#nightblue
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Reveal - Nightmare/Blue Fic
Prompt: Secret Relationship (reveal)
Prompt from: @yearoftheotpevent
Media: Undertale AUs/UTMV
Genres: Romance (but in heavy air quotes), betrayal, dark fic (?), betrayal, human AU, idk what else lol
Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream, Killer, Ink (mentioned), Error (mentioned), Horror (mentioned), Cross (mentioned)
Pairing: Nightmare/Blue
CW/TW - Manipulation, Implications of Abuse, Toxic behavior (?), mentions of violence, mentions of almost dying, being high mention, Nightmare being a piece of work
Other Notes: yes this is my second nightblue piece in like a month im ill for them sorry not sorry
also a bittttt darker than i usually write? but i still think its ok
also this is one of my most recent fics in it with a time/space jump! i hope its not too bothersome :0
Word Count: 4273 Words
The storm raged deep into the night, beating against the walls of the house, the wind screaming and howling as the rain poured down from the gray sky. It was perfect. The rain and thunder hid any sounds of Blue leaving and re-entering the house. Being out in the rain was cold, it soaked into his clothes and sunk into his skin. Drying off wouldn’t be an issue, and neither would sneaking back into the house after his excursion. At least, if things went his way. He wasn’t sure why he thought that this would be easy, it never was. Life enjoyed giving him what he wanted before sucker-punching him in the gut.
Getting back in the way he got back out was out of the question, climbing from the ground to the second story window that led into his room in this rain was unthinkable. Scaling up the wet bricks would surely lead to him crashing onto the back porch, and that would be a whole other issue. Teleporting was also out of the equation. To prevent intruders, they had set up a system to alert the three of them if any magic crossed the threshold of the house. Unfortunately, that included Blue.
There was a single light on in the house, and it belonged to the TV. Blue watched the channels change, someone trying to settle on one. He mentally swore over and over as he pressed himself against the front door, trying to hide from the rain. Why was he up right now?! It was three in the morning, he was never awake this early!
Rise and rest with the sun. That is how he functioned. Blue couldn’t remember a single time when Dream was awake in the middle of the night. And yet, there he was! At three in the morning! Watching TV!
Blue ran his hands up his face, the rainwater soaking into his skin, pushing his curly hair up. He could handle it being Ink. Ink would likely be stoned out of his mind, and if he wasn’t, he didn’t give a shit if Blue came home late, as suspicious as it was. The worst he would receive from Ink would be some teasing, borderline ridicule. But from Dream? Dream, someone who he respected more than anyone else, and someone who he would consider his best friend? Dream would ask. Interrogate. And he would have no choice but to tell the truth. Dream could read him like a book, and would see through his lies in an instance.
As the cold began to set in, he surrendered himself to the only option he had. He had wracked his brain for an alternative, some way to avoid the confrontation he knew he was about to have. There was always the option of waiting him out, but he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to spend more time in the cold rain. Maybe he could pull this off, somehow. Dream was likely very drowsy; Blue could tell by the way he half-heartedly switched through channels that he was forcing himself to stay awake. Why he was doing that, Blue couldn’t say. He hoped that it wasn’t because Dream noticed his disappearance.
With a cold and trembling hand, Blue opened the front door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He had to force it closed, the wind fighting him as he did so. As the door shut with a gentle click!, the TV paused. It was on some documentary that Blue doubted Dream was interested in. He didn’t move far into the house, allowing his clothing and hair to drip onto the mat by the front door. Dream twisted his body, facing Blue with only his face, his hips still facing the TV. It looked incredibly uncomfortable and Blue doubted he would stay in the position for long.
Due to the heavy rainstorms that have been happening in their world, the trio had been keeping towels next to the front door as of late. Using one of them, Blue managed to get most of the water out of his curls and clothes, although he would stay a little damp until he changed.
“Where were you, huh?” Despite the playful tone of Dream’s voice, Blue felt his heart leap into his throat. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he got rid of the water soaked into the scarf onto the towel. He slipped his scarf around his neck, feeling the texture on his face as he gathered his thoughts.
A lie was out of the question, Dream knew his tics.
However, maybe he didn’t have to lie. It wasn’t a lie if he didn’t give Dream all of the information, right?
“Oh, you know.” Blue spoke, flinging Dream’s playful tone back at him. He managed a slight smile, despite the anxiety bubbling in his stomach.
Dream chuckled. He finally decided that twisting his body at the waist was uncomfortable and sat up on the couch, arms resting on the upper couch cushions. He leaned into the palm of his hand, watching as Blue discarded his boots next to the shoe rack.
“I don’t, actually.” He dropped the smirk on his face in favor of something softer. “Indulge me?”
“Mmm…” Blue hummed, wringing out his gloves over the kitchen sink. He had flicked on the one light right above the sink and none else. It wasn’t necessary, as he knew the layout of the kitchen better than the back of his hand, and turning on more lights would awaken Ink, and that would be a whole other problem to deal with!
How much could he hide from Dream? Maybe skewing the truth would work just fine…
“I was with Cross.” Not exactly false.
Dream’s face dropped, which Blue expected. He turned back around on the couch, grumbling to himself. The mere mention of Cross should dissuade Dream from continuing the conversation entirely. Both Cross and Dream disliked each other greatly, but Blue could not figure out why. Their personalities clashed, sure, but Blue didn’t think it was to that high of a degree.
“And?”
“Huh?”
“You were with,” Dream grit his teeth as he stood up, brushing off his black jeans before walking into the kitchen. “Cross, and? What did you do with him?”
Blue was still a little damp by the time Dream got over, but he didn’t mind. It would dry. As Dream walked over, he flicked off the light, leaving the two in darkness. The only light source was the TV, which was beginning to dim, and Dream’s golden eyes. Dream leaned against the counter, one hand on it, the other on his waist. His posture was casual, he wasn’t upset. At least, Blue hoped he wasn’t reading it wrong.
“...We were in a library.”
Blue hoped that the darkness would shield his nervous tics, shield Dream from his lies.
“Was this a planned meeting?”
“Yes.” Again, not a lie. Not fully.
The silence wrapped around his neck like a noose, leaving him breathless. He couldn’t read Dream’s face, both due to his incredible poker face and the darkness around them. He cocked his head to the side, thinking.
“You could’ve told me, y’know.”
Oh thank the heavens.
“I mean, I don’t like Cross, at all, but I respect your relationship with him. I’m not going to like, stop you from seeing him or anything.” Dream kept his arms crossed as he spoke, his body relaxed as he shrugged. “Buuut, I feel like you're hiding something. You’ve got this nervous energy around you, B. Did something happen?”
There it was. He should’ve known Dream would catch on eventually. It was hard to hide things from someone who could read your feelings. Blue sighed, the sound of his heart pounding in his head was clogging up his mind. He leaned against the counter by the sink, his hands gripping onto the countertop.
“You can tell me anything. Even if it has to do with Cross or whoever.”
Blue inhaled sharply, his resolve faltering. He got no pleasure from hiding and lying to Dream (or to anyone, for that matter). Maybe he could just be honest?
No, only a naïve fool would allow himself to think with such optimism.
“Why can’t a guy have his secrets?” It took all that Blue had to keep his voice stable, not allowing the anxiety to bubble over into his voice. If he could play defensive, and then change the subject, then he’d be able to get off scot free.
“Why can’t that guy tell his best friend his secrets?”
“Ah…” Blue glanced away, the smallest bit of anger pooling inside of him. Despite his inherent goodness, Dream was one to play underhanded, and pulling out the ‘best friend’ card was a cheap tactic! He ran his hand through his damp curls, pushing them off of his forehead. He kept his eyes on the floor as he ran his hand down the back of his head, his hand resting on the side of his neck. He flinched as his fingers pressed down on the tender spot on his neck, his face twisting as he shoved his hand back into his pants pocket.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You jumped. Are you hurt, let me see.” Dream stepped closer, flicking on the sink light. Blue shrunk away, hiding in his scarf. His mind was whirling, he needed to get out of this, he needed to divert Dream’s attention. This was possibly the worst thing that could happen. He couldn’t believe he flinched like that! He knew it was there, the blemish was still warm, it stayed warm, even when the cold rain soaked into his skin.
“Dream, I…” He didn’t get the chance to finish as Dream pulled him back into the light, holding onto his forearms. Dream turned him to the right, allowing the light to hit the left side of his body. His nails dug into the palms of his hands as Dream shifted his scarf down his shoulder. Goosebumps appeared along his skin as Dream’s warm hand touched the side of his neck.
“What is…?” Dream murmured, getting closer to Blue, eyes squinted. “It’s not a bruise, is it?”
Reserving himself to the situation, Blue nodded, his voice barely audible. “No.”
“Then it’s…” Dream’s eyes widened and he pulled back, confusion and hurt dancing across all of his features. “Cross didn’t give you that, now did he?”
“Of course not.”
“So you lied.”
“Not exactly.” Blue strained, giving Dream distance, space. He messed with his scarf, having it cover his neck once more. “I was with Cross, and I was in a library.”
“Nightmare’s library.”
And there it was. The nail in the coffin.
“...Yes.” Blue said, his voice hoarse and throat dry.
All of Dream’s hurt became anger at the mention of Nightmare. Blue staggered further back, getting out of Dream’s way, out of his reach. He watched as Dream’s face contorted, his mind trying to wrap around his betrayal.
As much as he hated calling it that, there was no other word. His hand went up to his neck once more, slipping underneath his scarf. His fingers gently ran across the hickey, he had to make sure that it was really there.
“So, so lemme get this straight.” Blue could hear the hurt, the barely contained anger, in Dream’s voice. “You, knowingly, went to Nightmare’s castle, not just a meet up in another timeline, no, you purposefully went into the homebase of that bastard, and let him suck on your neck!”
Blue’s body stiffened, his shoulders going tense. “That…is what happened, yes.”
“Why?” Dream snapped, his hands balling into fists. Blue’s eyes widen at the sight of his fists, his heart slamming in his chest. Seeing this, Dream took a long, deep breath, and loosened his hands. He had never hurt Blue, but other people had. He didn’t blame Blue for his reaction. With a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his coils back. “I need you to tell me why you ran off to…to him of all people!
“Please. Let me understand. Make me understand why.”
“I…” Blue sighed, dropping his hands. “Okay.”
Dream kept his arms crossed, folded tightly over his chest as he gave Blue time to think. Time to get his thoughts in order. He shifted on his feet, heart slamming in his chest. He was about to admit everything. The prospect of that was…terrifying. He didn’t want to lose Dream as a friend, or lose him at all! At the same time, though, he didn’t want to stop speaking, or getting intimate with, Nightmare. Would he be forced to pick?
The more he thought about it, if he had to choose one or the other, he was beginning to realize that, maybe, his loyalties didn’t lie with Dream. A scary thought, considering he would have shot someone point-black with a blaster for Dream. When did this change? Where he would pick Nightmare over Dream?
“Do you remember the fight up in the mountains? The one where Ink and I evacuated an entire town from an avalanche?”
“How could I forget?” Dream said, laughing a little. “I searched for days looking for you in the snow, only for it to turn out that Nightmare had taken you.”
“Yeah. That was the fight that, ah, started everything.”
“What do you mean? He took you prisoner, B.” Dream scowled as he spoke, concern rising in him. He knew about Blue’s relationship (if you could even call it that) with Error, the guy was too trusting. Too full of optimism. Believing that everyone could be a good person, if they just try. Horror dawned on him. Nightmare could, and would, use that.
“Not exactly. You see…I was trapped under the snow.” Blue took a deep breath. “It was scary, I could barely breathe, it was cold, and I couldn’t use my magic. I…I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“Oh, B…”
“But I did! Obviously,” Blue snorted. “It was Nightmare, actually, who fished me out. I don’t really remember what had happened, but when I woke up, I was in Nightmare’s castle.”
“The dungeon.”
“No.”
“No?” Dream asked, an eyebrow rising.
“I was on a couch by a fireplace covered in blankets. And when I sat up…Nightmare was there.”
Blue half expected Dream to say something, but he was prompted to continue.
“I was scared, at first. I thought he was going to hurt me. He promised that he wouldn’t.”
“And you believed him.”
“I…” Blue flushed with embarrassment, “Yes. I did. And he didn’t! We just…talked. It was really nice, actually.”
“What.” Dream’s face flashed with a sense of hurt and anger once more, and Blue’s face fell in response.
“Dream, listen. I had never had a conversation like that before! It was like…like we clicked. I’ve never had such an intellectually stimulating conversation before!” Much to Dream’s alarm, Blue’s cheeks visibly warmed and his lips pulled themselves into a smile. “It was incredible!”
“Oh my God, you don’t see it.”
The smile dropped from Blue’s face, his arms going down to his side. “See what?”
“That he’s using you!” Dream hissed, anger filling him up once more. Anger at Nightmare, anger at Blue. “He’s using your trust to hurt me, to make you believe that you can trust him! He’s been fucking with you, and you fell for it!”
“That’s not…We’ve had our differences in the past but, I think that-”
“If by differences you mean tormenting you, then sure.”
“Dream-”
“But by all means, if you want to run off and be with him, I won’t stop you.” Dream gripped onto his forearms, teeth grinding together as he spoke. “I mean, I get it, really, he’s got the castle, the tentacles, the throne, the never ending cruelty. Didn’t realize that was your type.”
Blue could feel the venom being spit at him when Dream spoke. His heart slammed in his chest, and a familiar lump began to grow in his throat.
“Why are you so angry?” He croaked.
“Because you’re pissing me off! He’s obviously using you for ulterior means and the fact that you can’t see it, that you’re letting him mark you and who knows what else, makes me want to tear my hair out!”
Dream met eyes with Blue, and his body softened, just slightly, when he saw Blue’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He rubbed his forehead, nails still digging into his skin. “I can’t…I can’t deal with this, with you, right now. Just…go.”
“What?”
“Get out! I need some time to think. So go.”
“...Okay.” Blue whispered, voice trembling. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, forcing him to make a mad dash for the front door, his hands shaking as he opened the door. Outside, rain and thunder greeted him, but his legs forced him out, boots smacking against the buddy ground. Just when he was starting to get dry, the rain soaked him again, running down his face and making his clothes feel colder. He couldn’t tell if he was crying or not; rain and tears felt about the same. That was probably for the better.
Perhaps it was deranged of him to know who was at the door by how they knocked. However, it made his job a whole lot easier. Knowing who was coming in by the knock allowed him to have a few, sweet, seconds to prepare himself, to know how he should be presenting himself. With Cross, he would stand, if he wasn’t already, and take his position as Cross’s superior. There was no such thing as being too formal with Cross, it was informality that was the issue. For better or for worse, Cross felt more comfortable, or simply less anxious, if he knew who was in charge, and if that person made it clear. If he had to guess, this complex was likely his father’s doing. With Horror, on the other hand, being informal was the goal. He would often stay sitting down, being casual, and as open as he could be.
The rapping at the door told Nightmare that it was Killer who needed his presence. Killer knocked with his knuckles, brushing his hand against the door. There was no need to stand with Killer, although he would limit the informality. Killer was a wildcard, who knew how he would interpret certain things. Nightmare supposed that was somewhat his fault.
“You may enter.”
The door creaked open, and Killer slipped in like a shadow, barely making a sound. He stood at the door, as Nightmare had taught him to do, waiting. Nightmare finished his sentence, setting the quill down before gesturing to Killer to come with two fingers. He quickly read over what he had written in response before deeming it good enough before turning his attention towards Killer.
One of his legs was propped up, the ankle resting on the other knee. Nightmare leaned his face against the back of his hand, his teal eyes settling on Killer’s pure black ones.
“Whacha workin’ on?”
“Settling a land dispute. Nothing particularly interesting.” Contrary to popular belief, his title as King wasn’t just for show. He had a proper kingdom, and it was his job to make sure it stayed afloat. He may rule with an iron fist, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care. “What do you want?”
“It's Blue.”
Ah, Blue. Nightmare hummed, smiling at the name. He was endearing, and kind. Despite his moments of incredibly handy naïveté, he was quite intelligent. Not the greatest conversationalist, but intriguing enough to forgive his struggle with small talk. He had to admit that he quite enjoyed the conversation the day he plucked Blue from the snow. If he had to be completely honest, it was a spur of the moment action. He didn’t want Blue to perish, not in such a fashion. Taking him home though, that wasn’t his plan. At least initially. It just so happened to work out that way, and it spurred on one of the schemes he had put on the backburner.
Earning Blue’s trust, his unwavering loyalty, and then ripping him from Dream’s hands.
“He’s at the front door, Boss.”
“So soon?” Nightmare grinned, completely unsurprised. “Let him in. He knows the way.”
After all of their meetings, all of their erotic rendezvous, if Blue didn’t know his way to Nightmare’s bedroom by heart, then it would be a surprise.
It took a minute, maybe three, although Nightmare wasn’t paying attention, for Blue to come barreling into the room, damp with rainwater and his body trembling, likely for more reason than one. A towel was half-hazardly draped over his shoulders, likely given to him when he made his way up here.
“Back already? Did you miss me that much?” Nightmare grinned as he stood up, stretching his back a little as he did so.
“No- Well, I mean,” Blue chuckled, cheeks flushing. “Yes, I did, b-but that’s not why I’m here! I…”
Blue fidgeted with his hands, glancing away. “It’s Dream. He, um, found out.” Nightmare could feel the terror radiating off of him. It was as if Blue expected him to get angry, get aggressive. Not like this was unexpected, especially when they had spent so much time fighting against each other, when Nightmare spent so much time terrorizing him, feeding on his sweet, negative emotions.
“Found out what?” Nightmare asked, getting closer and gently holding Blue’s cold hands. He made a point to keep his voice low, his body language unthreatening.
“About you.”
“About us?”
“Mhm…” Nightmare gently wiped the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, using his other hand to feel his quick heartbeat via his wrists. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I thought it was late in your universe?”
“I-It was! It was like three in the morning! I don’t know what in the world he was doing up!”
“And he…?”
“He saw the hickey and…he knows when I lie so I couldn’t…”
Nightmare gently held Blue’s face, his thumbs on the center of his cheeks. “I’m not mad.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Nightmare placed a kiss against his forehead, “I don’t care if he knows or not. The more time I have with you, the better.”
“You promise you’re not upset?”
“Yes,” Nightmare chuckled, “I promise. Now, you’re a mess, why don’t you dry yourself off? You can borrow a shirt of mine, for now.”
Blue glanced towards the window, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. Even though it was very early in the morning in the universe containing Dream’s house, the sun was peeking over the horizon on the eastern side of the castle. Sleeping now would set himself up on the path of becoming nocturnal.
“You can head to sleep.”
“But-!”
“Quiet. Allow your brain and body to rest.” Nightmare said, gently tapping Blue on his ass in the direction of his bathroom, causing him to squeak. “I’ll get you a shirt in the meantime, go get dry.”
With bright red cheeks, Blue skittered off to the en suite bathroom. Nightmare watched him go, eyes boring into the back of his head. Everything had panned out as planned. Not that he expected it not to, Dream was incredibly predictable and his reactions were perfect. Admittedly, he wasn’t completely sure if he would be able to wake Dream, as the guy slept like a corpse. It did work, and it went just as he intended it too.
All that was left now was to get Blue to stay in the castle with him permanently, which would be one of the easiest parts of his elaborate scheme. He could almost taste the despair Dream would feel, discovering that he had pushed Blue right into his loving embrace.
Choosing a shirt for him wasn’t difficult. They’d all look the same on him anyway: massive. He selected a black, satin, button-up shirt. He had slept in something similar in the past, and it had the added bonus of being a texture that Blue didn’t abhor, so he knew that Blue would be comfortable. He walked over to the bathroom door, opening it a crack before handing the shirt off.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” Blue stepped out of the bathroom, his curly hair messy and frizzy from drying it with a towel. His scarf, which was decently dry, hung loosely around his neck. In his arms were his clothes, which Nightmare took from him when he bent down. “You look adorable.”
Blue pressed his face into his scarf, nodding. His legs were cold, but he wasn’t about to complain. “Th-Thanks.”
“I’ll go put your clothes in the dryer, you get into bed and sleep off your adrenaline and anxiety, you reek of it.”
“Right! Right, okay.” Blue walked over to the bed, pausing before getting into the plush, velvet covers. “Are you sure…?” He asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the window.
“It’s only six in the morning. I’ll come wake you up in a few hours.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Nightmare walked over to the bed, holding the damp clothes in a tentacle. He pulled the covers over Blue’s shoulders, and leaned down, allowing their lips to meet. Blue smiled up at him, his big, blue eyes filled with nothing but genuine gratitude and adoration. He shifted onto his other side, back away from Nightmare. Nightmare smiled, smiled something sly, and borderline cruel as he gently tucked a piece of hair behind Blue’s ear. Everything had gone like clockwork, and he would reap the benefits for as long as he could.
#fallen’s writing#king nightmare#blue (UTMV)#Dream (UTMV)#nightmare/blue#nightblue#nightmare sans#swap sans#blueberry sans#(?)#nightmare x blue#nightberry#Dream sans#killer (utmv)#killer sans#fanfic#fanfiction#writers on tumblr
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#killer sans#nightmare sans#swap sans#fluffynightkiller#cross x ink#cross sans#ink sans#fluffyswapmare#ccino x blue#fluffynight#nightblue
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by Nightblue-art
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youtube
Maybe this year is my SuperVillain Origin Story, there's enough that makes me want to rip it up and start over anyways.
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jomes wabb space telescope / 7.2022
#philadelphia#philly#mornings#early#too early#humid nightblue fruit#sky#moon#planets#there was another#but not in this pic#sneppy!
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Here I am back
This time I’ll try something different. This blog hides some part of my childhood and every time I feel sick and sad I return to this fucking place. I can’t say I don’t particularly hate this site, but all I remember about it is negative thoughts and sadness. However, here I am back again writing my blues. My life is not going well. I am in a good university, I am studying a major that I am happy with but I cannot achieve the success, aaand I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t understand how life works properly. I am a pessimist. The country I live in is in a really bad shape right know okay, but I think this situation affects me too much. Like I can’t do shit right now but as seeing this much negative news and conditions, I am drifting into a rabbit hole. On top of everything I think I fell in love, but also I am not sure as I cannot understand my own feeling for gods sake. Don’t understand it wrong I am not happy about it. I am not happy at all. This feelings give me nothing more than pain. Also I cant see the path I want to go. I don't know what to do. I am sad. These games that I am wanted to play is not for me I can see, but there is nothing I can do I guess. Let the games begin. I’ll fight with all my might and than we see who run out first. Stay tuned :)
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Strictly Limited: Hanhart PIONEER Flieger One NightBlue
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#Hanhart#Hanhart PIONEER#Hanhart PIONEER Flieger One NightBlue#news#PIONEER Flieger One NightBlue#Press release
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Nightblues - Pauline van Buringen
Dutch , b, 1961 -
Oil on canvas , 40 x 50 cm.
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For @hinnyfest, prompt #9: "You're not wearing any underwear, are you?"
Rated M just to be safe.
***
Harry's eyes are sparkling behind the lens of his glasses as he watches her up and down, so concentrated that Ginny thinks she will need to congratulate him later on his Auror skills: he could be x-raying her.
"What?" She asks innocently, turning around to the mirror to finish her makeup.
The reflection shows Harry’s eyes darkening as his gaze sweeps her over once again, before deciding to focus on a very specific part of her body.
Ginny bends more than she needs to apply the lipstick; Harry swallows loudly.
"Everything okay, Harry?" She insists.
"How long do we have?" He asks, voice rough.
"We need to leave in ten minutes if we don’twant to miss the beginning of the wedding." She waits until he finally meets her eyes through the mirror to answer his quiet question. "No, we can't be late."
He swears lowly, watching her almost imploring.
"Harry--"
"You look amazing," he says, and though they are together for quite a few years now, the sheer honesty in his voice makes her flush. "This dress–Ginny–"
"Exactly," she says, crossing her arms, very aware that Harry's gaze is instantly drawn to her chest. "This dress deserves more than a few minutes late."
"We can skip the party," he offers at once. "How many times–"
"Neville is going to get married? Let's hope only once." She walks to Harry, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek that doesn't seem to aplacate him. "You can take care of this dress later."
His fingers trail the soft fabric of the sparkling nightblue dress, brushing over her bossom, lowering to her waist, sliding down her ass–when Harry lets out a gasp, Ginny holds his hand.
"Later," she repeats, voice full of promises that Ginny intends to fulfill.
Harry eyes her back once more, biting his lips thoughtfully.
"You're not wearing any underwear, are you?"
Ginny gives him her best smirk. "That's for you to find out later."
Harry looks mutinous for a moment before grinning. "During the party," he mumbles.
Well, Ginny considers fairly, that’s later.
#hinnyfest#hinny#hinny fanfiction#established hinny is so nice all the time#prompt 8: you are not wearing any underwear are you?
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it's time to write talos principle fanfiction. I need to put these feelings out of my system.
After everything is settled, Byron learns that his dreams don't have to stay dreams any longer, but become a reality he has yearned for.
Inspired by one of the ending scenes with Byron looking at the stars.
also on ao3
The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.
James Joyce, Ulysses
Byron twirls the thin stem of a flower between his fingers. He wishes that he could smell it, but all he can do is imagine the subtle sweet fragrance that one would expect from such a skirt of white petals. Yellow particles dust his metal fingertips.
He looks up, meeting the sunlit valley of green and mountain blue with his gaze. Somewhere up ahead, a V-TOL crosses towards one of the newer cities. Behind it, a flock of birds shapes into a V.
Byron sighs. Byron closes his eyes.
Byron dreams.
Of smells and touches and distant horizons on planets without a name. But for once, he is not constricted with fear that his time might come too soon or would be fully given to a cause, collapsing onto itself with crippling doubt. No more.
There is time. He will be spurred by hope, pushing up his heels to reach higher and higher, but not too high, before he falls like Icarus on melting wings of hubris.
He has so much more to do, more than ever, but that's the thing, isn't it? Not bound by circling arguments nor a fruitless dried to-do list to prevent the roof from falling on their heads, but standing in front of an open field, ripe with harvest. Every door waiting to be opened, waiting to share its secrets.
When he opens his eyes again, the changed night sky is brimming with hope. Stars, all calling his name, look at me, Byron, no, look at me, I'm closer, I'm sooner.
And he looks at them all, reaching up his hand to touch the colours, blue and golden. I will see you soon.
If his heart could ache, if he could make it, it would have clenched so tightly at the thought. If his eyes could wet and burn, if he could make them, he would have wiped the tears from his metal cheeks.
If he could dream a dream come true, he would, he can, he does.
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Thrall - Blue/Nightmare
Media: UTMV/UTAU
Genres: Vampire AU, Human AU, Nightmare’s a real piece of work, dark fic?, “romance”
Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Killer, Dream (mentioned), Error (mentioned), Science (mentioned), Dust (mentioned)
Pairing(s): Nightmare/Blue
CW/TW: Kidnapping, stabbing, blood, blood drinking, breaking bones, toxic behavior, threats of violence, just...read with caution lol
Word Count: 5450
“Get. Out.” Blue spun around, the knife pointed straight at Nightmare’s chest, right where his heart was. Or, more accurately, where it should be. He would be surprised if Nightmare had a heart in that cold chest of his. Nightmare held his hands up defensively, not yet moving.
“Blue, sweetheart. Let’s put down the knife, yeah?”
“No! Get out of my house and never come back! I’m sick and tired of this. I’m done!” Blue shouted, body trembling as he did so, his glare never faltering. “I’m done being your blood bag, and I’m done feeding into your sadistic nature.”
“Come on now. Let’s not be like that.” Nightmare grabbed onto Blue’s shoulders, pushing him into his side dresser.
Despite his shaking, Blue held the knife to Nightmare’s chest anyway, ready to stab it into it at a moment's notice. Nightmare’s nostrils flared, Blue’s blood flowing right beneath his skin, practically begging to be drunk from. Even from here he could practically taste it, it’s savory flavor, it’s utter perfection. His tongue ran over his lips as his teal eyes met Blue’s gaze, eyeing him like a plate of freshly cooked meat. Blue shuttered, suddenly acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest.
“Go away.” It was wavering, more of a plea than an order.
“I can’t do that. You know I can’t.” The grip on the knife tightened, Nightmare stayed calm, watching every moment carefully. Every twitch and subtle movement was analyzed, studied carefully with precision. Questions flying through both of their minds as Blue’s breath quickened, and as Nightmare didn’t breathe at all. Only adding to Blue’s horror.
Blue swallowed hard, eyes darting back from Nightmare’s hypnotizing eyes to the floor to the knife back to Nightmare. How quickly could he attack, how quickly could he get away? How quickly could Nightmare recover and how quickly could he sink his teeth into his skin?
“I said, get out. Before I make you.”
“We both know you won’t do it.” Nightmare leaned in closer, whispering in Blue’s ear, making him shutter. “You don’t have the heart. You’re too sweet, too kind,” Nightmare smiled, “Now put the knife down, stop this silly little act of rebellion of yours and give me what I want.” Nightmare licked his lips and kissed Blue’s cheek, and moved all the way down to his neck. Blue’s lip quivered and Nightmare nipped gently at his neck. Not biting. Not yet.
“You taste so good, you know.”
“Leave me alone!”
Nightmare sucked on Blue’s neck for a moment, “Mmm…I hope you beg like you did last time. It was adorable.”
Blue shivered as Nightmare ran his tongue up his neck, “Though, I don’t think you can outdo last time's performance, ‘twas incredible, haha.” Nightmare’s hand squeezed his hip, gently rubbing it with his hand. “But don’t feel required to live up to your, beautifully intoxicating, standards. Your desperation excites me regardless.”
Sobs threatened to come out of Blue as Nightmare continued to play with his neck. Leaving saliva and small hickeys all over, forcing his blood to the surface. His grip on the knife wavered, and he felt like he might drop it. Then, Nightmare let out a low hiss, a signal that he was about to bite. Blue had heard that noise time and time again never connecting the two things up until recently, it was now or never.
Nightmare cried out, in pain? Surprise? Horror? Blue didn’t know. He had shoved that knife so far into Nightmare’s chest, only the handle was outside. It must’ve dug through his organs, and, if Blue was lucky, pierced his spine. He shoved Nightmare out of the way and onto his bed before running out of the room. That should give him enough time to at least get to Error’s house, or at least to some place in public. And maybe, he could get a plane and travel to Dream, who was currently in Transylvania visiting family. Dream could help him, he was strong and his family is so large, no one would allow Nightmare to slip in to get him. He would be safe.
Moving faster than he ever had before, Blue rushed down the stairs, slamming the door to his room behind him. He beelined to the front door, shoving aside his coffee table as he moved; he didn’t have the luxury to walk around furniture. He threw open the door, and carefully prattled down the steps to the sidewalk before sprinting down it, towards the moon. It was still rising, and bright as hell. His mind focused on Error’s apartment building. It was a five minute walk when he wasn’t being chased by a vampiric madman, so getting there should take no time at all.
The street lights flickered as he ran, the moonlight shining down on him. He could see Error’s house from here, he was so close. Then memories flashed as he glanced to his left. There was the same alley he had met Nightmare on the day his life was ruined forever. He took a pause. Nightmare wouldn’t be so cruel to remind him of that night…would he? He stopped running, his heart pounding in his chest. He spun around, no sight of him. Blue didn’t even want to look down the alleyway. He patted himself down, maybe he could come back home and Error could pick him up?
Shit shit shit!
All of his pockets were empty. He left his phone at home. Of course he did. Just his luck. He took a step back, listening. His ears started ringing with silence and the pounding of his blood. His blood…he felt disgusted at the sound of it. That’s exactly what Nightmare was after, exactly what got him into this mess. He glanced at the other side of the street, nothing. Not even an alleyway for him to get jumped. He ran across the street, making sure no cars were coming. Despite his legs screaming at him, he began his sprint again as soon as he reached the other side.
A scream escaped his mouth, and within a moment, his head was slammed into the building next to him. Nightmare had a tight grip around his head, eyes and body shaking with anger. Knife still lodged in his chest, a few drops of his blood oozing out of the wound and onto his bare chest. Nightmare had most of his shirt unbuttoned, only having the bottom two still together, the top part of his chest completely bare.
“Did you really think you could get away from me?” Nightmare yanked his head back, fingers tightly holding his hair. “Especially after that stunt you pulled?” Nightmare laughed, it was vile and unsettling.
Nightmare shoved Blue into his chest, on the opposite side of the knife, “The mere idea of that is adorable.”
“Are you going to monologue now that you’ve caught me?” Blue hissed out, trying to pull away. Nightmare’s eye twitched, and he slammed his foot down on Blue’s, a large crack ringing out. Blue shrieked, his struggling ceasing immediately.
“Y’know, I don’t mind your spunk, Blue. I don’t mind the sass, and I don’t mind the blatant fucking disobedience. But you know what I do mind?” Nightmare yanked the knife out of his chest, placing it against Blue’s cheek. Despite it being lodged in Nightmare’s chest for at least ten minutes, it was freezing against his cheek, still seeping with vampiric blood.
“This bullshit. It’s cold, isn’t it? I know you think I'm an unfeeling monster, but it still hurts, you little cunt. You need correction. And now, my dear, you have set up the perfect way to do that.”
“You broke my foot!” Blue shrieked, “Is that not enough for you?!”
“No. I cannot trust that you won’t pull something like this again. You need something…permanent.” Nightmare didn’t stop speaking, not allowing Blue time to comprehend the horror of what he just heard. “I have clearly been far too lenient with you. That is my fault, allowing you to live your life just as you always had been. Do not worry, unlike your foot, this will not hurt a bit.”
“NO!” Blue yelled, pushing himself away from Nightmare. However, he didn’t get all that far, due to the arm gripping his waste. “I don’t want to be like you!”
Nightmare paused, his face falling for just a moment as his eyes narrowed. Blue opened one of his eyes, looking at Nightmare who laughed. Cackling in astonishment. “You naïve fool, I will not be turning you. Your mortal blood is far too valuable at the moment. Maybe someday though, if you bring me enough entertainment.”
“Then wh-”
“You’re clever, obnoxiously so. Do you know what a thrall is, my dear?”
Blue’s eyes widened and his mind was taken off of the throbbing pain in his foot for a moment, “No…No Nightmare please you can’t do this, I don’t-”
The knife was put up to his lips, silencing him, “Shh. Your begging won’t save you this time, and most likely, never again. You fucked it up, and now, I get to make you mine.”
Clearing his throat, Nightmare began to speak, oddly calm. He slipped the knife into his belt, freeing up his other hand. “Now, I know you mortals think of a vampire turning someone into a thrall by taking control of their mind, or whatever. You’re all stupid though, because that’s not how that works. If we could just mind control anyone we wanted, then we wouldn’t need thralls, we wouldn’t need to hide, and we most certainly wouldn’t put up with mortals who think they’re able to take us down.
“Mortals like you, babe!” Nightmare’s finger flicked Blue’s nose, his voice high pitched as he mocked him. Then, without warning, his tone went dark once more. “Blue.”
“What?”
“Define ‘thrall’ for me.”
Swallowing hard, Blue wracked his mind, trying to ignore the pain overwhelming all of his senses. “A thrall is…a noun.”
“Mhm.”
“And it means…being in someone’s power?” He hesitated, glancing up at Nightmare whose face gave him nothing to work with. “In the terms of vampires, it’s a human, usually, who serves a vampire.”
“That’s right. I wonder how you can be so smart, but so utterly stupid at the same time.”
“Wh- Hey!”
“Quiet.” Nightmare hissed, shifting their position so he was leaning against the wall, taking some of the strain off of being forced to hold Blue up. “None of that actually means mind control, now does it?”
“...I guess not, but what does that have to-”
“I can make you my thrall, a handsome thing to serve me, and you’ll be aware of it the whole time. You’ll hate it, but you’ll have no other choice!” Nightmare laughed, voice unhinged as he chuckled, his face burying itself into Blue’s shoulder. “You’ll belong to me, body and soul, and you’ll have no choice but to follow my every word.”
Through gritted teeth, Blue made one last attempt to call Nightmare’s bluff. “Yeah? And how will you go about that?”
With a saccharine smile, Nightmare flashed his sharp teeth at him. “By drinking my blood, of course. A bit of a role reversal, but it’s quite effective.”
“What?! No! I’m not going to-”
“You don’t have a choice there, babe. Drink up.”
Blue’s face was shoved into the wound, blood going up his nose and into his mouth. He coughed and hacked up Nightmare’s blood, but Nightmare didn’t loosen his grip. Blue shuttered, defeat washing over him. He was going to suffocate if he didn’t do what Nightmare wanted, and despite the fact that death might be the better option here, he wasn’t going to let this bastard kill him. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not now, not ever. Blue swallowed the blood that entered his mouth, as well as apprehensively licking the wound to get more. He gagged, but kept going. Absolutely abhorrent.
After Nightmare deemed that Blue had taken enough of his blood, he pulled Blue away from his chest, allowing him some time to breathe. Blue was heaving, a drop of blood dripping down his chin. Nightmare wiped the blood with his thumb, smiling as he helped Blue to his feet. Er…foot.
“That should be enough for now.” Nightmare hummed in approval as Blue clung to him. “It would be mean to make you walk all the way back to my castle, wouldn’t it? I don’t think we would make it by daylight if that happened.” Nightmare chuckled, scooping Blue into his arms. The wound in his chest still oozed blood, but he wasn’t in a hurry to deal with it. His body would heal it within a matter of time, maybe in two hours or so. Being a vampire did have its perks, after all. Blue was quivering in his arms, his body shaking, desperate to fix itself. Nightmare felt a slight twinge of regret, not for hurting him, of course, it was well deserved, but for the fact that it would take a few months for his foot to fully heal.
Mortals were so easily damaged and it was so difficult to heal them, he always forgot about that. Perhaps that was for the best. His grin turned twisted, he would have to pay extra attention to the news and social media for the next few days. He wondered how Blue’s friends would react to his disappearance. He wondered how the media would explain it. That was his favorite part, to watch mortals try and explain the supernatural. It was adorable to watch them try. And he especially wondered how that bastard, Dream don Dalezya, would react. It had been so long since he had last stolen a mortal away, he forgot how trilling it was. He had brought humans into the manor before, of course. He wasn’t a newbie at this sort of thing. They’d last a decade, maybe two, before he either killed them or sickness caught up to them. Keeping humans hostage was fun, at first. When the poor things were terrified and still full of hope. Then it got boring. They’d get used to it, used to him. Sometimes they’d even fall in love with him. He didn’t need a mortal’s love. His nose scrunched up at the thought. Besides, hunting and tracking down humans was half of the fun. He’d prefer it to not be a twice a century thing.
None of them had been a thrall. Perhaps this time would be different. Blue was already a fantastic toy. He hadn’t met a lot of mortals before this, but considering he had managed to get the attention of Dream and befriend him, then perhaps he was a little different. Blue never bargained, never tried to offer Nightmare anything to get him to stop. He would only fight back, and when that proved fruitless, he would beg Nightmare to leave him alone. That is what Nightmare adored. He’d also never had a human stab him before. And while it pissed him off, that Blue even thought that he could get away with such a thing, he couldn’t stay mad. Not forever, anyway. Such a bold move from someone mortal? That was something to note. It wasn’t enough for Nightmare to respect Blue, of course. Him? Respect a mortal? He would never allow himself to fall that low.
Maybe Blue would keep him entertained for longer than a few decades. And maybe…just maybe…Nightmare would curse him with vampirism. Not now, but later. If Blue proved to be astoundingly enthralling (haha, he found himself hilarious), then maybe he would put Blue on the same field as him. Keeping Blue as a mortal kept the power dynamic between him and Nightmare stable. Static. Vampires were inherently stronger, faster, and simply more powerful than humans. Not to mention that Nightmare was tall, muscular, intimidating, and Blue was like a small rabbit, or newborn puppy, to him. Blue could be crushed within a matter of moments. Despite his best attempt to stop Nightmare, he had to rely on stunning him to get away. He was probably hoping that he could get help of some kind, maybe from Dream or his friend…Error? Yes, Error sounded right. Either way, he was prey. And he was acting like it. The power dynamic between him and Nightmare would stay that way unless Nightmare decided to up Blue’s chances.
The forest was getting thicker. The canopy above him was shielding him from the moonlight, which would soon become blazing sunlight. Blue had ceased his whimpering, thank god, and his eyes were squeezed shut, trying to ease his pain. The wind was howling, and Blue shivered in his arms. Nightmare rolled his eyes, nearly rolling them into his own head. He would have to make sure his log supply was decent. His manor wasn’t heated, it was built in the 11th century and he hadn’t bothered to update it to modern technology since his body heat was irrelevant to his survival. Oh, how he loved his manor. It was large, gothic, and had a massive library. What more could a man ask for? His manor wasn’t equipped with much modern technology, but Blue would survive.
Humans these days were so pampered, with their air conditioning and internet and whatever. The only thing Nightmare didn’t mind was the advances in medicine. What was the point in keeping a mortal if the thing got sick and had no choice but to succumb to it?
The forest grew thinner, and Nightmare’s manor soon came into view. It was towering, and Blue opened his eyes briefly to look at it. It was large, probably one of the largest buildings he had ever seen, and had a massive fence around it. The fence had to be over ten feet (or three meters) and was made of a thick metal. It had intricate designs, but not a single pattern large enough for him to fit through. The gate itself had two large spires, and was made of metal and black basalt. It looked to be in incredible condition, even though Blue expected it to be at least somewhat rusted. On the gate, which caused his anxiety to spike, was a massive latch, keeping it locked. It was nothing that he had ever seen before. He squirmed in Nightmare’s grip, trying to get out of his arms. There wasn’t much of a plan, panic was setting in. He didn’t have his phone, he was going to be separated from Error, and Dream, and everyone he loved, and his heart started racing.
Blue couldn’t believe that he had allowed Nightmare to carry him all the way through the forest with little issue. He didn’t get the chance to squirm as Nightmare took him from everything he ever knew. Before he could do anything, he was set down onto his knees as Nightmare approached the gate to unlock it. He shifted onto his good leg, and despite his ever growing despair, he made an attempt to crawl. He wouldn’t get far, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to be a passive player as Nightmare took him. The gates swung open, and Nightmare scooped him up right again. He was slung over Nightmare’s right shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He fought in Nightmare’s arm, trying to free himself. If he could just stay outside till daylight, then maybe he could hobble his way home. The gates slammed behind them, and Blue flinched. He glanced at it, squinting, was it locked?
“It locks by itself, don’t get your hopes up. Unless you feel like climbing up that fence with that poor foot of yours, you won’t get far.” Nightmare opened one of the doors to the manor with his left hand and entered the large building. It was like a castle. Blue pulled his scarf up his face, the manor was even darker on the inside. Dark bricks lined every wall, the ceilings high and towering, with fancy chandeliers draping from them. Along the walls were sconces holding dim, flickering candles. All of the doors were large and wooden, with designs meticulously carved into them. The only sound that Blue could hear was his own breathing, and the sound of Nightmare’s footsteps against the wooden ground. It was quiet. Eerily so.
A shiver sent itself down Blue’s spine, goosebumps appearing up and down his arms and legs. It was cold, both the castle, and Nightmare’s arms. He clutched onto Nightmare’s shirt, burying his face into the cold skin of his chest. The pain came in waves, and Blue felt his foot begin to throb, ache, and burn through his veins like an awful poison.
“It hurts.” Blue croaked, his voice threatening to break.
“I know.” Nightmare murmured. He kept Blue close, his stride never faltering. “I will take care of it.”
The walk to…wherever Nightmare was taking him wasn’t long. Blue kept his eyes open, observing all of the manor that he could. It was beautiful, and he wondered how Nightmare got such a place. As they passed through certain rooms, Blue could’ve sworn he heard the sounds of hushed voices and laughter. There was movement that he caught out of the corner of his eye, and despite the fact he knew better than to believe what he couldn’t truly see, he felt a pit in his stomach grow. Who else was in here? Monsters like Nightmare? Or humans like him?
“You're a cruel bastard, you know that?”
“Is that so?” Nightmare spoke, his voice flat as he adjusted his grip on Blue’s body. “What did I do this time? I haven’t said a word in the last few minutes.”
“Who else are you keeping here?” Blue spat, “I saw- I heard them. How many others are here against their will?”
An exasperated, yet malicious grin grew on Nightmare’s face, a snicker forcing its way out of him. “There are many things about this world that you don’t yet know, Blue. The others, there are four of them, if you’re curious, are not quite human, not quite vampire. When the time is right, I’ll introduce you to them.”
“Why not now?”
“Why? Hah!” Nightmare laughed, pushing open a door with his shoulder, “Because they’ll tear you limb from limb!”
The room that Nightmare had taken him to was a bedroom, but it wasn’t Nightmare’s. Not only were all of the surfaces covered in a fine layer of dust, Nightmare would never allow that in his room, but the furniture in the room itself was much less Victorian, and much more Rococo for Nightmare’s tastes. With a hum, Nightmare carefully adjusted how Blue was sitting in his arms, now carrying him one would a toddler. He approached the bed (that Blue couldn’t see, due to his face being over Nightmare’s shoulder) and sneered.
“Bastards. I give them one job…!” Nightmare muttered to himself, whipping around and gently placing Blue on a chair that was tucked underneath the vanity. It was beautiful, if not for all of the dust coating all of its crevices. Hesitantly, Blue touched the mirror with his finger tips, dust coating his fingers. He coughed, waving away the dust. Hesitantly, he touched his face, leaning in closer to the mirror.
Holy shit.
“I look like a mess…” Blue muttered to himself, pulling at his eyebags and touching his sickly cheeks. Is this what he always looked like after an encounter with Nightmare? He hadn’t gotten his blood sucked this time…was this a result of drinking Nightmare’s blood? His thoughts were cut short as a hand that didn’t exist in the mirror grabbed him by his chin, forcing his face to the left.
“You look utterly ravishing,” Nightmare ran his thumb against Blue’s lips as he cooed to him softly, resisting the urge to run his teeth against his neck. “I’m going to be right back, okay? Don’t be stupid, and if you need anything, just shout.”
With a quick ruffling of Blue’s curly hair, Nightmare exited the room. Blue watched him, his heart pittering against his ribcage. He gripped onto the seat of his chair until his knuckles began to turn white. There was a clawing in his mind and chest, his own brain nearly forcing him up and out of the chair. To his horror, there was a part of his mind that panicked when Nightmare left his vision. There was a legitimate sense of longing, of wanting, the urge to stumble after him, to make sure they weren’t too far apart.
Blue shook his head, physically trying to get rid of the foreign feelings. He twisted his body away from the door, taking slow breaths to try and ease his racing heart. His hands shook as he began to snoop through the drawers, needing anything to distract him. To his disappointment, he found nothing except dust and dead bugs within. He pushed back against the desk to scoot his chair backwards, giving himself room to open the large, middle drawer. IT squealed as he pried it open. The dresser hadn’t been used in what seemed like years.
And…! Nothing.
Disappointment washed over him and he groaned, looking up at the tall ceiling. Even though the drawers proved fruitless, the high ceiling was beautiful. It curved inwards, intricate patterns carved into the brick, and at the very top was a painting of the night sky. He wondered who painted it. Not Nightmare, surely? Whoever it was, was likely dead now, considering how old the mansion was.
“I can’t believe you brought me fresh meat, boss.”
“Stop it.”
With a yelp, Blue lurched backwards in his chair, a stifled shriek coming out of him as he slammed his broken foot onto the bottom of the dresser. He bit down harshly on his lip, tears forcing their way out of his eyes. He glanced up at the person who appeared on his left without a sound, taking in their appearance.
The first thing Blue noticed was their eyes. They were more like eye sockets, being completely and utterly blank, like two blackholes on their face. What Blue could only assume to be dried blood stained their cheeks, rolling down from the corners of their ‘eyes’ and forming beads at the bottom of their face. Blue couldn’t look away from their black eyes, desperately trying to search for pupils.
It was almost hypnotizing.
“Shh, it’s okay. Relax, cariño.” They spoke, leaning in closer, and Blue could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The stranger held his hand, as if he was about to kiss the top of it. He could barely move, his mind whirling and growing foggy. “I’m just going to take a little piece of you, ‘kay?”
“Don’t you-”
“AGH?!”
The moment the hunting knife touched his knuckle, instinct kicked in, and Blue’s fist landed in between the person’s eyes. They shot back, knife clattering to the ground as they staggered backwards, holding onto their face. Blood dribbled from their Greek nose, eyes (eyeholes?) widening in shock. Nightmare cackled, lifting Blue from the chair he was sitting on.
“Cabrón…!”
Even through his pain, Blue managed to flip the person off, “Coño.”
“I see that the two of you will get along splendidly.” Nightmare smiled, making sure he supported Blue’s bad leg. “Killer, this is Blue, my newest thrall, and Blue, meet Killer, he is, alas, my right hand man.”
Killer, an uncomfortable name for someone who was just mere inches from his face, picked up the knife, twirling it in his hand. After standing up straight, he slipped his hunting knife back into the sheath on his thigh, eyes narrowed at Blue. His skin was a light brown, and his black hair was asymmetrical and choppy. He wore baggy cargo pants, which were also black, with the sheath on the outside of his right leg. His blue sweatshirt drooped from his shoulders, revealing a compression turtleneck underneath. The hood of it had beige faux fur; it looked soft to the touch.
“A thrall? Been a while since you last had one of those, boss.”
“Yes, I am aware. And since you decided to break his poor foot further, you get the honor of making sure his room is adequately set up! Isn’t that nice?”
“Wh- Hey! Nightmare!” Killer shouted, “Do I look like a janitor to you?!”
“You look like someone who’s going to be utterly fucking walloped if you don’t get to work!” Nightmare called back, sauntering out of the room, keeping Blue close to his chest.
The door slammed behind them, a low growl coming from Nightmare’s throat as he hissed. It was rather quiet as he walked down the hall, Killer’s grumblings slowly consumed by the sound-eating walls of the manor. Blue gasped for air, his breath hitching over and over as he clung to Nightmare, pain searing through his body.
“That bad, huh?”
“I-It hurts.” Blue choked, “Fuck, I can’t-”
“I know.” It was likely his adrenaline-filled brain misconstruing Nightmare’s body language, but he could’ve sworn that Nightmare looked down at him with love, sincerity. That couldn’t be right. “I know.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“So you’ve said.”
“This is your fault. Make it stop.” He croaked, his trembling hands feeling the folds of his scarf for a moment of comfort.
“Rest assured, I will.”
Sharp teeth punctured Blue’s neck, his scream lost in the labyrinth that was the manor’s hallways. Not much would be taken, despite Nightmare’s thirst. He had yet to get what he initially came for: Blue’s delectable blood. Blood was blood, no matter who it came from. However, Nightmare did have his preferences. The taste of Blue’s skin intermingling with the metallic liquid, his arms being able to wrap around his waist to hold him close, his pretty cries when teeth sunk into him all made Blue the perfect meal. After all, the actual taste was only half of what made a meal good. Presentation was, arguably, more important. And, oh, did Blue present.
With a desperate gasp, Nightmare released Blue’s neck, blood dribbling down his chin, the two piercing wounds bubbling up slightly. His tongue pressed against them, an ecstasy-filled shiver tearing up his spine.
Like fucking ambrosia.
It had been too much for Blue’s brain to handle, finally deciding to shut down, leaving him unconscious in Nightmare’s arms. For the first time in a few hours, he looked at peace, his head rolled into Nightmare’s arm, and hands neatly placed on his chest. Nightmare didn’t, couldn’t look away, a foreign feeling of fondness flowing through him. His lips connected with Blue’s forehead, leaving a rather blood kiss mark behind.
Cute.
Nightmare began to walk once more, towards his own bedroom this time. He had wanted Blue to settle in a place apart from him. Can’t have the mortal thinking he was too special, now could he? He wasn’t going to force Blue in a room that was covered in dust and who knows what else. He swore that he assigned someone to have an extra room clean at all times, but perhaps he didn’t give that command. …Or he did, and someone ignored it. There would be hell to pay if that was the case.
It’d be easier to care for Blue if they were staying in the same room, though, so Nightmare would let it slide. This time.
Nightmare’s face pulled into a sneer. Blue’s foot had only gotten worse from his initial break, and Nightmare no longer had any idea the state of the bones in his ankle. The last thing he wanted was to set the bones incorrectly, and have them heal in a way that would make Blue’s life a living Hell. That was his job!
That meant he’d have to call up the doctor, whose actual name Nightmare didn’t know, referring to him only as “the doctor” or, when he was feeling more casual, “Sci.” He’d contact the doctor using his phone, which everyone called “old-fashioned” (Dust got a hearty smack for that comment). It wasn’t his fault that phones had simply gone downhill in quality since the rotary phone! Sci would come over and fix Blue right up, likely better than Nightmare would. His area of expertise was blood, not bones.
Immediately, Nightmare relaxed when he entered his room, the non-crypt one, of course. He set Blue down on his massive bed, which rarely went used, and Blue turned onto his side, getting comfortable on the fluffy blankets. His hand ran through his curls, the other mindlessly touching where the knife had been pressed into his chest.
He couldn’t even be mad anymore.
To have Blue, to have Blue be his, was so incredibly worth it.
#fallen’s writing#king nightmare#blue (utmv)#nightmare/blue#killer (utmv)#UTMV#nightmare sans#nightblue#nightberry#belladonna#nightmare x blue#swap sans#killer sans#utmv fanfic#fanfiction#vampire stuff#dark fic#vampire au
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7 Snippets 7 People
Thanks to @blind-the-winds for tagging me!
The idea for this is to share seven out-of-context snippets of your own writing, and tag seven other people to do the same. Unfortunately, my brain is fried right now, and I can't even think of seven writer-mutuals (even though I'm positive I have many, many more than seven) to tag. So just know that if you're seeing this, and you're a writer and want to share, please consider yourself tagged; and tag me when you share, because I'd love to read it!
Since I'm not supposed to give context, I won't. All I'll say is there's some poetry and some prose (and some prose poetry!), some fiction and some non.
I ask if I can flip through the 45s and pick the next tune. "Sure," she says, and I do, slow and casual, like I don't know what I'm looking for, until I find it. Tobi Legend—"Time Will Pass You By." I want to tell you everything about this song and where I first heard it. About Wigan Casino in the early '70s, the "3 before 8," those songs they played every morning after we'd danced all night. How it was my inside joke with myself, doing the soul glide—slide one foot, swivel the other, I wish I could show you those moves right now—to those songs about time passing. Tobi's was my favorite. The passion rending her voice. The jumping beat paired with the swell of the strings. The lyrics—those bleary mornings, I always wondered if they meant as much to anyone else in the club as they did to me. But I can't tell you any of that.
—
You are a fried egg
sandwich. On a
winter day in Philadelphia
when I'm down to my
last three dollars & I'm
hungry & cold. I mean you
are, specifically, the sandwich I
ate that day, just before
Christmas, when I'd been
wandering the wet streets
of Philadelphia for hours,
that day I watched the lights
sparkle off tinsel &
wrapping in store windows,
displays of presents & mistletoe,
—
Lento, I say now. Lento, though the music
of those years was fast and harsh. Slow it down.
Keep us here, just a while longer.
Here, this pause between everything
which came before and everything
that would come after. Here, saying our last goodbyes
to the star-doomed lovers; here, in a blood-red
car, on a Baltimore-bound highway. My rock’n’roll
sister and I in that burning room,
where we slammed like boys, then batted girl-lashes to tempt
the boys into buying us beer. The gold foam of it,
the distorted fuzz of amplifiers. The night’s black eye.
—
It was weird, right. The five of us had been friends since we were babies, practically; we were inseparable as sisters and hung around at each other's houses so much you could hardly say who lived where. But I guess even sisters have their quarrels. I guess we've all got some ugly shit in us and we're most likely to take it out on the people we're closest to. And of course, it was summer, and the sticky heat made us mean. It was summer, and we were 12, and we were bored, and there was fuck-all to do in Mound City, Illinois.
—
Q: What do you call it when dead girls fuck?
A: Two coffins bangin' together.
—
Blue as the churchbells ringing six times in the blue hour. Blue as an hour’s three twilights: civil, nautical, astronomical. Blue as sex, as sin. Blue, also, as the astronomical heavenblue of the Virgin’s robes. Blue as Mater Dolorosa; her punctured, burning heart, her seven sacred sorrows. Blue as a claddagh ring worn on a right hand with the heart’s point facing out towards the fingertips; blue as a claddagh that will never be turned in. Blue as a pigeon, dead in the gutter. Blue as the gutter we lay in, drunk, and the nightblue heaven of stars we wished on. Blue as a wish that can’t come true.
—
And thank you hum of nighttime, my sleepless lullaby—the air filter in the hallway,
the nearby airport's machinations, and the trains (always the trains). And (thank you)
the voice of a favorite singer, the whiskeyed gravel, the Midwest desperation,
the loneliness, the smoke. And thank you the rain bringing toadstools to my garden,
and the autumn.
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Restful Respite - V
We’re not getting a Season 2, so I’ll make it up myself.
This is unbeta’d and I commit my wordcrimes without apologies.
Ch 1: The Council
Ch 2: Puncture Wounds
Ch 3: Expeditions
Ch 4: The Stripping of Ha'rar
Ch 5: Blurring Lines
Brea tenses. Her nails dig into Rek’yr’s muscles, even through the fabric of his tunic. Rek’yr gently rubs the pads of his fingers on her hip in an attempt to calm her down. Brea pulls back, falling back down onto her feet. “I .. I’m sorry.” She mumbles. “No need to be.” Rek’yr says sweetly. He leans down to close the distance again. The kiss they share is firmer this time around. Brea feels like her heart is going to give out. But she kisses back all the same. Rek’yr pulls her a little bit closer against his body.
Brea back off again. She leans her head against his chest. She heaves a happy sigh. “That was very nice.” She mumbles. “Was that your first kiss?” Rek’yr asks. Brea flusters and nods. “That was very bold of you to do.” Rek’yr says gently. “I wanted it to be special for you too.” Brea mumbles. “It would have been special either way Brea, because it is with you. But I must say that you continue to impress me, in your own little ways.” The Dousan murrs.
Brea begins to jawn again. “It is time for you to go to bed, my love.” Rek’yr says. Brea nods. “I believe you are right.” She mutters. Rek’yr nods. “Good night, my love.” He says. He presses another soft kiss to Brea’s lips. “Best of dreams.” Brea whispers. “You too.” Rek’yr walks to the door. “Wait!” Brea calls out. Rek’yr turns back to her. She flies over and flings herself into his arms. The kiss they share is fierce and a little desperate.
Brea is slightly out of breath, when she parts form her suitor. “Sleep well.” She cooes. “You too.”Rek’yr chuckles. He leaves Brea’s chamber, but only with reluctance. Brea stares at the door, even a long while after it shut behind Rek’yr. Her lips still tingle from his kisses and she has no idea what to do with the warmth that has settled into the pit of her stomach. She is rather unfamiliar with these type of feelings. She wishes Tavra were here, to advise her.
She changed into her nightshift and crawls under the sheets. She doesn’t fall asleep right away. Thoughts of the Sandmaster keep her awake. The smooth warmth of his lips and his spicy scent. Something inside her becomes ready, although Brea doesn’t quite understand how to address this readiness. It is warm and slippery and raises gooseflesh on her arms and spine. She tosses and turns, unable to adequately address this readiness, or do something about it.
Once she finally falls asleep, she lands into a nightmare. Her mother lays dying, while SkekMal feasts on her flesh. The Scrollkeeper holds poor Brea by the shoulders, so she cannot escape. The other Skeksis stand by and laugh, in their cruel and evil ways. Brea screams and struggles to go free.
She wakes up, bathing in cold sweat. It relieves her to find she is in her own bed, but she against startles. For at her bedside she finds Rek’yr. He is dressed in naught but a nightblue kimono. “Brea, are you alright?” He asks. Brea shakes her head. “I had a nightmare…” She whispers. “You are safe now. I will not leave your side.” The Dousan cooes. The Dousan extends his hand to stroke Brea’s cheek. She desperately leans into his touch. He is the only thing making her feel safe at this moment. “Will you really stay?” She mumbles. “Yes, of course I will.” Rek’yr cooes.
Brea scoots over. “I don’t want you to be seated all night.” She says softly. “You should not ask this of me, princess.” The Sandmaster objects, but it is without much conviction. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Brea protests. Rek’yr chuckles softly. “Very well, I give in.” He ties the sash of his robe tighter around his waist.
Brea’s eyes venture from the Dousan’s yellow eyes to the pronounced plates of his chest. Rek’yr’s skin is hues of blue and green. Lower Brea looks, to her suitor’s abdominal muscles and the wicked bone of his hip. Only his crotch his truly obscured by the robe’s nightblue cloth.
Rek’yr clears his throat. Brea startles and looks back up at his eyes. The bright yellow shines playfully at her. Rek’yr rises from the bedside chair. Brea now notices his robes reach all the way to the floor. She gets little chance to marvel at it, though. Rek’yr blows out the lantern on her nightstand and the only light remaining is that of the sisters, peeking in from a slit between the curtains.
The covers lift up and Rek’yr climbs in bed with her. His body radiates warmth, which Brea instantly gravitates towards. She lays her head on his chest. The beating of his heart puts her at ease. Rek’yr noses at her hair. “Sleep now, my sweet. In my arms you are safe.” He murrs.
Slowly Brea nods off. She knows herself warm and secure in her Sandmaster’s arms. She sinks into dreams of nightblue silk and hot wet sensations. They have no true story or shape, but them seem to all smell like Rek’yr.
Brea wakes when Rek’yr slips out of her bed. Two of the three brothers have already risen. “Hmm… where are you going?” Already she feels the loss of his warmth. “Make my water and get dressed.” Rek’yr replies. Brea huffs. “Can’t you come back to bed?” She asks. “We have already overslept, the third brother is about to rise.” Rek’yr makes his way to the door. Brea hides her face in the pillows. “Time to get up my love.” Rek’yr says. “Alright, alright.” Brea groans. But she wraps herself in the sheets, basking in Rek’yr’s scent. But without him, her bed grows too cold, too quickly. She gets up and heads to her bathroom.
She makes her water and washes up. She puts on a clean dress, one that fits a bit tighter around her hips and chest. She hopes to impress her suitor, in the same way he impresses her. She rebraids a few of her smaller plaids and heads out.
Rek’yr is waiting outside her door. He is dressed in his usual garb, but most of his braids are undone and pulled out of the high ponytail. His hair, in shades of blue and purple, falls over his shoulders, a river of waves. Brea finds it breathtaking. “Good morrow, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. Brea presses herself against him. “Good morrow, my love.” She cooes. Rek’yr gently takes her by the waist. He leans in to press his lips on hers. It seems that, now that they have breached this barrier, the Sandmaster won’t hesitate to be straight forward with it. At first, mostly on instinct, Brea’s body stiffens a little. But it is only a second, before she melts into the kiss.
Rek’yr leads Brea to the library. But not before nipping past the kitchen for something to break their fast on. Soon they are seated. They eat what the Spriton have given them. Once they are done, they start back up with selecting which books to take.
Out on the fields, the Drenchen are already singing as they work. A farmer and his wife oversee four of them. Three gellings and a gelf. The gelf is slightly taller than the gelling’s. The shortest and broadest of the gelling’s leads the singing. His voice is a deep baritone, but sounds very joyful. They sing about three lovers chasing each other around the Great Smerth.
The farmer and his wife are a bit abashed by the song at first. But quick enough they warm to the harmony of the four voices. The farmer even starts to sing along. The Drenchen send him warm smiles. They load turnips and tubers onto the wagon, as the farmer has indicated.
After a good while, the farmer’s wife comes to the field with a kettle of tea and a tray of sandwiches. “Come take a break for a while.” She says. The Drenchen gather around her. “That looks wonderful, missy.” Says the tallest of the gellings. “Oh, please call me Elvyra.” The Farmer’s wife says. “Elvyra it is.” The Drenchen gelf affirms. “What of your names?” Asks the Farmer.
“My name is Koora.” The gelf offers both her hands, palms up to the Farmer. “I am Allonys, it is good to meet you, Koora of the Drenchen.” The Farmer knows this greeting. He touches the tips of his fingers to Koora’s palms. “And you, Allonys of the Vapra.” Koora replies.
“These are Meho,” Koora gestures to the shortest gelling, who has the baritone singing voice. “Ola,” She indicates the gelling with the wide hips and nicked ears. “And Tirzan.” Tirzan is the tallest of the four, wide in the shoulders, but narrow in the waist and hips. He has pierced lips and feathers hanging on rings in his ears. The Farmer gives the last gelling a bit of suspicious look.
Meho, Ola and Tirzan offer their hands to the Farmer and his wife as well, palms up, just like Koora. Allonys touches his fingertips to their palms. Koora takes the tray and kettle from Elvyra and she repeats her husbands gesture. “Well met.” She says softly. “Well met.” The three Drenchen gelling chorus.
The farmer’s wife spreads a blanket by the wagon and the small group sits down. Elvyra pours everyone a cup of tea and hands out sandwiches. The Drenchen dig in right away. They talk happily while they eat. This puzzles both Allonys and Elvyra. Vapran gelfling are used to eating in silence, whereas Drenchen barely even sleep in silence.
The Drenchen tell the Farmer and his Wife about the Great Smerth and the Swamp of Sog. Especially Elvyra is very interested in the Drenchen’s tales. She asks about their customs and their songs. Which of course prompt Meho and Ola to start singing again.
After lunch, the Drenchen set to work again, overseen by Allonys. Elvyra returns to the homestead to gather some things she wants to bring to Stone-in-the-Wood.
The brother’s have mostly sunken when the entire field is emptied. Allonys mops the sweat from his brow. “All done, and so quick too. I am so grateful for you four.” He wheezes. “Our pleasure.” Ola says. “Let’s go home and see if the wife has dinner done.” Allonys says. Tirzan and Koora grab the cart and the five of them head to the homestead.
There, Elvyra has indeed already made dinner. “Right on time too.” She says. “Wash your hand and your face and sit down.” She motions to the large basin of water. The Drenchen and Allonys wash their hands and sit down as instructed.
Elvyra serves dinner. “That smells amazing, my dear.” Allonys says. “Yes, ma’am, it does.” Meho agrees. “Well, dig in.” Elvyra cooes. Tirzan and Meho make to grab food with their bare hands. But before they can get to it, Koora swats at their hands. “Naia said not to make our hosts uncomfortable.” She hisses. The gelling hang their ears. “Now grab your utensils, we are in a Vapran home.” Koora says. The gelling oblige.
After dinner, Koora grabs a small bongo and hands Ola a lute. While Elvyra and Allonys do the dishes, the Drenchen provide a good show. They try to sing some of the least bawdy songs they know. Allonys even tries to sing along.
In the meanwhile, in the center of Ha’rar, another Drenchen is almost nodding off. He startles as he feels something hit the back of his head. “Who goes there?!?” He shouts. There is a soft sniggering from a nearby tree. “Show yourself!” Djesid all but yells. “Only if you leave the watch to me and go the heck to bed.” He recognises Eeryn’s voice. “But they are still in there!” He protests.
Just that moment, Rek’yr and Brea exit the library. “My Thra, I am hungry.” Brea says. “We will see if the Spriton have some leftovers.” Rek’yr replies. The two lovebirds head back to the citadel. Djesid scampers after them. Eeryn jumps out of her tree and follows them.
Brea turns around. “You two are excused for the night, find yourself a nice inn and relax.” She tells them. “Are you sure, Princess?” Eeryn asks stiffly. Brea nods. “There are plenty of warriors and paladins in the Citadel around this time.” She replies. “Very well.” Eeryn leaps into the nearest tree. “Alright, have a good night.” Djesid sends Rek’yr a wink. The Dousan shakes his head, but also chuckles. He and Brea head into the Citadel.
Djesid heads off in the same direction as Eeryn. “Oi, ye sprite, wait a sec.” He calls out. “I have a name.” Eeryn calls from somewhere above. “Where the fuck are you even going?” Djesid asks. “Heh, I’ll see.” Eeryn is ahead of him by a good ten paces. Djesid runs to catch up. “Come on, wait up, we can go together.” He says. “Well, hurry up, then slowpoke.” By the sound of it, Eeryn is even further ahead of him. Djesid groans. It seems like catching up with her is an impossible task.
In the end, though, Eeryn finds an abandoned inn, swinging into the still open second story window. Djesid opens the front door, which is not locked. Eeryn is already waiting for him, sitting on the bar counter. “That is about time, Drenchen.” She hops down and starts rummaging around the kitchen. Djesid walks over to the bar and spots a small barrel of wine. “Can’t you have a bit of patience, Spriton.” He says, good natured.
He starts looking for cups. He quickly find them under the counter and grabs two. He pulls the stopper out of the barrel of wine. He fills two cups and stoppers the wine again. He saunters lazily into the kitchen. Eeryn is inspecting a haunch of salted meat.
“Here.” Djesid says, extending the cup of wine to her. She looks up and frowns at him. “What is that?” She asks. “Wine.” He replies. “Did you check if it has no gone bad?” She asks sharply. “It’s wine, it won’t go back from just sitting in a barrel on a bar counter.” Djesid grumbles. He takes a bit swing from his cup and smacks his lips. “Perfectly fine, if a little sweet.” He says. “ ut suit yourself, I suppose. I’ll have that Nebrie chop and be out of your hair.” He puts down the second cup and strides of to inspect a large piece of what looks like smoked Nerbie. He draws it from the hook and retrieves it to the taproom.
Djesid is surprised when Eeryn sits beside him at the bar counter. She puts down a bowl of salted nuts and peppered dried fruits. “Here, have some.” She says. She drinks deeply of her wine. Djesid draws his dirks and cuts her a slice of the Nerbie. Eeryn gives him a wain smile. “Thanks.” She mutters, even though it is a little reluctant.
They sip their wine and eat their nuts, fruits and Nebrie. They are silent to each other. Djesid starts growing a little uncomfortable. As a Drenchen he is not used to silences like this. It is not a silence in which he stalks his prey through the swamp. It is not a silence in which he enjoys the song of Thra’s creatures. It is oppressive and awkward.
The only thing Djesid knows to do is to take another cup of wine. Eeryn holds out her own as well. Djesid fills it back up. They drink and the silence stretches on. They finish the nuts and the fruits and over half of the Nebrie.
They get very drunk. The both of them. Djesid begins a long story of his coming of age ceremony. Eeryn listens in fascination.
She climbs into his lap. Djesid grins widely, baring his tusks and fangs. “Howdy there, pretty one.” He speaks without slurring. “Shit, your voice is so sexy.” Eeryn says and her ears turn bright red. Djesid leans over and nips at one almond shaped ear. Eeryn does her best to suppress a moan, but does not manage. “That sounds fucking amazing.” Djesid purrs. He repeats the ministration. Eeryn squirms in his lap.
Soon enough they are kissing. Eeryn’s fingers tangle in Djesid’s dreads-and-braids hair. Djesid grabs her firmly by the hips. Their tongues battle for dominance. Eeryn wins. Djesid groans into her mouth. Eeryn grinds down on him. Djesid has to break the kiss to groan.
He lifts Eeryn up and slips from his barstool. He carries her to the second story, to a room with a large bed. He tosses her down and crawls over her. He kisses her breath away.
At the citadel, everyone has already retired to their beds, save for Brea. Rek’yr is the only one still by her side. She sits in front of her mother’s vanity. Rek’yr places her hand on her shoulder. “Brea, you need sleep. Tis time to go to bed.” He cooes. She looks up at him. She is not crying, but looks close to tears. “Come.” Rek’yr says gently.
Brea heaves a sigh and gets up. She twines her fingers with Rek’yr’s and allows the Dousan gelling to lead her to her own chambers.
“Please stay.” She asks, opening the door to her chambers. “Brea, I …” Rek’yr begins. “No, just stay.” Brea says, loudly. Rek’yr perks his ears up, a little startled. “I feel safer when you are with me. I could have another nightmare.” Brea says. “Very well, very well.” Rek’yr puts his hands up in surrender.
Brea keeps a close eye on him as he enters her chambers. She closes and locks her doors. It is the first time in her whole life she uses the key. Her mother had always forbade her from using it. She puts the key on her vanity and can’t help the gnawing guilty feeling in her gut.
But that feeling quickly subsides when she turns to Rek’yr and finds him taking off his doublet. She remains silent as she watches him undress without hurry. Every motion is, to Brea, the very epitome of grace. Rek’yr seems not to notice he is being observed and calmly continues with his deep purple jerkin. Brea has to bite back a gasp. Rek’yr is simply so handsome. He undoes the lacing of his breeches.
Brea quickly flees behind her dressing screen. She isn’t sure if she is quite prepared for seeing Rek’yr in his small clothes just yet. If he wears small clothes at all, that is! It did not seem so the previous day.
She changes her dress for her nightshift. She peeks around the screen and finds Rek’yr already abed. “Are you coming, dearest?” He calls out to her. Brea shyly erupts from behind the screen. Rek’yr sits up to look at her. Brea covers her chest with her arms. She isn’t exactly shy, but Rek’yr’s gaze is rather intense.
She hurries over to the bed and practically dives under the covers. Rek’yr chuckles gently at her antics. “Are you cold, Brea.” He teases. “Yep.” Brea says and snuggles against him, giggling to herself. Rek’yr puts an arm around her. He extinguishes the bedside lantern and pulls Brea as close as he can manage. Brea noses into him and stifles a yawn. “Sweet dreams, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. “Sweet dreams.” Brea mumbles.
Sleep won’t come to either of them, though. Brea is too sharply aware of Rek’yr proximity. Every breath she takes brings more of his scent into her sensitive nose. And the more of it she breathes in, the better he smells. That unaddressed and newfound readiness rears it’s head again. Brea grits her back teeth together in order not to let out a soft whimper.
Rek’yr is not at all ignorant to what Brea feels. He can smell her. “Sweetling, why do you lay awake?” He murmurs warmly. Brea can feel her ears heat up and is thankful Rek’yr can’t see her. “I .. I don’t know.” She mumbles. Because she truly doesn’t. Her mother never bothered to instruct her on the precise intricacies of sexuality. Sure, Brea knows where the babies come from, but she never got told the juice details.
“I think I might.” Rek’yr cooes. There is something husky and very sexy in his voice. Brea feels fluster draw from her ears onto her cheeks. “H-how can you know what it is?” She sputters. “I can smell it.” The Dousan answers. Brea feels shame rise to her cheek now as well. She hides her face in his chest.
“It strikes me, Brea, that you are very innocent in the practical ways of intimacy.” Rek’yr says gently. “I .. I just never met anyone like you… Mother said I would wed someone of the Vapran aristocracy… But I never cared for any of them, especially not those of my own age.” Brea mumbles. She feels some of the heat leave her face, now that she is talking about something more mundane. “So, our kisses yesterday?” Rek’yr asks coyly. “My very first,” Brea confirms. “I am very honoured.” Rek’yr murrs.
Brea feels how Rek’yr turns to his side. His hand finds her cheek. Gently his fingers play with a stray strand of hair and slide upwards to trace the shell of her ear. Brea closes her eyes to enjoy the ministrations. Rek’yr closes the distance between them. Their lips mold together in a sensual fashion. Brea can’t suppress a little moan.
She tangels her fingers into Rek’yr’s braids. Rek’yr pulls her close by her hip. Brea is too occupied with the kiss to be very surprised with the fact that Rek’yr wears nothing but a loincloth. She even presses against him a bit firmer. Although she does freeze up for a brief moment when Rek’yr’s tongue trails over her lips. It’s brief though, she is swift to recover and part her lips a little bit. Rek’yr’s tongue ventures into her mouth. She lets slip another soft moan. Rek’yr groans back at her.
His hand ventures to the back of her thigh. Brea freezes up when he brings her leg up to wrap around his own hip. She puts her hand on his chest to halt him. Their kiss slowly breaks. “Too fast?” Rek’yr asks. “Just a little.” Brea mumbles softly. Rek’yr gently let’s go of her thigh. “I am sorry.” He cooes. “No need to be, you couldn’t have known.” Brea murrs.
She resumes the kiss, but keeps her leg to herself. Rek’yr does not even seem to mind. He settles for cupping her cheek instead. Brea is perfectly fine with that.
After a good while they break apart. Brea cuddles up against Rek’yr. “Sweet dreams.” She mutters. “Sleep well, love.” Rek’yr murmurs. He kisses her on her forehead.
Brea is quick to nod off, feeling safe in Rek’yr’s arms. After a while she turns to her other side, so Rek’yr is spooning her back. Rek’yr noses his face into her hair and dozes off too. Both dream peaceful dreams and rest well. Together they are at peace.
The following morrow, Djesid awakes with a slight start. Beside him he finds Eeryn still asleep. He really wants to cuddle back up to her, but nature calls. He slips out of bed and runs to the privy.
Once he has made his water, he goes back to bed. But upon arrival, he finds the bed empty. Eeryn has already left. She’s taken her clothes and bag with her, a firm indicator she is not coming back. Djesid groans and dresses himself. He figures he could as well starts the day.
He heads back to the center of Ha’rar. He finds the Princess and her Sandmaster in the library. And Eeryn in a nearby tree. “Good morrow.” He yells to her. The Spriton gelf does not reply. Djesid crinkles his nose. “Ryn, what is the matter?” The Drenchen calls out to her. Eeryn makes no reply, she only climbs a few branches higher. “Oh come on!” Djesid calls out. Eeryn blows something hard through her pipe, hitting Djesid square on the forehead. “Ouch, fuck!” Djesid yells, rubbing his forehead. Eeryn can be heard laughing and muttering something of which Djesid can only understand ‘Drenchen’.
The harvest proceeds swiftly. The Drenchen are hard workers if there were ever any and the Spriton are exceedingly pleased with the crops growth. The Vapran farmers couldn’t wish for better help.
Rek’yr and Brea select an array of books to take back to Stone-in-the-Wood. Brea even chooses some dresses of Seladon and herself to take back. And all the non perishables the Spritons has no yet used for supper is loaded onto the wagons as well.
Rek’yr finds Brea talming at the door of her mother’s chambers. “It is time.” He says. “I know.” She mutters. “I am just saying goodbye. I don’t expect I will return here, ever again.” She looks at Rek’yr over her shoulder. He gently takes her by the hand. “I know it is not easy, but we should not wait with accepting the journey ahead for too long.” He tells her softly. Brea heaves a big sigh.
“Come.” Rek’yr murrs. Brea closes the door of her mother’s chambers and allows Rek’yr to draw her gently away. They make their way to the throne room, where everyone is waiting. “This is where I found Lore.” Brea whispers. Her eyes seek out the stone guardian, who has been as vigilant as the Drenchen and Spriton assigned to her.
Everyone looks to Brea. She takes a deep breath and tries to puff out her chest. Instead she only ruffles her gossamer wings. “Farmers, Spriton, Drenchen, I want to thank you for your effort and your hard work these past days.” She says. She does her best to emulate her mother. “Today we will leave Ha’rar for the last time.” Just saying it brings her close to tears. “Tis time to go.” She turns her back to the crowd, stretching her wings like she has seen her mother done a great many times, making sure she keeps them straight. Rek’yr smiles at her and offers her his arm. Brea gladly takes it, finding comfort in his warmth.
Rek’yr escorts Brea to the carriage. Djesid and Eeryn follow close behind. She looks back at the citadel one last time. “Goodbye mother.” She whispers. She allows Rek’yr to give her a leg up into the carriage. He joins her inside at once. Eeryn, unnoticed by the couple within, hops onto the back of the carriage.
It takes a few minutes for the carriage driver to hook up the landstriders and get up on his seat on the front of the carriage. “Off we go, hya!” He calls. The landstriders gurgle and begin their way out of Ha’rar.
The journey back to Stone-in-the-Wood takes longer than the journey to Ha’rar. This is only a small wonder, because the carts are now piled full with the harvest and other things taken from Ha’rar.
The first night the group stays at a small Vapran village. Brea and Rek’yr meet with the village elders.
Eeryn comes up to replace Djesid for guard duty. She does not even look at him. Djesid tries to say hello, but the way she turns her back on him makes his words die on his tongue.
Brea sits down with the town elders, two gelfs and one gelling. Rek’yr stands behind her chair, his hands on her shoulders. “You can join our column to Stone-in-the-Wood, so you are safe.” Brea says. The two elder women cluck and the man looks absolutely flummoxed.
“We will weather this storm.” The elder gelling says. “No, you won’t. The Skeksis will leave no gelfling alive. Come with use to Stone-in-the-Wood, from there you can be given a safe new home.” Brea pleades. But the elder shake their heads.
“Listen to your princess, for she speaks with the All Maudra’s voice.” Rek’yr thunders. The elders give the Dousan a slightly frightened look. “You will be given a good home at Sami Thickett or the Stonewood’s hidden villages.” He says, his tone gentler. “The All Maudra wants all of you out of danger.” Brea adds. She reaches up to touch Rek’yr’s hand with her own.
The Elders agree.
Rek’yr catches a swoothu and Brea writes a note to Rian and Seladon. They need to know that there are more people on their way to Stone-in-the-Wood.
With Dousan vliyaya, Rek’yr tells the swoothu where it needs to deliver the note.
Vacating the village takes three days. The march after that goes even slower. Now there are elder gelfling and childlings in their ranks.
Night has already fallen when they arrive at Stone-in-the-Wood. The twins are waiting, torches in their hand. The Drenchen in the column whistle a secret signal and they whistle back. Naia approaches the Spriton and motions them to help with the landstriders that draw the carriage. Even though the Spriton are all but exhausted, they diligently find a spot to safely tuck away the carriage so it is not in anyone’s way and unharness the Landstriders. Gurjin goes over to the carriage to see if he can assist Rek’yr or Brea.
The Dousan wobbles on his way out and Gurjin grabs him by the shoulder to steady him. “Long ride?” He asks. “I am more accustomed to Sand Skimmers than carriages.” Rek’yr says. He sends Gurjin a small smile in gratitude. He turns to the carriage to help Brea out, but his legs are still unsteady. “Let me.” Gurjin gently butts him aside and holds his hands out to Brea. “Thank you Gurjin.” Brea titters, allowing him to help her down. Her legs are unsteady too.
Gurjin turns to Naia. “I am getting these two to their cottages, you make sure all the childlings gets a comfy bed.” He says. Naia nods. Gurjin gestures to Brea and Rek’yr. “You good to walk?” He asks. “I don’t think so.” Brea mumbles, her legs feel more than just a little numb. Gurjin sweeps her off her feet with a bit of a flourish. Brea yelps, but puts her arm around Gurjin’s neck to stay stable. “What are you doing?” Rek’yr all but yells. “Don’t you think you would topple over, with the way you are walking.” Gurjin replies, not at all bothered.
The Drenchen first makes sure Rek’yr is safe and sound inside his own cottage. “Good night, my love.” The Dousan says to Brea. He leans in to kiss her, but Gurjin takes a step back. “All due respect, but the only one I want to see snog with a woman in my arms is Rian.” Gurjin says. “She’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He winks at Rek’yr.
He turns on his heels and heads to the All Maudra’s cottage. He knocks by ramming his knee against the door. There is a rusting inside. The door opens after a moment of waiting. Seladon looks a bit angered with the disturbance at first, but her expression changes when she sees Brea. “Oh thank Thra you’re back!” She propells herself forward with her wings to hug Brea. But because Gurjin is holding Brea, he gets in on the embrace as well. “Seladon, I’m fine.” Brea mumbles. “I was worried sick.” Seladon all but sobs, one arm around Brea’s shoulder and one around Gurjin’s neck.
“How about I leave you two alone.” Gurjin says. He stoops down and Brea gets the hint. Nimbly she jumps from his arms. “Good night.” He says. “Good night, Gurjin.” The sisters chorus. They watch as the Drenchen turns on his heels and towards his clansmen. “They probably have a lot to tell him.” Brea says. “As you will have to me, but you ought to go to sleep first, you look exhausted.” Seladon replies.
Brea is steered to her bed alcove and helped out of her dress. The moment her head touches the pillow, she is asleep. Seladon sits beside her bed for a small while before retiring to her own.
Brea dreams of Deet. She is wearing pure white clothes that don’t seem typical to any clan. There are purple flowers, seemingly sprouting from her hair. She is dancing with her eyes closed, like she has not a worry in the world. But that is all Brea dreams. She dreams of it for what seems a long time. It is a good dream and Brea, in the back of her slumbering brain, hopes it can come true.
She wakes when Seladon gently pats her on the shoulder. “Time for a bath, you are dirty from the road.” Seladon says. Brea groans and rolls herself in her sheets. “Five more minutes.” She grumbles. “No, you are coming out of bed.” Seladon uses the tone of voice she remembers her mother using with Brea when she was willfull. “Ugh fine.” Brea sits up. She keeps her sheets around her though. “Come.” Seladon says, a bit more forceful than their mother used to. It does rouse Brea from her bed.
The two women head to the bath house, which has been cleared out by Paladin to make sure the All Maudra and the Princess have perfect privacy. Two Paladin are stationed by the entrance. One of them is the Paladin with strawberry red tresses. “Good morning, my lady.” The Paladin says. “Good morning Maurix.” Seladon replies, sending him a smile. She and Brea enter the bathhouse
The sisters luxuriate in the water before washing each other’s hair. Brea braids Seladon’s hair and then Seladon plaids Brea’s. While they bathe, the sisters gossip. Seladon tells Brea all the small things that happened in Stone-in-the-Wood. About Naia and Onica sneaking off together a lot. About Gurjin being the go to babysit. And of course about her Paladin. And Brea tells Seladon small things about her visit to Ha’rar. But she does not tell her sister that Rek’yr spend a few nights in her bed.
They dry off and get dressed. “It is time for the council.” Seladon says. “Can we first have breakfast?” Brea asks. Her belly growls. Seladon chuckles softly in response. “We will find something to eat, we can break out fast at the council table.” She says. She sweeps out of the bathhouse with all the grace she lays claim to, as the All Maudra. Brea follows her, feeling only half as graceful.
“Brea! You’re back!” Kylan hurries to catch up with both Silverlings. “Kylan, how good to see you!” Brea stops in her tracks and opens her arms to receive Kylan in a hug. Kylan hugs her happily. “It is good to see you too Brea. We all have missed you.” He replies. They part and smile at each other. Brea’s stomach growls again. Kylan giggles behind his hand. “How about I find you two some breakfast and meet you in the council chambers?” He asks. “Yes, thank you.” Seladon says. Kylan turges off.
Brea and Seladon go to the council chambers. They are the first there. But soon enough Betram and Asgret come in together, talking gently. Gurjin and Naia follow a minute later, bickering about something or the other. Kylan comes in, steaming hot bums in his hands. Onica comes in right after him. “Breakfast.” He says, taking his seat beside Brea. He hands her and Seladon the buns.
Rek’yr comes in, leading Maudra Agrot to her seat. Brea looks up at him. “Good morning.” She says. “Good Morning, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. He sits down opposite Brea. The table is too wide for her to be able to touch him, which causes her ears to droop a little.
Rian is the last to enter. “Council is in session.” He says, before taking his seat. Everyone turns to face him. “Brea and Rek’yr are back and I am sure they have a lot to tell us.” Rian says. Heads now turn to Brea and Rek’yr. “How was Ha’rar?” Seladon asks. “Calm.” Rek’yr replies. “Nothing happened, safe for what we set out to do.” Brea adds.
“All the crop has been harvested, all the non perishables have been taken and Rek’yr and I too all the books we thought useful.” She says. “I made a list of everything we took from Ha’rar, I can get it for you.” She turns to Rian. The Stonewood shakes his head. “We will go over that later.” He says.
“We have something else to discuss.” Seladon says. “The Stonewood villagers, who will need to be housed. Especially the elders and those with small children.” Rian adds. “We could send for the Great Smerth, but I doubt the Stonewoods like Sog as much as us Drenchen.” Naia says. “I will send a Swoothu to the Wellspring, I am sure Maudra Seethi wants to help.” Rek’yr replies. “And what if she doesn’t?” Seladon asks sharply. “She does.” Rek’yr answers firmly. “But just in case she doesn’t, they can move on to Sami Thickett for the time being.” Kylan says. “See, that is something I can work with.” Seladon looks at Rek’yr like she doesn’t hold the Dousan in very high esteem.
“Both Kylan and Rek’yr will send a swoothu, the more safe places we have, the better.” Rian says, trying to sound firm. Gurjin gives him an encouraging nod. “I think that concludes the council for now. Let’s get prepping for the feast.” Says Naia. “Oh we should, I was going to bake special sweet bread.” Kylan agrees. They both look to Rian. “All Maudra?” Rian looks to Seladon. She nods. “Work hard. Brea, you go get your list. Rian and I will go over it with you.” She says.
Everyone rises, safe for Rian. Brea leaves the council chambers with Rek’yr. Seladon sends them a vexed look. “What does she see in him?” She asks. Rian’s ears droop. He isn’t overtly fond of Rek’yr either, but the Dousan has proven himself an astute and keen council member. “I am not quite sure, but I also consider it none of my business.” He replies. Seladon huffs, not satisfied with the answer.
Brea returns with her list, but without her Dousan. Rian can see the relief on Seladon’s face. “Now show us the harvest.” Seladon motions her sister to sit down opposite her. Brea takes the seat. She passes the list to Rian rather than Seladon. Rian scans the lists of vegetables and wheats. He hemms and hawws over it for a little and then hands it over to Seladon.
“This is quite the good harvest, despite the crops being affected by the blight.” Says the All Maudra. “Yes, we were very glad.” Brea agrees. “I will have to check to see how to store this.” Rian mutters. “Do it quickly, before the harvest perishes.” Says Seladon. “I will, right away.” Rian rises. Seladon crinkles her nose, but does not argue. She just watches Rian leave. Brea gets up as well. “I am going to help him.” She says. And out she rushes.
Brea quickly catches up with Rian. She giggles and grabs him by the arm. “It is so good to be back.” She says. “When I was in Ha’rar I thought leaving it behind was going to be hard, but now that I am here again, I know this is where my home is. With all of you.” She eagerly rattles on. Rian’s ears perk up. “Good to hear.” He says happily.
Rian pulls a few Stonewoods aside and asks them to take stock of the stores. They immediately dash off to do as he asks. They understand the importance of getting the harvest stashed away as quick as they can. Brea leads Rian to the carts. Rian noses through them, looking at each sort of crop and food item brought from Ha’rar. “Do you want to see the books too?” Brea asks. Rian really wants to say no, but he just can’t do that to his friend. “Oh sure.” He nods. Brea drags him over to the cart she and Rek’yr filled with everything she insisted they take to Stone-in-the-Wood. Rian leafs iddly through a few books before he spots the pile of dresses. “Are these yours?” He abandons the books for the dresses. Brea shakes her head. “Those on top are Seladon’s, I figures she would like some of her own clothes.” She says. “And this one was Tavra’s.” She tugs at a sleeve sticking out of the pile. “I wish I could have known your sister better.” Rian offers. Brea hugs him tightly. “Thank you.” She mutters. She burries her face into his chest and begins to cry. Rian embraces her and humms gently and soothingly to her.
Rian sets everyone who is not occupied with preparing for the festivities on unpacking the wagons. Rek’yr an Brea busy themselves with the cart of books. Most of the books they store in Rek’yr’s cottage. The dresses Brea brings to the cottage she shares with Seladon. She finds her sister there.
Seladon is pouring over stacks of papers. “Do you have a moment?” Brea asks. Seladon looks up, spotting her sister with a lot of dresses in her arms. “Brea, what are you doing?” She asks. “I brought you some of your dresses, from Ha’rar.” Brea says cheerfully. “You shouldn’t have.” Seladon says. “Yes I should, they make you happy.” Brea giggles. She puts the dresses down on Seladon’s divan. “I also brought my own dresses, a few, not all. And Tavra’s least favourite. The one she looked so good in, for Onica.” She cooes. Seladon can’t help a smile.
Brea hands Seladon Tavra’s dress. It is silver and Mother of Pearl pink. “Oh….” Seladon gasps. Tears roll down her cheeks. “Tavra looked so wonderful in this dress.” She whispers. “She did.” Brea agrees. She hugs Seladon tightly.
The two sisters pour over Seladon’s dresses for a while. Seladon fingers at a night blue dress for so long, Brea insists she puts it on. “I remember this one, you got it for your last nameday.” She says. Seladon spins in a circle. “Do you think Maurix will like this dress?” She asks. “One way to find out.” Brea cooes. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?” Seladon asks. “Wear it at the feast tonight.” Brea grins broadly at her sister.
Seladon wears her midnight blue dress that night. Maurix is waiting for her by the door of her cottage. “My Lady.” He gives a curt bow and offers her his arm. Seladon takes it and smiles at him. “You look stunning, Seladon.” Maurix whispers, leaning in to press his lips close against Seladon’s ear. The Vapra flusters.
Rek’yr approaches. He is garbed in breezy storm cloud purple and sheer cloths so blue it is almost black. Only his leggings, which can be seen through his robe, are jet black. “Oh my Thra, you look…” Brea can’t find the right words. “As do you, my love.” Rek’yr says. Brea is wearing a splendid silvery blue dress with long drooping sleeves. She flusters a little. Rek’yr offers her his arm. “Shall we?” He cooes. Brea happily takes the Dousan by the arm. “We shall.” She says.
Rek’yr leads Brea towards the festivities. Seladon sends him a sour look, which he of course misses, because they are walking away from her. “What is the issue?” Maurix asks. “He is a Dousan.” Seladon huffs. “And I am a Sifan.” Maurix retrotts. “That is different.” Seladon says pointedly. Maurix keeps his tongue. Now is not the time to discuss this.
The Spritons are making fires and the Drenchen are setting up the large tressle tables. They are already singing. The Spriton sing upbeat songs about the harvest and the Drenchen their songs of Sog. The festive tone is already set.
More and more gelfling come to the town square. Everyone is chattering to everyone. Rian smiles when he sees how well the clans intermingle. He goes over to Kylan, to give him a hand with putting big bowls of lavish dishes on the tables. Kylan smiles gently at him. “The harvest is bountiful, despite the blight.” He says. Rian nods.
More hands help with the setting of the table. Fragrant roasts and scrumptious arrangements of vegetables, alongside steaming hot bread and pitchers of juices, ale, wine and tea are brought out. Everyone finds themselves a place to sit, talking happily to each other. Childlings run to and fro, laughing loudly. The mood is really setting in now.
“Gelfling!” Rian stands at the head of the largest table. Everyone falls silent and looks at him. “Today we celebrate the harvest of Ha’rar.” Rian calls out. Everyone cheers loudly. “Feast, sing and dance, in honour of what Thra gave us in this harvest!” Rian yells. All the gathered gelfling cheer even louder. “Hurray for the harvest!” Rian raises his glass of mead. Seladon rises, raising her glass fo wine. “Hurray.” She says in a loud and clear voice. “Hurray, Hurray, hurray!” Everyone raises their cups and glasses.
Soon everyone is eating and chattering and drinking. The Drenchen who went to Ha’rar are loudly discussing the stark differences between their home and the abandones capitol. Especially the Vapra listen keenly. The Spriton that have seen Ha’rar seem much keener to discuss the harvest. For that the Stonewood are more than willing to lend their ear.
The farmer Allonys is talking with a couple of other farmers, who stayed behind in Stone-in-the-Wood. He speaks highly of the Drenchen that helped him with the harvest. The other farmers listen with some slightly disbelieve. They look to Tirzan with his pierced ears and dark purple flowers braided into his sog coloured locks. They find it hard to believe that such a Drenchen can take orders so easily.
After dinner, the dishes are gathered in tubs and set aside, that is a chore for tomorrow. The tables are moved to the side to make room for the dancing. The bonfires are build and lit and gelfling dash off to retrieve instruments and toys.
The entire hustle and bustle is over before Gurjin has been able to round up all the childlings. The musicians are forming teams and so do the songtellers. Kylan is at the helm of the largest team. He is beaming with pride. He decides he will sing the song of Jara-Jen and The Hunter. A clever victory if there ever was one.
Gurjin has managed to wrangle all the childlings by the time the music and songs have started. He stations them in a circle around Kylan and the team of junior songtellers. Kylan begins the song. The childlings are captivated right away. Even Gurjin, who sits in the midst of the children, listens in awe. Dell’M sits on his shoulders and three little Stonewoods have squeezed themselves in his lap. Bobb’N leans into his side.
And of course with the childlings occupied, the adults have time to themselves. Some sit by the bonfires to talk, while others dance. The talk is mostly about shared or differing cultural aspects and is very amicable. Gelfling learn from each other. Rian and Brea are both very gladdened to see that there is no longer any animosity between the clans.
Tirzan stands a little to the side. The dances are mostly Spriton and Sifan, dances he doesn’t know. He is a little uncomfortable with the frolicking so unlike the Drenchen dances he is used to. But he’s spotted a gelf he does want to dance with. She is a tall Vapra, with a slight pink hue to her silver hair.
Tirzan startles when someone places a hand on his shoulder. “Ask her to dance. The worst she can do is say no.” It is Koora. “Oh please.” Tirzan rolls his eyes. “A little bit of rejection never hurt anyone, don’t be such a chum.” Koora slaps him on the shoulder and saunters off. Tirzan groans to himself. And then he takes heart.
The Vapra looks at him when he stands text to him. “Wana dance?” He asks. “I don’t dance.” She replies. “Nonsense.” Tirzan chuckles. “I have seen how you Drenchen dance.” She scoffs. “Where have you seen a Drenchen dance?” Trizan frowns at her. “At the castle, we had a few in the guard.” Is her reply. “Then show me how the Vapra dance.” Tirzan is not budging. The gelf looks at him, her eyes narrowed. “My mother taught me to dance before my father taught me how to wield sword and spear. I hated every minute of it.” She says. “We can dance another way, not Drenchen or Vapra. We could dance our own way.” Tirzan smirks, barking his tusks. The gelf bares hers. The Vapra tusks are smaller and smoother than the Drenchen.
Tirzan recognises the expression as not that much of a smile. “How about you tell me your name first?” He says gently. The gelf swallows a lump in her throat and heaves a sigh. “My name is Zefir.” She replies. Tirzan smiles at her. “Nice to meet you Zefir, I am Tirzan.” He says. Zefir’s ears droop a little.
Tirzan reaches for Zefir’s hand. She does not draw away. He tangles his fingers with her own. There is a dreamfast teasing the palm of his hand, but he does not sink in to it. He only glimpses Zefir running through vast empty halls from a great shadowy figure. Suddenly he feels very sorry for her. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “You are safe here, you know that right?” He murrs. Zefir gives him a wide eyed look. “I glimpsed something when our palms touched.” Tirzan admits. Zefir looks away from him.
“Let’s just say it would have been wiser for me to wear the dresses my mother sown me rather than the swordbelt my father made.” She says. “But you don’t like dresses.” Tirzan concludes. Zefir shakes her head. “Never did.” She whispers. “You don’t need a dress to dance though.” Tirzan winks. Zefir gives him a look. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Tirzan pulls her to the other dancers. “I might never forgive you this. “ Zefir says. “I don’t need you to.” Tirzan replies gently. That earns him a smile from Zefir. Tirzan smiles back encouragingly.
They dance, or at least by Grottan terms they do. Close together they sway on the music, holding on to each other. Zefir leans her chin on Tirzan’s shoulder. She inhales his earthy scent, finding he sort of smells like Thra. It puts her at ease for the first time since she found out Tolyn had ratted the revolting guards out to the Skeksis.
#the dark crystal#the dark crystal age of resistance#brea x rek'yr#maurix = freckles the paladin#seladon x freckles
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A cold hand was stroking your hair - gentle, yet also affectionate.
A pair of nightblue eyes were watching you - admiring, yet also trying to read your reactions and your thoughts.
His hand wandering from your hair to your cheek, caressing it.
Him tilting his head to the side a bit to catch your reactions; your expressions from a different angle.
'How did I deserve them..', Scaramouche thought.
'I want to give them everything they're longing for.. even if it's-..'
His hand now wandering up again, behind your ear - crawling it.
"I heard you were barking for me.. you even let out a 'rawr'.. say, Yui, do you want to be my pet so bad?", his face - as unreadable as ever.
But just you know - he loves you dearly. He really does, although his face doesn't show it.
"You know.. I don't prefer cats nor dogs.", he continued to speak.
Scaramouches free hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you closer suddenly towards him.
Your faces were mere centimeters away, his hot breath tickled on your lips - where also his eyes were.. well, until they wandered up to look into yours again.
"I prefer you over everything, Yui. .. I love you.", he spoke gently, tilting his head a bit and moving closer with his lips to you.
~ 💐
YOU KNOW WHAT i went on full detective mode trying to figure out who sent this when i first saw it in my inbox - and ofc my two obvious suspects were mika and vi (because we love causing each other heart attacks 💘)
i was leaning more towards mika because i did send them a drabble of the love of their life (read: jing yuan) when she lost her 50/50,, BUT☝️ i actually started reading this a bit and when it brought up ‘rawr’ and ‘bark’ i’m pretty sure it’s vi (and then the FLOWERS AS THE SIGNATURE,,)
sorry that part when he said that with such a deadpan voice i assume, i lost it LOOK IT’S SCARA it’s physically impossible for me to act normal around him when i literally hate love him so much your honor
#— 📬.#🖇️. — …?!#(but i’m 99.9999999% sure it’s vi)#(unless you’re pulling an uno reverse card on me)#(then jokes on me then-)#that said#AAAAAAAAAAAAA#dies#these drabbles are going to be the end of me
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Watch out for the bite, as My Heart Has Teeth.
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