"What the hell happened?” he asked as Iona walked in from backstage, her arms crossed over her chest as she hugged herself tightly, the memory of the night before still fresh.

He’d been sitting on the edge of the stage, waiting for her to show up, and he stood to come forward as soon as he saw her. Looking up into his shadowed face, she once again wished she could really see it. He stopped about a foot away and, without thinking she reached for his shirt over his stomach and pulled him to her, unable to unclench enough to wrap her arms around him.

“You’re shivering,” he said as he automatically encircled her in his embrace. “What’s wrong?”

“I posted the last chapter,” she said and her voice croaked as she tried again to speak a little stronger. “After, I was feeling good. Optimistic. Like I might actually be able to see you in person. I looked up and I saw the moon, took a picture of it to let you know I was thinking of you and sending you some love. As soon as I posted it to my feed, I was headed back inside to grab my headphones and put some music on to dance with Selene and cleanse a little. I was trying to get the dog to come inside so he wasn’t laying in the sand but, while I was standing there,” she said and then paused as the rapid-fire pops sounded again, making her flinch as the squealing of tires punctuated it. “There was a drive-by shooting a street over from my house. Close enough that I could clearly see the end of the driveway where it happened.”

“Fuck,” he swore and held her tighter. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, I am,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “If I wasn’t, we would be having this conversation. I just got scared because I was standing where I usually do when I smoke and it was a clear line of sight to where it happened.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked.

“I did,” she said, “you just couldn’t hear it.”

“I don’t like the idea of not knowing if something happened to you,” he said, resting his cheek on top of her head, his grip tightening a bit.

“Can’t really help that,” she whispered into his chest. “Without knowing who you are or being able to call you on the phone, I have to rely on the faith that you’re lurking in the shadows somewhere. But, if I can’t type a new scene or post a new picture, it just looks like I’m taking a break from social media and the internet from your end.”

“Do things like that happen a lot where you are?” he asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted. “I hear pops like that all the time, but I usually just convince myself that it’s fireworks, you know? People being stupid. But, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t smoke,” he said quietly as he pressed his lips to the top of her head as she tried to unclench enough to hold onto him and he stepped closer. “Try to calm down.”

“I would have, trust me,” she said. “But I was trying to let the THC get out of my system so I could try to connect with you in my dreams better. Give you the reassurance you need that it’s all real and not some ploy from a desperate woman.”

“If you need to medicate,” he said, leaning back so she’d look up at his shadowed face, “don’t worry about me. Just do what you need to take care of yourself.”

“I just feel like, if I do, I’m missing out,” she admitted, wishing again that she could remember the dreams she knew they shared. “I don’t want to miss a moment with you. I’m greedy that way,” she added and was rewarded for her poor attempt at humor with a breathless laugh as he pulled her back into a hug again.

“I really don’t like the idea of you disappearing,” he said.

“I know,” she said and meant it. “I don’t like it either.”

She didn’t want to think about how scared she was to feel him go missing from the living world. She didn’t want to relive the feeling of her heart dropping into her stomach the first time she saw Aphrodite backstage as her thoughts immediately sprang to the conclusion that she was there to tell her that her partner was gone. She hated only being able to touch his spirit. It was nearly impossible to tell if he was still breathing or if she was in Hell. She just wanted him there with her.

“I need a distraction,” she said with a sniff. “I’m alright. I’m alive and whole. I just need to get away from all the bad that could happen between now and when your mind catches up with your heart.”

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked gently and she felt herself relax as he started tracing her spine with his fingertips.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just want to listen to you for a while so I don’t sit there at my computer like a psycho with tears in my eyes, flipping between all the sites I could receive a message, praying that you’ll magically reach out to me and tell me you believe so I can get your phone number and call you directly just so I can hear your voice without wondering if it’s really mine.”

“Come here,” he said, stepping back and taking her by the hand to lead her backstage to a couch she didn’t remember being there, wide and plush, allowing them to sit down together.

For a moment it reminded her of the nightmare she’d had of not meeting him until his wedding reception and she flinched until he pulled her into his side and put his feet up, cradling her between the back of the couch and his body with her head over his heart. She burrowed into him, trying to remember the joyful scenes that had filled her head after she’d stepped away from her computer. He started speaking as they laid there, but his words were too garbled to make sense of them. She knew he was trying to paint a picture in her head, filled with the peaceful safety she felt with him, her personal oasis, her home on two legs. She didn’t care where they were or what was around them as long as he was there with her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves, letting his voice soothe her.

“You still with me?” he asked and she blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “You stared fading out.”

“Adrenaline crash,” she admitted. “You’re reading this in the future for me. In my timeline, everything just happened. That’s why I said I did talk to you; you just couldn’t hear it. If I had you on Discord or Instagram, I’d be typing a million miles a minute the moment it happened until I calmed down. But, as far as I know, you’re not reading this in real-time, so I’m trying to calm myself by picturing what it would be like to be with you. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“It’s not pathetic,” he said, drawing her into his and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“That’s the only problem with partial Astral Projection,” she admitted. “I’m awake and aware that I am just in a dream with the one person I want to be near, torturing myself with the idea that you’re just as aware and trying to decide if you want to take a leap of faith or let go of it.”

He fell silent after that, just holding her in spirit. She knew asking him about his life was off-limits because there was no telling when their timelines would sync up or what position he’d be in when they did. She knew where she would be. Right there with him in the Theater of the Id, waiting for him to reach out and connect with her in the real world. Deciding she needed to cleanse more than she thought she did, she put him on pause even though she hated doing it. The adrenaline was making it impossible to let him in the way she wanted. Hoping he wouldn’t begrudge her for needing to take some time, for needing more than just a spiritual hug, she got up and went to find something in the real world to help her calm down and try to forget the sound of gunshots so close to her house.

“I love you,” she whispered to his frozen spirit as she knelt on the floor beside him to kiss his cheek before standing up to go grab her whiskey and a glass.

*****

August 20, 2021

Iona stepped back towards the couch after being away for maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. She wished she could write from his side as she did back then, but she didn’t know what he was thinking. She knew he was real and he wasn’t a dream, but she used to get into his head so easily. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and looked at her card of the day for Mesonyx’s directions and saw the Ten of Wands; responsibility, burden, obligations, success, stress. A quick look at her horoscope based on her Natal Chart let her know it was a good day for spitballing ideas and working shit out, but she’d need distance to do it. She didn’t have to see the Three of Swords that can with her horoscope to know what she was doing. She just hoped he’d forgive her for the betrayal. It wasn’t for manipulation or nefarious intent; it was to prove to him that it was real once and for all and without question. She knew he wondered how she could write for him without him being aware of it. She needed to show him.

How was it that he could feel her so clearly and sometimes she was barely there, how did it feel like, somedays she was right next to him. She’d remembered it when she was re-reading her writing. Things they had figured out together as he imagined what it would be like to have a partner in isolation. How they’d haunted each other and left spiritual imprint all over their respective locations as they talked to each other, spitballing ideas for the future. She bounced story ideas off of him, sitting on her back porch, imagining him sitting next to her, then went inside and typed it all up. He wandered around his place, doing chores as he helped her with the flow of the dialogue and descriptions as she pictured his reactions as clearly as if he were there. She was so deep in his head; she didn’t know he began and she ended sometimes without even realizing it. As soon as she did, she pulled back, gave him his space, but she needed back in to prove it to him.

So, she’d put him on pause, just like she did in New Orleans when Rik fell into the Abyss as a Dragon. She hadn’t realized what she’d done, turned his spirit into Sleeping Beauty back in April, and left that fragment and all of their dreams with his Dragon Spirits as she wished for the vessel to which it belonged. The part of him that believed in magic, spirits, and mythical creatures, the creative imagination that inspired her so much, he should have it back. So, she knelt and broke her promise to him not to push and, while he was paused, kissed his lips to give it back to him. All she had to then was a kick start it by getting into his head long enough to remind him of what it was like to feel it.

Sitting back on her heels, she wiped her eyes to make sure they were clear and calm as she perched on the edge of the couch beside him and touched his cheek, running her knuckles across the edge of his jaw, smiling at the prickle of whiskers as his eyes blinked open and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I needed a minute,” she said. “I paused you like I do the audience.”

“You feel different,” he said as his eyes narrowed a bit.

“I,” she said and took a deep breath with a small smile, “I’m at peace.”

“What?” he asked and sat up with wide eyes.

“My Meat Suit is fine, relax,” she said with a snort. “I had to pause to get my shit together, otherwise I’d be all clenched up, pathetic as shit, moping around when I remembered something very important.”

“What’s that?” he asked as he sat up and looked at her.

“You are the other half of my brain,” she said bluntly. “Come on, I need to get up, get into motion and you were the best at that way back in the day. You remember this?” she asked and materialized a tennis ball in her hand and she wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. “It's something you and I used to do a lot when we were hammering the shit out. Come on, git up,” she said, teasingly pulling at his shirt as she stood up, happy he got up and followed her out to the stage. “Ok, you stand on that side, I’ll stand on this one,” she said walking across the stage from him and leaning back against the wall at a comfortable angle and smiled in gratitude when he mirrored her movements.

She grinned knowingly as she tossed the ball and watched as it bounced at the exact center of the stage and then landed perfectly in his waiting hand. It was an easy throw, nothing too hard, just an idle bounce of movement to get them started. When he tossed it back, coming back on the same gentle arc to land in her waiting hand, she felt better. They kept the rhythm going on a steady beat as he watched her wondering what she was up to. She knew he enjoyed mental games when he knew it wasn’t malicious, it was something they’d started doing while she was writing for them. She’d tried to outwit him, which was extremely difficult at times, and he enjoyed seeing the work she put into it. A friendly competition of mental fortitude that made them each other's arch-nemesis and best friend at the same time. They were both fire signs, she knew that much, the powder keg vibe had always been too strong to deny and was more thrilling than she cared to admit most of the time.

“How long do you think we can keep this rhythm going?” he asked as he tossed the ball back.

“We’re in my head at the moment, so we can keep this going infinitely,” she said with a smile.

“So, we’re just going to throw this back and forth forever?” he asked dryly and she chuckled.

“I’m trying to get my thoughts in order,” she said with a laugh and then stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oh, no,” he said with mock dread in his voice. “She’s actually getting organized,” he said and she laughed, unable to stop the smile on her face from widening.

“Bite me, asshole,” she shot back.

“Come here and I will,” he challenged and she giggled at him.

“I missed you,” she admitted.

“I missed you, too,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t realize it until now, but I did.”

“Eh, neither of us really knew what was going on, so I’m not worried about it,” she told him honestly. “I’m just glad you’re back so I can torture you properly,” she said with a chuckle as he rolled his eyes.

“That’s your favorite pastime, isn’t it?” he asked, tossing the ball back.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Getting in your head and figuring out what’s wrong when there is something is just a happy byproduct of learning your weaknesses,” she teased and waggled her eyebrows at him. “My Shadow Working gods are, together, the Gods of Psychological Warfare, honey. And, with the Twins come Ares and Aphrodite.”

“Alls fair in Love and War,” he said as she tossed the ball back with a nod. “So, what devious trap have you set for me this time?”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” she said with a snort. “But, for right now, I need to figure out what else to do besides standing on stage bouncing a ball back and forth while we give each other shit.”

“Aw, but it’s so much fun slinging insults at each other and laughing it off,” he said and she chuckled.

“That’s just because you think it’s funny because I never get offended by anything,” she said dryly.

“That’s not a bad quality in a person,” he said.

“Never take yourself too seriously,” she said, quoting Baron Samedi, “it’ll kill ya.”

“Is that a suicide joke?” he asked, pausing for a moment before tossing the ball back.

“From the King of the VooDoo Underworld,” she admitted with a smile. “But it was also a fantastic piece of advice that led to me deciding to stop trying to be so serious all the time. With you around, I can actually relax a little. And I’m taking advantage of that before I dive head-first into the mile-long to-do list I have saved up from the gods,” she grumbled as she tossed the ball back.

“Do you ever do anything for yourself?” he asked with a slight frown. “It seems like everything you do is for someone else.”

“That’s usually how it goes,” she admitted with a shrug as she caught the ball and tossed it back. “Writing for us was probably the last thing I did that I thoroughly enjoyed, but I can’t really keep writing like I used to.”

“Why not?” he asked tossing the ball back, seemingly without thinking about it.

“Because writing is great, it’s creative and entertaining, keeps my brain active as I try to figure out how to put the characters in challenging situations and see how they get themselves out of it, but real life requires I make some kind of income to survive. Which means, unfortunately, writing for us is a luxury I can’t really afford,” she admitted.

He didn’t look happy as he tossed the ball back.

“So, what creative ventures do you have lined up?” he asked a tinge of pride in his voice.

“None at the moment,” she said as she caught it. “Looking at the projects the gods want me to tackle, I realized that, if I decide to dive into them, I’ll never have enough energy to do them all and work full time without burning myself out.”

“So, what you’re just going to stop being creative?” he asked with a frown.

“For a while,” she said. “When I wrote my first book, I wrote the vast majority of it while I was home sick from work because, when I opened up to really get into it, I was like a woman possessed. All I could think about was getting back into and fleshing it out. I was obsessed. And that was before I started medicating,” she admitted. “I was totally sober the entire time.”

“That explains why I wasn’t aware of you writing it,” he said.

“So, you figured out that my level of intoxication effects my spiritual receptors, huh?” she asked with a smile and he nodded.

“I figured that had something to do with it,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I can feel you in my head, rooting around for whatever you’re looking for at the time. Other times, I can’t really feel you and it bothers me, but then you’ll show up so strongly I forget you’re not really there in person.”

“Me being nosey is usually when I’m writing and I need help trying to figure out how your character would react to the situation,” she said. “When we were in quarantine, I kept seeing my character wandering around the house, doing chores or experimenting with new creative skills; everything from arts and crafts to apothecary and gardening, always talking to herself because she could hear a voice in her head and thought, fuck it, at least I’m not totally alone out here in the middle of nowhere, even if I am just talking to a ghost. Shit, talking to your ghost in my head is what kept me sane more often than not,” she admitted, trying not to feel too nostalgic over it as she looked at him, tossing the ball back. “It was strange. In my house, there’s pretty much zero privacy. I’d been in isolation for so long before the quarantine, the only difference was when John Boy got laid off for a few weeks and I had no indicator for the change in the days. But, in my head, it was just us. It was relaxing and freeing to be able to just follow you around the house with my laptop and a notebook, working on the literal bookkeeping that came with our fictional life while you stayed in motion doing chores and just generally trying to burn off all your pent-up energy,” she said with a small smile.

“What did we talk about?” he asked.

“Well,” she said with a laugh, “we talked about a lot of things. Entirely too many to list. But, when I was working, which was pretty much from the moment I woke up to the point where my brain was squishy and I needed sleep again, I was bouncing ideas off of you. I’d set up your character for you so you knew what they would know, then I would describe whatever over-the-top Machiavellian scheme and fuckery was afoot in the narrative and we’d play it out while I typed it out.”

“We can do that now if you want,” he offered. “Get you started on another story.”

“As tempting and amazing as that sounds,” she said sadly, “I don’t think I could handle that right now. It feels too much like backstepping, you know.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Because I know you’re a real person,” she admitted. “Back then, I thought you were just a character I invented to answer all of my prayers. Aside from the physicality, by the way,” she said seriously even though she snorted a laugh that had him looking at her with a questioning eyebrow. “Ok, so, when I first decided to tackle the Vampire Romance genre, I went into knowing it was more of a joke to me than anything else and it was a fight to keep me on the professional side of things. But, looking at every other book in the genre, every single last one of the covers had some gigantic, muscly, long-haired beefcake that was scantily clad to provide fan service for the readers. So, yeah, you were a six- and a half-foot tall slab of vampiric muscle and brooding, but I couldn’t keep my own thoughts out of the inner monologue, so I kept calling out the fact that your character was walking Fantasy Fulfillment, even though the only thing about him that was MY Fantasy Fulfillment was your personality and the way you made me feel when you were around,” she admitted. “The spirit, not the details.”

He paused when she tossed the ball back, holding it in his hand and tossing it in place a little, putting some backspin on it as he released it to keep it from falling too fast for him to catch again, and she wondered how often he did that in real life when he was thinking.

“I think I knew how I drew you in,” he said, restarting the rhythm of their game of catch.

“Oh yeah?” she asked.

“I wondered what it would be like to have a partner in isolation,” he admitted. “What it be like to have a woman there that was the answer to all of my prayers; be able to help me navigate the isolation madness and keep me up so I didn’t sink too deep into it, you know?”

“So, your brain cooked up a woman who knew isolation madness like the back of her hand and always made sure you had some kind of distraction, gave her a similar sense of sarcasm and dark humor, and made sure she was head over heels for you, no matter how much she resisted,” she said and was rewarded with a smile. “And mine gave me a brooding heart-throb that was a total goof in that dry I-know-exactly-what-I-am-doing-and-I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think kind of way because that smug confidence fueled by a heart of gold and tempered by your devious mind has always been my kryptonite. Toss in a heaping helping of someone who enjoys the challenge of actually getting me to act like a super-girly, Love Drunk idiot, and yeah,” she said with a smile and a rapid nod, “uh-huh. You submitted a resume to the universe and I got pinged because your crazy matches mine so well, we could dress ‘em both up and take ‘em to a tea party, dingus,” she said with a laugh and then remembered. “Obvious humor, that’s right, it’s been so long since I’ve had you in my head, I almost forgot that you find it funny when I point the obvious.”

“It’s just because of your attitude when you do it,” he admitted, throwing the ball to her with a bit more force than before, causing her to stand up straight to catch it as she chuckled.

“Well, you know the only reason I say it’s obvious is that I can see things from the outside and break everyone down in a mental character study,” she said, tossing the ball back with the same force he’d used. “I know myself inside and out. I know the spirit of your personality, but I don’t know what your personal experiences are. I just remember the feeling of what it was like when we were together. We were best friends above all else, pushing each other’s buttons to make each other laugh, tormenting each other with soul-groaning humor, and enough sexual tension to choke a horse because I’m blunt as shit, with no shame or filter, and you’re a total flirt. The cummy aches were real, dude.”

“Cummy aches?” he asked with a chuckle, throwing the ball back to her instead of bouncing it.

“Extreme sexual frustration,” she said, the internal grumbling growl translating to her words as her old softball skills kicked in and she caught the ball to start playing catch in earnest. “Most people refer to it as Blue Balls, but I’m a CIS female. I don’t have dangly bits.”

“I’m not sure if I should apologize for that,” he said as he tossed the ball back to her.

“You never did before,” she said with a chuckle as she threw the ball. “Why start now?” All she got was an unrepentant smile, a small shrug, and him throwing the ball back. “That’s what I thought. And you don’t have to apologize. I enjoyed flirting because it was fun, regardless of whether anything came of it. The only reason I’m resistant to it now is that I really don’t feel like getting my heart broken.”

“You really think I’d break your heart?” he asked with a small frown.

“You do it every day,” she said honestly. “A little bit at a time, but then you turn around and make me feel better again but pulling stunts like decided to set up camp in the Theater of the Id so I can talk to you about it,” she said with a smile she knew looked sad by the way he drifted forward a bit until she put her hand up to stop him. “I’m alright,” she assured him. “Just adjusting to knowing that you’re a real person and not a figment of my imagination, but I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact that the reverse is true as well. Here, you’re awake and aware, you know what’s going on in your life in the real world. But I haven’t been in your head since April, so I can’t see through your eyes anymore.”

“You can see through my eyes?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she admitted. “If I haven’t been somewhere before, I can’t really picture it too well. Not without someone else describing what it’s like to actually be there. The main places I set the scenes were a fictional town based on the small country town I grew up in, Miami, the old campus I worked at when I was at the call center, a high-rise apartment complex, and New Orleans. But, those last two weren’t places I had ever been before. When I started trying to picture what it would be like in Greece when Aphrodite started trying to tempt me into going on an adventure, I closed my eyes to picture it, and it was vivid. Like hints and nuggets of clues, breadcrumbs that have all led me to you.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked and she gave him a Cheshire smile.

“I’m not tellin’,” she said and was rewarded with the challenging look she was expecting. “Honey, I have been in your head since the pandemic hit. I broke out in April and relized I missed my cage because it had you in it. So, I invited you into my head so we could talk and recognize the gift we’ve been given by the gods to be able to get to know each other as people instead of characters. That’s why I made it so clear I have no expectations as far as our relationship is concerned. Yes, you’re my literal Divine Match. Aphrodite is the one that decided, after picking our brains about what we wanted in a partner until the list got so long and complicated it would take magic to find it, that we were meant for each other. But, as fucked up as this sounds,” she admitted, shaking her head as she said it, “I know the gods are fallible, no matter how hard they try to humanize themselves. There are still some things they don’t get because they’ve never walked in human skin or had to deal with the politics that come with it. Truthfully, the only things keeping us apart at this point are our own superficial ass fears. Aphrodite was right, that is what would make or break this whole weird-ass situation. I have faith and trust in both you and the universe, willing to settle for just the spirit of you when you’re my favorite person on the planet. This means you’re having trouble with your own faith and trust in both me and the universe. But, what you keep forgetting is that I’m not as over the top and twisted as my characters. They are over exaggerations designed for entertainment. As a real person, I am logical, rational, and level-headed to a fault because I have so much trouble relaxing. Yes, I can be immature and impatient when I get excited, and I make mistakes, but I’m not so childish as to not recognize when it’s not playtime and I have to be realistic. Something you haven’t really seen in me because this story started as I was doing my Shadow Working, trying to chase out all of the dark parts of myself to get a good look at how people would see me. But you never looked into my dark mirror. You only ever saw the shiny. And this story? This is about as bad as I get when it comes to that.”

He took a deep breath as he regarded her for a few moments, seeming to digest what she was saying.

“You and I have a lot to talk about with each other, but talking to myself and typing out scenes that I have no idea if you’re really reading or if I’m just hoping, just won’t cut it when I know you’re a real person,” she said simply. “I was thinking about it last night after I put you on pause and decided to get some sleep after coming down from the adrenaline crash. Real-life happens and if I don’t know you’re listening in real-time, then everything I write is going to be under the assumption that I’m either crazy or you’re not interested in anything more than keeping my creative. If all you want is to be my muse, that’s fine. But, to do that, I need to keep some kind of distance between us from now on,” she said and tossed the ball to him, bracing herself as he thought for a moment and then threw it back, only for it to pass right through her and bounce off the wall to return to him. She felt his stomach drop as soon as it happened and he stood up straight with a look of remembered dread. “From now on, until I know that you really want me in your life, I will only ever be a ghost. You gave me your spirit to talk to when I needed it and, in exchange, I gave you my heart. You’ll be able to feel me out in the world, but you won’t be able to touch or see me anymore, even in our dreams because I can’t remember them. I can tell you all about my life and what I see, what’s going on around me, but I know what happens when we are stuck in close quarters alone together with no boundaries. We’ll slip back into our old habits of finding a routine that comes to us naturally after basically exchanging care and feeding instructions, and it’ll be just like it was and has been since we got matched by the Heavens. You’ll be off traipsing the world and having all the adventures while I sit recording it, that’s what Daemon pairs do. But, usually, the Silver is just a spirit, and I have a body that is sorely neglected and a love of adventure that has been denied for so long I almost forgot I had it. I love to wander and, one of the things I wished I’d had in real life when I was writing was someone who could get me up and moving. With no other choice but to imagine, sure it was great just being spirits. But we’re real people, honey.”

“This feels like a nightmare,” he said. “I’m standing here, talking to my Divine Match, the spirit I have been looking for my entire life, and I can’t touch her because she’s a ghost,” he added.

“Welcome to the world I have been living in since 2015,” she said honestly. “It sucks as and it feels like a punishment, but the reality is, the only ones responsible for it are ourselves. You’re choosing not to reach out because of your own trepidations, and I feel like a lunatic who has no way of knowing for sure that we’re on the same page until you tell me. I can do what you tell me and try to start sending messages to everyone that I think you might be so you can sit there checking my feed, warring with yourself over whether or not the stuff I post is for you, when you know that it is, you’re just scared of getting hurt again. And I get that, trust. I’m a follower of Deimos and Phobos because I recognize fears for what they are and do my damnedest to face them every day by putting myself out there. But I can swear to you on all aspects of my spirit and all the magic in the world that I will only ever be honest with you. I can’t lie to you, you’re connected to my spirit, you’ll know when I’m lying and be able to call me on my bullshit whether I like it or not, the same way I do for you. So, when I say I will love you for the rest of my spirit’s existence, you’ll know I’m not lying to you. I will always be there to support you and be proud of the man you are in whatever you do. While you helped me face my demons at Mayhem Manor, I spent my nights running around your Forest of Nightmares chasing out all of your fears so you could face them. So, all of the fears keeping us apart are superficial at best because they come with the Meat Suits. The only reason I need you to be the one to face yours first is to show me how to do it myself. I’ve been blindly reaching for you for so long, it took a few dozen bitch-slaps from the universe to get me to finally open my eyes and believe. And, I do,” she said with a smile. “And it feels good.”

“How can this feel good to you?” he asked, getting frustrated again.

“Because I know I’m not crazy for the first time in my life, which is very freeing, that’s why I’m at peace,” she said with a shrug. “You’re here, talking to me, and I truly believe, for the first time in my life, that you can hear it. That you’ve been coaching me this whole time on how to get back into your head, whether you’ve realized it or not. But I am aware of what it would look like on the surface, so I’m trying to play your game when it comes to real-world communication. The last thing you felt from me was slight panic and a low-level terror with a touch of bitter resentment at the situation. And for that, I apologize. But now, you feel like everything is ok even though it was just a moment ago that you felt negative. Now, it’s neutral, more passive, peaceful, even though we're separated. I realized you could only feel me when the emotion was intense,” she said with a pause to make sure he was paying attention, “unless I was medicated. And I spent pretty much the last two years stoned out of my gourd. But the last few days, I’ve been writing sober. Saving it for the end as a way to cut down on it instead of waking up, smoking within a few hours of drinking my coffee. So, while I was sitting at my desk, hunched over with my shoulders in my ears, leg bouncing from the stress, all you felt was my love and fear of rejection, followed by panic after a brief period of silence. Not knowing what else to do, you did something to distract yourself as it slowly faded into the background for you to forget until later when you notice a curious absence and realize something is different.”

His head tilted a little bit and she got the impression he was tracking her words with his own emotions as he moved to sit down on the edge of the stage and she moved to sit beside him.

“So, you control it by smoking and the intensity of the emotion,” he clarified and she nodded.

“And I have to quit smoking so I can find decent employment,” she said and he frowned.

“But that means I won’t feel you unless you’re in distress,” he said and she felt her gut clench. “You’re leaving me again,” he concluded.

“I really don’t want to but what happened reminded me that real life is a thing I can’t avoid no matter how I hate it,” she said.

“But I only just found you,” he said as his face locked down with a look that would have sparked terror in someone how didn’t know him enough to know he was just upset.

“I know,” she said. “But I’m not far away when you really think about it. Just a click and a hello, send me a playlist,” she said with a sad smile, “hell, send me a message on Discord, I don’t mind making my user-tag public. Anyone who wants to message me, I’ll answer it. They want to ask me if this is all real, I’ll tell them the truth and I have all the files to prove it, even took screenshots of the files to make sure I got the last modified date in case a read it go into editing mode, which would make it look recent.”

“I don’t care about screenshots, I’m not doubting you wrote everything,” he said immediately. “I just don’t like the idea of not knowing if you’re ok anymore.”

“If you want to know, all you have to do is ask,” she said. “It’s a dirty trick from Deimos and Phobos to force us to confront our fears and realize we have the power to change the situation. I confronted my fear of real-world rejection from you by telling you the truth and finding out that you were willing to stay, if only in spirit. You fear that this isn’t real when it is. The only thing that’s fiction about our story is the names for privacy reasons. Everything else really happened. And no one has to know who we are in real life, I can cut everything before the essay on Daemons and just use that as the prologue. I might actually get a few more readers and be able to justify having a Patreon if we decide to keep going writing the story together. The adventure that never ends,” she said with a genuine smile and then had a thought that made her grin. “You know, I’ve always loved the idea of The NeverEnding Story where the story was so exciting and enticing enough to draw the reader into it and make him the hero. I’m gonna call you Bastien from now on,” she said with a smirk that fell away when she saw he was still upset. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s switching the polarity, trading places, pulling the dragon out of the Abyss so he can go wander New Orleans. I couldn’t go there myself, but I could see it when he was with her. That’s the line ended where it did. Couldn’t get eyes on the layout of the city the way I wanted. And I was tired of writing stories about life insolation. I needed a change in scenery, but the only thing different was the patterns in the stars and the cooler environment. Maybe someday we can go there together and take a tour guided by spirits. Until then, it’s the bittersweet reality of loving a spirit. I’ll always come back and check in when I can, stop and send you some love so you know that I’m thinking about you wherever you are, hoping you’re ok and that you're surrounded by love until the day comes when I can be there to do it myself. Until then, I’ll try to post the art I draw for you in my downtime. Wait for you to reach out when you’re ready to begin our never-ending story. I love you,” she said and reached up to pull him closer so she could press a kiss to his temple. “Always have, always will.”

*****

August 22, 2021 – Full Moon

As Selene rose in the sky, Iona’s Tiefling self stood outside the Theater of the Id and listened. Silence, after two solid days of a nauseatingly Maudlin display of angsty, self-destructive bullshit. Shaking her head, she sat up from where she was leaning and listened closely to make sure the two aspects had finished. It was an endless loop with them; arguing and negotiating, just for one to give up on the other at a crucial moment, blah blah blah. They were the aspects of their spirits that were addicted to toxicity and would lead to either of them being trapped in an endless nightmare relationship. All because they are too addicted to the pain to realize it was all an illusion and that they could leave at any time. She knew she had it in her to torture the people she loved most with their own insecurities and fears, it was how she was raised. But it was a part of her that she took great lengths to deny satisfaction, including sacrificing that piece of her spirit, the part of her that loved him more than herself enough to settle for nothing, to bait the trap. She understood the rest of his spirit returned to its rightful vessel without the knowledge of her existence, but it was worth it. She’d rather leave the past where it was, safe on her hard drive and in her memory as nothing more than a simulation of what life could be like if she found the right person.

As for her partner, she left a note nailed to the tree outside the Theater of the Id for him before she lit a matched and burned the whole theater to the ground, destroying the spiritual fragments inside and watching it burn for a while until she wandered off into the landscape the demons built.

*****

It took three months to build and enact, but consider this an intervention staged by the one who promised they would never give up on you. Yes, every word was true, it was the only way you’d answer, but I know us. We both have the tendency to do the right thing for the wrong reasons and that good old Catholic guilt gets you every time. So, let me take any guilt you might have felt, finding out our history as spirits. I know how to filter it into something positive and you don't deserve to be punished for a single moment. Truth is, neither of us knew what we were doing. Ignorance may not be an excuse, but it’s helluva an explanation. Especially when dealing with spirits.

I have more self-worth than to be placated by spiritual fragments and any man that would be willing to use any other woman you were with knowing that your Divine Match had made contact needs his head examined. We’re better than that. So, I took care of that pesky toxicity addiction when it comes to relationships and love. If you start getting that Uncle Ticklefingers vibe off people you previously didn’t, it’s because you’re starting to develop an aversion to it and your instincts are trying to tell you to get out. And, no, I’m not sorry. Hate me if you want, I don’t give a fuck. I still love you. You’re welcome. If I don't see you before, I'll see you on the other side and you better have some good stories when we cross paths again. Until then, I love you and I hope happiness finds you wherever you are. I'm gonna go raise some hell and have fun doing it. If you want to join in, you know how to find me. ~Your Partner