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"commander."
it's the sensation rather than sight that tells him kishiar has halted his movements, pausing where he was affectionately nosing gainst yuder's neck, right where his artery would be and letting his lips hover over the skin. kishiar makes a complementary hum, urging yuder to speak his thoughts, kissing the place with such fondness yuder's heart squeezes.
it's a warmth set to make him feel safe. the type that makes him want to crack his shell wholly and crawl up to kishiar's arms — even when physically he's already there, anchored by the comforting weight of kishiar's arms around his middle as yuder stays seated on the man's lap.
he simply doesn't know how to let all his thoughts out.
yuder has always been straight-forward, sometimes too much so like the pain of a dull knife. but even through the entirety of the previous game, however long and arduous it may be sometimes, something like what he is about to say has never bursted forward, closed in a box with multiple locks and chained down, chucked to the bottom of the abyss never to be seen again.
in a recent check-up with enon, priest lusan and the mage hellem, they've discovered a way to mesh magic and divine power to analyze a person's body — the information of which can be studied further to make various conclusions or predictions. the process had been overwhelmingly simple. hellem had chanted a spell while her one hand hung onto him and the priest poured in an amount of divine power. what piqued yuder's attention is enon's call earlier that afternoon.
'we found out that you are most probably infertile,' enon had said, snark gone and all serious eyes.
whether impregnating or carrying a child himself, the odd conditions of yuder's body, sensitive to powers and almost absorbent to energies around him like a medium, have basically rendered his fertility to none. the likeliest theory is that his body would judge a child to be another growing pulse of power to be absorbed. as for his inability to impregnate others, it seems to be caused by the incident with pethuamet's poison.
with the way enon had said it then, the gravity of the situation hasn't escaped him at all. and yet, the most prominent feeling that arises inside yuder is a sense of relief. wide and light as a summer breeze sweeping around the room of his heart and squeezing him with reassurance — that he stays his own person, a person.
yuder aile is a person who turned back time. a male and an omega awakener. the strongest awakener in the continent. a man, but not always a man. how does he tell kishiar who loves him as a man that he's not always one?
"my assistant seems to find it difficult to voice out his thoughts. is there anything i can do to help?" kishiar's voice gently breaks him out of his complicated reverie, grounding him back on earth.
his right thumb traces the smallest circles against yuder's, kishiar's larger hand then enclosing around his wrist and bringing yuder's hand up to his lips. the press of his lips against the back of yuder hand is familiar — familiar in a way he trusts and knows, a safety net to break a fall, a soft pillow to cushion it all, and yet yuder's heart trembles at the smallest possibility that disgust would form in those red eyes and that kishiar's warm and tender mouth would cease to be felt on the back of his hand.
for a second, the chill of the prison — the sound of water dripping, the light only coming from one eye, the mana he calls out to that doesn't respond anymore — comes back to him.
kishiar squeezes yuder's hand, slides up their palms against one another and laces their fingers into perfect ribbons.
intertwined.
"i apologize. it's not a topic i have spoken about.. even in the previous game."
"it is alright if my dear assistant requires more time to gather your thoughts. as your commander, i will always be here, waiting patiently."
or would yuder rather kishiar guess and pick up the pieces, puzzle it into one himself? the offer is silent, yet hangs like an omniscient presence above the room.
even a man as talented and blessed as kishiar la orr would not be able to complete a mystery without clues.
historic texts record the impossible feats achieved by men, obstacles knocked down and storms weathered. men who wield magic, men with swords by their hips, men whose power given by the sun god allows them to reach over and heal the wounded. there are men in government offices and men in farms, men in the smithy and men in the frontlines, men in the kitchen and men working as attendants of the imperial palace. newspapers don't talk about women and children, the same way husbands do not talk about what kinds of things his hands are up to behind the closed doors of family homes. historians quickly erase them like they're the second helpings of dessert on dinner table, part of the equation and still also not simultaneously. set aside for an extra room in the stomach, to be consumed and to be overlooked, to be forgotten underneath the comments of how filling the main course was and how delightful the first serving of dessert tasted.
the dawn of second genders changes everything and the way its perceived. alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. in yuder's mouth, it almost tastes like a damning — a bright future for a bright name and a bleak future for a name that spells out bad endings. the first time yuder had heard of the terms they came out with, in his first life, to sign the second genders, he had wondered if it was meant to be a playground insult or a fortune-telling of the fucked fate that awaits omega awakeners.
a person who turned back time, a male omega, the strongest awakener in the continent. yuder is more than aware of who he is. unfortunately some words have definitions and some other words define you. however, these words aren't the only thing that makes up a person — this is something he has always instinctively felt and grasped tightly with the desperation of a thirsty man seeking oasis in the middle of a desert.
the moments that define one's self: the rhythmic swinging of swords, basic forms to go over and rinse and repeat, the sweat sticking to his forehead and matting his hair after hours and hours of training, the burning heat of power bubbling up underneath yuder's surface as he summons his awakener ability, the days spent exploring the mountains' greenery and wild life, all it has to offer, his grandfather who seems so distant now, gone along with the changing seasons and the leaf blown away by wind, the unexpected camaraderie newfound only within this game's cavalry, the piles and piles of achievements during the previous game and the even higher pile of bodies now forgotten in history but not the trenches of his mind, the accumulated mistakes and the second chance, kishiar la orr of the previous game and the way he haunts yuder like a ghost he can't stop seeing and kishiar la orr in front of him, warm and real and tangible and an anchoring presence that keeps him still in the seas that never stop rampaging.
a person, not always a man. always a person who turned back time, always a male omega, always the stronger awakener in the continent. not always a man.
"i am.. not always a man, commander."
the words tumble out of his mouth before yuder can think over it much more. kishiar's hands stay still on him, they do not leave. the weight of the broad palms feel like a burning brand. yuder's words no longer catch in his throat nor do they sit on his tongue unmoving.
"i am a person — not always a man."
they continue to flow, faithful.
kishiar is quiet for a second before he hugs yuder even impossibly tighter. the press of his chest against yuder's sides, where he's thrown lopsidedly over kishiar's lap, has yuder picking up the consistent *thump-thump-thump* of his heart. here, still here. a signal, a lighthouse and a lost sailor whose home never changes.
"good thing i've always been open to men and women and anyone of any genders then." he playfully comments.
another kiss onto yuder's artery — the very same that kishiar worshipped just moments ago when the conversation only began in yuder's head.
"after all, you are such a lovely person, dear assistant. how can i not be attracted to you?"
outside, the rain that has been pattering against their window panes finally trickles down, the clouds taking their sweet time to move out of the sun's way, bit by bit blown by the wind.
yuder holds on to kishiar's taller frame tighter, squeezing back the hand still in his.