Gilmore didn’t know what to expect. He knew them only by name, and descriptions that passed by word of mouth around Ank’Harel to Shandal about the visage of their guardian changed with every story. So the image he had was one that was born of rumours, one that held sturdy, roughened features, larger than he, well built-
The sight that greeted him with the opening of the door was the complete opposite. Gilmore’s breath left him in a rush and his hand reached for the frame of the door to steady himself. It took several long seconds before his legs could obey his command to move, to step through the door, his own eyes never leaving the vision before him.
Even though they were nothing like the image in his mind, he knew this was J’mon. His soul knew.
“You are-” he started, his right hand resting above his heart as he bowed, his eyes never leaving his host. “-more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Gilmore drank everything in like a man lost in the desert, which was fitting. Their skin was the most glorious colour, their eyes absolutely captivating, other worldly, which was possibly the only thing Gilmore’s preliminary ideas had right.
“I- how-?” speech so rarely failed him, but what could he possibly say to convey the majesty of this moment in his life? Gilmore closed his eyes as though that would help him focus, ridding himself of the distraction before him, but it just made him hungry to look again. “Perhaps future me had a little more time to prepare for this moment, but I hope that he had the presence of mind to say that no words spoken by any Marquesian who has ever had the pleasure of your company did you justice in their description. There are no words.”
Opening his eyes once more he felt that same wave of awe he’d felt when the door opened. He reached forward, reminding himself that he was known, that he was welcome, that this was only new to him, and took J’mon’s hand. “I fear you may have ruined me for any other wonder I might behold in my life.” Drawing J’mon’s hand to his lips, Gilmore pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. They smelt of home and heat and there was no force on earth that could have prevented Gilmore from turning their hand over and pressing his nose to the soft skin of their wrist, breathing in deeply.