Blackfeather Woods Blood, gold and tears

There was more surprise there than he had anticipated. He was not sure if it was only surprise that he saw in her features or if there was a sort of pity, too. Was it because he would never father children, or because he would go through life without love returned? Yet when they slept together at night it did not feel like nothing. He could not deny there was a fear within him however to test it, to stretch it, to provoke Damien until he returned the affections. Last time it had driven him away for a time. Now they were older and more mature, but would it really make enough difference?

He looked away briefly, his face void of emotion for the only thoughts within him were philosophical. Even his fear was shrouded in philosophy and thought. Perhaps that was why he told Potema. Because — "He is ashamed, for he feels it is not normal and he will be condemned for it." Cicero did not care what others thought of him, his actions free of such bounds. But Damien was different. "Love is never wrong, is it? Would it be different if others knew? Would it take away Damien's shame to replace it with something better?" These were all questions no one could answer, yet from the manner that the philosopher spoke it was clear that he was toying with this idea — the thought of telling everyone that knew Damien — so that Damien may feel rid of the burden of shame. From there on, things might blossom or they might wither entirely; or they might stay the same. One never quite knew.