#( its all david's and arba's fault )

[zorkaya-moved]

[ LAST ] : our muses share a bittersweet final kiss together, knowing it to be their last. (AU time. Teen Sinbad is now on his deathbed because of David.)

@highseaskxng I demand compensation with a cute kiss ask after this, Jay.

kissing prompts. ( accepting ! ) 

It was not supposed to end like this.

If anything, it was not supposed to end this way. Not with Sinbad lying in bed, paler than ever and the Rukh in his body in such disarray. Barely reaching his eighteen, the First Singularity was about to take his last breathe today. It was not how she ever expected the flows of fate to go, not when Solomon’s world remained more free than Alma Torran, but it wasn’t Solomon’s fault nor this world’s, it was an intervention of the one who dared to taint her treasure from beyond. The man who had taken over the Il Llah’s core and gave it human selfishness. She could sense him inside Sinbad’s body, tearing her dearest treasure apart from the inside.

Unforgivable. If she allowed Arba to move on along with Al Thamen with their foolish wish to bring their “father” back, this time it was a straight line to the depths of frigid Hell. Even the Great Rift’s darkness will not match with the fear that she would bring towards the other who dared to take someone so precious to her. But it would not be good to show such a beastly and monstrous side to the dying young man, a trader and a future king. Zarina could’ve protected him from Al Thamen, but she did not expect for the Black Rukh to find its salvations within the body of one mortal whose birth itself was a miracle. That’s why she wanted this miracle all to herself, that’s why she remained, alas going away for some weeks but she always returned. She never returned to others, besides her mother in the Great Rift, passing Yunan’s house over and over again for centuries.

“Mhmm, I’ll stay,” she would reassure him by holding his hand in both of her own, both to let him know of her physical presence and also to monitor his magoi’s flow. She tried to find a way to ease the burden off him by altering several formulas that some knew as magic but it was taken from the days of Alma Torran, the ancient crafting that she was able to learn through two thousand years while watching David and Ugo and even Solomon, but it would not be enough if she were in Solomon’s world. Sinbad will not survive the trip to the Great Rift, it was obvious and it was making the inside of her body freeze all the more, preparing to lose what she found worthy of treasuring and staying for. “I won’t leave you, Sinbad. I promise.”

Her smile would finally have a touch of softness despite her melancholy being seen in her golden eyes. There’s no salvation for him with her by his side, not when his mortal body would break apart if she would attempt to do anything. If not for the rules that were akin to chains on her hands, legs, and around her neck, she would’ve been able to do something. Purge the tyrant from the previous world, the father of this world’s God - a human who ascended but who was not allowed to intervene. This young man was hers, she gave him fifteen years to make her stay forever, but he the intervention that was not supposed to happen was taking it all away. Sinbad was the miracle that was not just affecting the world, but it also affected the one who lived beyond - her. Her mother told her that if she would meet a treasured person, she would become possessive and would wish to remain with them until their last dying breaths. She expected such things to happen with Sinbad, he brought out the emotions she’d rarely experienced, if at all. Perhaps, there was one woman who was able to teach her feelings that were warmer than her logic and warmer than her observation. A wish to protect, a wish to cherish, a wish to learn more. Never-ending, circling, all so similarly to four different seasons of winter, springs, summer, and autumn. This young man, he could’ve become so much more and she would’ve been happy to watch him grow, become stronger, and change the world. He would be able to, just like Ugo and Solomon, he would be able to change the foundations.

But now…? He was fading away. Right by her side.

Silent blizzard was raging inside her chest, not letting her speak more often than she usually would. The seriousness of the situation would not be able to be easily dispersed with comedy and jokes that Sin would always bring when he felt pain. Zarina knew she would not allowed it as well with a tight grip on his hand, hoping to catch rise in temperature instead of its failing, bringing closer to the moments of inevitable death’s kiss. A kiss… it made her remember how often Sinbad would speak of that gesture, counting times when she would give him one.

“Sinbad,” her soft call of his name would be gentler than usual, lacking any slyness or playfulness. The melancholy and the sadness would make her smile become softer, but also speaking of how there would be no hope for the future. She didn’t have the power to lie to him, promising to be honest with him. She still held his hand but only with one of her hands, now letting their fingers intertwine. With her other hand, she caressed his face, noting once again at how worn out he was and how fragile a human body was. It made something inside her start to shatter one by one, resulting in her gaze watering just a bit as she blinked it away before bending down to press one kiss to his forehead. Then she would place her hand that arrested his face to the side of his head to give her more support as she’d distance just enough to let him see the look in her eyes and hear her words. “I wished to wait until you twenty, but we don’t have time anymore. Close your eyes, Sin, I’ll make sure it will not hurt.”

With those words, she would squeeze his hand and then would dip down, letting her lips press against his in a soft and tender kiss. Even if her lips were just a bit colder than his, she would linger for a moment there to grant him just one small wish. Their first and last kiss, a kiss she would’ve given to him as a reward for establishing his country and a show of gratitude for making her once again witness the spring blossom one more time. A kiss didn’t last for long, not wishing to strain the young man’s dying breathe. Little did Sinbad know that the kiss was also a spell to let him fall asleep, not feel the dread that his body would speak to him. A simple grace that she was able to grant him, a death within a dream. Only then would a tear would fall on his cheek, sliding off his face and disappearing.

“Goodnight, my dearest treasure. I’ll meet you on the other side, I promise. I’m still mad that you have not lived to your glory days, settled in your country to greet me and finally be able to tie me to yourself. I know you would’ve been able to, because even now I know my place would’ve been by your side. You foolish, arrogant and ambitious King. There’ll be no one like you.”

The Origin Dragon allowed herself to show sadness and grief at that very moment as she sat back up, feeling emptiness once again taking its rightful place inside her mind and soul. There will be no one like her treasure in this world, no one who she would wish to make herself and watch him create history. She was no Magi, but she had seen them being created, she had seen the creator, and she had known the one residing in the Sacred Palace, its creator and current master.

As Zarina wiped away the tears, her gaze turned from soft to cold as she stared at the sleeping Sinbad. But she did not look at him, no, she was looking at the energy that was destroying him. Once he will pass on, will the energy that resided in him be given to David? Before it would happen, she wanted that man trapped and drag his Rukh out herself. Perhaps, a trip to see Uraltugo was in dire need rather than anyone else. With that in mind, the golden eyes gleamed in the dimly lit room as the crystal necklace around her neck would let out a white shine before shattering into silvery dust, carried by the wind outside.

“I’m sorry, Sinbad, but I will not let one arrogant human from Alma Torran to taint your Rukh any longer. Even if it means your death, but I will make sure that David will no longer intervene,” at those words, the dragon would look outside the window where the crescent moon shined. A second later, she would get up only to pick up the sleeping and dying Sinbad in her hands. Easily, all too easily. Her gaze was no longer tender, no longer soft, and her manner of speech took on a more threatening and dangerous tone. “David Jehoahaz Abraham, I know you can sense my frigid rage. Do not forget whose being you are going against, arrogant fool. Have you forgotten why we - Origin Dragons - were so highly respected? You have taken what belongs to me, so it is natural that I… doom both you and my treasure in the Sacred Palace. Wouldn’t it be fun for Uraltugo to find you once more, trap you in your little world and never let you escape? But this young man’s Rukh...” She’d become softer just for a second, pressing her lips to the crown of Sinbad’s head. “... He will let me meet him again without your taint.”

At those words, the candle in the room would fade into nothingness. The room would remain empty as there was no one there. No dying Sinbad, no Zarina, nothing and no one. The room would be as if there was no one there from the beginning. No letters and no farewells. There would be simply silence and nothingness that would meet anyone who would come here.

Sinbad the Sailor, Sinbad the World Changer, Sinbad the Trader… He would not be found, he would disappear and never be seen; his body never discovered. And so would not be found the silver-haired storyteller who was last seen taking care of the ill young man whose fate was altered because of one organization. No, because of one greedy human from a dead world.

Somewhere else, Yunan would sense a disturbance in the air. Somewhere else, he would hear the footsteps echoing in the Great Rift along with a lullaby singing. Somewhere else, the Magi would know that the Sacred Palace doors would be slammed open by the dragon’s roar.

No one would dare to take a dragon’s treasure and come unscathed. Even if it was a so-called God for the Origin Dragon in full bloom’s frigid rage would become its final judge.

Somewhere else, an old friend would greet her with a dead vessel in her embrace, tears of gold would stream down her cheeks as she’d beg for the first time in her life to let her meet with the Rukh of the one whose presence soothed the rusty icy edges of her soul.