5 Works in Sorey's Memories Are Not Lost (Tales of Zestiria)
Listing Works
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Summary
Sorey needs a True Name. His companions have suggestions. Terrible, terrible suggestions.
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Sorey and Mikleo remember their first kiss. Lastonbell, they decide, holds many memories for them.
But not all of them are as happy as they would like to pretend.
Sormik Week 2017 - Day 6: Lastonbell, Promises/AcceptanceSeries
- Part 6 of Sormik Week 2017
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And Tell Thy Soul Their Roots are Left in Mine by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)
Fandoms: Tales of Zestiria
24 Jul 2017
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“What do you think that means?” Mikleo asks quietly, breathless. He can feel the cool shadow of Sorey over him, closer now than before.
Sorey places a small kiss at his temple. His hand slowly drops from Mikleo’s face to his neck, drifting feather-light fingers down to where his collar opens around his throat. Deftly, he starts to ease the fabric open. Mikleo’s breath hitches. “The real you is better than the you in my mind.”
Mikleo exhales and Sorey can feel the rise and fall under his touch. “And do you touch me like this—the ‘me’ in your mind?”
Now Sorey hums and it’s a low, earthy sound. Mikleo feels alive with it. “This and more.”
Sormik Week 2017 - Day 3: Marlind, Knowledge/Nature
Series
- Part 3 of Sormik Week 2017
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Five-Hundred-Years-Ago Yesterday by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)
Fandoms: Tales of Zestiria
05 Feb 2017
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The hardest part about waking up is realizing that the dream is over.
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Time burrows itself under his skin and smothers memory with its downy fog. The years slip through his fingers where Sorey’s had once fit—they’d grown into each other, and Mikleo’s left to patch holes as Sorey sleeps his sentence. Mikleo has never lived a life outside of Sorey’s reach and waiting, he finds, is more like learning to walk again, speak again, breathe again with something vestigial but inborn removed.
Distance like this does not scrape him raw. Instead, it itches in his lungs and feet. It’s a restless pining that pushes him into the inscrutable future. He spends his days pulling water from sea and sky, filling wells, correcting the flow of rivers so that spring floods do not take what cannot be replaced.
Night, when it falls, drapes an aching shroud around his shoulders that weighs heavy on his mind. His resolve stands tested and strong and by the flickering soft of candlelight, Mikleo pours what he’s seen into journals that always begin with for Sorey, when he wakes. He will wait as long as it takes but, until that which has gone comes back, there is a world to see, study, change.