[It's a long, agonizing slog down eerily empty highways, navigating by his device in one hand, and fire magic blazing high in the other. It's a hell of a lot of magic to waste, keeping it burning so hot for so long--but it's the only thing that keeps him going, if Jamil is honest. He can barely even feel the cold anymore, he's so numb, and it's not helped by how often he stumbles and falls face-first into snow drifts deep enough to nearly swallow him whole. It's hard just to force himself to stand back up and keep walking, when exhaustion weighs him down so heavily--but he can't just stop. If he stops, they're both done for.
Even if Najima scolds, and his own Phantom sneers, and Kalim stares at him with such betrayal in his eyes..... every picture he takes of them reveals nothing but empty streets and untouched snow. They follow him even if he doesn't follow them, even if he knows they're not real--it's not until his eyes sting with frozen tears and his throat is raw from screaming at them do they finally deign to fade away, leaving him with nothing but the setting sun and foul taste of blot thick on his tongue to keep him company. Funny how prophetic his dream feels now, struggling through an unnaturally empty city while his heart feels like it's going to tear its way out of his chest.....
At least he feels lighter with each damning confession these shadows wearing false faces forcibly tear from his lips. Miserable, raw and vulnerable, hurting from the accusations he can't refute..... but free, finally openly acknowledging the darkness inside him he'd choked down for so many years. Even the slow uphill trudge back home doesn't feel quite so awful, in spite of carrying Kalim's limp weight the whole way; he'd have to be an even bigger idiot than he already is to go to Lilia's house, knowing how poor maintenance is on buildings in the Down. They need the warmth of a safe, sturdy apartment building after..... how many hours has he been out here? How much longer has Kalim been out here?
It hardly feels real by the time Jamil staggers back into the apartment and drops Kalim onto the couch. He locks the door, turns on the heat with hands so shaky and numb he can barely hit the buttons, wishes futilely that these apartments had fireplaces--but none of it changes the fact that he needs to wake Kalim back up. He's struggling to think clearly enough to remember what the treatment to hypothermia is--but it's definitely not sex, no matter how logical it seems at the moment. Will he wake up naturally, when the storm outside is so unnatural?
Maybe..... maybe it's an enchanted sleep of some sort. Historically speaking, true love's kiss is a traditional condition to lifting curses. It's the sort of absurd, impossible idea he'd never entertain, if he were thinking clearly--but if he's honest with himself, Jamil isn't confident he's physically capable of having sex right now, even if he was willing to try. Jamil bends over Kalim, still shaking and covered in snow, and presses their lips together before he can second guess himself.]
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Even if Najima scolds, and his own Phantom sneers, and Kalim stares at him with such betrayal in his eyes..... every picture he takes of them reveals nothing but empty streets and untouched snow. They follow him even if he doesn't follow them, even if he knows they're not real--it's not until his eyes sting with frozen tears and his throat is raw from screaming at them do they finally deign to fade away, leaving him with nothing but the setting sun and foul taste of blot thick on his tongue to keep him company. Funny how prophetic his dream feels now, struggling through an unnaturally empty city while his heart feels like it's going to tear its way out of his chest.....
At least he feels lighter with each damning confession these shadows wearing false faces forcibly tear from his lips. Miserable, raw and vulnerable, hurting from the accusations he can't refute..... but free, finally openly acknowledging the darkness inside him he'd choked down for so many years. Even the slow uphill trudge back home doesn't feel quite so awful, in spite of carrying Kalim's limp weight the whole way; he'd have to be an even bigger idiot than he already is to go to Lilia's house, knowing how poor maintenance is on buildings in the Down. They need the warmth of a safe, sturdy apartment building after..... how many hours has he been out here? How much longer has Kalim been out here?
It hardly feels real by the time Jamil staggers back into the apartment and drops Kalim onto the couch. He locks the door, turns on the heat with hands so shaky and numb he can barely hit the buttons, wishes futilely that these apartments had fireplaces--but none of it changes the fact that he needs to wake Kalim back up. He's struggling to think clearly enough to remember what the treatment to hypothermia is--but it's definitely not sex, no matter how logical it seems at the moment. Will he wake up naturally, when the storm outside is so unnatural?
Maybe..... maybe it's an enchanted sleep of some sort. Historically speaking, true love's kiss is a traditional condition to lifting curses. It's the sort of absurd, impossible idea he'd never entertain, if he were thinking clearly--but if he's honest with himself, Jamil isn't confident he's physically capable of having sex right now, even if he was willing to try. Jamil bends over Kalim, still shaking and covered in snow, and presses their lips together before he can second guess himself.]