Moonflower #17
Masterpost
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Warnings: implied domestic abuse
Iris woke up with a throbbing headache. She had been tucked into bed, which she didn’t remember doing.
The morning light filtered through her windows, and it made her head pound.
But in order to close the curtains, she’d have to get up.
Iris groaned and pulled her blanket over her head.
“Oh good,” said a quiet voice. “You’re awake.”
It took her a moment to recognize that it was Kit. “What time is it?” she mumbled.
“Twelve after ten.”
Alarm ran through her, and she shot up. She winced.
“Take it easy,” said Kit. “It’s your day off.”
“Oh thank god.” Iris fell back against her pillows, vaguely nauseous. Kit stood next to her bed, amused.
“Did you even go to bed?” she asked.
“I slept.”
“In your room?”
“You were drunk. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
“Thanks,” she said, closing her eyes. “Could you go get me some breakfast? With orange juice?”
Iris was aware she was whining, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. She could have asked Kit to magic away her hangover, but she deserved it for drinking so much. Served her right.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Kit left, and Iris lay in her bed, trying to will herself to shower.
The need to use the bathroom eventually forced her out of bed.
Showering did make her feel better, and the floral soap lifted her mood.
By the time she had finished and gotten dressed, Kit had breakfast waiting for her.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, uncovering the french toast and pouring herself coffee.
“Yes,” he said.
“Good.”
Kit sat on the floor as she ate, and Iris could see a strong dark green coming in at his scalp.
“Your hair isn’t black, is it?”
He seemed startled by the question. “No,” he said simply.
“It’s changing color,” she continued, “You’ve got some green coming in. I take it that’s good?”
A faint smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Mhm.”
Slight disappointment coursed through her.
It seemed that for every day Kit had a conversation with her, he’d be nearly silent the next.
“Let’s get some sun after breakfast,” she suggested. “I’ve been inside all week, and you need to pick out where your garden will be.”
“I get to choose?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Kit shrugged halfheartedly. Getting words out of him would be difficult today; she could tell.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he had said that first evening. Maybe he just needed a topic.
“Have you thought about what you want to do with it?” she asked.
“A little.” Iris waited, taking a sip of her orange juice.
“I… I’d like it to look like home,” he explained, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “Just a bit.”
“Are you going to plant some wild roses?”
Kit nodded. “If I’m allowed.”
Iris stood from her chair. “You can plant whatever you want, Kit.”
“Even a tree? Ivy? Berry bushes?” he asked, following her out the door.
“I did say whatever you want.” Brennan greeted them with a nod, and they headed down the hall. “I’m not particularly interested in gardening, Kit. I don’t care what you plant; go wild.”
Kit brightened beside her, and Iris hid a smile. He was sweet, and he deserved a place that was his; that he could choose himself.
The late morning air was warm, slightly humid, and she assumed that was good for a plant fae like Kit.
He seemed to soak in the sun, and he truly looked much better than before.
Jeff was weeding a flower bed, wheelbarrow beside him and trowel in hand.
“Good morning, Jeff.”
Jeff looked up, and squinted in the bright sun.
“Morning, your majesty.” His eyes slid over to Kit, who winced. “Morning… you.”
“Hello,” said Kit.
“I’ve offered Kit a spot on the grounds. Something just for him to look over.”
Jeff didn’t look pleased, but he knew better than to argue with her. “Fine with me,” he said tightly.
“Great,” Iris gave him a sunny smile. “Thank you for understanding.”
Jeff softened a little before turning back to his work.
They wandered the gardens; Kit looking around for the perfect spot.
“Anything catch your eye yet?”
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind. I could use the exercise.”
They rounded a corner, and Kit stopped.
“What is it?”
“I, uh, I like that corner over there.”
Iris followed his gaze. The high garden wall met the castle, and the castle wall curved inwards, creating a small nook. It was empty, save for a tree that created a patch of shade against the sun.
“What do you like about it?” she asked lightly, curious.
Pink tinged Kit’s cheeks. “It’s quiet,” he said. “And out of the way. And, um, it looks nice for a nap,” he added quickly. “And the walls… I don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on me.”
Iris recalled how James Harbor had boasted about catching Kit with an iron-laced net while he slept.
“Then it’s yours.”
___________________
Three days later, and Kit dozed under the oak. It was the perfect temperature; warm but not hot, and he curled into the protective roots of the tree.
A robin sang sweetly in the branches, and Kit hummed along.
Iris was busy in a meeting, and he had wanted a nap to pass the time.
He was right about how peaceful it was.
It seemed like this spot had been forgotten about, and he liked it that way. The perfect little oasis; where he could be left alone.
“Mr. Kit?”
Or not.
Kit yawned, stretching out. “Hm?”
“I- I need some help.”
Kit’s eyes flew open, and in front of him stood the red-haired maid from before. David.
He had a black eye, and he was holding a rucksack.
Kit sat up. “What happened?”
David sniffed, lip trembling, and Kit noticed his slight sway.
“Hey,” he said, softly. “Come here.”
David sank into the grass, and Kit scooted over to sit next to him.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” said David. “I- I should b-be at home. But I don’t want to go home anymore.”
His breath smelled like alcohol.
“Have you been drinking?”
David nodded, resting his chin on his legs. “I thought it would help,” he said. “It always helps Dad.”
“It doesn’t really work that way.”
David burst into tears.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he sobbed. “My face hurts and he takes all my money and now we don’t have anything for food because he spent it all and he gets mad at me for it and-”
David gasped for air, and Kit pulled him close. David wept into his shirt.
“I-” Kit worked his jaw, trying to sort out what he could and couldn’t say. “Are you hungry?” he settled on. Food never hurt anyone.
David nodded. “Y-yeah. We- we ran out of… I really tried. I really did.” His voice was so small, and anger bubbled in Kit’s chest.
“Let’s go get some lunch, and we’ll figure something out.”
David sniffled. “Okay.”
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Febuwhump day 11: Fever
Caretaker walked into Whumpee’s bedroom, a glass of water in hand, and sighed at Whumpee’s pitiful attempt to hide a pile of papers beneath their blankets.
“What happened to ‘allowing your body to rest’?” When Caretaker was sick, Whumpee wouldn’t stop talking about rest, not allowing Caretaker to so much as get up to grab a book for themselves. But when Whumpee was sick, all that apparently went out the window. Hyprocrite.
Whumpee had the good grace to look mildly guilty. “I’m in bed, aren’t I? That’s resting,” they grumbled, pouting like a child. They always pouted when they were sick, acting like a child who’d just been told they have to nap instead of play. It was adorable.
Caretaker set the glass of water on the bedside table. They lifted Whumpee’s covers, ignoring their indignant shout, revealing a stack of papers and several ink pens. That was decidedly less adorable.
“I’ve told you a dozen times, no pens in the bed. You’re going to mark up the sheets,” Caretaker sighed, collecting the pens and paper. Knowing that it was a lost battle, Whumpee simply glared, the effect ruined by their red cheeks and baggy pajamas.
“I was bein’ careful!” Caretaker decided to ignore Whumpee’s excuses in favor of looking over the paperwork they’d sequestered beneath their blankets. Taxes and finances, things that certainly weren’t worth Whumpee exerting themselves over.
Caretaker read over the report and squinted. “Darling, why did you write our cat as a dependent?”
They received a confused look in response. “Because she is? She’s an inside cat; it’s not like she’s feeding herself,” Whumpee declared, as if Caretaker was the one being unreasonable. “I’m almost done, okay? Let me finish that up and I’ll be done, 15 minutes tops.”
No, Caretaker was not going to let them finish. If they had their way, Whumpee wouldn’t be picking up a pen for the next week. Putting the paperwork at the edge of the bed, Caretaker walked to Whumpee’s side and put a hand to their forehead. Whumpee leaned into the touch in instinct, their frustration seemingly forgotten.
Caretaker certainly didn’t need a thermometer to tell that Whumpee had a fever. Their skin was clammy, body radiating an unhealthy heat. Caretaker could feel Whumpee trembling under their hand.
“You need to rest, not spend all day trying to fill out forums.” Whumpee simply gave a wordless whine in response, pressing their face further into Caretaker’s hand. After a moment, Caretaker brought their second hand up to press into the side of Whumpee’s neck, causing them to sigh in relief. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”
Whumpee didn’t respond for a long moment, so long that Caretaker thought they’d fallen asleep. “Can you make that soup I like?” they finally murmured into Caretaker’s palm. “The one with the bell pepper…” Caretaker was painfully tempted to pet Whumpee, but they resisted.
“Alright baby. I’ll make it if you promise to rest. I’m sure you can find something to watch.” Whumpee groaned, but nodded. Caretaker smiled
Caretaker returned to Whumpee about an hour later, a bowl of soup in hand. They found Whumpee curled snugly in their blankets, their television show utterly forgotten.
Caretaker saved the soup for later.
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Thinkin about a whumpee that's undercover on a mission. They're at a gala full of important people and their job is hunting down their target- whumper, to gather intel on them. Whumpee goes as an attendee, dressed to the nines. They chat with guests and have a decent time, meeting an old friend who had also been invited.
Eventually they get to work. They find out where whumper is hanging out and make their way in that direction. As they're passing through a dark corridor they're suddenly grabbed from behind, a sharp pain ripping through them at the same time.
"Well, well.. I guess you managed to find me, huh?" Whumper hisses into their ear quietly as they continue pressing the knife into whumpee's torso.
All they can do is let out a strangled groan before whumper rapidly pulls the knife away causing them to collapse, slumped against the wall.
"Stop looking into matters that don't concern you. Next time I won't be so kind." Whumper sneers down at them before storming away.
Whumpee clutches their side, slumped in the corner on the floor. They hiss in pain before realizing that they have to get out of this mess before they jeopardize their entire mission.
They shakily come to a standing position, relying on the wall for support with one hand as their other applies pressure to the wound. They check over themselves, and realize that if they hid under the coat they had on, they could hide the injury as they escaped the party.
They button the front of their overcoat, concealing the dark splotch of blood on their shirt. After grimacing through another wave of pain, they take a deep breath before walking with purpose back towards the exit.
They manage to reach the lobby, exit in sight, before hearing their name called from behind them.
"Whumpee, hey! Where are you heading?" The old friend they had been chatting with earlier was headed their direction.
Shit.
Whumpee spins around, trying to conceal that anything is wrong.
"Oh hey! I was just headed home," They begin to explain. "I'm just super tired.." Whumpee chuckles nervously.
The old friend frowns disappointedly, "Aw man, but its been forever! I was hoping we could hang out some more?"
Whumpee smiles sadly, truly appreciating the offer. "I'd love to, but-" they're cut off by their excited friend before they can finish.
"Then stay! Please? I have to tell you about the missions I've been on lately, and then show you this-" They excitedly begin a run-on sentence, obviously a little intoxicated judging by their speaking volume alone.
Whumpee goes on autopilot, the sharp pain in their side becoming an intense throbbing sensation instead that seemed to sink into their bones. They nod and smile as they listen to their friend go on about the crazy assignment they had just returned from. They were beginning to feel faint.
"...-Have the time?" Whumpee comes back to the present, having drifted into thought. Friend is staring down at them expectantly, still grinning.
"What?" Whumpee blinks at them dumbly, no longer able to think cohesive thoughts.
Friend furrows their brow in concern at their out of place confusion. "Do you... Have the time..?" they repeat.
"Oh," Whumpee shakes their head slightly with a soft chuckle as they unbutton their coat, reaching into their inner pocket for their phone. "Ah, sorry. Like I said I should get going. I'm very tired."
Friend notices their hands trembling as they undo the buttons. "Hey, are you alright? You're shaking really badl-" They cut themselves off abruptly as whumpee rummages around for their phone.
Whumpee glosses over the question as they pull out their phone.
"Yeah, It's like half past.., Uh, w-why are you looking at me like that?" Whumpee finally looks back up at their friend, who's expression had gone serious and their eyes wide.
"You're hurt. Badly." Friend mutters in a low voice, fear evident.
Whumpee stood with phone in hand and coat unfastened, revealing the dark blood stain that had spread across the front of their shirt, doubling in size since they had last seen it.
Whumpee realizes their mistake, quickly looking away as they attempt to button their coat again. They try to keep breathing through the constant pain as the sound of their friend's concerned voice becomes more distant.
Their vision starts to swim as they sway lightly on their feet. Suddenly, the ground is coming up to meet them as they collapse. They can vaguely register the sound of their friend's voice shouting their name as hands try to grab them before they hit the ground.
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