Who: The Suitor What: Revelations Where: Passages Hotel When: Immediately following the masquerade. Warnings/Rating: None
True to his word, the suitor sat on the roof and watched as the sun came up, doing nothing as he simply drank in the experience, the beauty he felt that he could no longer appropriately appreciate after all that had happened. It was beautiful, yes, but laced in with that beauty was the knowledge that the sun had a finite existence, the simple fact that it offered the Earth warmth and light a stark counterpoint against what would happen should that seemingly neverending flame sputter out. Death. Cold. Agony. An end filled with misery.
It all came down to that in the end. It always did.
He wasn't sure when the girl at his side left, didn't even notice his departure, but he did notice how he had changed back. Tailcoat and dirty pants shifted back to corduroy and cotton broadcloth, his hair a mess, swept back away from his face with the longer bits tucked behind his ears. But the shift brought no relief from the thoughts, the paths his mind wandered down unerringly, brought no relief from the ache in his heart, the ghost pain that plagued him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Everything still hurt, and he knew it would not be something he would shake off easily.
The walk home was quiet, hands shoved deep in his pockets, sidestepping the other pedestrians that walked the streets this early in the morning. He was half aware of what he was doing, distant in a way that was abnormal for the man who was usually warm and full of friendly words and smiles. His apartment was unlocked, relocked, and though his body longed for rest, he beelined towards his ancient typewriter instead, pulling his chair from in front of the computer to the old machine.
A piece of paper was fed through the rollers, and after adjusting this and fixing that, the soothing sound of the keys being pressed filled the room. Liam wrote, and he tried not to think.