[ Midnight does very little from this point. He carries them both well, he keeps them both warm, even when the strength in Kaveh's wings finally fail and begin to lower. He does not let go of Netzach's hand, nails biting into his skin if he sees him falter, thumb stroking tenderly over the back of his fingers. In Kaveh's ear, he hums that song one more time. Young soldier, young soldier, come home.
He is here. There is no past, no future. When the temple crumbles, the sky falls, it's a snapshot of irrelevant beauty that means nothing. There's only this: warmth, hands, his blood and his blood on their mouths, their lips.
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He is here. There is no past, no future. When the temple crumbles, the sky falls, it's a snapshot of irrelevant beauty that means nothing. There's only this: warmth, hands, his blood and his blood on their mouths, their lips.
He closes his eyes and continues to sing. ]