“Promise me you’ll return, love?” Diane pleaded, her soft hands holding Faust’s. Both lovers have been expecting this day for a couple of weeks now, but neither were fully ready to leave each other. Faust sighed softly, his rough, callused hands giving her soft palms a gentle squeeze. The Centurion was in his armor, which was nicked and worn from years of war and mercenary work. He wore it with pride despite its rough state, as it held a sentimental value that the soldier couldn’t place.
Faust looked down at Diane, who was in her silky blue dress, her body’s bountiful shape easily defined beneath the clothes. Faust brushed some of her brown curly hair away from her porcelain-like skin. She visibly blushed, her emerald eyes breaking away from his gaze.
“I always return, you know,” Faust pointed out. He beamed a confident grin as he recalled the many times they had stood like this.
Diane pouted, her gemlike eyes looking back up at the Centurion. “Yes, but… It doesn’t make it any easier for me. Every time you go, there’s always the possibility of you not coming back, and that chance increases every time you leave.” Her hand moved to sweep some stray strands of hair away from Faust’s forehead.
Faust sighed once more. “Look, the war is almost over with. Cyrus’ legion has the support of the dwarves from the west, and from what I heard, this battle will be the defining factor in our victory. Without Leonard Kord, the Lumen Kingdom will have no choice but to surrender. I promise you, Diane, that this battle will be the last.”
Faust was banking on the hopes that the Lumen Kingdom wouldn’t pull off something stupid since they could always fight to the bitter end like idiots, but Faust doubted they would pull off something so suicidal.
“Once I’m back, I will put down the sword and armor, and we can live peacefully together. I promise.” Faust knew Diane had always wanted a family, and he couldn’t help but share that sentiment with her.
“Really? You promise?” Diane asked, her green eyes lighting up with excitement as her thoughtful frown turned into a giddy smile. The smaller woman leaned up on her toes, bringing Faust’s lips to her own as she hooked her arms around his neck. Faust kissed back, Diane’s scent of lavender overpowering his nose. He could feel his hand moving on its own, slipping underneath her dress. His hand’s ‘exploration’ caused Diane to gasp a bit against his lips, her hand gently grasping at his hair.
“Faust… W-Wait,” she panted out, gently forcing his hand away from her body. Her alabaster skin was flushed red now, but her eyes glinted with a sense of want. “You’re probably running late already, love,” she pointed out. “Maybe once you get back? Give you something to look forward to?” Diane winked, smiling slyly as Faust chuckled.
“Dammit… I’ll win this war if I have to, if it means spending an eternity with you,” he teased.
Diane gave Faust a soft kiss, giggling. “Just do the bare minimum, my love… as long as you come back to me.”
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Faust looked over the memory for the fifteenth time that week. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t feel tired in the mindscape, but the action of rubbing his eyes helped with his focus, despite it all not being physically real.
Faust looked back at the memory in front of him, which had ended on a particular image. The beauty that was his love smiled at him, her eyes full of life and her smile warming even the coldest of hearts. Faust knew, however, that she was most definitely dead, rotting under some cemetery or family tomb. It didn’t matter which.
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He initially had some hopes that it hadn’t been too long since his death, but the shaman confirming the year that morning told him that his hopes of reconnecting with his love were nothing more but a lost dream. He recently discovered this memory roughly three days ago when James was still recovering.
Faust had slowly been remembering his past life throughout the last ten days. Mainly through watching through James’ eyes and going through the young man’s open memories. It wasn’t an ideal comparison, since both of their lives were so drastically different. Still, there were enough similarities between the two that it helped.
Faust stood up in the mindscape, the inch-high water making ripples as he moved. He swiped his hand, making the painful memory in front of him disappear.
“Let’s see if he has any new ones,” Faust mumbled as he focused on James’ memories. The young man had caught Faust twice before, but the spirit had learned quickly how to bypass his detection. He peered through the open memories James had unprotected. They changed now and then, but very few were ever interesting. At first, James’ world had fascinated Faust. The spirit spent hours watching them alone. Soon, however, he had grown bored with watching most of them.
It seemed like James’ memories were nearly all the same. He had a routine of waking up, eating, talking with a friend, going to work, coming home, and using a strange device. After that, James would then go to sleep and repeat it all the following day. Of course, they were variations, but Faust had gotten so bored that he dismissed most of them.
Faust went through the memories, most of them focusing on interactions with his friends and colleagues, some of them involving his old lover. Faust didn’t care for any of them.
He soon stopped at a particular one, his eyebrow raising as he looked over it. This… was new. The memory was fuzzy and barely comprehensible, but that wasn’t the reason why Faust was so fascinated by it. The memory was similar to the ones Faust had caught a glimpse of when he was new to James’ mind. Before James had locked away and repressed most of his more private memories.
“I wonder what caused him to remember this?” Faust questioned. He found out for himself, his eyes closing as he looked through James’ vision.
The young man in question was currently talking with the shaman. His vision blurred as he sipped at a tankard full of honeyed mead. Faust held back laughter, exiting his view. James was drunk, so it made sense some memories might become open to the spirit. But it would be wrong to peer into it, right?
“Fuck it,” Faust thought aloud. He was bored enough as it was, and he wasn’t in the mood to look through his own again. Faust peered into the memory.
The memory was murky, as Faust expected. James’ view was focused on green grass, which swayed against the wind. He spoke softly, mumbling to himself as he played with a blade of grass. James was probably eight or nine at most, his soft voice singing in the tune of a song.
“They will shine… onto tiny blades of grass…”
Faust raised an eyebrow, swearing that he heard a similar tune before, but from where? He shook it off, watching the memory as James’ mumbling turned into humming, his gaze turning to a black lake, its waters glistening in the sun.
The memory’s fuzziness and blur faded away slowly then. Faust could see how beautiful the surroundings were. Green, vibrant grass swayed all around James as snow-capped mountains stood in the distance, beyond the black lake’s waters. It was serene.
“Are you ready to go back to mom?” a strong, gentle voice spoke out. It took little James’ attention away from the lake. The view then focused on a tall man, who stood in the sun's way, the day’s light hiding his face. James’ emotions carried onto Faust, who felt a sense of calm and joy coming from the memory. Yet the Centurion felt far from those feelings. The memory stopped at James’ answer, who excitedly said, “Yes!”
Faust swallowed, his nonexistent heart beating hard. The man who was James’ father was… strange. The man looked wrong, out of place, like he didn’t belong. Faust had never felt like this with any other memories, never with James’ friends and acquaintances. This man was something else entirely, something that Faust couldn’t place.
“Who are you?” Faust asked, focusing on the man’s obscured face. Whoever this man was, Faust had the feeling that he shouldn’t ever find out, less he suffered the consequences. The spirit was done with peering into memories that night.