," She answered, "Though I have a better control over these emotions, you know I feel the same."
The sudden contact of his head on her shoulder sent her tail flailing. Despite being psychic, Silver was quite shockingly physical. When he was exhausted, it was at its most obvious; he'd whine a little but soon she'd find him lounging against her. While it was a sign that he was content with her answer, Blaze knew better than to trust it.
She leant into him in an attempt to make him sit up, "You still need to eat, Silver. Th-There'll be plenty of time for this kind of thing later," She insisted.
"Alright, I will," He glumly promised, "Thank you, Blaze."
She didn't dare ask what he was thanking her for, but her mind ran rampant with assumptions. Despite the vainer of silliness, despite his cuddling efforts, something deeper had undercut that past conversation. She hated to assume things, but she knew how to read him. Even if it wasn't quite one to one with her emotions, Blaze knew all manner of thought was bubbling over inside of him. Regret over bringing her with him, that was at the top of her mind. Perhaps it was foolishly placed there, but hearing she'd felt the same seemed to have meant so much to him. Enough to hide his face against her shoulder.
Even as they went back to eating, Blaze couldn't help but watch him from the corner of her eye. The sunlight was now but a glimmer, her hearth and his energy were keeping the room lit. They had just had a conversation about not belonging here, and yet they had completed this room; with no electricity, the light overhead hung powerless. She's said what she'd said while grasping at straws, it'd been an attempt to convince herself to power through all this overthinking and yet it had only birthed more.
She'd wanted to ask him if he truly believed that they'd be here for that much longer, about his hope for the future of their mission. If he thought they should add to this place because it should be a home; their home. Was it right to settle? They didn't have the right to settle.
They'd had an opportunity like this before, the moment he'd arrived in her world. She'd seen an opportunity to shield him from his duty, and it'd been hard to isolate that want. From the moment he'd arrived it'd lingered in her mind, eating away at her, but she'd known what was inevitable. It took him deciding to depart, setting a day that he'd leave for the future, for Blaze to accept that neither of them had the right to live as they pleased. Her only consolation had been his promise to retur-
She heard her fork clink against the plate. She'd taken her last bite without even knowing it. Her excuse had vanished, dissolved in acid… not that he'd be rushing her. Blaze knew fine well that he'd happily just sit like this for hours, making scant conversation and simply enjoying her presence. He'd fall asleep sat beside her and put a crick in his neck. This time, she'd be the one to depart.
"That was wonderful, Silver," She praised again, shifting the tray towards his lap, "Do you mind…"
"Yeah, don't worry about it. Don't even have to leave the bed," His psychic grasp was already upon her crockery, floating it toward a basin, "Are you going to get changed?"
"Yes, we'll both need a good night's sleep for tomorrow. An early rest seems wise," The last morsel slipped between his lips as he listened, "You'd better be ready by the time I'm back down."
"I will be, it'll all be cleared away too," He promised, beginning to start the cleaning from afar, but his gaze had turned to lock on her, "You're worrying too much Blaze, I'll be fine. We've done this a dozen times already; I can handle it again."
"I know you can," She said, perhaps a little too quickly, as she reached down and picked up the wicker laundry basket. The feline dared to catch his eyes again, "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be cautious. I want to make sure you arrive in one piece."
Something about her words seemed to catch him this time, she heard the crockery cease its movements. He rose to stand beside her, a hand fell on her shoulder, "Are you okay, Blaze?"
"What? Yes, I'm fine," She'd again responded too quickly, the basket was acting as a small barrier between them.
"You've just been a little different lately, but I don't know what it is that's different…" He mused so very bluntly, "Not bad just…" Blaze felt a certain heat begin to reclaim her muzzle. Was he leaning in closer, why was his hand on her shoulder, what was happening? What did she think was happening? "Different."
"Wh-What do you mean?" She mumbled, her gaze falling to the basket's contents.
He leaned down and his forehead made contact with hers. Sparks flew down her spine and into her tail. That contact blossomed into more of a nudge as his grip slipped down her back and his eyes closed. Of the pair, the psychic had ironically always been the more directly physical, willing to take her hand or sit close on a whim. Actions like this were rarer, though they were becoming all the more common.
"You've seemed so tense lately, and not in the usual way," A yawn gently slipped past his lips, "Usually you're so focused on our mission, so serious, but it's different this time," He continued, still nuzzling into her, "Every so often, when things get quiet, you change and then I do the same. We've got work we should be doing but, in those moments…"
So he had noticed the effect born of their homely surroundings, he simply didn't understand it as she did. Silver's simplicity was an aspect that Blaze deeply coveted, his capacity to just speak what was on his mind or even act upon it. Here though, now of all times, it worried her. She wasn't sure how to deny his observation.
"You're clearly overthinking Silver. You're just too tired. Nothing has changed, we're the same as we've always been," She tried to play him off. She put her hand to his chest, prepared to push him back and towards the bed, only to feel the soft tangle of his chest fur. That patch was responsible for comfort and embarrassment in equal measure.
"Maybe," He angled his muzzle, almost whispering into her ear, "But maybe there's more to it. Maybe being here for so long, being like this, is doing something to us. I just wish I could describe it, it's so strange…"
She managed to, not so gently, push him back and look him in the eye once more, "H-Hurry up and get ready for bed, you're clearly exhausted Silver."
"Alright," He conceded, shuffling back to sit. His hand ran through his quills, "You're probably right, I did overdo it today. I'm probably just overthinking."
On the other side of the room, cleaning had resumed. She managed to will her tail into submission and force the flush from her cheeks, but her work was not done. Those thoughts would keep spiralling through the hedgehog's head, destined to collide with her own. For both their sakes, it was for the best that she carried this burden; he was already doing enough. It was the way things had always been. He'd do the manual work; she'd do the mental.
Blaze steadied herself, taking a deep breath, before leaning down and holding his cheek, "We're fine, we just need to keep working. Try not to worry too much about anything else; let's just see this through and look after each other."
Yellow eyes flashed up to meet her again, a certain softness lined his every feature. From his quills to his muzzle, Silver was capable of a lot of things but hiding his emotions wasn't one of them. Confusion still creased his brow; a contemplative waver was shielded by his smile. He didn't have to speak for her to understand him, Silver wanted to discuss the feelings bubbling in their guts. But they couldn't here, they couldn't now. She had to be stronger than that.
"Don't you leave that bed. You need your rest," She insisted, drawing back.
"I won't," She'd half turned away before he spoke up again, "As long as you hurry back. You need rest too."
"I'll be as quick as I can," Blaze promised just as she departed from the bedside.
Taking their clothes with her, she ascended the stairs. Each step came with a creak, punctuating the small yet undeniable distance swelling between them, until she reached the top. Out of sight, but surely not out of mind. That contact still lingered at the front of Blaze's mind, the feeling of his forehead against hers and his cheek in her hand refused to disperse.
The upper room was a cluttered space, but one Blaze had long since learned how to navigate. She ducked under the support beam of the windmill's great grindstone and lit the small bowl of wood they'd set atop it. The room wasn't especially brightened, and what light there was predominantly revealed clutter, but it served its purpose. Blaze found the spot she'd often used, away from the window and most of the clutter, and changed into her bedclothes.
Black shorts and a matching t-shirt. They were hardly the linens associated with royalty, and yet they apparently suited her. Having drawn a brush from the nearby rubble, she allowed her bobble to slip from her hair. Finding and maintaining a halfway decent mirror had proven entirely impossible. They had to accept what the other claimed about their outfits or try to sneak a peek in the river. Of course, in the former case, Silver was overly complimentary, for better and worse.
She began to brush, allowing the implement's gliding sound to fill the room. Her newly shortened hair was practically tug-free, but the action served as a brief distraction. Where once she'd been forced to maintain a proper appearance, it was now far more optional; something she could act on or neglect without fear of being reprimanded. Well, perhaps reprimanded was too strong of a word; she'd spark rumour rather than incur any actual sanction. There were no prying ears or eyes here though, only them.
A yawn stirred her from such thoughts and brought her to realise that the sun had fully set. Delicately, she followed the steppingstones of space through the clutter. With just a wave of her hand, the flames leapt from the bowl and were absorbed back into her person as she alighted from the room.
The stairs' unavoidable creaking did nothing to ease the feline as she made her way back down to him. With every squeak and groan she felt her grimace grow, it all served to build anticipation for the view that awaited her. Silver had moved to lie on the bed, his face obscured by a book of his own; a small and simple tome about the flicky species that were native to Spagonia.
Alike the plants, certain species had survived the end of society and gone on to spread across the now untended world. Again, even without seeing his face, Blaze knew the serenity he must have been feeling. Cyan light spilled from his cuffs; orange flame shone from the hearth; their colours were perfectly intermingled.
"Fancy seeing you here," She broke the quiet, making her way toward the bed.
The book came down, her eyes immediately met his grin, "I just thought I'd drop in, I hope you don't mind," He played along, "This is the only good bed for miles."
"I suppose I don't mind sharing it," Blaze sat beside him, not yet lying, and took up her book, "Just for one night, of course."
"Of course, just one night, then I'll be out of your hair," He promised, sounding far too serious.
He leaned up as their eyes fully locked. She hadn't especially questioned that little joke of theirs, it'd just kind of manifested over time. She'd thought it some dark attempt at humour they'd both come up with but, in reality, its implication was more than that. It wasn't that the phrase was inherently romantic, but the conversation that followed it tended to go down a certain path. A joke about a one-night tryst might breach the air or the sort of stereotypical turn of phrase one would anticipate from a married couple.
They were just joking though, weren't they? When she said those things, and when he said them, they were simply trying to keep up the other's spirits, right?
She tore her gaze away, "Well, hurry up and make room then."
"Oh, right, sorry," He quickly responded, she felt him shuffle closer to the wall.
Stiffly and awkwardly, she managed to slip beneath the covers with him and open her book to stare blankly at the pages; granted enough reading light by his constant cyan glow. This bed was around half the size of her one in the Sol dimension, and the mattress was half as thick, but that wasn't usually an issue. Nine out of ten nights she'd managed to sleep soundly next to Silver, but the exceptions were becoming all the more common. With so little space to share, she was constantly laying against his shoulder.
She'd almost managed to settle, having finally finished the story of Orpheus, when, from the corner of her eye, she noticed that he'd stopped reading. Instead, the hedgehog was staring off at the ceiling, or perhaps the stairs, plainly deep in thought. She made a sacrifice; rather than risk stoking further conversation in her embarrassed state, Blaze shifted further onto him. He'd made himself available as a pillow and, as was typical, she was going to take full advantage. Her head found a comfortable position beneath his chin, using his chest fur as its resting place.
The tale of Hercules' arrival in the underworld served as a moderate distraction, far less interesting than the stories that had come before it. For as often as these legends depicted deities as being like regular people, that matter was often contradicted. Tales like that of Orpheus seemed so genuine and heartfelt, yet-
"We're so close Blaze, I can feel it," His words cut through the quiet of her reading, retearing her focus from the page, "We won't need the barn or warm clothes or anything, we'll fix this place before we need to worry about that. I know we will."
Silver had often talked like that back when they were young, speaking in absolutes out loud. Over their shared lifetimes, she'd formed a couple theories on it. As a child she'd thought that those speeches were mere blustering, a way of working himself up to doing a certain task or simply keep working, and she was still sure there was some truth in that. Even when he thought she wasn't around; she'd caught him shouting to himself or insisting that he could fulfil some lofty goal.
The hedgehog could never be so simple though, no matter how simple he thought himself. Despite talking to himself in that way, whenever he had the opportunity, he'd instead make a promise to her. As if speaking things into existence, as if his life just depended on the pact he'd made, doing that seemed to drive the hedgehog to strive for even more.
She didn't dare to look up at him, instead keeping her eyes squarely set upon the pages of her book. With a simple hum she responded, "We'll manage as we always have, we'll make it through this; just like everything else."
"Yeah, just like everything else," As he agreed Blaze felt him shift, seeming to find a more comfortable spot that just happened to be a half inch closer, "Compared to what we've been through this is easy, it's just…" A yawn broke up his words, "Taking a little longer than we'd like."
Silence again diffused to fill the small space between them. Despite the optimism of his words, Blaze could sense the panic and fear that hid behind them. A panic she couldn't lend her strength to fight, for its inescapable grasp had ensnared her too.
Just as anyone else had just read all that she had; Blaze couldn't help but try to compare him to the tragic figures in Apotos mythology. She knew better than to do so of course; beyond the surface level, most of them wouldn't fit. Like Atlas, Silver held the weight of his whole world on his shoulders, but that was where the parallel ended. When given the opportunity, the titan had attempted to shirk his duties and pass them to another. The grey hedgehog would never do such a thing. He'd work until he broke and then work again until nothing of him remained.
Silver was tragic, he had been twice born into suffering and thoroughly moulded by it. Every aspect of his being, from his birth to his life's goal, were thoroughly laced with calamity and born of ruinous circumstance. Yet, despite being tied to such a caustic reality, he refused to be worn down. He'd stumble on occasion, but that much was to be expected. He was working against an endless goal, quite literally fighting time. Chipping away at the mountain of eternity, trying his darndest to make a valley.
When considering others who had experienced similar torment, a weak line could be drawn between the hedgehog and the eternally floundering Sisyphus. That man, the once king of a large land, had been forcibly committed to an eternal pointless act, to roll a boulder up a hill only for it to rush down the other side. Silver's task might have seemed similar from the outside, insurmountable and eternal, but they were far from the same. Sisyphus was acting pointlessly, his task had no goal besides the rudimentary one forced upon him; Silver's task did have end, just one that appeared impossible to reach.
More importantly however, Sisyphus had been dealt his task as a punishment; not only had he betrayed the gods, but he'd tricked death twice, earning further ire. Silver had done nothing wrong; Silver had been born into his position. His role was not the result of some grand justice, passed down by a higher power; it was a cruel reality he had been born into. Before he'd so much as taken his first step, his fate had already been assigned. In fact, he'd been assigned this fate time after time regardless of the good he did.
No, trying to draw a parallel between Silver and any of those punished for misdeeds was especially foolish. Of course he wasn't going to mirror some mythological wrongdoer, she'd likely have more luck examining tragic heroes. Silver was no wrongdoer serving just time, he was an innocent victim of pure circumstance. Surely, in all she'd read, some person had to match that description …
A fresh yet familiar sound from Silver finally brought Blaze to turn, the dark of the night had very almost swallowed the room. The lingering licks of flame in the hearth wouldn't have been enough to see him, his cyan energy was now providing the lion's share of the light. His eyes were shut, the slightest of creases had formed on his brow and his book had slipped to the pillow beside him. Silver the hedgehog was fast asleep.
Blaze could and would use many words to describe the psychic; naïve, oblivious, insecure and emotional, yet only one came to mind in this moment. Serene. It was a word that could scarcely be used to describe their lives, they'd been born into strife and conflict of almost every sort, and yet it so perfectly suited him in this moment. It couldn't last though; they were destined to fight their serenity at any given opportunity.
Based on all she'd read; Silver was most like Hades, the god of the underworld. By birthright, Hades should have been king of the gods just as Silver should have been off living the life they'd fought for. Hades instead had been left with the dregs of the mythological domains, cast into the dark of the Tartarus to eternally preside as its ruler, as much a slave as those being punished. The parallel there was almost too obvious, for all their attempts, Silver could not escape his life and this endless cycle of broken futures. His role was fixed, his mantle was a necessity that couldn't be shrugged.
Though the hedgehog's emotions would often get the better of him, had he ever lapsed in his duty? Had he ever truly given up on tending the future, just as Hades had to tend Tartarus? No, not once, not even for a moment. For as much as he longed to escape his role, he had embraced and become one with it. He had become synonymous with it; Silver the hedgehog, harbinger and unmaker of end times. Arriving alongside the strike of disaster, just as a trip to the underworld meant an encounter with Hades.
Among the gods, the first son of Chronos was just in a manner that scarcely fit his role. Many would come to the underworld to take back the dead and he'd give them the chance to, never breaking his word. To allow mortals the chance to live again, what must the other gods have thought? Judging by the horrible things they did with the lives of mortals, his compassion must have seemed foolish.
Silver was equally unfit for his position. When they'd been transported to the past by Mephiles, he'd come across the supposed cause of the future's destruction. Like Hades was by Orpheus, Amy had swayed him away from his duty. Blaze had found him simply watching the sea, sitting on a boardwalk, overwhelmed by emotion and confusion. It hadn't been their place to question the morality of their actions, they were supposed to focus on the greater good, yet the psychic couldn't help himself. He still couldn't help himself. Had Blaze found Sonic first, the blue blur would have surely met his end.
Although, it was that aspect of his person that'd won the day in the end. If they had killed Sonic on sight, then Mephiles would have won and the future would be eternally damned. Well, it was, the world outside the nearby window was proof enough of that.
Just as Hades still reigned over Eurydice's soul despite Orpheus' intent, as if his attempted kindness was inconsequential. No matter how he fought against his role, no matter how poorly it suited him, he couldn't escape his fate. Things would come back to him; he would have to act somehow and attempt to save a world two hundred years before his. Just as Hades had to tend to those from a world he could scarcely visit, deciding their fate as more of an arbiter than a harbinger.
The hedgehog made a sound behind her, she resisted turning to him. Why did he refuse to leave the forefront of her mind, how long had passed? She should have drifted off a long time ago, tomorrow should have almost been upon her, yet she now found herself wide awake. Her mind was racing, filled with endless consideration. Her eyes cast across their small hovel, searching for somewhere to fix themselves and pool her attention.
If that was all he was and was not, then who was she? Her eyes fell upon the pomegranate, resting so blatantly in the fruit bowl. Persephone had eaten a handful of them, six in the tale, and been made to stay in Tartarus with Hades for that many months each year. She'd been torn from the world of the living, taken from her family, only to be returned to them, again without her say. Hades and Persephone's relationship was one that apparently had several interpretations, ranging from a kidnapping to a prolonged tryst. The latter seemed so much easier to envision. Absence and distance only made the heart grow fonder. Besides, becoming embroiled in a duty induced by someone else was such a common theme and chance of escape grew so many newfound wants.
Regardless of the telling, Persephone could not stay with Hades forever, life on the surface needed her. Demeter, who ruled over the world's agriculture, would not let plants grow as long as her daughter was away. This was how those of Apotos explained Winter. As a result of her mother's want, Persephone's time was torn in two; half spent in the underworld with her love and half on the surface, bound by duty. How must she have felt, knowing when her time with him would end, counting the days still she had to leave him and then again until they reunited. What must Hades have thought while she was away, and he was left to his wretched task?
The feline dared to glance back to the hedgehog, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Even in this lowlight, she could see the tan on his muzzle from their endless days spent out wandering the world and tending the farm. Blaze knew how Persephone must have felt, but Hades position was so similar and yet so different to Silver's own. As strong as he was, his task wasn't in a secure or happy place. His world didn't reward acts of kindness or bravery, all his struggles seemed to be in vain and yet he toiled on.
Blaze reached up beside him, plucking his book from the pillow. The hedgehog consistently dogeared his books, a practice the feline couldn't abide. Instead, she lowered the book to the ground, making sure to leave it open to the page he'd been reading, and placed her own tome in a matching position. When the princess looked back to her partner though, so soundly asleep, she felt her heart ache anew. His quills had drifted from their upright position to frame the edge of his muzzle.
She tried to look away.
Was she akin to Persephone or was she more like Tantalus, forever trapped at the water's edge? How many times had she almost kissed him? Moments like this were so common and yet she'd only recently begun to understand them. How foolish was it to pine for someone literally touching you, the only other person in the world and one who you knew equally loved you? To deny herself what she plainly already had and could truly claim with a handful of words or a single action, why was she torturing herself like this?
Because she had to or, at least, she'd always told herself that she had to. The passion of love was often compared to a wild flame, for her that metaphor was especially literal, and yet she was told to form emotions like chiselled sculpture. Predictable, consistent and rigid; the opposite of how feelings were supposed to flow. Angling and smothering her emotions in such a rigid manner was all the harder while residing outside the confines of her rigid societal status.
They'd always been so open with each other, this was the only exception. They would stand, fight and lie side by side, share emotions and thoughts on a whim that they'd hide from others. Silver tended to act as her mouthpiece both literally and figuratively; if something was bothering her and he was around, he'd usually bluntly talk about it or even act. Little things that she would simply endure or brush off, he tended to take and act on more seriously.
It wasn't that he led in everything they did, far from it in fact; she usually planned their outings and occasionally had to pester him to act, but it was different when he was looking out for her. Well, they both looked out for each other in unique ways. She did it in a rougher manner than she usually intended to, when he was being foolish especially, while he'd check on her over the smallest of things. Despite how much attention she paid to his actions, until recently she'd been unwilling to equate a certain subset of them to her own.
Perhaps it was a result of tiredness, but the feline had only just noticed that their position had changed. While Silver still lay flat on his back, quills splayed against the pillow, Blaze found herself looming over the psychic. Her left elbow was supporting her body, pinning the mattress near his side, while her right hand had half crept up his chest. Serenity and bliss dominated his sleeping expression, seemingly dreamless for once. Despite their situation, with her at his side, the hedgehog had fallen into a truly peaceful sleep. She should have long since joined him in slumber.
Could they dare to forget the world, just for a single moment?
When they'd first found this windmill there had been two beds inside but, by the second time they'd moved, only one remained. The fact of the matter was, the other bed had simply been taking up space. More often than not, one would find their way amongst the other's sheets into their arms. He hadn't been the one to do it, she had recommended it to lighten the load and expand their storage space. She'd put herself in an even worse position without so much as blinking, yet she didn't dare reap the benefits. What manner of fool was she?
The white hedgehog's features, cast in shades of cyan, had changed so much over the years. His face had transformed from common rock into a landscape she would never tire of. A muzzle so frequently twisted into a determined scowl but equally capable of the most genuine of smiles. It would only take a moment, a single action, to topple the barrier she'd built. A plunge she'd never dared to take was directly in front of her. She'd been afraid of heights, scared to leap them, but with Silver by her side…
The distance between them was reduced to naught; Blaze's lips arrived on his muzzle, catching just the edge of his lips. The briefest of sparks, carrying an unfathomably high voltage, raced from her lips and down her spine, resonating in her tail. This was real, it wasn't some fantasy or dream. It was excitement, it was liberation; the rippling tide of emotion had finally overflown and manifested.
But then, as her lips left his cheek, an aching hollowness filled her heart. A chill crushed the echo of her joyous spark. What had she done? A step too far had been taken; she'd fallen from the precipice. Tantalus had supped the water beneath him, knowing that he'd never receive another drink. Despite the empty feeling in her chest, her heart was pounding and her mind was racing.
She sat up straight, only half delicate as she left Silver's body to stare down at him. He didn't even move, sleep had too thoroughly claimed him, the hedgehog was entirely oblivious to her action. Blaze, for the first time since they'd arrived, felt truly alone in this world. The silence of her surroundings was deafening, the last of the crackle of burning wood had already left the hearth.
There was no going back from this, no way to reverse the river she'd tumbled into. He was still standing on the bank; no matter what she thought Silver would do, what she was certain he felt, he hadn't yet taken a step into the water. One of them had to fall in first, that was surely how these things went, but taking such a deep plunge alone was terrifying. She'd chosen such a poor time and place to step in, the waters were more violent than she could recall them ever being prior. Why couldn't this have waited until they were back in her world at the very least?
For just a moment, she had forgotten the world.
It had been a foolish action born of time and desperation; she tore her stare from him to pierce their dark surroundings before she shut her eyes tight. With that single step, Blaze the cat had irreparably changed her relationship to the only other person on this planet. She'd gone from suspected pining to knowing what she wanted; each and every one of her actions, past and present, became tainted by that underlying motive in the blink of an eye. While he'd go about things as normally as ever, perhaps picking up on her oddness, her vision of him was now complete. What had once been fanciful thoughts in her head were now an undeniable reality. She loved him more deeply than she'd even imagined.
Her eyes reopened and dragged across this building of theirs, this hovel she undeniably longed to be a home, but she received no wave of relaxation. The world was so twisted and treacherous, she'd promised to aid in mending it only to be poisoned by want. A place that was almost perfect for them, if only others walked the land; a simple building and a simple life that was theirs for the taking. A place to cook, to eat, to farm and live. This was all they'd wanted for themselves, their one personal request in exchange for saving their world.
How would she obfuscate when he next wanted to discuss their feelings, the emotions she knew were brewing in him just as they had been in her? They didn't have the right to settle, not here and certainly not now. The world was meant to be their focus.
Her heart had only just begun to cower when he shifted beneath her, the feline's movement had clearly robbed him of warmth. He moved towards her and she flinched, it took a beat and a breath for the feline to return to what was supposed to be their regular position. She lowered her head to his chest and brought the covers up around them, but stiffness hung in her shoulders.
Regret had swollen to fill the void in her chest; the usually comforting rhythm of his heartbeat offered little solace. With time she would surely succumb to sleep but the morning terrified her. They were set to move their home, to lift their patch of planet in search of another escape. What would happen if they never found a way back? They knew how this world had come to end, just as they knew how the last had, but their future was entirely undetermined. Her eyes reclosed and she allowed the beat of his heart to consume her senses, searching for a resolution to her heartache. Ideally, this home of theirs would be annihilated in the coming days; any attachment only served to hurt her. She could only hope this moment of weakness wouldn't be the first of many, lest this tragedy perpetuate evermore.
Love was not theirs to take. Their duties, their worlds, should have always come first.