Archive for Dawns and Dewdrops

As per tradition, ancient Myipard artifacts

Note: introductory chapters to my yumeship’s lore, a lot of the childhood segments for Gepard’s part of the story is fueled by my personal interpretation and headcanons although i do want to keep his canon’s essence well intact. Also i sprinkled in many more ocs for the sake of world building so if you encounter anyone unfamiliar just assume that helpp. Author doesnt practice writing a lot so if it seems like its bunz help me out pls ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

pairing: Gepard x Myila(oc)

genre: childhood friends, slowestburninhell, fluff, slice of life

wordcount: 1.8k

Prologue

This is the beginning,

A story of a young man and a young lady that lived in a snow globe. 

This is the boy; Gepard Landau.

Today, Gepard walked to school with his nanny through the busy morning avenue. 

The boy carried a heavy bag on his back, the little steps of his boots thumping on stone pavements as quick as the erratic heartbeats that were encaged in his ribs.

His nanny was too brisk in her walk but she stopped in her tracks when they reached a pedestrian lane.

There is life waiting.

In a seemingly constant stream of motion there are little respites in between. 

A red light signal blinked down the seconds that pass.

The boy wanted to catch his breath and for that he was thankful. 

People are rushing, picking their paces up to run after life. There are timers, grandfather clocks, historians, heroes. And he sees them all running.

He should run too, his father once said,

to become worthy of his family name.

Toss that thought aside, that impatient tapping of his nanny’s foot caught his eyes once more, she needed to drop him off before the bell rings. 

This is the girl; Myila, 

Or Milya, no one is ever too sure anymore. 

Today Myila is sitting in her school chair, dreaming of a future to chase. 

Her father was a good man, a meteorologist. Her mother has gone off to live without her, only ever to be seen in tv, the newspaper, and the Golden Theatre’s stage. 


 It has long passed.


 “What do I wanna be when I grow up.” she racked her brain, the question probed her to circle over the ideas of the great figures in history. The girl always wanted to be greater than a weatherman and, that's the only goal really. But whether that goal can truly be surpassed is a mystery for the girl.

When the bell rang, a flood of students came rushing in the classroom. The rows of crayon drawings seemed to liven up, lit upon the ebullient smiles of children and finding its way home to its creators.



On the upper-west side of the classroom; a drawing of cars by Lena. 

She could be a mechanical engineer. 

Next to it; Pisch’s drawing of gold.

He wants to be rich. 

Then after was Gepard’s, that Landau boy. 

There, a drawing of him and his sister playing over a flower garden. 

He wants to be a good person.  

She thought, simple and brief, but not missing a moment to ponder if her assumption is accurate.

She’ll have to ask him later, once he arrives to sit beside her.

Unwrinkled — Chapter 1

It was a gentle morning for the Kerin family.

The sun had barely lit the lampshade of clouds in the sky and Collaro was already up to start his day.

By the crack of his old shared bedroom door you’ll see him looming a shadow over the ironing board.

For himself, a modest green dress shirt, slacks, and a tie.

For Myila, a small white button down, and a dark rouge skirt.

Both of which are the uniforms they wear for the roles they play daily.

In the past, he would also iron dresses. Sometimes it would be long dark evening gowns, in other days puffy farcical costumes. It was a wide range for a wardrobe, and they all belong to a beloved actress — Dina.

Of course, his iron work in the morning naturally decreased the moment she decided to leave him.

So now, at this present moment, he doesn’t have to trouble himself with ironing around the intricate embellishments Dina shrieked to not ruin in an innocent accident.

Collaro moves away from the ironing board, setting the skirt, slacks, and dress shirts on their respective hangers. The rack is barely full, everything else that once filled it had gone with her — leaving his resentment to dwindle down into an ache from the hole Dina carved out of his heart by the absence of her laughter and scorn.

‘What matters now is to take Myila to school.’

The man padded his way towards his daughter, softly asleep in the bed. His careful hands gently rocked her shoulders to stir her to wake.

“Myila…” he calls out, soft, as to not irritate his only companion in the house.

She grumbled lowly, then turned away. Eventually rising up to consciousness.

‘Was she dreaming,’ he wondered feeling as though he interrupted the cinematic workings of her child mind.

“Get dressed now, there’s breakfast on the table.”

—

Blips of the building’s shadowy figures flew by the window of their tram as it traveled through the ropeway systems.

The morning was a little brighter by this hour, a quiet awakening for every commuter on the way to work, but Myila was still drunk on dreams.

Her head rested against the window, occasionally thumping onto it as the rumble of the wheels turned sharply into halt.

Here they are.

For this stop Collaro woke her gently once more and the girl wasted no time rousing from her little nap to waddle to the exit.

“I’ll see you later, love. Do you want anything for dinner?” Collaro followed behind her, almost timid in stance as if he doesn’t wanna accidentally step on her toes.

Myila nodded her head a polite goodbye. “A fine steak for tonight. Three steaks.” she answered the last part with great importance.

“Is there a special occasion?” perplexed as he was, their time was at a limit and she had already hopped off the vehicle.

“I plan to have a guest over tonight.” she waved. “Bye bye!”

“Wait! Love you alwa—“ alas, the red tram’s door closed on him as there was not enough time left in this morning to reach the meteorological center.

—

It was cold that same morning.

Light had barely lit the wall of clouds in the sky, and by the window of Gepard’s bedroom painted the child’s lonesome silhouette.

Its his body clock that shakes him awake. Molded by discipline, nurtured by routine.

His nanny had already prepared his uniform, it was only a matter of time for him to change into them before class starts once more.

“Yesterday…our teacher paired us for an assignment.” he began to recall, quietly in whispered thoughts.

His little hands carefully removed the articles of clothing off the hanger and began to dress himself.

“She paired me with Myila.” his arms fit snugly into the coat, and he smiled because nothing feels better than warmth making its way home back into the body.

Gepard trailed his way down the long hallways, passing by his sister’s bedroom and other rooms meant for idle hobbies, or training, or basic storage.

The wide window greeted him by the next turn and he saw the sun for the first time today.

Although there is not a day without Everwinter, there are a few moments like these where sunlight still streams its arms down the surface of homes and links fingers with the living flora.

The little boy notices this but his thoughts have never wandered deep enough in the depths of the death that looms on the fate of this world.

His eyes only seek the preserving and persevering nature of life in its simplicity.

Yes, there is a veil of innocence for every child. Sweet in its lull to keep them safe and at home, and one the adults works to tear away from his eyes.


Soon, in a matter of time, before the melting point.

Gepard had reached into their estate’s kitchen. The same old nanny was tidying up her hands and was preparing a meal for the young master.

“Good morning.” the boy timidly greeted her, and she greeted him back with a subtle bow, like all of her movements.

“Good morning, Gepard. You want to help me out again?” she made space to the side and he nodded, stepping on a stool to have a better view of the counter.

“You’re nearly done.” observed the child, not missing the lilt of disappointment in his voice, and the nanny chuckled.

“I have to work fast, or else your mother would be disappointed.” she explained, her hands assembling the pieces of meat and veggies into the lunchbox.

“You said i could try cutting onions last time.”

“Now now, i said you can watch me cut onions. Children shouldn’t wield knives.”

“I thought you wanted me to help out.”


“You are helping out.”

His eyebrows furrow trying to make sense of that. But nonetheless, lunch was packed, and it was time to go.

“By the way, is Serval awake yet?”

—

And here we are back again, the same road that leads to school.

Compared to yesterday Gepard was at better ease at the back of the car. He didn’t need to keep up with his nanny’s brisk walking and just listen to Servals morning ramble.

It is better than the radio anyway.

“Gepard.” she called out, noticing his dazed gaze out the window and he hummed turning to her immediately.

“Remember those crystalline lizards we saw in the books last time? Our class is gonna take a trip to see them.”

“Oh! Today?”


“It’s still by Friday, you should tag along.”

“I’m not sure if your professor would allow that.”

“Please, she’s not stingy. Plus classes end early for you anyway. And—! You don’t wanna be stuck doing training all day do you?” she added, mustering up a persuasive posture that can rival that of a dealer.

‘He has to,’ part of him would reason.

But he doesn’t want to.

“I think it’s a good idea.” their nanny would add. “A Landau also needs to sharpen their knowledge on other things outside of martial arts. Isn’t that why your father handed that encyclopedia to you?”

“Oh that? He just doesn’t wanna see us drawing something fun.“ Serval sighed exasperated by the mention of their father. The memory echoing back on how he dropped the book in front of them like how a giant would carelessly unhand boulders from its palm.

Even Qlipoth wouldn’t bring his hammer down so coldly like that.

“Lady Serval, if i recall correctly you were drawing monsters getting violently struck by lightning.”

“I was just teaching Gepard how to draw! He draws his own thing.”

“It was for an assignment…I don’t think miss Anna would grade my drawing well if i draw monsters.”

“Well what did you draw?” the Nanny asked as the car slowed down to enter the lane for drop off.

“Flowers.” he answered, leaving the other details out like the two characters playing in a flower field and who they were, because in the mind of adults that doesn’t make sense and it’s of no use explaining to them what they have forgotten.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman.”

“She’s probably just picturing a lovely bouquet.” Serval murmured to Gepard and they both agree.

Setting: Belobob, Myila’s dad’s conservatory, highschool days

It was spring when Myila had invited him back into her family’s spherical greenhouse.

She tells him how the flora weren’t as dense as it was before since her father left for his long exhibitions outside of Belobog, and that it was more prim and simple as the flower shop in the Administrative district.

He could see that, and he can barely recognize it from first time he visited this place.

“Well it’s certainly impressive.” Gepard comments, carefully watching the delicate sway of the leaves that casts shadows dancing with light, nature’s own waltz.

They were under a light show, different from the auroras but it certainly makes things all the more alive. He thought it was beautiful.

“Thats why i kept it.” Myila adds to reply, her head canted sideways to seek that awestruck look of his face.

“Oh? You’ve let it get this bad on purpose, and not because of your dawdling?” Gepard shoots a look, certainly a look, close to what may come off as teasing from Gepard.

“Dawdling!?” She laughs in reply, rolling her eyes as she adds defensively; “Oh come on! I know maintenance has its own time, plus this sort of garden landscaping has never been done before.” Myila she vaguely gestures to the banyan tree that firmly holds its place at the very center of the garden.

Truly Myila has her own way with words.

It’s branches extended out like unkept locks of an old hag’s hair, scattering strands of roots and leaves on the floor everywhere.

It was straight out of the pictures of extinct jungles.

“Yes, and for a reason.” the young man continues in reply, as the leaves below his boot crackled in its desiccation.

“Neglect makes the fields lush.” she counters.

“Neglect dirties the floor.” he raises a leg, presenting the pieces of the cracked leaves falling off from his outer sole.

“Well neglect gives way for nature to run its course.”

“Your house isn’t the snow plains, you know. It your house.”

“Yeah, but so what.”

“You have to at least maintain it properly.” Gepard makes his point and picked up the garden tools that leaned over the roughness of the tree barks. He hands her one of the rakes and she snatches it.

Gepard can almost pick up the pitiful shaky sigh from Myila as she peers over her shoulder to see the great deal of work awaiting them.

“Thats why i asked you over anyway…” she huffs, beginning to rake over the leaves and Gepard follows along.