In the roar of bellowing music that rocks the Duet Deities’ Ascentian club, all beings drink, smoke, and socialize under flashing and strobing lights illuminating an otherwise dim building. Groups of two, three, and even more party through the night with massive, all-sensing guards watching over them. Clients and other patrons fawn over iconic and exquisite hosts who serve drinks and witty lines to all who enter.

More important to another land far from here, two individuals lie together in an isolated room, the air filled with a thin fog and dancing orbs of light that reflect off their starstruck eyes so vividly. One lies draped over the other, her hair a careless mess around her. Below, her partner has his eyes closed, but still takes drinks from a straw protruding from a glass shaped like an overturned bell. Heated, though exasperated breaths leave both of them, the air becoming more multicolored as it leaves their mouths. They are an image of bliss, pure and simple, coated in lust and, possibly, love.

Alain, the Aether Elf, speaks through a mental link between her and her partner, saying, “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” Despite a drunken state, her words are not slurred in his mind, though they are delayed every few seconds.

“Is that what it means to take care of you?”

“I don’t know... I don’t care.” Her expression is one of euphoria, like her dreams have been reached. Unable to think well at all, she simply lies there, taking in the smell and feel of his skin with her head against his torso.

Caspian, the human man known as the Head Reaver in the world of Chassa, has hundreds of thoughts rushing through his mind every which way, no individual one taking precedence over another. They are of one topic, however, and that is Alain, his Controller. We were meant to be from the beginning. Why did we wait so long to pursue what was resolved in days? Why couldn’t we have gotten through this stage much earlier... earlier than a day before I must leave her physically?

The Head Reaver, not inexperienced in desires and indulgence of the flesh, understands what it feels like to taste blood and want more soon after. Like a maddening gnaw at his neck, it will come up each night following this, so he wonders why they had to become so intimate on this night alone.

Of course, he knows why: Alain is much, much different from him. She seeks this attention and pleasure in the moment, wanting it as the mood is perfect. The mood for her is heavily intoxicated, when her self-consciousness has long fled from her mind. In this state, she doesn’t care that someone so close can see the imperfections on her, or can tell how vulnerable she truly is. At this moment, she doesn’t think about every little issue with her; the woman’s confidence is aloof when she is so numbed down.

When sober, the opposite is true for Alain Freija. Her skin is too pasty, her legs are too large, her face too round and not as pointed as other Elves are. When sober, the woman feels that she is a target for prying eyes that search for the smallest discrepancies, like a nervous twitch of her hands or a misplaced lock of hair blown by a rogue wind. She feels that her negative thoughts and past mistakes are plastered all over for all to see, her failures laid out in front of her. Irrational, yes, but she was raised to be perfect, though those who raised her barely cared for her to her tenth birthday before being taken, ripped from her life for their failures and inaccuracies as parents. For some reason, these thoughts emerge in her mind tonight of all nights, a little more than one night before she will be separated from her new partner physically.

Caspian notices something is amiss when his eyes spot in their peripheral vision her gleeful smile turning over into a frown. When he turns his head downwards to address this, he sees a wet trail leading horizontally across her sideways face, the source being her visible eye. “Allie, what’s wrong?”

Alain’s eye closes, then she flips over to face her back to him. “No one has ever cared so much for me like you do.”

The man turns, offering a hand over her shoulder. “Well, of course, Al. I r...eally enjoy being with you.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It isn’t about you, Caspian, it’s about them.”

“Hm.” He is vaguely aware of how her parents mistreated her as a child, but doesn’t know the full extent. During the week, some nightmares he receives second-hand allude to possible fillers to the gaps in his knowledge of her childhood, such as aberrant visions of vicious wounds and gore, but he has never been given the full story. The man wouldn’t have and will not mention it, but he did notice various scars on his partner not long before now, placed in areas usually covered by clothing. One of which was a rather large hypertrophic scar, inflicted just below her breast. Cas knows better than to ask about such things, so prying is no option for him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, I...” Alain sits up, crossing her legs while facing the wall. A sheet was wrapped around her, but it has fallen, showing a bare back. “I just wish I knew why they did what they did. I wish it could have been different. I felt what you thought, how I’m self-conscious. I know I am; I wish I wouldn’t be. Elves are a proud, humble people... I’m not.”

“Look, Alain, you-” he begins, but silences himself as she motions for him to quiet.

“Let me talk, please.” Her tone is different, much different. “I want to have a happy life, one where I’m not dragged down by them. They ruined that for me, though; they ruined me. They took away my happiness for so long, even after they were gone- when the Below collected them from the Council. It’s no wonder why Deacon Urius was always so attentive and kind towards me. Even a sick, perverted monster like him knows borders.”

Caspian remains silent, understanding this is how she wants to get her feelings out. Even his thoughts are subdued; the man doesn’t want to interrupt her thought process with his thinking bleeding into her mind.

“I hate... I hate them for stealing my happiness. I hate them!” she shouts. Before causing concern outside the room, the Elf grabs a pillow and screams into it, letting out the anger within her. Her screaming turns into muffled sobs, which bring her to the fetal position on the bed, curled up on herself while embracing the pillow.

Without a word to her, Caspian moves a sheet and blanket over the woman, then turns away so she may get the privacy she deserves. She needs this, he thinks. The poor girl was mutilated by her own mother and father, and they were taken by the Below as sacrifices. I can only imagine what something like Urius would do to them. Do I even want to try imagining it? Soon enough, his thoughts have taken up so much time that his partner stops sobbing. A blind hand reaches back for him, and Cas obliges by turning over and moving up against Alain, wrapping a loving arm around her stomach. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

Alain neglects her voice, keeping her face in the pillow. “Too soon for what?”

“I suppose if time truly does move faster for Chassans, then it’s just soon enough,” he says, somewhat stalling. He mulls over his next words, deciding the right way to say it. Finally, he swallows in and presses his head against the back of hers, saying in her mind, “I love you.”

Alain curls more in on herself, sending back, “You’re drunk.”

“I said the same to you before you proved how confident, powerful, and happy you really are with me. You’ve never been so close to someone before, Alain, and your courage and openness with me is something I don’t take lightly. So, please accept my love.”

Finally, she gives in. The Aether Elf releases the pillow and flips back over to embrace her partner. “I love you, too. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.”