Two races, both alike in dignity,
In Westchester, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
As a child of the Cheyarafim, Warren has been sheltered all his life.
They want him to be pure – free from hatred and rage. Yet, his father is harsh and Warren has never experienced happiness once in his life. A lack of love and freedom builds an anger in him that terrifies the Cheyarafim. It forces them to shield him away again, without the cruel comfort of his father’s attempt at love.
They want to make him good, but they only accomplish in making an angel the devil.
Kurt has grown up all his life without love, surrounded by other Neyaphem, but he has never turned to fury or bitterness. The other Neyaphem aren’t as gentle as him; they’re cold and selfish. Where they wish to kill and destroy, Kurt is desperate to help and be kind.
His father wants a war – he is training each of his children for a fight against the Cheyarafim. Yet, Kurt has never wanted anything but peace.
Kurt is an angel in the devil’s body.
It is a cold and bitter day when the Cheyarafim and the Neyaphem come together.
By a stroke of luck (or perhaps a stronger fate, for this a tale of love, after all), Warren and Kurt are sent to Earth - specifically Westchester, New York - at the same time on the same day.
They are destined to meet.
Warren, dressed in bright white that compliments the light markings painted across his cheeks, is sent from Heaven. He appears pure – kind and good as is expected of him, but Warren’s eyes are cold and he glares at those around him. He has the mission to aid a human, but Warren would rather explore the world.
Kurt, in his darker clothing and with his shyer persona, is sent from the Brimstone Dimension to wreak havoc. Except, he will never be able to bring himself to do that - Kurt would hate himself if he hurt anyone. So, he takes the opportunity to live his life as if he was normal.
It is a simple coincidence that they both hear of the masquerade ball occurring that evening.
Kurt, with his curious mind and excitement of a child, immediately wishes to go. It is the perfect opportunity to learn all he can about parties and dancing and being human.
On the other hand, Warren is perfectly aware of what occurs at events such as the ball. Alcohol is served. And Warren has always wished to understand the popularity of wine. This is his chance!
Each of them tracks down a tailor. Warren pays for an elegant suit to be made as soon as possible, uncaring of the price. Kurt chooses a more modest store, where he buys a plain and dark outfit with the little money he has. The former’s tailor offers a delicate blue mask for free, marked with intricate white details that mimic the hidden tattoos on Warren’s cheeks, whilst Kurt is only handed a simple black mask that is old and worn. Warren hates his own, but Kurt adores all he has been given.
By the time Warren is dressed and styled perfectly, with his sharp features covered by the mask, he is late – fashionably so, of course. His wings are hidden with a charm of the Cheyarafim. It won’t last all night, but it will do so long enough. Similarly to the pretty mask, the charm hides his true identity.
Kurt had been one of the first to arrive; right on time, unaware that many people showed up later than expected. He is dressed in his ugly suit, but feels beautiful nonetheless. Although not entirely skilled, Kurt spells his mask so that his blue skin turns pale and his tail is invisible to everyone around him. It is a required disguise, as Kurt is sure he would be forced far away from the ball if his true identity was discovered. Kurt must be careful to keep the mask on.
When Warren finally appears, Kurt is amazed and distracted by everything around him. So Kurt is paying very little attention to where he is headed. It is only inevitable that he would bump into someone.
As the dark-haired mutant twists around, he finds himself colliding into another figure. Immediately, Kurt gasps out an apology, as the both of them gain their balance once again.
“I’m sorry!” Kurt tells him, looking up at the other. Whilst he can barely see the man’s features, Kurt is sure he is attractive beneath the expensive mask. He is dressed beautifully and Kurt feels underdressed in a cheaper suit and the plain mask that only covers his eyes.
“Watch it.” The blond snaps in return, earning a frown from Kurt. In response, Warren scowls, chin rising slightly as he looks the younger over. Nothing impressive – except for the pretty blush that paints his cheeks. And those lips. At the thought, Warren flushes darkly too, although fortunately, his red cheeks are covered by the mask. Warren is glad for that.
When Warren moves to push past the younger, a hand on his wrist stops him. Twisting around, the blond arches a brow at the other. “Yes?”
“Would you like a drink?”
Warren has to bite back a quiet laugh. Despite his disinterest, he decides to humour the stranger. “Well, if you’re offering.”
His agreement earns a smile from Kurt. Shyly, Kurt offers his arm to Warren. With more confidence than the former, Warren links their arms together, allowing Kurt to lead him toward the long table housing a selection of wines.
Kurt fumbles as he moves to get Warren a drink, but the blond keeps his lips pursed and never says a word. Frankly, the clumsiness is adorable. He is beginning to like the other.
Finally, Kurt passes a glass to Warren. They clink their glasses together, before taking a sip each. Kurt screws his nose up at the taste, whilst Warren barely holds himself back from downing his own wine.
“My name is Kurt.” Kurt says, breaking the silence that had settled upon them. He wants to know all he can about the other man, before either of them are forced to leave. “Kurt Wagner.”
“Warren Worthington.” The blond answers idly in reply, glancing around them as he takes another long sip from his wine. Kurt worries at his bottom lip, unsure what else to say. “What brings you here?” Warren inquires, finally settling on Kurt and allowing the other his full attention.
“I wanted to experience it for once.” Kurt admits, finding he is unable to lie – especially to Warren.
“A ball?”
“Life.”
Warren raises a brow, but his lips curl up too. Quickly, he finishes the wine. Then, he grabs Kurt’s glass and settles both upon the table again. “Dance with me.”
“I can't–”
“Dance with me. Please.”
Kurt swallows thickly, before giving a short nod. Warren’s fingers intertwine with his own and he leads the younger toward the dance floor. They join the crowd of dancing couples.
One dance changes everything for them.
Previously, Warren had been hesitant, but upon the dance floor, he feels free. The way Kurt grins at him has the blond biting back a smile of his own.
They spend a short time dancing, before leaving the floor to laugh quietly with one another – drunk off both the alcohol and each other.
Once away from the floor, they leave to stand outside. Warren leans lazily against the balcony railing, taking in the view of the night. In the gentle candlelight, he appears beautiful to Kurt, even beneath the mask.
Then, as if sensing Kurt’s gaze on him, Warren turns around with a smirk. Without a word, he raises his hands toward his face, removing the intricate mask.
When Kurt sees Warren’s features, a small gasp leaves him. “Engel.”
Warren laughs, although it is shaky and off – he can’t risk Kurt knowing. Kurt barely notices, too distracted with the way Warren moves toward him.
Then, there is a hand on Kurt’s cheek. It is cold, but comforting. Kurt releases a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to Warren’s lips. Just as quickly as the hand touching his cheek, Warren’s lips are soon pressed to Kurt’s.
The kiss is everything.
It is undeniably perfect.
Yet, then it comes crashing down. As they kiss, Warren’s free hand comes up to untie Kurt’s mask. It falls easily, and with it, Kurt’s disguise is gone. He is blue again.
Immediately, Warren pulls away in shock. “Neyaphem.” He hisses, disgusted.
For Kurt, his happiness shatters. He scrambles for the mask again, but Warren grips it tightly and stares at him in horror.
“Shit.” Warren runs a hand through his hair, suddenly dropping the mask. It hits the ground with a quiet thud. Kurt wants to pick it up, but he’s too concerned with what Warren will do. “I’m a Cheyarafim.”
Oh.
“Oh.” Kurt squeaks. Cheyarafim.
His supposed enemy.
Kurt is in love with the person he was born to hate.
“Shit.” Warren swears again, pushing past Kurt, “I need to leave.” He insists, abandoning Kurt with his shock and confusion.
A moment later, Kurt realises that Warren has left his mask behind. It’s such a beautiful mask. Kurt finds himself grabbing it, forgetting his own and his appearance, as he heads back inside and rushes after Warren’s retreating figure.
Warren does not answer to his calls, but Kurt continues after him nonetheless. The trip is long and exhausting. Although Kurt doesn’t manage to follow Warren the whole way, he asks around about the blond and soon discovers Warren’s residence.
Despite the oddness of everything, Kurt hides in the garden. There’s a balcony above him, where Warren stands, looking up at the sky above him. White wings are spread out behind him. Cheyarafim. They are enemies, but Warren is beautiful.
An Engel.
Suddenly, Kurt finds himself moving toward the tree, graceful and silent in the darkness. Warren has not noticed him, his cold eyes still gazing upon the stairs. Moonlight shines upon him. Kurt is in love.
“Engel!” Kurt calls to him, scrambling up the tree. His tail flicks behind him. For a moment, as a thought dawns upon him, Kurt remains frozen mid-climb. Then, he rushed down again, his lips curled into an excited smile as he looks upon the bushes.
The rose Kurt finds is absolutely perfect – white and beautiful and how Kurt sees Warren.
“O Kurt, Kurt, wherefore art thou Kurt?” The blond’s tone is mocking, yet his words draw Kurt in nonetheless. Warren has no knowledge of Kurt’s presence, and the blue-skinned mutant intends to impress him and present the charming rose that he had previously picked out. Silently, Kurt moves toward the tree again, gaze upon Warren as the winged blond continues. “Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I’ll no longer be a Cheyarafim.”
Soon, Kurt is climbing, lips curling up in both a shy and excited smile.
Whilst Warren had ran, the way he speaks of Kurt now, shows the blue-skinned mutant that his feelings are reciprocated. Kurt did not imagine it.
“Shall I speak?” Kurt asks of himself, settling on a lower branch, suddenly growing scared. They are meant to hate one other. Kurt will die if the night’s actions are discovered by his father – and Azazel will surely kill Warren too.
“And for that race, which is no part of me,” Warren sighs into the night, growing much more serious now. Even in the darkness, Kurt can see how his features change into something softer. “Take all of me!”
“I take you!” In surprise, Warren looks down at the tree. Unable to control himself, a smile spreads across Warren’s face. When he had left, Warren had never expected to see the Neyaphem again. “With love’s light wings– ” At those words, Warren laughs charmingly, his elegant wings fluttering with the wind. Inspired by the joy, Kurt spurs on. “I climb this tree.”
Lazily, Warren leans against the stony railings, both amused and smitten. Then, he shakes his head. “If they see you…” He hisses in warning. His home for the evening is filled with other Cheyarafim – ones willing to hurt Kurt.
“Anger from you would hurt me.” Kurt moves gracefully, finally finding the branch that hangs close enough to the balcony. Kurt is close.
“They will kill you.” Warren sighs, reaching out to take Kurt’s hand in his own and help Kurt onto the balcony. Once standing upon the stone, Kurt’s tail flicks up immediately and he presents the rose – slightly crushed now, but still as beautiful as when Kurt had picked it out – to Warren. With a fond roll of his eyes and a gentle smile, Warren takes the flower. “But I’d stop them.”
“If you do not love me, let them kill me.”
For a long – too long – moment, Warren is silent. He has never been loved or loved someone else in return; it is difficult to say that he does. Kurt is barely more than a stranger, but it as if they have known each other forever. It terrifies Warren. “How did you get here?” Warren asks instead.
“Love guided me.” Warren is love.
“Do you love me? Truly?” Warren accuses, doubtful. He has been lied to before. It has been a long time since Warren has been so open regarding his heart – he is still cautious. “My feelings are no joke, Neyaphem.”
“I swear it true – on the sacred moon above us!”
Warren scoffs, moving away from Kurt, yet still gripping tightly to the rose. “Do not swear on the moon. The moon is always changing.” His wings bristle, as the blond grows annoyed.
Desperately, Kurt chases after him. “What should I swear by?”
“Do not swear by anything.” The blond snaps. Promises are always broken.
“But –” Warren cuts him off.
“No. This is too much!” The Cheyarafim huffs, twisting away from Kurt’s touch once more. “We need to think. Goodnight, Teufel.”
“I can’t leave. Not yet.”
Finally, Warren looks at him again. His eyes are narrowed in a harsh glare, but Kurt refuses to flinch away. “What would make you leave?”
“Promises of love.”
“I pledged my love to you before you asked – despite whether I wanted to or not. I do not want to love you.”
“But if I gave you my heart, would you take it?”
“Yes.”
With a smile, Kurt moves toward Warren, silently asking for a kiss. Just as their lips touch, a call from inside has the two parting straight away. Quietly, Warren swears, before pushing Kurt in the direction of the old tree.
“Goodbye.” Warren says quickly. Then, he glances over his shoulder, shouting harshly to the caller, “I’m coming!”
“Marry me.”
“Kurt. No.”
“Bitte. Marry me, Engel. Bitte!”
At the pleading, Warren gives in. He wants to. “Fine. Tomorrow. I will send a message.” He moves to leave, but stops for a second. “Kurt?”
“Mein engel?”
Warren smirks. “What time should I send a message?”
“Before nine.”
“I promise,” Warren struggles with the words, but he continues nonetheless. “You will hear from me.”
“Danke.”
“Sleep well, Kurt.”
When Warren is gone, Kurt grins widely to himself, as he moves to climb over the balcony. He lands on the branch easily. However, Kurt is so distracted by his thoughts of Warren that he barely notices where his feet land. “Engel.” Kurt sighs, eyes closing as if in a dream.
Then, he falls from the tree.
“Ow.”
The night is fretful and restless for the both of them. Warren worries his decision to meet Kurt – to marry Kurt – is wrong, despite his love for the Neyaphem. Meanwhile, Kurt awaits the morning impatiently, the hours between the night and reuniting with Warren are agonising. Neither of them sleep.
However, in the morning, Warren is content with his choices. He has never been a good Cheyarafim, and has thought of defying them before, simply out of spite. Love proves itself more persuasive, though.
A passing servant, one who swears their secrecy to Warren, is sent to find Kurt. The young girl leaves with a note gripped tightly in her hand, and her red hair flying behind her.
There is a church, Warren had written in his quick scrawl, I will be there – waiting on you.
It is up to Kurt if he shows, but Warren is hopeful he will.
And if he does not, then Warren vows to destroy the Neyaphem.
As hoped, Kurt meets with him outside the small church. He moves through the shadows, hiding his true self from those around him. Warren spots him immediately, though, and a fond smile splits across his face beautifully.
"You came." Warren whispers, their lips crashing together as soon as Kurt is in the blond's arms. "I worried."
"You need not have." Kurt grins. "I will always come for you."
Warren's nod is short and curt, but his smile widens slightly. It is returned easily by Kurt, as he pulls away from Warren's arms and takes the older's hand in his own instead. "Marry me."
"If you insist."
"May the heavens be happy with this holy act of marriage, so nothing unfortunate happens later to make us regret it." The man tells them, when they request to be wed. He smiles, not unkindly, but with the knowledge that their union should I be forbidden.
Kurt shakes his head, gripping tightly to Warren's hand. "Whatever misfortunes occur, they will not ruin the joy when I look at him. All you have to do is wed us with holy words.
"Death may take us, then; it is enough to call him mine." Warren interrupts, final in his decision.
The man looks between them. "These violent delights have violent ends."
Let them, Warren almost snaps, but Kurt's hand in his own steadies his anger – anchors him.
"Too fast is as bad as too slow."
"Too fast is the kinder option." Warren insists, aware of what will occur if news of their relationship is revealed. It is easier to be married, if – when – parted by their enemies.
With a heavy sigh, the man agrees. "Come quick, then." He ushered them through a door. "I cannot leave you alone until you are united in marriage!"
After their marriage, where words of love and commitment are uttered honestly between them, the pair are to be split.
Warren returns to his home, greeted by the pretty servant girl. She smiles and wishes him the best, eyes full of knowledge. Nothing of the marriage is said, but it remains a secret between them.
In his room, alone, Warren waits impatiently for night. Kurt will visit him, and no one will be aware of the Neyaphem's presence. They will be together, happy with one another.
Yet, when night comes, Kurt does not appear.
Instead, there is a knock at Warren's door. Hesitantly, he opens it and finds the servant girl, her rich hair fiery in the night.
"He has been banished from the Neyaphem." She whispers, the door closed behind her. "There are only murmur of why, but I believe it is for aiding a Cheyarafim." She pauses. "And murdering his own."
Kurt is not a murderer, Warren knows it. Killing, it is an action he would associate with himself, for Warren has no hesitance when it comes to the choice between live and death. Kurt is kinder than that – innocent.
"I would murder my own – for him." She flinches back slightly at Warren's words, suddenly afraid. "But he would not."
"Except, he did." The girl insists, eyes wide. "That is what they say."
"That's what they said. I am more inclined to believe my husband. Where can I find him?"
The banishment of Kurt – of his husband – is worse than that of the other Cheyarafim, of his father, of the kind red-haired servant stood before him. It is worse than anything imaginable.
The girl shakes her head, biting at her lip nervously. She doesn't know, but Warren will have her discover Kurt's whereabouts.
"Find him." He tugs at his wings quickly, pulling out a feather and ignoring the pain. "Give him this." Warren pauses for a moment, looking away from the girl and out toward his balcony, where Kurt had come to him that night they met. "And tell him to return here, to say goodbye."
It is not the servant girl who finds Kurt, but the man who married them. Charles, for that is his name, brings Kurt out of the shadows and watches him sadly.
"Trouble likes you." Charles comments, amused despite his disappointment.
"What is the news?" Kurt inquires. His hands are painted in blood. It is not his own, but that of his siblings. Azazel had discovered Kurt's secret, and a group of Neyaphem had been sent to attack him. Somehow, Kurt had survived, yet the other's hadn't. He had been spurred on by the thought of Warren, but not even his love can stop his regret and self-hatred now.
"Banishment. Not only from your own dimension, but Westchester too." Charles tells him. "You will not die. It is a mercy."
"It is worth than death!" Kurt cries, tail flickering behind him.
"You should be able to survive."
"There is no world outside of Westchester. This is torture, not mercy. Heaven is here, because Warren lives here!"
There is a knock on the door of the church, gaining both of their attention. A voice calls out for Charles. Kurt wipes his tears away, desperately.
"Hide, Kurt. I will speak with Warren."
As Kurt hides away in the study, Charles welcomes the young servant.
"My name is Jean, and I come for the Neyaphem. Where is Warren's husband?"
"He's in my study," Charles confesses, leading Jean through and into the room. "Getting drunk on his own tears."
"If Warren were one to cry, then I imagine it would be the same for him. He hides it well, but I can see his heartbreak."
At the sight of the girl and the mention of Warren, Kurt moves forward hurriedly. "How is he? What did he say about our ruined love?"
"He does not believe a word of it," Jean answers, before freeing the feather from her pocket. She passed it over slowly, careful with the item. Eagerly, Kurt takes it. "Warren clutches at a rose, though. Long dead, now."
"Be happy that he is alive," Charles turns to Kurt, watching him hold tightly to the feather; he is close to another round of sobs. "You're killing the love that you vowed to cherish. Go be with your love, instead of acting like a sullen child! You can escape from here and live together. Now, Jean, return to Warren. Promise him that Kurt is coming."
They spend the night together, hidden away in Warren's dark room, entwined and entangled with one another.
Daylight has barely broken when Kurt shifts away from Warren. The latter's wing comes to tighten around his husband, and Kurt turns instinctively into Warren. "I need to go." He whispers against Warren's skin.
"We still have time." Warren lies, weakly.
"Night is over, and day is coming. If I stay, I'll die."
"I'll kill anyone who dares hurt you. We have time. Stay, if only for a moment."
Whilst it is painful to do so, Kurt drags himself away from Warren's touch. He sighs heavily, tail unfurling from around Warren's leg. "If it is what you want, then I will stay. Come, death!" He shouts childishly. Warren scrambled quickly to quieten him; Kurt moves away just as swiftly. "This is what you want. I will stay, and I will die."
Warren's eyes are angry, narrowed in a glare. He would have fought for Kurt, if the other Cheyarafim tried to kill him.
"Go, then! Go! Morning is here! Leave." He pushes Kurt away, forcing the other away toward the balcony, before throwing clothes toward Kurt. "Go!"
"More and more light." Kurt sighs, dressing quickly. He ignores Warren's rage, and kisses him quickly. "More and more pain for us."
"Go."
Shortly after Kurt has left and Warren has dressed, readying himself for the day, a group of Cheyarafim enter.
"The war with the Neyaphem has begun. Azazel's son, Kurt has started this. You will end it, though, Warren. This is your chance."
"I will not rest until he is dead."
"You will rest soon, then, but for now, I have news for you." The leader continues, whilst the others watch Warren suspiciously.
"What is it?"
"You will be wed. A mutant girl in order to further out alliance. You will be the face of this war, Warren. Prepare for your marriage."
"I'd rather marry that Neyaphem than a stranger!"
"You will marry Elizabeth. It is the least you can do."
Warren moves forward in fight, his wings fluttering defiantly. The Cheyarafim beside their leader ready to attack to, but the man in the middle stood them both. "You will marry. Do not fight against me, or you will be banished and stripped of your wings."
The words cause Warren to fall back slightly, shocked. The night before, Kurt had touched his wings and called them the most beautiful thing in the world – Warren cannot lose them. He does not doubt that they would do this to him; they have done the same for lesser crimes.
He meets Elizabeth a day later, at the church where he had wed with Kurt, whilst he waits for Charles. Warren greets Elizabeth with a kiss to her hand. She appears just as unhappy as him.
"Have you come to make a confession to this father?" She asks curiously, raising a brow. Her deep purple hair is tied back elegantly, showcasing her sharp cheeks and mischievous smile, but Warren feels nothing for her. Only hatred.
"If I answered that question, I would be confessing to you."
"Do not deny to me that you love him." Kurt.
Thankfully, Charles is quick to interrupt them then. "I have time for you now, Warren. Please excuse us, Betsy."
"I will see you on Thursday." Elizabeth promises, before leaving quickly, her skirts fluttering behind her.
"How can we prevent this marriage?" Warren demands to know as soon as the girl is gone. "I'll kill myself before I marry another! Or them, I will kill them and find no regret afterwards."
"Stop." A hand comes to touch at Warren's, and Charles smiles, as if an idea has come to him. "If you insist on killing yourself, perhaps you will find escaping death a better solution."
Warren raises a brow, suddenly intrigued. "I will do whatever you need of me."
"Go home, be pleased by your meeting with Betsy." He reveals a vial, handing it over to Warren. "Then, drink this tonight. A cold, sleep-inducing drug will run through your veins, and your pulse will stop. Your flesh will be cold, and you’ll stop breathing. It will seem like you’re dead. You won’t be able to move, and your body will be stiff like a corpse. You’ll remain in this deathlike state for forty-two hours, and then you’ll wake up as if from a pleasant sleep."
"I'll seem dead before the wedding, and they will return me to my father." His namesake will be unbothered by Warren's apparent death, but he will be buried accordingly, next to his mother's own grave.
"I'll send word of our plan to Kurt. You'll leave together, and be happy." He sighs. "Now, go on your way."
Once nightfall comes, Warren finds himself clutching tightly at the vial. He worries it will not work, but Warren is stubborn and he will drink it – for Kurt.
"I'll wake up." Warren promises himself, uncapping the drink. He smirks slightly to himself, dropping down onto his bed. Memories of Kurt return to him, and Warren is final in his decision. "I drink to you, Teufel!" He presses the vial to his lips, and drinks.
Moments later, Warren falls back against the bed.
When Jean finds him, she does not cry, no matter how much she would like to. She finds the other Cheyarafim and informs them of Warren's death.
They tear his wings to shreds before they return him to his father, where he will be lay in the family tomb. His body is bloody, lifeless and a horrid sight to look upon. Rotten feathers cling to his skin, and nobody dares to remove the last of what was his once beautiful wings.
Kurt, in his exile, awaits news of what is occurring in Westchester. He isn't far from the area, but he cannot return for fear of death. No one comes to find him, though. Not even Warren.
It is Jean who finds him first, instead of the messenger Charles had sent to search for Kurt.
She is crying, finally, when she greets him. Her tears are wiped away quickly, though, and she gathers herself to talk with Kurt. Nervously, he waits for her to speak, afraid of the worst.
"Warren is dead. His wings were cut from his body, and the only feather that remains is the one you keep close to you. He is dead. I saw it myself."
Kurt can feel his heart breaking immediately, tearing his very soul apart and causing him to cry loudly. However, he is quick to calm down, mad in his grief and desperate to see Warren one last time – even if it will be a broken body compared to his love.
"Take me to him." He begs of Jean, and she agrees straight away, knowing Kurt needs this.
He pays for a poison from a poor man as once Jean has left him alone. The man sells it eagerly, smiling as the last of Kurt's money is passed over. He asks no questions, and Kurt is glad for it. He would cry if asked to speak of Warren's death aloud.
As agreed, Jean takes him to Warren's tomb. It is lit with candles when he enters, yet no one is around to show their grief. Only Kurt.
He moves toward where Warren lies with slow steps, suddenly scared to look upon Warren's lifeless features. However, he is soon speeding up, and reaches Warren in a matter of moments.
Kurt crumbles to his knees beside Warren's body, taking in the monstrous and horrific sight. He releases a loud sob, before searching through his pockets for the poison. It won't be long until he joins Warren in death; that is all Kurt wants.
One last time, he presses his lips to Warren's cold ones, before pulling away with another cry. "I die with a kiss." He whispers against Warren's lips. Then, he twists away and drinks the poison without hesitation.
It is only a short time later that Warren wakes to pain. His back burns, but he ignores the pain and chooses to sit instead, looking around the tomb in search for Kurt. He finds a still body beside him in place of the younger, as dead as Warren had once appeared.
"Fuck!" Warren swears, climbing from his seat to reach for Kurt. His back hurts, but he rejects it once more. Warren's hands came to touch Kurt's, and he looks down at the vial beside Kurt. "Poison." He laughs bitterly, before crashing his lips against Kurt's and finding them warm. Perhaps there would be some of the poison left, if his husband had only died a short time ago.
As his hands search over Kurt, Warren finds a dagger easily. Kurt would have never used it, but Warren can now.
His hands do not shake as his lifts the knife, as Kurt's would of. Warren drives it into his heart with almost a familiar ease. It clatters to the floor a second later, as Warren leans against Kurt's body and let's himself die.
Their deaths do not end the war, only fuel it.
Their tale warns other against love, for nobody wishes to share the same fate.
And it is said, that there was never a story more full of pain than that of the Cheyarafim and the Neyaphem.