Straight fire 🔥🔥🔥🔥
As fire as the furnace flames that destroy murder evidence

-Galaxian-

Realization

The night was tranquil. The only sound being made was the crumbling of marble as Galatea worked on their statues. They paused when they heard the sound of fast footsteps approaching their study, breaking the calm atmosphere. 

Enter Eurydicus, a look of panic on his face as he approached, his cheeks flushed deeply. Before Galatea could question what the matter was, Eurydicus's voice rose with frantic accusation. 

"Orfeo likes me, doesn't he?" 

Galatea blinked before lazily nodding, going back to their work as they deemed the topic to not be of too much concern. They said, "Well, of course he does. It's rather obvious." 

"Ob-Obvious?!" 

"Yes, obvious. He has given you enough flowers to fill ten fields, wouldn't you agree?" 

"That wasn't just him being friendly?!" 

Galatea raised an eyebrow, looking over to Eurydicus incredulously. 

Eurydicus began to pace back and forth, stammering out, "I thought it was his way of confirming our friendship! Oh my gods, he wasn't just- That was all-" 

"Romantic? Yeah." 

"You knew and didn't tell me?!" 

"I'm pretty sure all of Sanctuary knows." 

Eurydicus made a baffled noise, walking around in circles. 

Galatea said while brushing marble chips off themself, "So are you going to reject him or?" 

"Reject him?! Why would I do that?!" 

"Oh, so you want to date him." 

Eurydicus felt his entire face darken more in blush as he stopped in his tracks. Date? He hadn't really thought too far on if he was going to accept Orfeo's advances or not. Afterall, he just now realized that Orfeo had been flirting with him for many years now. 

"W-Well, I mean- maybe I do?" 

Galatea chuckled softly, motioning with their hand for him to leave as they said, "Go sleep on it, it'll clear your mind." 

Eurydicus quickly took their advice, briskly turning and walking out of the study, heart racing. 

 

Not the biggest fan of this writing because it's a little boring but it's not bad

The idea is that Alma already thought about everyone else before this part, so it's not just Eugen he's thinking about in his potential final moments but he definitely is going to focus on Eugen 

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Then there was you. You who always were by my side, for better or for worse. You who clung, you who followed me around no matter how plain my actions were. Eugen. Eugen. Eugen. Eugen. 

Alma's thoughts swirled, his hand reaching up and resting on Eugen's chest while Eugen carried Alma towards Sanctuary with haste. Alma wanted to say something, his breath gurgling painfully. 

Eugen was always there beside Alma, always watching. How could Alma not be endeared? Someone who never left even at his lowest moments, someone who refused to leave. 

Would their lives have been any different if Alma had said the three words that always lingered deeply and warmly in his chest? 

Alma was always too scared to utter the phrase. He couldn't bare it, the suffocating dread that came with such emotions. Alma had always loved everyone so freely, yet he could never rouse the courage to say it to them. Never them. 

Alma was a coward. But could he be blamed? He was cursed, surely he was cursed. His love was a sentence of death. A selfish act, Alma always continued to love loudly to his students. Yet for the person he held a certain tenderness to, he equally vowed silence. Perhaps it was the same selfishness that caused him to do such a thing, wanting to keep close someone who never left. 

Alma always wondered what would happen if he had said those words. His fingers trembled as he took another raspy breath. 

"Io..." 

Eugen glanced down for a moment before saying, "We're almost there, just a little more." 

Alma gazed at Eugen's face, the way their lips formed a reassuring smile as they said again, "We're really close." 

Alma wondered if it would have been Eugen needing to be carried had he ever professed. 

Alma entertained the thought, then the one after it: How would Eugen have reacted? 

Perhaps they would finally have wisened up and left Alma, his love being fatal. Or perhaps they would have been indifferent, the words falling to practiced deaf ears. Maybe Eugen would have asked what those words meant. 

Why have hope for a happier response when you are a dead man? 

Alma coughed, blood bubbling and coating his tongue. Eugen held him a little closer, feeling Alma's Cosmo drop. 

Alma's words wobbled, his tone gentle. "Thank you." 

"Try to not exert yourse-" 

"I'm sorry." 

"Alma, we're almost there." 

"Io..." 

Alma took a shuddering breath. He felt so numb. He tried to focus on Eugen's face again, but everything became dark and blurry. The sunset mixed with Eugen's facial features into one painting of splotched colors. 

"...I..." 

He laughed, remembering how he used to carry Eugen on the training fields. It was a shallow, breathy sigh of a laugh, followed by gasps of air. It reminded Alma of how out-of-breath he would get from laughing while running with Eugen in the berry fields. Where did the time go? Why did it feel so painful to remember such delightful times? 

His hand resting on Eugen's chest began to drop. 

"Alma." 

Alma never heard such tone of voice from Eugen. Maybe he was imagining it. Surely, he was imagining it. 

"Alma, don't you dare close your eyes. We're so close." 

Alma smiled, unable to feel pain anymore. His throat garbled his words as he said, "I'm sorry I... I never told you I loved you." 

He let out another laugh, remembering how funny Eugen could be. He wanted to hear another joke, opening his mouth to request one. No sound left but the dripping of crimson. 

Alma heard muffled noises. Was Eugen speaking? 

Alma wanted to ask Eugen to repeat themself. 

Alma wanted to open his heavy eyes. 

Alma wondered if it was okay to sleep this time. 

Maybe he would see Eugen in his dreams. 

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so anyway maybe Alma lives maybe not who knows 
 

Lyra Alma


Why did he continue on the harsh path that was granted to him? Why did Alma continue forward towards heartache? A walk that led to doubt, to fear, to anguish?  

Alma found himself at times wondering these thoughts, these damned, wretched thoughts that threatened to tear his guts apart. They racked his body in tremors, springing forth unwanted tears in the dead of night. 

But there was something certain in Alma's heart that kept him moving forward. Hope. Hope that something will change, hope that he can try again and do better than before. Shining hope that he could enact Athena's will of love and peace. 

Hope that surely his suffering would not be for nothing. 

He was told he was to train three new students. Three, so quickly after the falling of his previous student. Alma accepted quickly, without hesitation yet with terrible worry. 

He took a breath, opening the door with a swift push. He was greeted by the stares of three small children huddled together, the two smaller ones clinging to the oldest. Alma quickly assessed each one, noting that the youngest boy seemed indifferent by expression yet trembled slightly in the hands, the little girl couldn't hold his gaze for long before looking around the room and swinging her grip on the oldest's hand, and the oldest quickly looking to the floor with timid nature. 

"Hello, welcome to your new home," Alma started off, his voice gentle. "I'm Lyra Alma, you may call me Alma, or 'teacher' if that is easier to remember. May I know your names?" 

There was a pause before the little girl exclaimed, "I'm Atenea! Hi!"  

"Orfeo Grey." The youngest boy flatly stated, staring Alma down.  

The oldest didn't reply, staring at the ground while kicking his foot a little. In place of answering the question, he mumbled, "They need to be fed." 

"Fed? Oh, well, it is certainly time for lunch. Come, come, I will prepare us something to eat." 

The oldest pushed the two youngest forwards, eyes finally looking up to meet Alma's. Alma knew the look well, one of mistrust but begrudging acceptance of the situation. He led the three through his home, brow furrowing slightly as he thought. He remembered reading well their files, so he already knew their names.  

Stavros Grey, Orfeo Grey, and Atenea Grey, all three having been cared for by their grandfather, Johnny Grey, until recently, in which he had become too sick to care for them further. All three showed potential in becoming Saints. 

Atenea sang a song while Alma prepared lunch, while Orfeo and Stavros sat quietly. 

"Thank you very much mister Alma!" Atenea clapped once presented with lunch. She dug in quickly. 

"Thank you," Orfeo said coldly, picking apart the food before beginning to eat. 

Stavros sat stiffly and silently, watching the other two eat before taking a shaky hand and eating. He ate slowly, muttering out a weak, "Thank you for the food." 

"I hope Sanctuary has treated you three well. It will be your home from now on," Alma said after taking a bite of food. "Have you any questions, you may ask me." 

Orfeo glared at Alma for a moment before asking, "Do you have b-books?" Alma noted his slight stammer. 

Alma was a bit caught off-guard. He expected the first question to be along the lines about their grandfather, or why they were here. 

"Yes, many books. Do you have a topic you enjoy most?" 

"A-Anthrop-pology." 

Alma remembered reading that their grandfather was an anthropologist. The child must have picked up on the topic. "Ah, I see. I will make sure to stock up on those sorts of books." 

"I like stuff about fishies and kitties!" Atenea said with excitement. "And an-thro-pology and arch-ae-olo-gy!" 

"My, my, you both must take after your grandfather," Alma said. "How about you?" He looked to Stavros, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Stavros cleared his throat before saying, "Anything is fine. As long as I can read to Orfeo and Atenea at night, I won't cause a fuss on the topic." 

Alma nodded his head, saying, "There's no problem with that. Reading is good for your youthful brains." 

"Stavy is so good at reading and writing!" Atenea said. "Stavy writes all the time!" 

Stavros blushed, head ducking down in embarrassment. 

"It's just- S-Sometimes I do- Atenea, why d-did you say that?" 

"Nothing wrong with writing," Alma reassured. "I spend my free time writing as well, mainly poems." 

Stavros glanced up at Alma in surprise before looking away quickly. 

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Okay I can't think of what else to write atm