enralis

when i get the mental energy, i will become the content instead of waiting for the content!!!!

💜 monster hunter high

mini comic series about my headcanon of a shy gore magala and his time in highschool

ch 1

ch 2

🔷 kayn

it's sour >_<

happy birthday

happy kiddo

gates of insanity

💞 rhaayn

shitposts/memes

learning to braid

fic world end's executioner (reincarnation au)

snow moon

fic & art happy birthday to me

fic from when you take flight

😈 heartsteel!kayn

colouring inside the lines

brushing teeth

coffee headcanons

buying shirts

✨ tags

personal

my art

my cats

The days passed just like that: peaceful with a sprinkling of domesticity. And surprisingly, Rhaast didn’t mind. The pair would talk about the weather, the food hall’s pantry stock, the training ground’s new weapons purchases for the year, the inefficiency at which the Ionian Tax Council worked. Kayn would train alongside the acolytes, his movements with Rhaast never becoming sluggish. Even as the years passed, Kayn never let up on his training. There was never a chance to put it into practice, but he kept up his routine all the same.

Instead of going out hunting for heads, Kayn would use his notorious reputation to haggle for goods at the marketplace. Rhaast called it “extortion”, Kayn called it "negotiation".

And, just like that, sixty years passed in a blink of an eye.

Now, as Kayn lay in his bed, surrounded by trays of untouched food and medicine, Rhaast was the one who furrowed his brows.

Kayn, you didn’t take your medicine.

The shadow reaper coughed weakly.

“Didn’t know you believed in medicine, Rhaast,” he tried to joke, but his voice didn’t have the same smug lilt behind the mocking words.

“What? Now that I’m finally knocking on death’s door,  you don’t want me to go? You’ll win, then, won’t you?”

The Darkin said nothing.

“I’ve got to say, Rhaast. I’m surprised this has shaken you up so much.”

What do you mean, brat?

The Darkin narrowed his eyes, spitting out the words in disgust.

Kayn laughed before the air coming out of his lungs turned into a wheeze.

“I have thought…a lot about this. The past sixty or so years may have gone quickly for you, Rhaast, but for me?”

Kayn sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his head back on the soft pillow.

“I think the first time was when we had the younger boy picked up by the Noxian border. He looked so lost. It reminded me of when I was first brought to the Order…it wasn’t until then that I realized how much time had passed.”

Rhaast listened silently, not knowing where his partner was taking this line of thought.

“What would you do when I’m gone? What would happen to you when I’m gone? Would you feel sad? Relief? Happiness? I questioned the ‘you’ inside my head for years, never receiving an answer. Of course, I would never ask you. I was too afraid.”

A cough, before the Darkin’s claws gently raked against Kayn’s back, helping him sit up.

“By the time I wasn’t afraid to ask you anymore,” Kayn continued, his voice coming out as a croak. “I didn’t need to ask you anymore. I already knew.”

Knew what?

The Darkin’s voice finally came through, reverberating in the room.

“That you love me.”

Tch.

Rhaast scoffed, but he didn’t deny it. His plated talons combed through Kayn’s hair, now only reaching his chest, and smoothed it out against his back.

“Maybe we don’t feel pain or sadness the same way, but it doesn’t change the outcome. That’s just the way of life, isn’t it?” The two sat in silence for a while as Kayn struggled to catch his breath. Even talking was taking a toll on him now.

“We commit our bodies to this world. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…praying for resurrection.”

Kayn went into a coughing fit, reaching for the Darkin’s hand for support. He felt the cold metal caress his thinned skin before it pulled the blanket up against his face, as if shielding him from the world. “No matter how long I ran away from it in my youth, death was always faster.”

You’ve changed a lot.

The Darkin said no more, no less. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it: was the discomfort deep in his core due to the changes in Kayn’s demeanor? Or, was it from the realization he would have to face his own unchanging soul?

A pause.

“Have I, now?” Kayn chuckled softly after he digested his partner’s words. The voice barely reached past the cotton covers, muffled by the cloth.

Shh. Rest.

Rhaast pushed the frail man’s body back against the bed.

For eons, Rhaast had been the same. How, then, did the past eighty-five years change him so thoroughly?

He didn’t dare think about the thoughts that used to creep up on him as the reaper slept in his younger years. At first, he was angry with himself. Wasn’t that what he wanted? He wanted the death of the human soul, so he could become free again, walking the earth to find his next suitable vessel.

Then, after the anger, came the fear. Fear wasn’t something Rhaast would ever admit to feeling, but now he had come to realize it for what it was. A deep, primal, gripping fear.

It was then that Rhaast realized what it meant to love.

To be afraid of the imprint left behind by someone. To dread that space they occupied could never be filled. To reject the notion that one could love, be loved…just for it to end.

It was just like Rhaast to only understand the feelings from a place of fear. He had inflicted on so many victims yet he, himself, had never felt it until Kayn’s first diagnosis. Kayn faced it with much more grace than he did; the man simply nodded, sighed, and said, “well, it can’t be helped.”

That night, Kayn slept the same. No tossing, no turning. They didn’t even talk about it. And that’s when the fear had started taking root.

From then on, every injury during training, every sore muscle, every cough, every-

Rhaast would fawn over Kayn; it would’ve been humorous to watch, if it were not so heartbreaking.

Have you given up?

“No,” Kayn replied simply, “there isn’t much else for me to do, right? I just continue on, like I always have.”

Rhaast hated that answer.

He understood at the age of eighty-two, Kayn’s illness came as no surprise to anyone. The Order had already chosen a successor. Kayn had already arranged for the acolytes to take care of Rhaast and aid him in whatever shenanigans he wished to pursue. It seemed that every human had accepted their leader’s inevitable death, much to Rhaast’s disgust.

Now, three years later, his condition has worsened. Kayn no longer led training sessions, and he was rarely in his office. His favourite pastime of extorting, er, haggling at the market was now left to the disciples

Now, today, Rhaast sits on the edge of his partner’s bed.

Do you want some of the soup?

“Mm, s’okay,” Kayn mumbled. “You sound like a mom, Rhaast,” he smiled weakly as he turned his head with great effort to look into the Darkin’s eyes.

Quiet. You need to sleep and regain your energy.

The words were said, but they came out hollow. The rest unsaid hung in the air; they both knew, but both chose to reject it.

Kayn stretched out his fingers, and Rhaast placed his hand underneath in understanding. “You’re…warm,” Kayn mused, looking down at their intertwined fingers.

Nonsense. When has my hand ever felt warm to you?

Rhaast wordlessly brought Kayn’s hand to his face, pressing a kiss against the back.

The shadow reaper didn’t respond. His breathing came out in soft gasps, his chest pushing against the thick quilt.

Rhaast shifted the fabric out of the way…

…And counted his breaths.

One.

Two…