Chapter Text
Who wrote the rule that said a thing with feathers absolutely has to fly?
(Fly? Why must they fly?)
Some creatures have two wings that flap,
but you won't find them up there in the sky.
Everything around is trembling, melting as time lines collide — a consequence of the simplest «being here and there at once».
Everywhere and nowhere. Then, now and then.
Soon everything will start again…
In a haze of multiple realities, World of Magic breathes, gasping with animal fury under the Caretaker back and the heat of refreshed flesh burning his skin through his robe.
— Satisfied? — Prince of Wisdom hums and caresses the face of the Caretaker, who rests his head in his lap, with his fingertips.
— Yes, — answer had been longer before, but over the eternity of cycles Caretaker had learned one truth well.
It is useless to argue with the Prince of Wisdom when he has no way out after defeat — he does not bite, but persists with his mind. Submitting to the will of the prophecy with another's body and soul, but he does not stay silent.
Like his master, he mocks Chzo.
With words and with his own existence.
— And that's all? — Prince of Wisdom stops.
And — the Caretaker picks up the sound in thought — doesn't seem to understand why.
— Yes, — Caretaker replies.
— Even so, — Prince of Wisdom pouts his lips as he exhales, — Every meeting we have could be our last, and you waste them on silence?
— Nothing will change.
— The fundamentals, yes, but the little things, — Prince of Wisdom palm covered Caretaker eyes, — I could disappear, Malcolm. That priest, what if he doesn't miss in the next cycle?
— You're a lot like «him» — he could never kill you.
— It's easy for you to say. You're a constant.
— You weren't afraid to disappear before, — Caretaker moves hand аside.
— I have a good reason.
— You won't change anything,» Caretaker repeated.
— Of course, — voice of Prince of Wisdom sounded strange, barely audible, but vaguely familiar, — I know.