Work Text:
Herman has no anchors. For him, the whole world is divided into parts - from here to there, never staying in one place for long.
Cold winters, hot summers, melting springs, falling autumns. There's no place where he can just stay and stop moving from one place to another.
Lohen, Intis, the Sea of Sonia, the Rorsted Archipelago, Bayam, the space full of stars.
Not because he has nowhere to go. He lives while he walks - roads, off-road, sea routes, flying in the sky on his wings.
There are eight wings, they are white, strong, but he often hides them. Only Mr. Fool sees them and gently strokes the feathers.
His beloved God is not deaf to him, he hears every step and always waits for Herman, like a beacon, shining in the darkness.
Herman holds nothing in the world. For him, the whole world is a parking lot, and he doesn't look for a home here; he walks alongside Mr. Fool.
But sometimes he feels a sense when he is in the Castle of Sephir. The feeling is pleasant, warm, and soft.
It is a feeling of security.
He closes his eyes as Mr. Fool's warm hands - he can feel the warmth even through the leather of his gloves - stroke Herman's hair. He listens to Mr. Fool softly humming the melodies of the past. Herman relaxes and allows himself to let go of his eternal vigilance.
His points of support, his anchors, are the strongest in the world. Mr. Fool, the warmth of his hands, the Castle of Sephirah.
Herman's heart beats faster as he gently kisses Mr. Fool's hands. He blushes, looks away, but doesn't take his hand away.
- My dear Sparrow... don't you want some affection?
-Yes... Charming Mr. Fool. - whispers Herman, embracing his beloved God.