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It was comfortably warm in the pub.
Amor had ran until their lungs burned and their feet guided them back to this place, they understood why. Even if he couldn't see them… they could see him. …They missed their Father Grillby.
They took a seat in an empty booth close to the bar and looked over to him. Chatting away with customers and serving their drinks, it was a slow night by the looks of things.
A ripple was felt, moving across the surface of this world as the askers made their presence known.
Anonymous asked:"What's going on Amor? Do you not like Beren as much as you thought?" The world warped as Anon sent in their question. The melody flowing into their mind and settling.
Amor let the question sit in their mind for a few moments before answering. "No, I do like them... But, I've always just been told I'd only hurt anyone I loved in that way. I'm scared... I don't want Beren to get hurt because of me." They already had.
Their gaze left the empty seat across from them where they imagined the anon sat, turning towards the familiar fiery figure standing elegantly behind the bar.
"That already made it hard for a.. familial relationship I had." Amor whispered, sensing the watchful eye of the Anons train onto Grillby.
"But with someone I like romantically? Should I even risk it? I'm destined to ruin everything. I know it." Once this was said they felt the Watches be dragged elsewhere, a cluster of overlapping voices and lost questions fading out as they disappeared.
It went quiet for a few seconds, then the noise of the pub filled the space once more.
Amor felt alone. They had heard Beren yell, run after them. Maybe they were overreacting, but it hurt. They should behave and stop being ungrateful, They never did talk to Beren about labels, they just thought that… they're not sure what they thought.
It doesn't matter, Beren might never want to talk to them again, just think they want attention —that she would gladly give— Waste of space, attention seeking brat. The memory knives at their soul —that was resting deep in the crypt of the Dreemurr Castle— sending ripples through the fragile essence that made this incorporeal form.
Grillby walked over and for just a second, Amor almost thought he was coming to talk to them as he laid his hand down on the table, like the few good times. But no, instead, its surface was consumed in a flame, cleaning it with fire to simply burn the germs away.
Amor remembered Gril explaining this to them, showing the flame grow and how his magic even worked, said he wanted to teach them… he looked so excited. They had died before they ever had the chance. They didn't really regret that, they wanted him to see the sun.
Amor felt tears forming in their eyes, they were tired, they just wanted their dad… and Beren.
They weren't really thinking as they walked forward, inching towards the closest thing they had to a parent, finding themselves wrapping their arms around his back, hugging him from behind as quiet tears rolled down their face while he continued polishing glasses. It was nice, in a weird way. They felt warmed and oh so loved as they embraced the heat, whispering a quiet "Dad…" and the glass was placed to the side.
Amor let go as Beren barreled in, shouting nonsensical rambles clearly meant to be an apology and Amor giggled, floating over to kiss her on the cheek, taking her hand as they wandered back into the cold to have a chat about what they are.
…
…
…
Grillby gripped the bar so hard the wood warped and creaked under his grasp, short ragged breaths escaping and making the flames dance wildly. His child… he had felt them. Steam came from his face as boiling hot droplets hit the hard wood of the Bar and he sensed that green haze leaving the safety of his side once more and he was forced to do nothing about it and just Let it happen.
He crumpled to the ground as he struggled to keep his mournful flames in check.