This is an indie Nymeria rp blog, not affiliated with infold... just a space for fun, chaos, and the occasional emotional damage. It’s my MC blog, so expect random jumpscares, weird posts, and maybe too much commitment to the bit. Both mun and muse are 21+, and mun’s hanging out in the CET timezone. This blog’s semi-selective—I write when the muse bites. Open to anons, ocs, mcs, and other lads blogs. Come say hi, lurk, or drop chaos in the inbox. All good.
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Crimson eyes flash with amusement at her reaction. Every detail, every expression, and intonation of her voice something to capture. Treasures to hoard, to keep. To remember.
"It's a perfectly reasonable name, better than Sylus Jr." He pushes with a quirk of his lips, just because he can. Brows rising in amusement at her explanation. "I see..."
He reaches for her wrist, thumb swiping softly over the back of her hand. Once, twice.
"First, it's my height. Now it's my weird nickname agenda." Mirth rumbles with each word he whispers, as he peers into her eyes. The afternoon light dances with the gold in them, jewels just visible under the sea waves. "Sweetie, do you have a secret list of complaints you'd like to run by me?"
Nymeria’s brows lifted slowly as she stared at him, utterly unconvinced by the innocence in his tone.
“Oh, I absolutely have a list,” she replied dryly, though the corners of her lips betrayed her amusement. Her fingers curled loosely around his wrist where he held her, thumb brushing once over his knuckles in retaliation for the way he’d been tracing circles against her skin.
“Let’s see…” she mused dramatically, tilting her head as though genuinely considering it. “You’re too tall, smug far too often, and somehow manage to make every nickname sound like a threat and flirting at the same time.”
Her gaze flicked up to meet his crimson eyes, warm despite the teasing. “And now,” she added softly, “you keep looking at me like that. Which is honestly becoming a very serious problem for my ability to think properly.”
A beat passed before she leaned closer, close enough for her voice to dip. “But if I’m being fair…” her lips curved faintly, “I think I’m a little too fond of your weird nickname agenda to file an official complaint, Sweetie.”
Nym leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed and a far too-innocent smile playing on her lips as she watched Xavier go about his business.
“Hey, Xavier?” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “Quick question. Totally hypothetical.”
She pushed off the wall and stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Let’s say you have 1,000 Linkon gold. Your ex borrows 400, and I borrow 200.” She paused, just long enough to be suspicious.
“How much would you have left?”
Her smile widened, slow, sly, and unmistakably a trap.
His eyes caught hers, first enamored by her voice, her frame, the elegance in her mere existence before revisiting what she was saying. He'd like to think he hadn't missed a word, but it was a battle to find the first few after he'd been mesmerized by her presence.
By the tone alone, he knew it was some kind of ridiculous hypothetical –again– that he knew brought her a whimsical amount of joy. It bought him some small amount of joy too, to watch her react as well.
One word stopped him in his tracks, and without missing a beat he replied,
"I would have 400 left to divide amongst A-V-I-E and R, which gives them about 80 each. Greedy that X. Don't worry. I'll tell him to give it all to you as punishment."
Nymeria's brain visibly tried to catch up with what he’d just done—how he’d twisted the question, slipped through the trap, and somehow turned it back around so smoothly it barely even felt like a dodge.
For a second, she just stared at him.
Then her eyes narrowed, a slow grin spreading across her face.
“…You sneaky little—”
A soft laugh escaped her as she stepped in, looping an arm around him and giving his side a light squeeze, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she muttered, though there was clear admiration in her voice. “I set that up perfectly and you just—” she gestured vaguely, “—walked right out of it like it was nothing.”
She tilted her head up at him, eyes glinting.
“You passed,” she declared, tapping his chest lightly. “In flying colors. I’m a little proud of you. Don’t let it get to your head.”
Nym hovered near the worktable, pretending to be very invested in a stray petal while Jeremiah carefully arranged the flowers, sleeves rolled up, hands steady and precise.
She waited. Counted three heartbeats.
“So,” she said lightly, tilting her head like she was just making conversation, “hypothetical question.”
She picked up a loose stem, twirling it between her fingers as she glanced at him through her lashes.
“Let’s say you have 1,000 Linkon gold. Your ex borrows 400.” A pause. “And I borrow 200.”
She smiled, sweet and absolutely not innocent.
“How much would you have left?”
"400." Jeremiah said, precisely, non-chalantly, and without thought. Any thought. Head empty except for the count he was on already. Multi-tasking and Jeremiah didn't exactly fit in the same sentence. He was a man of very many talents, and very technically precise, which had brought him success. But thinking things through? That was Xavier's job. Jeremiah had heard a math problem, not a psychological equation, and he'd answered as such.
"That does it for the roses and- Wait, why are you looking at me like that? Am I bleeding again? No? Wait, do you need gold?"
Her face went completely blank for a second as she processed the very confident, very immediate answer.
“…400,” she repeated slowly, like maybe if she said it back, it would somehow fix itself.
It did not.
She felt her soul leave her body just a little. She should be a top contender in 'Play stupid games, win stupid prizes'.
Then she turned her head away with a dramatic little huff, lips pressing into a pout as she crossed her arms. “No reason,” she said, way too quickly. “It was just a question.”
She stared very intently at a nearby plant like it had personally wronged her. “And no, I don’t need gold. I have my own gold. Plenty of gold. So much gold. Gold for days.”
Then, under her breath—just loud enough for him to hear,
“…So you’d give money to your ex?”
Her nose scrunched, still refusing to look at him, fully aware she had just played herself in the dumbest way possible.
The second she heard the news she was rushing through the streets towards the familiar apartment complex, whether Nym was there or not it didn't matter. The better part of an hour later and an armful of purple tulips, skin care kits, and snacks later; Delia knocks on the door twice, softly. She pulls out her phone for good measure.
-> nym (╥_╥)
-> captain jenna said your mission is over
-> are you home? if not I will leave something at the entrance for you to find later...
- @xaviersknight
nym -> delia
[Message sent 7:33 pm]
📱 You better not leave that doorstep without seeing me.
📱 I’m home.
📱 Finally.
📱 I am so overdue for some Delia time.
A moment later, there’s the sound of hurried footsteps from inside the apartment, and then the door swings open. Nym’s hair still damp from a quick shower, loose and half-tucked behind one ear. She’s wearing an oversized shirt and the softest grin that only gets wider when she sees Delia standing there, arms full of gifts.
“Delia…” she breathes out, relief and warmth mixing in her voice as she immediately pulls her into a hug before the other woman can even react. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”
She tugs her gently inside. “Now get in here before I start crying like a loser in the hallway.”
Delia's heart squeezes at her words, and she instinctively reaches out to take her hand, mirroring the quiet, lonely smile on Nym. "Well, it was definitely too quiet without you."
She squeezes Nym's hand gently, before conceding her retreat, a more genuine smile on her face when she sees the mischief in her friend's eyes.
"Hmm... I think Star cried about two times over being bored to tears without you," She starts counting on her fingers as she rattles on. "Miki, to no one's surprise, has taken more projects and missions on her plate than she should and missed you dearly. I think... that colonel of hers might've done something right for once but she wants to tell us all at the same time? And..."
She gets up and reaches for the tulips, looking around the room before she clears her throat. "Where do you keep your vases? Let me make these pretty for you."
Nym’s fingers curled instinctively around Delia’s, giving her hand a grateful squeeze, one that lingered longer than she meant it to. Delia’s warmth, her voice, her presence… it all melted something tight in Nym’s chest she didn’t even know she’d been holding.
But then the gossip started flowing, and Nym perked up like someone had flipped a switch.
“Star cried twice? Oh my gods, dramatic queen,” Nym snorted, shaking her head fondly. “Tell me—tell me—did she finally stop being a gremlin and she’s now dating Dr. Zayne? Or is she still doing that thing where she stares at him for twenty minutes and then denies everything like we’re the delusional ones?”
She followed Delia’s movement toward the tulips, pushing herself off the couch with a soft grunt and padding toward the kitchen. She opened a cupboard, pulled out a glass vase with a little flourish, and held it out proudly.
“Here. My fancy vase. Don’t judge, it’s the only one that survived my last cleaning spree.”
But then she backtracked to Miki’s name.
And Caleb.
Nym froze mid-step, whipping around with the biggest grin.
“Wait. WAIT.”
She leaned in close, eyes wide.
“Miki and Caleb—are they a thing? Please tell me they’re a thing.”
Then her grin turned downright feral.
“And PLEASE tell me you gave him the shovel talk. With details. Did you threaten him? Did you mention the association’s cremation rate? Did you—”
She clasped her hands dramatically beneath her chin.
“—tell him that if he breaks her heart, you won’t be the only one who sets him on fire?”
She whispered, half teasing, half genuinely invested. “I need to know our girl is protected. He’s sweet, yeah, sure—but he’s still a colonel. With a gun. And too many muscles. And a serious case of ‘I’ll suffer silently before I communicate’ syndrome.”
Delia watches the mischief return to Nym's eyes and a part of her breathes a sigh of relief. Chisme can be a good distraction. She giggles, amused.
"Hmm... no? For someone so straightforward Star still seems ready to eat her arm instead of admitting to anything." She takes the vase gratefully, moves to fill it with water and to place the flowers as she continues. Makes a mental note for a possible vase as a gift. "Sorry if I uh- walk around like I own the place, but a little bird once told me it was good to help with flower care when you gift them."
The questions about Caleb make her laugh, almost splashing water on herself.
"Of course I did, he probably thinks I hate him...." She pauses. If there's anything she's learned is that appearances are tricky things, and Caleb seems a little too adept at using his charm. "And yes... he ahould be aware that he's got a whole team to deal with if he ever hurts her."
She sets the vase on the counter, moving the flowers around to truly bring out the purple.
"But for better or for worse, he does seem to make Miki happy... Uh, sometimes. I think they might be a thing now? I'm not sure." She turns towards Nym then, offers her a smile. "I like seeing you with energy, but I think I know someone else who tends to bottle things up and suffer in silence before communicating so... I'll remind you I'm here too."
Nym let out a sharp laugh at that, dropping back against the counter and throwing an arm over her eyes.
“Oh my god, she’s still doing that?” she groaned. “Star, queen of confidence, slayer of wanderers, but can't be honest with her doctor about how she really feels about him.” She peeked out from under her arm, grinning. “I’m giving it two weeks before she either confesses or explodes. No in-between.”
Her gaze followed Delia as she moved around the kitchen like she’d always belonged there, arranging the flowers with careful hands. The sight softened something in her chest
Then at the mention of Caleb, she perked up immediately, sitting up with renewed interest.
“But also… yeah. If he hurts her, we jump him. I don’t care if he’s a colonel. I will throw hands.”
She laughed under her breath, then quieted as Delia placed the flowers down, the purple catching the light beautifully. For a moment, Nym just… looked at them. At the care. At the effort.
Then Delia turned back to her.
And said that.
Nym stilled.
The humor slipped—not gone, just softened—like waves pulling back from the shore. She rubbed the back of her neck, gaze dropping for a second before flicking back up to meet Delia’s.
“…Hey,” she said, quieter now. “That’s my thing. You don’t get to call me out like that. It ruins my whole mysterious, emotionally unavailable persona.” But there was no bite to it. Just a small, crooked smile.
“I know,” she added, more honestly this time. “And… I’m trying. I just—” she huffed softly, searching for the right words, “I don’t always know how to not do that. Bottle things up, I mean.”
Her eyes flicked to the flowers again, then back to Delia.
“But I hear you,” she said, gentler. “And I’m… really glad you’re here.”
Then, because she couldn’t help herself—
“…Also if Caleb does mess up, you distract him and I’ll go for the knees.”
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His smile deepens at the defiant lift of her chin, eyebrows raising further in amusement with each word that slips out of her mouth. She can be so witty. Sylus' fingers brush against her cheek softly, wiping away the dirt she'd smeared there, and he lingers. Knuckles tracing a gentle line down her cheek.
"Why would I need to lie about that?" He teases, words dripping with mirth and anticipation of what she might say next. "It doesn't sound like a downside and..." He runs his thumb across her jaw, slow and with intent. "You've never complained about my size before."
He kneels beside her on the mat, calmly drawing up the sleeves of his shirt.
"I'm not much for taking care of things... but I can follow your lead for Kitten Jr."
Nym’s brain very unhelpfully stalled the moment his fingers brushed her cheek.
Warm. Gentle. Lingering.
And then—
"You’ve never complained about my size before."
Her entire face went pink.
For a split second, her mind went somewhere it absolutely should not have, and her grip on the small trowel tightened as she stared at him like he’d just committed a crime.
She looked away sharply, dragging a hand through her hair in a poor attempt to cool her burning cheeks. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, flustered embarrassment and something softer she refused to name.
And then—
“Kitten Jr.?”
Her head snapped back toward him.
Nym immediately smacked his arm not hard, but with enough indignation to make her point. “Absolutely not. No. Denied. Rejected. That name is banned effective immediately.”
She pointed accusingly at the plant. “This is a respectable member of society. It deserves dignity. Honor. A name that doesn’t sound like it’s part of your weird nickname agenda.”
aka 1.6k words of fluff where zayne asks miki out for the first time, ft. nymeria ashfield ( @aethercore-seeker ).
It was taking longer than usual.
Miki sat awkwardly in the hallway, back straight against the plastic chair. Toying with her hair, she would unbraid, and then rebraid, and then unbraid it again in a little cycle. In the same vein, the same nurse had been by three times now. Footsteps on the polished floor, a cart rolling by… She'd learned to give the nurse a tiny, sheepish smile.
And she thought, at least, the scent of hospitals was never quite overbearing to her.
But what did make her anxious was the wait.
Fifteen minutes.
She told herself she was here for Nymeria. That this was about being a good, supportive friend, about accompanying her to a check-up, about ensuring she had her own accountability partner…
But maybe Nymeria herself knew that wasn't quite the case.
Because when the door in front of her finally opened, her attention snapped up immediately.
And Zayne stepped out first.
Zayne.
He was mid-conversation, speaking in that calm, measured tone of his as Nymeria followed behind him, already tugging her jacket back on. He gestured lightly with his tablet as he finished explaining something—numbers, schedules, reminders—
And then his gaze shifted.
Their eyes met.
Subtle, just the smallest pause.
But his attention anchored, like he’d found the thing he’d been unconsciously looking for, and his expression softened just a fraction.
“Miki,” he said, nodding his head in greeting.
She stood a little too quickly. “H- hi…"
Nymeria beamed between them. “Well! Thank you, Dr. Zayne, and you two wait right here while I go grab some water!” She spoke like a declaration, hands on her hips, before giving Miki a little salute. "Doctor’s orders!"
Zayne nodded, “Hydration is important.”
And she was already backing away.
Then the hallway fell quiet again.
A beat passed, before Miki turned towards him, fiddling with her hands behind her back.
She cleared her throat.
“Um… H- how did it go…?"
Zayne looked up.
"Stable," he spoke matter-of-factly. "No concerning changes, in spite of the missions you two have been on as of late."
"Oh! Th- that’s good…”
“It is.”
He watched her for a moment, then added, “Thank you… for waiting for her today. Did you have an appointment with Dr. Greyson as well?"
“Oh, no, I…! I-I had mine yesterday! I just thought I'd keep her company… and, um…"
She shifted her weight, suddenly aware of her hands, her posture, the way she’d been standing too straight—
But the corner of Zayne's lips lifted up ever so slightly.
"I didn't see you drop by yesterday."
"H-huh? I, uhm…"
With a slight tilt of his head, he stepped aside to offer her space to enter in, and Miki felt her heart rate pick up.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd be leaving me any notes this week like you used to."
Miki thought her ears might be deceiving her.
Still he spoke in that levelled, casual tone as he walked back to his desk, but dare she say she could find a hint of amusement in it.
"You missed last week, as well."
Her face burned.
He… noticed something like that…?
"I-I didn't want make you uncomfortable—"
"They did not make me uncomfortable."
She stopped.
He settled into his seat, raised his head to look at her.
"On the contrary, I quite enjoyed them," he nodded. "The last one you gave me had a drawing of Clopidogrel. I think it was quite cute."
Miki's eyes widened, and if she thought that her cheeks couldn't possibly get warmer, it seemed that she was very, very wrong.
"Um, I… I-I'll come back tomorrow, then! And I'll give you another note, and, um, I-I remember you saying you liked the macarons I brought last time, so I'll…"
“Miki."
She swallowed thickly.
“Y… yes?”
A silence passed. She caught the way his gaze softened, even as he moved to place his glasses back on his desk.
“I was also wondering,” he said slowly, “if you'd be free this Friday evening.”
… Pardon?
She stared, for a moment, before nodding. "I… I think so….. W-why do you ask?"
He watched her closely now.
There was something in his eyes she didn't quite recognize at first. Amusement—there it was again. But there was also another, different kind of warmth in them. One that she’d only ever seen when she made him laugh unexpectedly.
Miki's heart pounded in her chest. He couldn't possibly be…?
“I’d like to take you out to dinner. Just the two of us.”
He spoke before she could complete the thought.
And she blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“…Like,” she started, then stopped. “… L-like— as, um… Friends?”
Zayne’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. If she deluded herself further, she could have believed that he was laughing at her.
And yet, when he spoke again, there was less of a colder tone to his voice, and he sounded quite…
Gentle.
Sweet.
“No,” he folded his hands on the table, “as a date.”
And the room went very, very quiet.
Once more, Miki’s face went warm all at once, heat rushing up her neck, her ears, her cheeks. Her hands curled into her sleeves like they might anchor her to reality, like she could only believe she was dreaming—
“A— a date?” she repeated, uselessly.
“Yes.”
Matter-of-fact. Certain.
She stared at him.
He waited.
“B-but you— I thought— I-I mean, you know that I like you, and I was okay with just being friends, really, I was, I promise—”
“I know,” he chuckled.
Chuckled.
It almost seemed as if Zayne could no longer hide his amusement, and he shook his head, somewhat endeared.
Miki felt her brain stutter.
“I enjoy your company,” he offered, trying to reassure her. “I like talking to you. And I do, in fact, think about you, even outside of this hospital.”
A pause.
A gather of thoughts.
Miki's head seemed to swarm over with the pounding of her heart, and he added—
“And… I’d like to see where this goes, if you’re willing.”
She let out a soft exhale. A breath, a swallow. A sheepish smile.
“…You’re serious,” she whispers.
He nodded once. "I don’t tend to joke about things I want."
And another moment passed, before she nodded.
Twice.
Thrice.
She couldn't help the giddy smile pushing at her lips, and she nodded again.
"Y-yes, I…!" She clasped her hands behind her back, an attempt to restrain an overflow of joy. "I-I would really like that!"
And there it was.
There was unmistakable fondness in his eyes now; soft, contained, but undeniably there.
“Good,” he looked back down at his papers, “Then I’ll pick you up at seven. If… that works for you.”
She noded again.
Probably too many times.
“Yes. Seven. That— yes.”
He glanced up.
Smiled.
“I’ll see you Friday, Miki.”
And when she left the room, Nymeria peered at her dazed expression with an eyebrow raised.
“Oh my god… What happened to you?”
“Nym, I think… I-I think I just got asked out…"
"WHAT?"
Bonus:
Zayne arrived exactly on time.
Miki knew this because she’d been standing by the door for the past five minutes, peeking out the window, heart fluttering like it didn't quite know what to do with itself. And yet, she heard the knock, and still jumped.
Still took in a deep, deep breath.
Still smoothed down her dress with shaking hands, and opened the door—
And almost forgot how to breathe.
He was really there.
Zayne—without the white coat, without the glasses… Just a dark jacket, clean lines, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his wrists. And so… handsome.
She'd forgotten to breathe, yes. But, apparently, also how to speak.
“Good evening,” he nodded at her.
A pause.
“…H- hi,” she managed, barely louder than a breath.
And she watched as his eyes lingered on her, slow and thoughtful, as if taking her in without trying to make it too obvious. She felt painfully aware of herself—of how her heart was racing, how she suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands…
“Y-you’re, um, early,” she said nervously, then winced. “I-I mean— not early, you're on time! I… I am. Was. I-I was ready early. Which is silly—”
“It is not,” he interrupted gently.
She blinked.
“You were prepared. And I find that very admirable.”
Though odd, that tiniest bit of reassurance seemed to settle her. Even as he offered a hand for her to take, even as he guided her down the steps of her front porch to his car.
And god, her heart was so loud.
Her cheeks were warm, and she was all the same aware of the warmth of standing so close to him.
Yet, how else could she describe it? He could make her pulse race by simply existing, but still, she felt so… secure, with him.
Calm, in the weirdest sense of the word.
And Zayne opened the door for her, slid in beside her. As he started the engine, there was a brief pause.
He didn't move right away—instead, he glanced at her.
“Miki,” he cleared his throat.
“Y-yes?”
She turned.
He hesitated.
She noticed the way his fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel before relaxing again, a motion she could attribute—in her head, if she could delude herself of this night even further—to the possibility that he was nervous.
“I… wanted to tell you something,” he started, slowly. “I was trying to find the right moment.”
Her heart skipped.
And if Zayne had been looking straight ahead, now he turned—looked at her, properly, eyes softer than she’d ever seen them, with a faint, shy smile at the corner of his mouth.
“You… look very beautiful tonight.”
Miki thought she might faint.
☁️; HAHA... UM... AHA...... 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 the zayne feels are hitting hard this winter and i... 😭😭
Today is a French holiday 🗣️ You heard it here first, folks. It's @kaianqelic 's birthday!!!!! And why wouldn't it be a holiday when someone so gorgeous was born????
She's the only one who is crazy enough to convince me to try snails and the only one who gets to pin me down on a training mat 🥰
The second she heard the news she was rushing through the streets towards the familiar apartment complex, whether Nym was there or not it didn't matter. The better part of an hour later and an armful of purple tulips, skin care kits, and snacks later; Delia knocks on the door twice, softly. She pulls out her phone for good measure.
-> nym (╥_╥)
-> captain jenna said your mission is over
-> are you home? if not I will leave something at the entrance for you to find later...
- @xaviersknight
nym -> delia
[Message sent 7:33 pm]
📱 You better not leave that doorstep without seeing me.
📱 I’m home.
📱 Finally.
📱 I am so overdue for some Delia time.
A moment later, there’s the sound of hurried footsteps from inside the apartment, and then the door swings open. Nym’s hair still damp from a quick shower, loose and half-tucked behind one ear. She’s wearing an oversized shirt and the softest grin that only gets wider when she sees Delia standing there, arms full of gifts.
“Delia…” she breathes out, relief and warmth mixing in her voice as she immediately pulls her into a hug before the other woman can even react. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”
She tugs her gently inside. “Now get in here before I start crying like a loser in the hallway.”
Delia's heart squeezes at her words, and she instinctively reaches out to take her hand, mirroring the quiet, lonely smile on Nym. "Well, it was definitely too quiet without you."
She squeezes Nym's hand gently, before conceding her retreat, a more genuine smile on her face when she sees the mischief in her friend's eyes.
"Hmm... I think Star cried about two times over being bored to tears without you," She starts counting on her fingers as she rattles on. "Miki, to no one's surprise, has taken more projects and missions on her plate than she should and missed you dearly. I think... that colonel of hers might've done something right for once but she wants to tell us all at the same time? And..."
She gets up and reaches for the tulips, looking around the room before she clears her throat. "Where do you keep your vases? Let me make these pretty for you."
Nym’s fingers curled instinctively around Delia’s, giving her hand a grateful squeeze, one that lingered longer than she meant it to. Delia’s warmth, her voice, her presence… it all melted something tight in Nym’s chest she didn’t even know she’d been holding.
But then the gossip started flowing, and Nym perked up like someone had flipped a switch.
“Star cried twice? Oh my gods, dramatic queen,” Nym snorted, shaking her head fondly. “Tell me—tell me—did she finally stop being a gremlin and she’s now dating Dr. Zayne? Or is she still doing that thing where she stares at him for twenty minutes and then denies everything like we’re the delusional ones?”
She followed Delia’s movement toward the tulips, pushing herself off the couch with a soft grunt and padding toward the kitchen. She opened a cupboard, pulled out a glass vase with a little flourish, and held it out proudly.
“Here. My fancy vase. Don’t judge, it’s the only one that survived my last cleaning spree.”
But then she backtracked to Miki’s name.
And Caleb.
Nym froze mid-step, whipping around with the biggest grin.
“Wait. WAIT.”
She leaned in close, eyes wide.
“Miki and Caleb—are they a thing? Please tell me they’re a thing.”
Then her grin turned downright feral.
“And PLEASE tell me you gave him the shovel talk. With details. Did you threaten him? Did you mention the association’s cremation rate? Did you—”
She clasped her hands dramatically beneath her chin.
“—tell him that if he breaks her heart, you won’t be the only one who sets him on fire?”
She whispered, half teasing, half genuinely invested. “I need to know our girl is protected. He’s sweet, yeah, sure—but he’s still a colonel. With a gun. And too many muscles. And a serious case of ‘I’ll suffer silently before I communicate’ syndrome.”
Out of all the plans and countermeasures he'd thought of, he still wasn't quite prepared to be faced with the reality of Nymeria in this lifetime; with everything that remained and everything that changed. Still competitive, still with a caring heart, still on par or better than him in so many ways. Yet, in this life that seems to have allowed her softness she's developed things they'd only gotten a glimpse of before.
There's this: her, hands deep in dirt, purple hair alight under the afternoon sun like she is one of the flowers she's so carefully tending to. And there's the murmur of her voice as she keeps up a conversation with... a plant.
Sylus' lips curl in amusement and he can't resist stepping closer.
"Do the plants make for good conversation partners, sweetie?"
Nym didn’t even need to look up to know Sylus was amused, she could feel it, like a warm little pressure at the back of her neck. Still, she kept gently loosening the basil’s roots, pretending she hadn’t been caught mid–one-sided gossip session with a plant.
“Judge all you want,” she muttered, flicking a glance up at him as she brushed her forearm across her cheek—which only managed to smear soil across her skin. “It’s scientifically proven that plants respond to sound waves. So yes,” she added with a stubborn lift of her chin, “they’re excellent conversationalists.”
When she finally looked up at him, she had to tilt her head back farther than seems reasonable… her eyes narrowed just slightly.
She tilted her head.
Suspicious.
“You know,” she said, voice low and accusing, “I’m convinced you lie about your height. There is no way you’re only six-two. You’re like… six-four. Minimum. Absolute tree.”
She clicked her tongue, scooting over on the little kneeling mat and patting the space beside her. “C’mon, then. If you’re here to mock me, you’re also here to help.”
Nym held up the basil plant as if presenting a baby. “I still haven’t picked a name for this little guy,” she declared proudly. “So unless you want me to call him ‘Sylus Jr.’ you better get down here and contribute.”
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Rumor has it that you owe a certain purple haired hunter a donut and a drink!
"Hmmmm now is that true or did we make that one up because we wanted a donut and a drink? Doesn't matter, you're getting it anyways now! Spiked or nah?"
“Trick,” she declared confidently, hands on her hips and a playful glint in her eyes. “I know you. You’ll pull some cute little prank.... like hiding a gummy worm in my pocket or pretending you lost your keys again.”
She even closed her eyes dramatically and opened one hand, fully expecting something sweet, harmless, maybe even romantic.
And then he spoke.
Her eyes snapped open.
“…You… what?”
For a moment she just stood there, blinking at him, expression frozen like someone had hit pause on her entire soul. Then came the slow, dawning horror. Her brows knit. Her jaw dropped. Her hand lifted as if to point at him but hovered there halfway, trembling slightly with pure disbelief.
“Xavier…”
Her voice cracked. Was she angry? Was she about to cry? Was she about to faint? No one could tell. Not even her.
“You put— you put cricket— cricket protein— into our chai?” she repeated, voice wobbling through every emotion known to humankind. “I drank— I drank TWO cups— I swallowed that— voluntarily— with happiness—!”
Her face cycled like a broken mood wheel: betrayal, nausea, incredulity, quiet mourning for her tongue, and then blank shock.
She slowly lifted a hand to her own throat like she could still feel microscopic crickets doing laps inside her.
She screamed his name. One would think that something was terribly wrong. But no, it was just a common house lizard staring at her from the wall. She would rather face a hundered wanderers over this lizard.
Xavier scrambled, nearly tripping on the carpet to get to the source of her voice. Although he had the sense that nothing could be terribly wrong, there were no metaflux fluctuations that he could sense and he knew very well she could fend off intruders just as fast as any wanderer. He knew that shriek didn't mean danger, or a clothes stain, if was pure terror, and it could only mean one thing...
"Nymeria?"
As soon as his concerned gaze finds her cowering form, he follows it to the lizard on the wall and he can't help but smirk while he shakes his head. "I thought it'd be something like this. Or a bug."
Calm and collected, he plucked it off the wall and held it gently between his palms.
"I think he wants to say hello to such a beautiful, strong, brave hunter." He held its squirming form out to wiggle in front of her, wickedly. "The question is which one of you is more nervous..."
Not intending to torture her for too long, he returned it to his palms and felt its small heartbeat and warm form. It almost seemed to calm down contentedly in his warm, safe hands.
"I'll just take him outside. I don't want Puffball to eat him."
Nymeria froze in place, still half-crouched behind the armchair like it was her last line of defense. The moment Xavier turned with that smug little smirk and held the thing out toward her, her entire soul left her body.
Her eyes went wide. Then narrow.
“Xavier. Don’t you dare—”
He took one step closer. She took three full steps back, hands lifted like he was pointing a loaded weapon at her.
“Nope. Absolutely not. Keep that— that wiggling demon noodle away from me,” she hissed, glaring at him with all the fury of someone who fought Wanderers for a living but refused to negotiate with lizards.
When the squirming creature wiggled at her, she actually made a sound that could only be described as a distressed whine and backed into the wall. “Why are you like this? I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
He finally cupped it closer to himself again, and only then did she lower her hands, still giving him a betrayed look. “And for the record,” she muttered, crossing her arms and inching behind the couch for extra safety, “Puffball can eat it. Puffball can have two. Heck, Puffball can eat them allllll.”
But despite her grumbling, the tension in her shoulders eased the moment he turned toward the door.
“And hurry,” she added, peeking over just to make sure he wasn’t about to toss it at her again. “If it disappears before you get outside, I’m moving out.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SKY!!!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME TODAY. 💗
Without you, I probably would have embarrassed myself a thousand times more. I made you a glass blown pumpkin (I am so much better than Xavier... right??? RIGHT??) and I got you a dragon plushieeeee.
Also everyone stop and look at how gorgeous @xavissky is!!! 🥺🥺🥺
"Thank you, Nym!" She giggled. "You're not even wrong. I'll have to treat you to a date soon. The pumpkin is going on my desk! And thank you for helping expand my plushie family. But more than that, I'm grateful I have friends like you."
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SKY!!!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME TODAY. 💗
Without you, I probably would have embarrassed myself a thousand times more. I made you a glass blown pumpkin (I am so much better than Xavier... right??? RIGHT??) and I got you a dragon plushieeeee.
Also everyone stop and look at how gorgeous @xavissky is!!! 🥺🥺🥺
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
