a lil' devil

It was nearing night, and the hamsters were fast asleep as well as most guests of the inn. 

  When Sinbad walked into your room, you were staring out of the window with a wistful look, like the look his mothers had when they gazed out at the sea, remembering their husbands, lost forever to the fog and unrelenting waves. He wondered who you longed after, if anyone. Maybe you longed for home. Or for something he couldn't possibly imagine. 

  Before he closed the door, you broke the silence. 

  "You dare disturb my rest?"

  Even turned away, you heard him. Your voice sent tingles up his leg. The room veered towards cold, the windows open, making the curtains flutter like sails. 

  "You're really living it up in here," Sinbad remarked, inviting himself to sit down on the fancy armchair flanked by another and a couch in the west of your room. 

  He hadn't ever been in it yet, and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he just sprawled out a little, he stretched, his boots hitting the leg of the short table. Lit candles sitting upon golden thrones flickered on it. Two glasses and a bottle were there as well. 

  "As I should, I was to have a vacation, and I'm still getting it, Cedartown or not." You made your way to the couch, your visage somewhat blurry from all the glamour swallowing up your form, the air around you swaying. 

  If he looked at you too long, he could see something was terribly wrong. It was not something anyone could notice at first, or at second sight, only those looking for it might begin to pull at the thread. He stopped examining you. He wasn't sure what he'd find. 

  You were like the fog that had almost killed him- leading him in mental circles until he went mad trying to get himself out of it. 

  Sinbad's leg jerked when you approached. You stood, close, your robe made of small, black, and knitted net. It should've revealed everything you wore under it- instead, everything around your chest and hips darkened and blurred. 

  The magic that wafted off you made his head spin. Or maybe it was that he drank too much. Sinbad sighed shakily as you ghosted your touch over his face, your eyes sharp and inhuman. The next second, they turned warm. 

  "Did you drink that swill again? Here, drink something good for once." 

  He barely caught the bottle you threw into his arms, and he thought, somewhat incredulously, You're too kind.

  But, really, Magister- I don't know what to think of you. One second you wanna kill me and the next you're my savior. 

  I'll never know who you are, will I?

  His eyes skimmed over the label. Dark liquid sloshed within darker green walls. "Woah! Fancy stuff. It's actually red."

  The wine he was used to at most establishments was pale, watered down to save costs. You shrugged. You must've been used to good wine, good food, good people. He envied you. 

  "It's from an... old friend."

  The way you said that with so much hesitance made his heart drop. 

  "They must be rich."

  Sinbad popped open the bottle and poured himself some. He might as well indulge, and your room was a good place to do that. Upon second thought it might be questionable. 

  He had to hold back on drinking. He couldn't afford to do something stupid.

  "Beyond that, and a massive drunkard I could never deny, but as I don't drink I have no use for his gifts." You took up the whole couch, propping up your head with a hand, the other playing idly with the belt of your delicate robe. 

  If he was to be mean, he'd liken you to a fish caught in a net, but he couldn't lie, you were more of a siren. 

  You hummed.

  "I guess I could have a glass."

  You poured yourself nearly half the bottle, and swallowed a third of the glass, drinking like a fish. He struggled not to gawk at you. 

  "Old friend... bet you have plenty of those. Not like it bothers me," he tacked on at the end, scratching at his scalp lightly. 

  The fireplace crackled and sputtered red. Strange, it gave off no warmth. Was it magic? Sheesh, what about you wasn't magic? 

  The rug beneath his boots was sure real, and a real good rug, too. If he were to get piss drunk he'd choose the rug over the street to pass out on. Oh, there were even pillows on the floor. Perfect. 

  "I mean it. We were friends, he isn't an old flame- as far as I know."

  As far as you knew?

  "You sure about that?" He raised a brow. 

  "Quite. Though one actual old flame, I wonder how she's doing. It's been a while, I last saw her in Holistone, it has been months since then. Damn Hogan for sending me on this "vacation", now I'm stuck in the middle of the sea with no idea when I'll see him or Valen. He should've gone with me."

  Pushing aside his slight offense at the Rustport slander, you had mentioned General Hogan and Valen a few times. One was a Magistrate and, guess what, General of Holistone, the other some swashbuckling knight who, as he understood it, was hitting on you. 

  "Well, I'm glad he didn't."

  "Hm? Why is that?" You smirked, your eyes glimmering like the wine you swished in your hand.

  If Sinbad was pale, you would've seen his face lose color in an instant. 

  "I mean- I meant- he would've drowned in his armor, is all! It would've been worse than what happened to Chippy." 

  He drank quickly so he couldn't see your gloating expression.

  "You're holding your glass like you're throttling a neck." 

  Even if he drank and drank, he still heard your voice, and if he plugged his ears, you'd get into his mind, too. 

  He couldn't tell if that was a way to hint at his discomfort or point out his terrible manners. 

  "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

  You, on the other hand, held your glass between your thumb and forefinger ever so lightly. That fucking hand was calling him poor just at a glance. 

  "This better?" He emulated the way you did it, though it was nowhere near as graceful. 

  "Much better. The wine compliments your shirt." 

  The red, satin shirt, an illusion you cast, felt good nonetheless, and the wine was divine. It was bright, just sweet enough, and with a hint of berries and zest. It tasted more like the few fruits he had tried than the usual- as you put it- "swill" he drank. 

  It settled warmly in his chest, with the occasional sour tingle in his cheeks. 

  Sinbad didn't want to leave your room. It was fancy, and more importantly, it had wine AND you. 

  "How've you been?" You said between sips, your expression softening. 

  "Good. I've been spending a lot of time poking around the ship, avoiding going to Brineville so I don't have to explain myself. Things are better than before I met ya, anyway, I can finally do what I want, and... everything's so calm." 

  It was strange to not have to think about every little expense anymore for the village now that no one threatened its safety, and he was essentially a "hero". Sure, he still had to make money somehow and Rustport was as rusty as ever, but so much had been lifted off his shoulders. 

  By you, no less. 

  He'd said he'd repay you. That nagged at his mind sometimes. What could you possibly want? 

  It was nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be worse than what he had gone through. 

  "Planning on leaving soon?" 

  If he wasn't mistaken, he saw you frown ever so slightly. 

  "Not yet. I've got a lot to do here before I leave. What about you?" 

  You threw back your head and let your hair spill over the edge of the couch. 

  "You know, been here and there, helping people as I do, went fishing with my familiars. I like helping people and spending time with them but I do need alone time." 

  That was why the hamsters were in another room. Sinbad had to admit, they were cute and had grown on him. You truly were the most precious thing he had ever found washed up on the beach. He'd be no one without you. 

  "Are you leaving soon?" 

  You shook your head. "I want to stay a bit longer, until you leave, I suppose. I won't have much to do then. I'm dealing with people's problems rather quickly." 

  Of course, you weren't staying only for him. You were busy. 

  "I'm glad you're staying a bit longer." He couldn't imagine being without you now. You were the closest friend he'd had. Everyone wanted something from him, and you had asked for the least, always generous, if quirky. 

  You smiled, returning his giddy expression, which he hadn't noticed himself pull. 

  He felt his face get warmer. Must've been all the wine. 

  He and you listened to the crackling of the fire, finishing your glasses. You lounged like a cat. You were the image of peace when you closed your eyes. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling somewhat hot all of a sudden. He waited for you to kick him out, it'd happen sooner or later.

  You watched from under your lashes. 

  "I was surprised that you had tattoos, though they are common here," you said. 

  He had helm tattoos on each forearm. "Funny story, I got them when I was drunk, like, extremely. I don't remember where or how exactly I got them." At least they healed fine and he had not felt much pain. He hadn't felt much at all.

  "They suit you well." Your eyes lingered for a while. 

  "I have more that you haven't seen." He smirked, putting on that smooth-talking persona again. 

  "Although tempting, you won't smooth-talk me, Sinbad," you said sternly. 

  He sighed. A guy had to try. You were so damn hard to scam and trick, it was annoying. You were one of the only people immune to his charms. You were looking at him like he was a helpless animal. Again. 

  Instead of words of pity, he was hit with: 

  "You look upset. Mope in another room, I'm exhausted," you said, yawning and turning away from him unceremoniously. 

  He left with a huff. 

  "Good night to you too, Magister Merlin." 

  ...

  "Good night." 

  He should've been asleep.

  Sinbad crept across the hall towards your newly luxurious room, careful not to make a sound, like he was escaping from a dungeon (like he had many times). 

  Sinbad cracked open your door. Strange, he left it unlocked, he thought. The room was dark and silent except for the sounds of the breeze coming in through the windows, like breaths.

  You seemed to be asleep, as far as he could tell. He was sure he had heard something from your room. Maybe it had been the wind.

  "Magister?" he said into the black, closing the door behind himself. It was not entirely dark, he noticed as he moved towards your canopy bed, as there was a lone candle burning close to the window. 

  The fireplace had no remains of smoldering wood. 

  The windows- they were closed shut. The sound was not from there. Had it been the draft instead? If this was how noisy the good rooms were, he'd go complain to Bols later. 

  Sinbad pushed past the closed curtains of the canopy bed, the fabric heavy and lush, a velvet he hadn't even dreamed of touching before, with much trepidation, his heart tense, ready for a beast to lunge at him any moment. 

  He didn't see what happened, it happened swiftly, the shape in the bed shifting loudly. The sound of the breeze halted. 

  "Ah, Sinbad. I was just thinking of you," you said, and it was undeniably you, your voice quiet yet clear, a little exasperated, your breathing so shallow he would've believed you if you said you had run around the whole of Rustport in a minute. 

  He would've believed you if you hadn't been in your bed all this time.

  "Why aren't you asleep?" he stammered with wide eyes, gaze lost as he adjusted, making out your fuzzy shape. It was leaner than usual. He sensed none of your usual glamours on you.

  "I could ask the same of you." 

  He leaned his knee on the bed, and you moved away. 

  "Some noise woke me up, and I thought it came from your room. Was I right?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, seeing that you lay rigid and didn't want him to come near you. To him, it seemed that something had happened, and you were uncooperative as to what. 

  One of his jobs was to get information. Clearly, he wasn't much good at it with you around. 

  "Did something happen, Magister? You're worrying me." His brows lowered over his honey-brown eyes. 

  "You didn't knock. You should leave my room." The light brightened against your face. Your skin was dewy and your hair was disheveled, the bedsheets in disarray. You were a mess. 

  The Merlin, a mess? 

  "I did know- and- you can't kick me out again!" He leaned over you as you leaned against cushiony pillows.

  You pushed on his chest to get him away, your hand hot and humid. 

  "... Are you dense or what?" you snapped. "What do you think I'm doing in a dark room, alone, in my bed, gasping for air?" 

  His face transitioned from bewilderment to horror. 

  Oooh.

  Embarrassment hit him like a wave. Holy Tritonus, he had heard you moaning. In this case, he was dense beyond belief. And the reason you were recoiling wasn't because something was wrong, it was, because, well. He chose the worst possible time to intrude. 

  And the reason your frame seemed leaner now was because you had no glamours concealing your body indeed, and no clothes besides that robe. He could see your bare skin between the fabric you held together with a tense hand. 

  He had trouble not looking. And it wasn't the wine, that had long left his system. 

  "Shit, I... I didn't..."

  He had no excuse, and so close to you, caging you in, neither of you could escape, captured in the world's most awkward stalemate. The words drowned in the depths of his mind.

  "You said you were thinking about me earlier. Do you mean...?" he trailed off, his voice mumbling and strained. Everything felt like a dream. He'd pinch himself if he wasn't frozen. 

  "I left the door open for you. I didn't expect you to come." 

  Sinbad's breathing had accelerated. He had already had thoughts about you. He couldn't possibly resist anything you asked him to do. That hint of servitude remained in him, and he was all eager to please. 

  "I'm here." He tried to smile, but it came out rather strained. 

  You pulled him in by tangling your hands in his freshly dried hair. Your lips were one push away. 

  He had already gotten ready for bed- his skin infused with whatever fancy soaps he managed to snatch this time. It mixed with that woody scent of a faraway home that clung to you no matter how many times you got drenched with rain or seawater. 

  "So?" 

  He felt your every breath. Berries. 

  "So..."

  You kissed him first. 

  You were far from a reserved, shy mage. You nipped at his lip and broke the kiss just to piss him off. 

  He cursed like the sailor he was. Next thing he knew, his boots were lost in the dark along with his scarf (it felt like sacrilege to wear it during this), his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned by your nimble fingers. You traced over the anchor tattoo between his collarbone and shoulder. 

  That wasn't how he expected you to find it. 

  Your hips were fuller than they appeared, filling him with thoughts he couldn't possibly speak, and your waist was small, perfect for holding when he-

  Your chest wasn't quite... flat. That made him stop. His silent question hung in the air. 

  "I'm trans," you said, amused at how he was surprised by you again and again. You had hidden your chest to a point where he couldn't have guessed. 

  He had never been with someone like you (in any sense), but he didn't mind. 

  Your chest was soft, each breast perfectly fitting into his hand. At each caress and pull you reacted accordingly. It was his turn to be amused, and he was enjoying it immensely. 

  Your face and voice did not falter, the only thing betraying your feelings being your shallow breathing. Would your breaking point be easy to reach, or would he reach his first? 

  Goosebumps raised on your thighs when he felt them up with his calloused fingers. Only the richest of the rich could have pristine hands in Rustport. Sinbad spread your legs with little resistance from you, his hand wrapping around most of your thighs' circumference. 

  His hand dipped between your legs. You were wet, the wetness covering parts of your inner thighs. The hotness ignited a fever in him, a fever he hadn't felt in a long time, and never so strongly. Most of his prior fucks were hookups, and sometimes, to get out of uncomfortable situations in his jobs. They didn't happen often and he hardly looked forward to them. With you, he could hardly stop his hands and other body parts of his from thrusting right into you. You were by far the hottest guy he'd been with.

  At the rough touch on your clit you jolted with a soft sigh, your legs closing on instinct, but they were stopped by Sinbad being in the way. 

  The thought crossed his mind that you were surrounded by others from all sides, and at any second, anyone could walk in. He didn't mind- he liked a bit of danger. 

  "How are you feeling?" he whispered close to your ear, hand exploring all the places that could feel best for you. He would make sure you'd remember this as a positive memory, and even if you left and never saw him again, the scene would stick in your mind.

  "I've been better," you said with a shortness of breath, but impressively coherently.

  "Don't you think this is a bad time for jokes?" Would you still talk like that if he filled you up? Would your face still be so serene? 

  "It's a perfect time for-" he interrupted you as he slid his finger over your clit over and over again, making your legs tremble and your brows lower. He might've not been experienced, but he was a quick learner.

  After he got you to a point where you were panting and your pulse hammered relentlessly, he lowered his finger to your entrance, teasing it. You covered your mouth. A thin string, like fishing line, followed his hand as he withdrew. 

  Sinbad began with one finger, your tight walls even hotter than your wetness. Fuck. It felt amazing on his fingers. It might've made him cum instantly if he tried fucking you like that. 

  "Relax your muscles, there's no need to be tense," he said soothingly. 

  You visibly stopped straining and let him push his finger in fully. It circled your smooth cervix. You were pretty shallow inside. 

  He was clueless at that point, unsure of what to do for you. 

  "Curl your finger towards yourself."

  Now you were the one close to his ear, leaning on his shoulders so he could have better access and less lewd sounds would be heard. 

  When he curled it as you said, he felt a spongy tissue that gave way under his prodding. You bit into his shoulder with little regard for how much that shit hurt. It would leave a mark, or even better, a scar. Yay. One more to the arsenal. He would have a hard time explaining that one, as it was in a visible place between his neck and shoulder muscles. 

  He groaned at the pain, pulling you halfway onto him. One hand of his rubbed your clit, and the other, inside you. You must've been leaving a hickey judging by the slight tingle on his neck. It made him harder than he already was. 

  Feeling every little groove inside and outside you couldn't be replicated by just ramming his dick in, and he thanked you that you had made the choice, since he was unwise- in general. 

  "What would your love-struck Knight think, Magister?" He pressed his lips into your shoulder. Slim, but surprisingly muscled from carrying every situation you got into on your shoulders. 

  You'd look good on top of him. With other people, his mind veered into nonsense and mundane thoughts of what he'd have for breakfast. Right now all he could think about was you, you in every way, in every angle, his. Everyone was right- he was greedy. Just not about money. 

  "Getting fingered by someone you met, what, a month ago? If even that?" Sinbad smirked, making sure you saw his expression. You bit your lip and gazed at him like you were oh so woeful. Would you tell the Knight what you'd done tonight? He didn't care if you did or not, but if you did, Sinbad would've loved like to see his face. 

  "He'd be jealous, I bet," you stuttered out with each thrust and curl of his finger, and when he added a second, you were reduced to adorable huffs and sighs, far from the virtuous Magister Merlin out in Rustport streets, a man of class and poise. A man who was now gasping for air with Sinbad's fingers deep in his cunt.

  He kissed from the swell of your chest, up to your collarbones and neck. You were not a man, not a human, you were a dream, a fog a foolish sailor like him would lose himself in.

  Screw him trying to make you never forget him. He'd never forget you, as he fell for you hook, line, and sinker, a fish falling for bait. He would never find someone like you. Someone who so easily saw through his tricks and had him willingly serve. 

  He could do it every night, sneaking in, fucking you whichever way you wanted him to, and acting like nothing was afoot. 

  You got him. 

  He kept gently fingering you as you gasped in an orgasm, one quite notable, your body going soft against his, your skin sticky and heart pounding. 

   What he had done felt automatic, like his body wasn't entirely his, his rhythm mechanical in nature, following your every whim and whine. He had just gotten you off, willingly, giddily, even, and enjoyed it. 

  That had been a first for him. 

  The first thing you said to him once you regained your breath and composure was: "Go wash your hands." 

  What a sweet way to snap him out of it. 

  It was fortunate that you had a bathroom attached to your bedroom. He didn't feel keen on doing a walk of shame through the halls. 

  The mirror revealed to him how hard you'd bitten him, leaving not only a hefty tooth mark, but even a hickey, too high for his scarf to hide. He cursed you inside his mind. All things considered, it was expected to have him do whatever he wanted to you, not the other way around. If you told him to jump into the sea right this second he probably would've done it. A flush was blooming across his face, not too obvious, but there. 

  You were next in the bathroom, and when you returned, Sinbad was on your bed, grinning. He did not budge a muscle.

  "You're not kicking me out again, Magister. This handsome face needs its beauty sleep." 

  "I'll allow it," you said, tucking yourself in on the other side. Sinbad lay curled to take up as little space as possible. It wasn't exactly comfortable. You neared him, tugging his arms around your back, and you entwined under the thick blanket. 

  Hook, line, and sinker. 

  He didn't want the morning to arrive and so cruelly take you away. He'd savor every moment he had with you. For once in his life, he did not feel bound to you by duty, but by the call of his heart, similar to how he felt about the sea. Like the sea, you'd pull him in, and keep him wallowing in feelings so alien. 

  Did you know what you did to him? He didn't need you to. He just needed you close. 

  "Good night," he said. 

  "Seriously this time?" 

  "Seriously, I promise." 

  The lone candle flickered out.

• But he feels platonic love VERY strongly, he would kill for Elona.

• Getting into a relationship with Lorsan is easier (no offense) because he's more naive and eager. It would probably happen during your journey together, and he'd own up to it sooner or later because he can't keep his mouth shut, and his body language is very easy to read. 

• His ears began to droop around you (which meant that he was paying less attention to his surroundings- he was relaxed), and he would constantly fix his hair near you (when he thought you weren't looking. But you totally saw it). 

• He's not very subtle when speaking, either, I mean his flattery was tooth-rootingly sweet. 

• When confronted about it he denied it for a second but immediately switched up and admitted it when you fell silent. 

• He chose to go with you on your travels because he knows you yourself travel like a dandelion seed carried by the wind. 

• Bryon is, in many ways, the opposite of Lorsan. They are both skilled windwhisperers and wilders... and that's where the similarities end. 

• Bryon was cordial with you like he is with most, and you kinda fell for him upon first sight, because LOOK AT THAT MAN???

• You thought you had NO chance.

• It didn't help that, with that mask, he was hard to read. The more time you spent with him the more you could read the inflections of his voice, and that gave you a good indicator of what he felt.

• After he hid behind you when some lady tried flirting with him you realized that he isn't mysterious... he's just genuinely shy and reserved. That softened you to him and you felt less pathetic in his presence. 

• He wouldn't even realize he caught feelings until you're about to leave, and he's screaming on the inside, thinking how much he'll actually miss you now. 

• He's pretty committed to staying in the forest... dragging him out wouldn't be easy. He might visit from time to time and send you messages. Sometimes he sends so many of them you can't keep up. 

• But I don't think he could permanently leave the Dark Forest.

• Coordinating a poly relationship was not easy at first. 

• You had to explain the concept (they were only vaguely familiar with it) and it took a while to do so. 

• (Also, you had to get Elona's blessing first.)

• Lorsan kind of took it at face value and trusted you, while Bryon asked a TON of questions, which you indulged in, of course. The two balance each other well and answer for different needs of yours. Lorsan is more physical, close, and affectionate, while Bryon is wise, gives you space, independent. One comforts you physically and the other emotionally and intellectually. 

• You feel secure with both of them. Both have your back, and you have theirs.

• No one you know minds the arrangement. Lyca and Eironn are surprised you managed to make Bryon show vulnerability for once. 

• Lorsan is not surprised that you fell for Bryon and his mysterious ways. He says it's "typical". Ouch.

• Bryon is surprised that you like Lorsan, he says he's too chaotic compared to you and he has no idea how you manage him. You have no idea either. 

• Valen incessantly teases Lorsan, so when you see Valen Lorsan is ready to book it. 

• Bryon is so pretty... he gets hit on pretty often and always hides behind you like that'll help. Your usual tactic is to say that he's your boyfriend (true) BUT if they hit on Lorsan you have to choose between explaining your relationship or just letting Lorsan bask in attention (he doesn't always like it). 

• You're constantly aware of being noisy around them. You usually go do noisy things in other rooms or outside to not bother them. 

• They'll hear someone whistling in the distance and tell you how annoying it is when you hear quite literally nothing besides a breeze and their voices. Even if your hearing is good, theirs is on another level.

• You get to learn a lot about windwhisperers. You know more than the scholars in all of Esperia.

• Lorsan is more capable than he looks- if you get lost he's the one who leads the way or sets up shelter. At home, he's pretty productive around the house. 

• Bryon can go pretty long being silent. When you're together you can go almost a whole day without speaking... and then you talk for hours at night. 

• Very loyal. The type of person to do anything for you if you so much as bruise your leg- he's weak in that regard. 

• Bryon rarely takes off the mask. When you saw him without it for the first time, you freaked the hell out, because that thing had become a part of his face to you. Man, put your face back on!!!

• He's still gorgeous (obviously). He has cool yellow eyes and they're pretty imposing. You can't get used to him being without a mask. 

• Lorsan hasn't seen him without the mask since he was young. He only did because he walked in on Bryon and you sitting there. To Bryon, it would've been less shameful if he walked in on you bangi-

• Sometimes when Lorsan's happy he jumps up a little. 

• With his ears he's like a cat, one second he wants you to be all over him, and the next he's swatting your hand away. 

• When you're back home after being gone for a while, he'll circle you and chat away, not giving you a second to interrupt, probably bragging about something and telling you what he heard that day. 

• Lorsan will headbutt you for pets or just for a bit of attention. If you're focused on something he'll even nip you, which hurts. 

• He's kind of a brat... 

• HATES it when you poke his peets. Will leave if you try to do that. 

• Bryon barely touches you, and always asks before, except for when you wake up and find yourself pinned under his leg and arm, holding you like you're about to escape. 

• His ears are soft as silk. You try to keep your hands to yourself, but, come on, look at those things.

• Bryon doesn't get jealous much at all, and when he does he manages. Lorsan isn't that collected. 

• Lorsan steals your food. Constantly. 

• On the flip side, you don't see Bryon eat. 

• Communication goes well between you three. Until it doesn't if one of you gets into their own heads. All of you are very skilled and successful, and that can often lead to feelings of inferiority and insecurity. Rarely, but often enough for your friends to know how to respond already. 

• "They're at it again..." Valen will say, ready to talk you out of thinking you're worthless by screaming "YOU ARE *THE* MERLIN!" at you. 

• Works like a charm.

• Lorsan and Bryon get along.... ugh, it's bearable. Bryon is always subtly and not so subtly trolling Lorsan, who isn't as graceful with his words-

• Until he needs to apologize to you or anyone. He puts those hidden poet skills to use. 

        • If he's away, he might choose to send a letter instead. You keep all of them in a dedicated box, and you write down some of Bryon's messages. 

• Lyca is your sister-in-law now!!! Yippie!

• Each time she sees you she asks if Lorsan's been behaving well (NO, HE HAS NOT-)

• Bryon has to wear shoes when in Holistone and such, and he isn't a fan. "It's a dual leather prison," he once said, solemnly. 

• When Elona perches on you it's like being chosen by the gods themselves

• You've been adopted by Grannn Dahnie & Arden. You will get pestered and you better take it well OR ELSE.

• They tell you embarrassing things about your partners, with Lorsan getting flustered while Bryon is silently mortified. He says nothing and you can tell he's dying inside. Rest in peace.

• People in the Dark Forest start seeing you as a local since you visit so often. 

  You couldn't sleep, your mind fixated on your task to cleanse the corruption, thinking of every possible solution and catastrophe that could arise, uncertainty bubbling up in you as to your abilities and methods. 

  You leaned your palms against the big, dry roots- they were as soft as a rotten apple. Disgusting. You tore your hands away. The magic was powerful, but you wondered who the mage could be; setting a village on fire was one thing, but blighting the roots of the Lucent Tree? That was for mages like you. Like Merlin. And there were very few of those. 

  Whoever it was, you'd give them a punch to the face when you found them. Checking over the corruption,!it was nothing you couldn't fix... but if you hadn't been there, half the land would've become an abyss.

  It was still summer, it should not have been as chilly as it was. This reminded you of the strange weather that had plagued Ryeham earlier. It was one thing after another, and a thread of trouble connected them, all leading to a bigger plan, a bigger plan by none other than the Adamant Syndicate. Syndicate, as in a group carrying out organized crime, or as in a group working towards some shared interest? What could that interest possibly be? 

  You stepped over the thin roots in an attempt to get closer. If you could unravel the threads of magic there, you might be able to get a sense of who cast it, as others felt Merlin's magic as characteristically warm. 

  Something stirred in the bushes, and you jerked, and everything went tits up. There went your research. Your left ankle crunched as it slipped into a hole. You yelled and someone behind you yelled back, in a higher-pitched, gentle voice. 

  Lyca, the Captain of the Dusk Patrollers. It was good that she was the one who found you. She was a comforting presence, and being vulnerable around her was easy, 

  Dura forbid if someone like Bryon saw you, that'd be embarrassing beyond belief. If it was him you'd hide and let yourself decay in the bushes instead of showing your face ever again.

  And if it had been Lorsan, he would've laughed at you. Hm, Bryon would've been the worst option, then. 

  You, through tears and barely containing your whining, couldn't see the Captain who would be your savior, imagining that she looked dissapointed and confused.

  "Lyca," you forced out, "I'm done for." 

  In less than a second, she was at your side. Perhaps you had been a tad dramatic. "What are you doing in the woods at night?" 

  "I was bored so I came to twist my ankle." Crickets chirped. Lyca stared sharply at you with viburnum-red eyes. "I'm joking. I came to study the corruption more closely, without any distractions. If I hadn't forgotten my glasses I wouldn't be in this hole."

  She sighed.

  "Help me up, please?"

  When you got to whoever cursed these roots, you'd kick them in the face instead- with the ankle that was currently in pain that shot up your leg and pulsed.

  She took your hands in hers, hers soft and her nails digging into you just a bit, and pulled you out of the ditch quite easily. 

  "Thank you, Lyca, you're such a bleeding heart it's sickening." You held her hands for a moment to stabilize yourself, her gloves a rough leather. If not for her you would've laid in that ditch until morning. 

  "Throw up, then," she said quite kindly. 

  "I think I might. This pain is gnarly," you hissed, and she propped you up under your shoulder. 

  "We can't have our Magister getting hurt, who'll fix this mess then?"

  "You can't do it without the greatest mage that's ever lived," you joked to conceal your worry that she was onto your true identity. 

  When people found out who you were, they treated you differently, and you didn't even know why. It was great being acknowledged for your skill. Being treated like a celestial or cult leader wasn't pleasant to you, though. 

  You smiled at Lyca like your ankle wasn't in tremendous anguish. 

  "So, will you carry me?" 

  She did not carry you. 

  She hauled you up onto her deer with surprising strength, and you sat on the sideways saddle, convenient for the occasion. 

  She led the deer she was never seen without, whose name you felt awkward not knowing, through the forest. 

  "Your deer..."

  "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  "Yes. I haven't seen a white deer before. Does it have leucism or albinism?" You ran a hand along its neck, the fur shaggy and soft, white as snow and bright in the moonlight. 

  "Something far stranger. You may not believe me, but it came down from the stars." Lyca glanced at her bow. "When I was chosen as Captain I didn't think it a wise decision. I didn't know why I was chosen, I was never anyone special and lacked talent. Lorsan was always the talented one.

  "One night a star came down above the water, and it became this deer, standing on the surface of the water. The sages said that it was a prophecy fulfilled- that when the Dark Forest was in danger, the stars would send down a holy sigil, and it would choose a worthy hero."

  "And that was you." You shifted, aware of the sensitivity of your ankle. This was a great way to distract yourself from that horrid pain.

  "It was, I couldn't believe it! They said that I'd drive the evil out and save my home. Back then, I had no idea what that meant. Now I know."

  Lorsan never mentioned that. Him seeking you out and Lyca's conviction and belief in the stars made more sense now.

  "You'll succeed, I'm sure." 

  "All thanks to you, Magister." She quieted, stopping before you reached the town. Nothing awry was in sight, and you grew confused. Lyca's tail twitched.

  "Is something wrong?" You thought that she had spotted or heard some dangerous beast in the shrubbery. 

  "Um, no. Magister, I..."

  You waited for her to finish, but the end of the sentence never came. Lyca wasn't one to lose her train of thought, always well-spoken.

  "What?"

  She shook her head, not turning to look at you. "Nevermind. We're almost there."

  You did not attempt to strike up a conversation after that. It seemed your efforts always led you to make things weird, even if you tried your hardest, and thought it was all fine.

  Now you sat and focused on your ankle. It hurt.

  The cabin you stayed in was stuffy. It was like a desert contained in that small space, not that you minded, for a few days it was a stellar accommodation that outshined your average tent by a long shot. 

  After helping you sit on the bed in the corner of the second room in the cabin, Lyca opened all the windows, letting in fresh midnight air and not-so-fresh moths. She fetched you healing herbs, plants, and gauze that you requested so you could wrap your ankle. 

  It wasn't as bad as you expected. Compared to the pain the purple bruise and swelling were nothing. You expected to find something horrific and were pleasantly surprised... as pleasantly as you could be surprised by an injury. 

  You hovered your hands above it to cast a cooling spell that spread through the leaves below your bandages. 

  "How is it?" Lyca said, coming back in and seating herself on a chair across from you. It was intricately carved with traditional wilder patterns that you found familiar and pretty. Not as pretty as Lyca herself, her face finally visible to you in the warm glow of lamps around the room. 

  She was worried, her leg bouncing and face drawn into a frown.  "Better. I'll heal it almost fully by morning. The pain will remain, I can't rewire my nervous system with magic, unfortunately." You reclined on dark green pillows set against the headboard and wall. 

  "You should rest tomorrow." 

  You glanced at her sharply. She held her hands up as if at gunpoint.

  "I'll be just fine tomorrow, I don't want to delay this. It's important to act fast."

  Lyca pointed to your leg. "That is not fine, Magister. You won't be able to walk far with that."

  You crossed your arms. 

  "Who said I'll walk?"

  Her expression was skeptical, but she was beginning to accept that you weren't changing your mind, which was a pattern beginning to emerge- see sneaking out to study the corruption in the middle of the night.

  "I could lend you my deer, I suppose," she sighed, covering her face, embarrassed. 

  "Great! I was going to ask Eironn to carry me, but this works better." 

  Lyca giggled, and her ears flicked up. "He'd do it, too." 

  Seeing her smile made warmth bloom in your chest. 

  "He's so caught up in his own head. It'd do him good to have to drag me around for a bit." With all his talk about not needing anyone, it was clear he had some issues. The image of him having to haul you around like a fainting damsel was quite amusing in itself.

  "I take it you're feeling better if you're so cheery." Lyca headed to the exit of the cabin. "I'll be leaving. It's late, and you need to sleep. Call me if you need anything." 

  You nodded. You could call Lorsan and Bryon as well, they might hear it better. Now that you weren't in a ditch you were less mortified by the prospect of seeing them.

  "Good night, Lyca."

  "Good night, Magister." 

  If you weren't stuck in bed you might've impulsively gone after her, or snuck out to the corruption again. You'd have to do that tomorrow. 

  The candles in the cabin flickered out, and you cuddled into bed, your body twisted as your ankle was elevated. 

  You forced your eyes shut, the silence of the night broken up by crickets and the rustling trees.

  You woke up when it was still dark, right before the sun rose, judging by the lightening streaks on the eastern horizon. 

  You healed up your ankle and leaned against the wall, hobbling to the exit. Your formal, wilder-style clothes mixed with Holistone refinement had wrinkled from your erratic sleep. 

  You were met with a white figure standing just a bit from the cabin. Lyca's deer raised its head to you, its sleepy turquoise eyes bright in the dimness. It must've come recently, moving briskly like it was excited. It bent its long, thin legs, inviting you on. 

  You had no choice but to accept, arriving near the edge of a lake lit by moonlight from one side, and by the rising sun from the other, glistening over ripples from restless fish jumping to catch food Lyca was throwing. She had changed out of her gloves and usual clothing, instead wearing what you could only assume was a nightgown, over which was draped a robe with traditional Dark Forest embroidery mimicking the patterns in insect wings and plants.

  Her rabbit feet dangled off the edge before the lake, and she sat on a tee stump. Far from the corruption the weather was perfect. 

  The deer stepped on a twig. It snapped. Lyca whipped around. Her under-eyes were darker than before, and she didn't have her usual eyeshadow on. 

  "You found me," she said, like she half-expected it.

  You raised a brow at her deer.

  "Tattletale," she muttered.

  She let you sit next to her, assisting you so you didn't have to hobble as much. The tree stump was huge- over a meter in circumference. It must've been an ancient tree once. 

  "You don't seem too surprised that I'm here." The deer hadn't been that loud before it snapped a twig. Either Lyca was secretly a windwhisperer, or those ears of hers weren't just cute, but had incredible hearing. 

  "I didn't think you'd sleep at all. It's a miracle that you could, though I didn't think you would find me." 

  Oh. The explanation was much more mundane. You didn't sleep much, and you wished you hadn't because you felt worse than if you would've stared at a wall all night. 

  Your dreams were nonsensical nightmares, patches of the past sewn together with your fears and worries, wrapping you in a blanket of fear and suffocating you until you woke up gasping, all alone. And lots of roots were all over each scene you were trapped in. 

  The horizon bled from gold to peach to a vivid red around the sun, mellow and lazy to rise above the short trees and calm water. 

   "When you were near the roots at night, did you learn anything?" Lyca broke the silence. Her eyes were trained on you when you stopped gawking at the sky, her visage made you feel much the same, and her colors matched her surroundings quite well. 

  Her eyes- like the sun, her hair, like the clouds, her skin, like the horizon, and her robe like the trees. 

  "Not much, it only confirmed what I thought, and I'd have to do more research to see if I am completely right. This is what kept me up and led me to the ankle thing... I don't like uncertainty." Squirrels chattered around you, flitting through the grass, and a bird began to chirp a strange tune. 

  "Me neither. I... have to ask you something."

  The breeze that had been disrupting the water's surface and cooling your face seemed chiller after her words, your heart sent into anxiety's clutch, gripping you by the throat. 

  You gulped, your voice a little meeker than before. You hated it when people said things that way. 

  "Go on."

  "Magister, your ears-"

  You wondered if that was the question she was going to ask originally. 

  "What of them?" You covered them with your hands in an instant, realizing that the breeze had betrayed you, pushing your hair off them. Too preoccupied with the Lucent Tree, you completely forgot to hide that part of your identity, as if hiding that you were Merlin wasn't enough of a hassle. 

  A look of horror overtook your face and you were ready to teleport out of there. 

  "Did... did I see that right?"

  She looked like she'd seen a Hypogean, and while that wasn't optimal, at the very least she did not seem aggressive. You took your hands off them, recoiling from her. 

  "I suppose it's useless to try and keep it from you. I've lost many of my memories, but I know my true form is half lightbearer and half wilder- tree sprite. I've kept it hidden for safety. I'm not sure how people would react."

  "That is so interesting! I've never seen anyone like you, in a good way. I think your ears are adorable." She inclined towards you, observing you with pure curiosity.

  "Really? Thanks," you sputtered, unsure if she was being truthful. You felt no malice from her. You expected at least a bit of pushback. 

  "Do you have horns?" 

  "Small ones. You can't see them much." You often forgot they were there. Unless someone pulled back your hair, they were virtually invisible. They were easier to hide than your obviously pointed ears. 

  Lyca brought her hand to the side of your face, which you first took as a surprisingly romantic gesture, but then you flinched, as she was trying to touch your ears. 

  "Hey!"

  "Oh, I got carried away, apologies," she said, shaking her head with a flush across her face, like shaking it would shake it off. You hadn't seen her get so "carried away" yet. 

  "I'm not letting you touch my ears until I touch yours." 

  Hers drooped immediately. 

  "Mine?!" She placed her hand on her chest dramatically, eyes wide with offense. 

  "Well, you're always waving them around!" You mimed them. She gasped. 

 "It's not like I can control them at all times." She pouted. 

  You folded your arms in wait, face placid and ass sat firmly on the tree stump, your request hanging in the air to be accepted or rejected. 

  She lowered her head silently, her eyes closed and tail low. You made sure to move slowly. It wouldn't scare her off if you did... right? 

  The outside of her ear was velvety, the pink hairs smoothing under your touch as you shifted to the edge. It was thin. The sun beamed behind her, dissipating through her ears, the inside soft like her skin. The ears gave her twenty more centimeters of height, being almost as long as your forearm. 

  You withdrew your hand, and she raised her head, your eyes meeting as you uncovered your ears from your hair. You didn't need to bend down, as she was taller than you.  

  You shivered under her touch. You didn't recall the last time someone had been that close to you- could it have been months? Years? The tension in your body fell, and you struggled not to fall over into Lyca's lap right then and there. You felt your ear move up. 

  That was the first time that had happened. 

  Guilt was the thing that interrupted what could've been a nice moment. You had to lie, or lie by omission, almost constantly to save yourself the trouble of bigotry, or the very opposite. 

  You couldn't face Lyca any longer with that burden on your heart. If she could accept you as half-wilder, she could accept the other part you worried about all night and every day. 

  "I haven't told you another thing." 

  ...

  She stared with bated breath. 

  "My true name is Magister Merlin."

  This time it was her who snatched her hand away. "The Merlin?!"

  "The Merlin. Please don't freak out."

  She shot to her feet, pacing around you in dizzying circles, her robe trailing her like the tail of a falling star. 

  "If I had known, I would've greeted you properly! We've been so uncordial, I'm so sorry-"

  "There's nothing to be sorry for, Lyca. I don't like people knowing or treating me like I'm special. My job is to study magic and help people, I'm not fit to be a celebrity. You've seen how quiet I get in groups." 

  You covered your face. There it went, the awe and certain trepidation you inspired in people burned bright in Lyca, ever hopeful, and probably starstruck. You didn't want her to see you differently. 

  You also didn't feel like telling her about the memory loss thing yet. You had dumped enough information on her. 

  "You're chatty with me." She stopped before she tripped over a root. If she hadn't, the same fate you had suffered awaited her. Eironn would for real have to carry you then. It wouldn't be the worst thing...

  "Because I like you, Lyca." Her deer turned its head to you attentively. 

  "L-like me?" she stuttered, plopping herself down next to you with shifty eyes. By then, the sun had risen sufficiently. 

  "Well, yes, isn't it obvious? I'm comfortable around you. I haven't known you for long, but it doesn't feel like that.

  "I do not want anyone else to know of my identity, none of your friends, and I mean none. It'll come out soon enough knowing how messy things get sometimes."

  She put her hands over yours, the glint in her eyes determined, her lips set in a serious line. 

  "I understand. I won't say a thing, Magister Merlin." 

  You breathed in easier after that, feeling a renewed sense of stillness in your chest as if it had opened after being locked for ages. 

  You stayed silent for a while, but unlike in the night, it did not feel heavy or oppressive. Lyca stirred, squirming, withholding a question.  

  "Hm?"

  "Will you stay a while in the forest after the corruption is gone?" 

  That question was not one you were expecting. Despite the fair treatment you had gotten and the unrelenting kindness Lyca had shown, you still felt like a bother to everyone, just there to do a job. 

  You wouldn't mind coming back. Not at all.

  "If you want me to, I will."

  "Splendid." She smiled. "I'm getting used to you being around. Please, make sure to visit again in the future- you'll always be welcome here."

  You wanted to jump for joy upon hearing that. The idea that she wanted to see you again, that you might see her again at all, made you elated. 

  "I don't know if you're being completely earnest, but that means a lot to me," you replied calmly, faking that calmness as best as you could.

  She was someone you wouldn't have to hide from.

  "I mean it." She put her hands on yours. 

  You knew the lightness in your chest was not platonic, because you'd been staring at her lips. Daydreaming about kissing her, half thinking about visiting again and half wondering if you should've made a move. 

  You withdrew. You were too cowardly. You might've not had another chance, who knew where fate would lead either of you, yet still, you couldn't bring yourself to spit it out. 

  "The sun is up, it's to go wake the others. My deer will carry you." Lyca stood, adjusting the seat on the doe.

  "Are you sure?" When you stood to meet her, she rushed to your side, guiding you, closer than ever before. She was still beautiful so close to you, where you could see every detail in her face, the hint of wrinkles between her brows, the lines in her glossy lips, the uneven cut of her bangs. 

  Your heart couldn't take it.

  "I'm sure. I wouldn't give you to anyone else."

  The way she said that with a hint of possessiveness made you believe, for a moment, that you had a chance. Your heart was so full it'd burst with a scream or a sob any moment. 

  "Lyca." Her eyes flicked between yours and your lips. "L- Lyca?" 

  She met your lips softly, hers pillowy and smooth from her tinted lip balm. The taste of mint tinglined your mouth ever so slightly. 

  It was all spur of the moment, and while you enjoyed the split second of bliss, you wondered what her expression would be when this fleeting moment was over. Would regret be etched on her face? Would she fall silent, or worse, leave you? 

  You separated and met her eyes. Wide, with her lips ajar. Her ears trembled. 

  She pulled you in like a curling wave, snaking her hand around your waist to support you. You didn't hesitate to bring your hands to her ears. They dipped low. When you broke the kiss for air, you saw her leg thump. 

  "You're adorable, Lyca," you breathed, placing a final kiss on her lips. If you hadn't you might've let the Lucent Tree rot away while you stayed occupied. 

  "Did you notice by now?" Lyca lifted you onto the deer, and you held onto her arms for a little longer. 

  "I noticed a while back. I didn't want to assume, thinking that it would be egotistical, you know, assuming that you're in love with me just because I thought you might be acting off..." you rambled. 

  She led the deer to town, and when everyone gathered, you dare not speak or make eye contact. 

  After this was over (that tree would not come to harm now that you couldn't disappoint Lyca at any cost) you'd come back. You always left eventually, you always traveled. Maybe you could make time for her, see where it goes, if it goes. You were not so quick to plan your whole life around her (tempting as it was).

  At the least, you hoped you wouldn't forget her. 

• will write x reader headcanons, drabbles, and fanfics for:

(adventure time) marshall lee, princess bubblegum, marceline, fern/green knight. (afk journey) valen, temesia, lyca, lorsan, bryon, eironn, parisa, florabelle, lenya, shakir, soren, alsa, seth, antandra, sinbad, sonja, dionel, scarlita, talene, reinier, phaestro, berial. (kamisama kiss) akura-ou, tomoe, kurama, ryuo, mikage, unari. (the ancient magus' bride) elias, lindel, rahab, seth, alice.

Slots: 9/10 (nine out of ten are taken. one is free)

Rules: !!!ONLY gender-neutral, non-binary or (trans) male reader, and intersex reader combined with the prev specifications. !!!TO REQUEST- send in ask box; specify fandom, character, possible reader specifics (ex. reader with a limp, reader with curly hair, artist reader, etc), other prompt/topic if applicable (ex. dating xyz character, being friends with xyz character, etc), and if you're requesting headcanons or a drabble or a fanfic. !EXAMPLE: afk journey, valen, trans male reader, dating headcanons. nsfw is okay, i do write poly. i'll refuse if i am not comfortable writing it or for whatever reason. but i don't bite :3

Dionel

•You had met him briefly when traveling with Temesia. Long after that, he just... showed up once. 

•And then again. And again. And again. He'd say cryptic shit, wait for you to get confused, and disappear. One day he invited you to a party. 

•What he didn't tell you was that it'd be with a bunch of Celestials. You cared little about that, wanting him to answer for himself, though being surrounded by such powerful beings was intimidating. 

•It wasn't your crowd and parties weren't your vibe. You were a mage! Meant for libraries and dusty cellars! 

•You worried you'd get sent on some endless quest by him. It wouldn't be the first, or last, time. To your surprise, he had thrown the party in your honor as an apology for being strange. He said he knew you once, and you couldn't disprove that. 

•It grew from there. Dionel was rather direct, getting together wasn't a drag, even if it was strange to be with a Celestial. He was just another secret you had to carry. 

•He understood and didn't mind, seemingly enjoying how much you struggled with keeping it from everyone. 

•Some people know about it. Guess who?

•Dionel's chill as a being can get.

•He never gets angry. There was one time when you almost died due to an experiment gone awry and he, for the first time in your whole relationship, looked genuinely angry. 

•He just disappears sometimes. You still have no idea where he goes. 

•If it was a party, he'd tell you. No idea.

•That eyeliner of his isn't built in, he puts it on from time to time. You've no idea where he keeps the liner and eyeshadow, either. 

•He's tall... hurts my neck thinking about looking up at him. He'll kneel to talk to you if he wants to mess with you. 

•HIS HAAAIIIRRRRR-

•He might let you brush it if you ask nicely. It defies gravity, it's in the air like he often is. 

•You don't live together, since you both have to attend to things way too often. And he doesn't fit in your house too well... oops.

•Almost every time you see him things go awry. Just when you think you'll have a calm date, he drags you to some bar to drink and everyone stares at you. Because he's an inhuman-looking being that's half-naked. And you're some dreary mage, dragged behind him like a petrified dog, your face the same, because you're so worried that everyone is staring. In this case, they are.

•It's really hard to not drink alcohol around this freak. If you don't want to or don't drink, he'll still shove some drink into your hands. You have to go to the bathroom all the time. 

•Upon the rare occasion that you get a quiet moment, like sitting on the roof of the Mystic House watching the full moon behind thin clouds, it's lovely. Silence with him is comfortable. He Gets It like no one does, and is always ready to listen or to let you cry silently as he holds you. 

•You've injured yourself several times due to his gauntlets. He takes them off around you now. It's their fault they're so bulky. 

•You're face to face with his chest at all times. It's torture. Give this slut a shirt!!! 😫

•Great hugs. Look at him and tell me otherwise. You simply can't. 

•Due to being calm, it's hard to get him to be energetic. He's in a constant state of being high (on life. And in a constant state of alcoholic buzz. If he wasn't a Celestial he'd be dead.)

Scarlita

•She's pretty cold and doesn't feel or understand emotion like humans. She can't feel love, exactly, but she can strongly care for someone and that's close enough. 

•You gained her favor by being generally helpful whenever you crossed paths, which was more often than not. Not many people stick by her side. You did. 

•She isn't needed much, and since you run into hypofiends and such often, following you seemed most practical. 

•If her body needs any repairs or maintenance work done, you're there to help! Even better when magic is involved. That's your field of expertise. 

•You could liken it to washing someone's hair or doing their nails, so it's a quiet bonding activity. 

•Once she faced you for a while (staring at you without eyes?) and said "I have no idea how your body works. It's so impractical." 

•Is she wrong though?!

•She doesn't notice if you're naked. It doesn't register at all. Maybe she'll say "Oh wow, trying out a new look, are we?" and that's it. It's unusual but cuts down on awkward moments.

•The first time you asked to hold her hand she detached it and gave it to you. You didn't have the heart to correct her. 

•She's metal, and she is always COLD in a literal way. Try holding her hand or hugging her and it's like cuddling a fridge. 

•Speaking of which. She doesn't understand gestures such as that, either, though to appease you she learns some Human Comforting Routines. Her most favored one is a stiff pat on the head (she's trying her best to learn.)

•You bring Scarlita various mechanical trinkets. You have no idea where she keeps them, but sometimes, when she thinks you're asleep, she stares at them. Her favorite is a music box. 

•If you ask, she will carry you. You might even get to fly. Explain how frail and pathetic humans and by extension you are and she'll carry you the whole day >:)

•She is made of metal but she's very light and has a light touch. In battle, she's deadly, but around you, she's as gentle as can be. 

•If you need a spider removed she'll just pick it up, same goes with any venomous creature. She can't be bitten.

•She hates the beach and sand!!! It gets all into her joints and she has to get it out. She'll stand like a statue in protest to going anywhere sandy. Don't bother, she's immovable.

•She always dresses the same. When you're in a stained shirt and pants with holes that you've had since before time itself, she's there, radiant and ready for an audience with the Emperor.

•Her floating wings and swaying outfit make people keep their distance. Many have been whacked. 

•You help her redo her braids, your human fingers are faster at it. Her hair is made of yarn and is quite soft, and requires little care because it never gets dirty. 

•Everyone knows that you two are close- again, the labels are... whatever- but everyone knows something's up. She's around you nearly always, and if asked, she will reveal everything. 

•You'll get along well if you're autistic, her and social cues mix like oil and water.

•She's even worse than you with getting sidetracked. She picks up every little sidequest, and it's impossible to stop her. You have to follow her around and make sure she doesn't go on like that for an eternity. 

•You don't have forever!!! At least, you don't think you do.

•Her way of showing she cares is doing things for you.

•Winning against hypofiends makes her happy, and if you run into one, you step aside to let her have at it. 

•It's convenient to not have to worry about her safety. She's virtually indestructible. 

•But she, oh, she worries for you a lot. The more time you spend together the more she worries. 

•She helps you work through your issues with a level head. Scarlita isn't involved in the human world, she's so distant from your feelings that to her it's like gears and springs- there's a system to it she can work through without getting caught up.

•HER AXE IS INSANELY HEAVY??? You tried to lift it once and pulled a muscle. She wasn't happy about that. 

•People are usually intimated by her. She's harmless to non-hypo-gean/fiends, though it's unconvincing when she stands so tall and has that axe on her at all times. 

•In terms of NSFW stuff... yeah, good luck with that. She's probably ace. 

Dionel & Scarlita 

•They're allies, but they're rather passive-aggressive because they disagree on most matters. Through their relationship with you, they have to become acquaintances and tooootally not friends. 

•Dionel understands humans in their more dark, messy, and emotional moments, while Scarlita understands their mental mechanics. They balance out and can dissect people's psyches well if paired together. 

•No lies get past them, yours or others'. If you're unwell and pretending to be fine or upset and not saying anything, they can tell and call it out. It's hard saying no to them. 

•Dates all together can get even more chaotic. You get dragged to a tavern by Dionel, and then Scarlita talks to some guy about strange occurrences in the town graveyard, and next thing you know you're fighting with the undead.

•Fun date idea- killing graveborns with your partners!!! Yay!!!

•You go to temples as a date, you try to find abandoned ones so you don't have to explain to a scholar or priest what you're doing holding hands with two celestials at four in the morning. 

•If you want to sleep near them, you'll have to be on the floor or on a mattress that is as big as the floor. 

•Scarlita doesn't understand parties, but Dionel understands battle, you have that in common.

•You show off with your magic to impress them. They tell you you don't have to, but you still do. 

• Dating, or even befriending, Reinier would be a miracle and a curse. You'd have to get over the whole... symmetry thing. I've got plenty of ideas and if anyone wants I'll expand on them, but I chose this one. 

• The "Fix This Guy's Perfectionism OCD" route! 

• You, the illustrious and eternally errand-running Magister Merlin, keep running into cases of things being duplicated for symmetry. 

• At first, it wasn't too detrimental. It was a slight bit stressful for the people who had to watch their town statues disappear. With the exception of Lyca, who found it beautiful. Good for her...? 

• Along the way, you met Talene and found the perfectionist culprit- Reinier. His obsession with symmetry ran deep, and even if his arrogance was understandable due to his good looks, his personality made him hideous. 

• Talene had chased him for a while. You ran into her many times more, and eventually, he duplicated buildings and entire towns.

• Reinier needed an intervention.

• How do you do an intervention on a demon? 

• You summon him, of course! 

• With the (totally not coerced) help of a farmer, you made patterns in Ryeham fields. Beautiful patterns, nearly perfect, yet slightly off. 

• Reinier appeared ENRAGED. 

• You had to restrain him, which almost took you and him out in the process. 

• You told him he did not have merely an obsession, but an illness of the mind that humans dealt with, too. (Humans didn't have the power to do the shit he did. Thank Dura for that.) 

• What ensued was the strangest thing you remembered doing. 

• His progress was slow. For the first month, you thought you'd go mad. Not to mention his mysophobia which was also an issue to get through. 

• You were not his therapist, you were his "handler"- keeping a muzzle on him with your magic. Besides celestials, no one was powerful enough to do so. 

• When he made enough progress, he was still himself (annoying & hot), though his murderous and more destructive tendencies were curbed well enough. 

• Point out his mismatched shoes and he will lose it.

• Point out his mismatching colors and he will try to break through the bonds on his magic to kill you. 

• You're not sure how it happened, but along the way, you tripped and fell in "love". 

• At first, it was pure physical attraction. Obvious and cheap. 

• But when you saw the way he admired snowflakes and the "perfect" knit of your clothes, you found him endearing. Make sure not to let him see the snow melt or a hem get frayed- that's a recipe for an episode. 

• Reinier used to be cool due to being a demonic being. Now, with his magic being held back, he accumulates it and it builds up as heat. He can't hold snowflakes anymore.

• You make some out of magic and hang them in his room. 

• His room in the Mystical House is asymmetrical. Exposure therapy and all. The therapist said it'd help him, but he still arranges the furniture weirdly. It can't be helped...

• Reinier LOVES hearing himself talk. He will yap on about actual nonsense and will repeat phrases in a symmetrical way, with perfect rhythm and syllable count. Unfortunately, he has no mouth to cover. 

• The way Reinier fell for you? Well...

• He did not confess until he was several months into living in your house. 

• You had to torture it out of him, going softly first, only asking him how he felt to various insulting answers. You started making his room uneven to piss him off.

• He clawed at your cloak, praying you to stop, and he finally spat out the words like they were poison.

• "Fine! I- gag- well isn't that a pretty word- I... 'like' you!" 

• You put the dresser back to where he had it. "I'm listening."

• "I see, now, that symmetry is not all there is to life. I'll never rid myself of the way I think, but, you're the second best thing to perfection, and I... feel what you humans would call love, towards you."

• You halted, something blooming in your chest. 

• That was the day you got together. You never put much of a label on your relationship. It was beyond simple words. 

• Reinier admires your magic. He says it's organized and the neatest, warmest magic he has ever encountered. Even though you're used to compliment his feel special because that bastard doesn't bother to lie. He supposed that that's what made him gravitate towards you, along with your unending patience and wisdom.

• If you do makeup (especially more artsy things) and mess up even a little, Reinier will offer- no- INSIST on fixing it. You'll usually accept because it's cute and he focuses hard. It's one of the only times he's truly calm. 

• Sometimes he adds different shapes to each side. Each time you celebrate internally. Therapy was worth it!!!

• You have to remind him that people are not less worthy due to being imperfect. If he gets stuck in one of those loops you bring out... The Spray Bottle (which is filled with water but is a reused vintage perfume bottle. You know the one, with the thang) 

• Long after he gets better (but he isn't cured. He's just Like That) you let him out of his quarantine. He'll tag along with you and you only. He doesn't care for other people.

• He's nice to the hamster familiars because if he isn't it's over for him. They're mildly scared of him. 

• If you let him out of his bonds your opponents will be COOKED. 

• And no one wants to mess with a 6'5 tall floating demon anyway...

• If you choose to get gay demon married Berial will try to crash the wedding and Reinier will be a bridezilla. The wedding? Immaculate. His attitude? Spray Bottle worthy. 

• He is terrible at cooking. He will summon an eldritch horror if in the vicinity of a kitchen, and he hates touching food with his hands and is generally sensitive to sensory input. That's why you shower daily and clean the house often, his fear never goes away completely and you accommodate it, sharing some similarities with him in that regard. 

• If you cuddle it has to be symmetrical. You are laying ON HIM and nowhere else, too bad that he's like a rock in softness.

• Hates kids. Too chaotic.

• Everyone is horrified at the pairing of Reinier x Magister Merlin. All that matters is that you're happy. 

• You act like an old couple. Constantly. 

• He might make jewelry for you similar to his if he gets bored. Which is often. 50% of your wardrobe is now created by him, not that you mind. 

• Temesia is especially horrified by your relationship. Dionel isn't surprised, and Valen finds it funny. Talene is glad he's domesticated because she doesn't have to deal with his BS.

• Reinier is all bark and no bite. With you around him, being cruel is not an option.

NSFW:

• The reproductive systems of (most) humans are symmetrical... Which fascinates him.

• He has no mouth, so it's mostly his hands doing the work. 

• Reinier can create genitals for himself if you're into that. He's in control of what they are, but they'll always be demonic in a way- spiked, shaped strangely, segmented, tentacles, etc. 

• If you're into degradation/praise you've met your match. Either dynamic works. 

• His horns look pretty pullable 

• TWO SETS OF ARMS??? TWO SETS OF A-

• Since he's strong and TWO SETS OF ARMS, he could easily hold you up in any way and position, and restrain you easily. Two sets of arms, guys. 

• Since he has claws, I imagine he'd be into scratching you and sadism. It fits his lore.

• Hear me out- he likes bondage, creating patterns out of rope or magic on his partner. Non-sexually, too.

• If he takes longer to work through his mysophobia, he might use magic and not touch you at all to please you. 

• He doesn't have an inherent drive to have sex, he does it for you, and you're the only one who makes him feel any of that attraction and desire.

• As a stickler for rules, he can be rather obedient. 

The forest again.

Bathed in unnatural candy hues of the night, the foliage didn't dare rustle as you waded through it carefully. You walked and walked, greeted by many off-putting but harmless creatures, until you stopped at a grassy hill overlooking a familiar landscape.

  You sat down on the checkered white and red cloth sprawling across the ground. You looked around. He appeared slowly. From completely invisible to a floating, but very real, wraith. 

  "Hey, dude, what took you so long?" Marshall floated down, almost sitting but still floating above the ground like a mysterious fog. 

  "Walking. I don't have flying privileges." You smiled up at him, crossing your legs. His expression changed as it dawned on him, but he didn't look any less mischievous or smug. 

  "What do you want to do today? Er, tonight?" You corrected yourself awkwardly as you shifted in your seat. He sat down on the cloth, his long legs outstretched beyond its edge. His band shirt- cropped by him and a pair of scissors, accessories to the crime-  shifted over his shoulder. You weren't even looking down there, you were fixated on his face. 

  Instead of a response he dug through his deceptively flat pockets. He pulled out a pack of- cigarettes? You squinted. You had seen those before, one of the first times you hung out. And by his own words, they weren't tobacco.

  "Are you into this kind of stuff?" He asked as he lowered his arm, quirking a brow. You piped up. 

  "Yes. If you are," You said, a little too fast and a little too eager. Not even a little, a lot. He smiled, amused. 

  "Oh? Didn't pin you as the type." He opened the box.

"You don't know a lot of things about me," You replied cryptically, laughing as you looked away. 

  He lit the cigarette with the lighter he carried around at all times. Once he lit several cotton candy trees with it on Prince Day. That didn't go over well. The trees filed a restraining order against him.

  Marshall brought the cigarette to his lips and puffed a cloud of glitter. You suppressed a cough, gaze focused down. He passed you the thing and you took it hesitantly, bringing it to your lips. You paused. Your hands shook and your chest tightened, the pythons in your lungs strangling you from inside. 

  The cigarette had grooves in it from his nails. There was a slight scuff in the paper and you could see where his teeth grazed the pink filter. 

  You heard your name said softly. 

  You glanced up at him as your shoulders tensed upwards and your brows slumped downwards.

  "You okay?" Marshall leaned down to be on your eye level but kept his distance. His hands were close to your knees. You lowered the cigarette.

  "I have got to admit something." You frowned. "I'm sober. I don't do drugs, smoke, drink... anymore." 

  You waited for some kind of disappointment from him, telling you you were lame. You hadn't thought about this. When you saw him in Fionna's house that evening, you weren't sober yet, and you could've done it then- but now- you couldn't bring yourself to fake it, or to break your clean streak. 

  The air around you felt empty and cooler, his gaze like a sweater of hay. 

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Instead of disappointed, he looked concerned. You thought about the answer. Your hands clenched around nothing as Marshall took the cigarette away from you. 

  You felt grass poke into your legs. 

  "Well, I... don't know. I guess it didn't feel important enough until now." 

  "It is important. I'm proud of you. And I'll keep these away from you, by smoking them all myself," He said with an underlying light tone, juuust as you thought he was getting serious. His attitude put you at ease. 

  You shrugged, shoulders finally relaxing. You laughed. 

  "Go ahead. I'm not gonna stop you." 

  "The effects wear off quickly anyway.”

  He took a drag and his fangs grazed the paper. His eyes shifted over to the horizon.

  You reclined. With the newfound silence, your mind began drifting instantly, thoughts overthinking and brain overflowing with self-doubt. You felt stupid and tiny in his presence at the moment, even though you hadn’t previously. It wasn’t his fault- it was all your brain. Maybe you should’ve told him you were sober before you met up. You sighed.

  “How’s guitar been going?” He asked without looking at you. You pursed your lips. “Good. It’s been good. Learning a lot. Practicing. My fingers are shredded.”

  Your fingers were streaked with marks of steel strings, skin toughened. You wondered if he had the same. You imagined holding his hand, and- you shook your head, shaking away the thought like an etch a sketch.

  Marshall leaned over. You froze as he glanced at your hand. You tensed up instinctively. His eyes flicked up to yours and he leaned back momentarily, leaving as fast as he came (LOL). You exhaled shakily.

  “Welcome to the club. This is your life now,” He huffed out glittering smoke. “If you stop it’ll be gnarly. Keep practicing.” A smug smile adorned his face and his ears tilted up. Your brows raised.

  “I’ve also been practicing synth,” You mentioned with forced casualty. Sharing things about yourself either came out of your mouth randomly and with no prior thought or had to be pried from you by your own hand, no matter how weird it felt.

  “Synth?” Marshall raised a brow.   “And harmonica.”   “Okay...” He turned to you fully, leaning on his hand.   “And drums.”    “And omnichord.”   “And ukulele.”   “And theremin.”   “Also, the violin.”   “Exactly how many instruments do you play?” He asked slowly, squinting.   “All of those.”   “Is that all?”

  “Oh, I've also been practicing the rain stick. It's a very delicate balance. Of balancing the stick and turning it slowly so it sounds like rain and not like white noise coming from a TV in a horror game as the guy finds his clone dead on an armchair. In front of the TV.”

  Marshall’s confusion was evident on his face.   “I don't even know what a rain stick is.”

  “Of course you don't. I mean-“ You raised your hands defensively. Marshall grinned with amusement.

  “Whaaat?” He tilted his head and his ears lowered, hair, darker than the night sky, spilling over his face.

  “I mean it's an unpopular instrument in Aaa. Not to say you don't know things. You know lots of things! More things than I know! Probably.” You glanced from side to side.

  “Like what?” His tone changed and his expression did as well, more mischevious. It was your turn to be confused.

  “I assume a lot of the things you know I don’t- that’s my point? I don’t know?” You awkwardly fidgeted with your hands. Marshall seemed disappointed.

  “Right.” He sighed and snuffed out his cigarette.

  A silence settled.

  Yikes.   …

 You feigned a cough.

 “How's yooooooouuuuur....” You began to speak, only for your neurons to fizzle out. You panicked as your brain searched for a topic.

 “Music career?” You sounded embarrassingly unsure, maybe he wasn’t noticing, but you wanted to punch yourself. In the face. He stuck out his tongue and frowned as the cigarette crumpled into the grass.

  “Same old same old. I'm great and everyone loves me.”

  He focused in on the checkered cloth beneath him. He ran his hands over it in circles and you watched his black nails. His brows stayed furrowed and his voice was quiet.

  “I wish I could do more with it though.”

  You watched him curiously, moving a little closer.

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve done everything. Almost everything...” He shrugged and gestured. You knew he had not played the rain stick. “I've made so many albums and played shows in every place I could reach. Every corner of Aaa and most islands.” He sounded genuine, and his expression was serious. Not everyone got to see him like this. You were happy that you did. You hummed.

  “What about the Nightosphere? Have you done one there?”

  Marshall’s pupils shrunk at your words.

  “Can't. My mom would get involved and it'd be a whole thing.” He huffed and scoffed at the thought.   “I get that. Have you ever been to... the Dead Worlds?”

  “Yeah. Played a metal show. Death loved it. Butterscotch Butler tried to steal my skin.”

  You rolled your eyes.

“Ugh. Typical.”

  You inhaled deeply. The night air was pleasant and fresh, and a breeze had begun to pick up.

  You crossed your legs, following the lines of the grass stuck to the bottom of your shoes.

  “You know, it’s weird how much I think about death. My whole life is just one big thought about death.” You bit your lip. Your nails scratched against the top of your shoes.

  “Imagine how I feel.”

  You met his gaze. His pupils widened, almost becoming round.

  “I can’t,” You responded bluntly. “Do you think it’s worse to be immortal than mortal?”

  “I think both are shit. Immortals long for death, and mortals try to evade it. Besides my mom. She's doing just fine with her immortality." 

  You both looked rather sullen. The atmosphere was heavy.

  “Do you long for death?”

  “Not anymore.”

  You were relieved and concerned at that.

  “I try not to ask about the way you became a vampire,” He had told you about some of his past, in fragmented bits that you had pieced together. “But do you think it influenced the way you view it? Death?”

  “It changed everything. I forced myself not to care. The loss is endless and the crap is endless.”

  You ran a hand through your hair.

  “That is crazy depressing,” You breathed.

  Marshall didn’t reply. He took out a cigarette. He lit it. You would’ve as well.

  "It's been so long since I became a vampire. And I'm still mad about it..." 

  "I'm still mad about plenty of things that happened when I was a kid. I think most people still hold onto some things. Especially when they're that traumatic." You clasped your right hand over your left, careful not to brush the fingertips. 

  "You think so?" 

  "Yeah." 

  He took a drag of the cigarette. You wanted some kind of thank you, some response. You knew you weren't going to get it. It took him a lot to open up. And he was also high to an unknown degree. At least you two matched each other's weirdness.

 “You know what’s more depressing? My exes.” You snapped your fingers.

  "Want me to beg?"  He smirked.

   You stuttered in flustered confusion. 

  "What-?!" 

   Marshall laughed. 

  "The last time you mentioned your exes? Treehouse?”

  You covered your face.

“Oh… right. Don’t say that ever again, what the hell?"

  Marshall shrugged.

  “My last ex was a demon.”

  Marshall split his attention between you and the cigarette.

  “How’d you meet?”

"I don't recall..." You deflected, fidgeting.

  "You can't "not recall" meeting your demon ex, unless you were as high as Gumball's opinion of himself," Marshall scoffed. You tensed, sighing.

  “I was at a music festival and they threw up in front of my then partner’s sea lard. We started dating shortly after I broke up with said partner some years later.”

  “You’d think the main hurdle in our relationship would be that they were a demon and I was human. But no, the real villain was their struggle with emotional vulnerability and my trauma.” You placed your hand under your chin in thought.

 “What about that other partner?”

  “They were a demon too. And the previous one as well. Huh, all were demons.” You tapped your knee.

  Your eyes widened.

  “Do I have a type?!”

  Marshall held back laughter.

  “You only noticed?”

  You leaned on your hand.

  “Damn, I never thought about it for some reason. Is that weird?”

  “No. It is kinda funny though.” This cigarette was going way faster.

   The moon was high in the sky and you could see galaxies along with the stars.

   You laid on half of the cloth, feet on the grass. A dancing beetle crawled onto you and you shook it off, ending its party of one. You saw things in the sky you hadn’t seen before. Galaxies, stars, nebulas. You should’ve stopped to appreciate things more, small things that became ordinary. Your eyes shifted to Marshall briefly. He looked really cool. You turned your head to the hills. They were spotless.

  “Are you only into demons?”

  Your counting of the stars was interrupted.

  “I wouldn’t say so.”

  You weren’t sure.

  “What about vampires?”

  You partially sat up, but didn’t look at him.

“You’re the only vampire left.”

  He hummed in agreement.

 “I’d- I... I mean, sure,” You stumbled verbally.

  “What about a demon vampire?” You could hear the smile in his voice. You turned to see his gaze on you. You hid your smirk.

  “I’d give them a chance.”

  He hid a giddy expression with a cloud of smoke. Judging by the length of the cigarette, his last cloud. 

  He reached for another. His expression turned perplexed. He shook the box. Empty. 

  "Guess there were only two. I did smoke one while I was waiting for you..." 

  "Sorry for not flying," You sassed from the ground, flailing your arms for emphasis. 

  "You could've asked me to pick you up, you know?" 

  You were confused as you heard and felt the shifting of the cloth. Marshall disappeared. You turned your head around. You called his name unsurely, turning back around to sit up. Before you could, you felt weight on either side of you and watched in horror as Marshall appeared above you. He straddled you. Your face flushed and your brain shut down. 

  "Marshall, what are you doing?" You asked with a strained, worried tone.

  Marshall stared down and studied the details of your appearance. 

  "Hm? I wanna see who I'm talking to," He explained calmly. 

  Your hands dug into the cloth and you pressed yourself into the ground. Your breathing hastened much to your dismay. 

  You gulped as you looked around him, trying to find the least weird place to look at. Not his jean zipper. Probably not his bite mark. You looked into his eyes with desperation which he either ignored or didn't notice. 

  He smelled like that drug, a vaguely herbal and smokey scent, it burned away and clung to him. You could also smell artificial cherry, and it must've been him. Though maybe you were hallucinating. 

  Could he hear your heartbeat? Was that a thing? Those ears of his had to be good for something. 

  You feverishly rummaged around your pockets, pulling out a small box. 

  "You want gum?" 

  He opened his mouth. Fangs. Your brain was melting. 

  "It's red."  

  He closed his mouth and held out his hand, eyes half closed and ears relaxed. You put one in his hand, careful not to brush it, as though it was toxic. 

  Was he pulling your leg? Was it just another joke you didn't get? He liked that, didn't he? Did he? He couldn't. But he was mean. At times. 

  You looked up at the sky. 

  It was quickly covered by his frame, hands now at the sides of your neck. You didn't dare move. Though you couldn't control the rapid rising and falling of your chest.

  "Nervous?" He asked breathily. 

  You frowned. 

  "Uh..." 

  His pupils grew round. 

  "Your heartbeat is so fast. I can see the moon in your stars."

  "You mean... eyes?" 

  "What did I say?" 

   "Stars." 

  "Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting..." He mumbled, and you searched for the meaning on his face. What was he going on about??? 

  He got off you in a swift motion you didn't quite see in the moonlit night. You sat up with an owlish glare. 

  "Are you alright?" Your voice was gentle. You kept your distance. 

  He sat there silently, sucking the red from the gum in a flash. 

  "Do you need any help?" 

 Clearly, yes. His eyes glazed over his palms.

"My hands are so cold." 

  With anxious delay you sat down close to him, taking his hands and wrapping yours around them. Your breath stuttered.

  His grip tightened around you. You felt warmer even though his ice-cold touch, colder than his rings, sent goosebumps across your arms. His finger brushed your inner wrist. You bit your cheek, transfixed.

  "Even though I don't need warmth, this is nice," Marshall said serenely.

  "You don't need warmth?!" You barked.

   "Oops?" He smiled innocently, ears pinned back. 

  "You're so cold!" You whined. 

 "Yet I still make you heat up." 

  You frowned, and he watched your face. His nails became claws and left tantalizing trails. You felt your face rise in temperature.

  "Aw, I wish I could blush."

  "You could've just asked to hold my hands."

  "And you could've asked me for a lift. Why do we do this?" 

  "Cause we're two traumatized shut-ins." 

He put his head on your chest. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. 

   "Very deep."

   "I guess it is- OW!" You flinched as you felt a sharp sensation against your wrist. Marshall leaned back and turned over your right arm with his left. His fingertips were slightly tougher on that side. Your thoughts were proven correct. 

  Your face filled with worry as you saw blood on your arm. 

  "Shit, is this from me?" 

  "Where else would it come from?!" Your voice rang out in barely contained frustration. 

  "I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, I'd never want to-" His voice suddenly became panicked, his puppy dog eyes filled with remorse. He met your eyes desperately, but you were too focused on the injury. It didn't hurt too much... it was weird. The night was weird. 

  "This was a mistake," He said. 

  "You mean... us meeting tonight?" 

  "No- me scratching you. And offering you drugs. And everything else."

  "Like you straddling me? Or asking if you should beg?" You huffed. 

  "... Yeah. I should be more careful with you." 

  You looked pissed.

  You took your arm away from him harshly, taking a bandaid from a pocket on your jacket and putting it over the scratch. You'd have to disinfect it later. 

  "You carry around a bandaid?" He rose a brow.

  "And a pick." You took out a small guitar pick from your shirt. 

  "Is that it?" 

  "I have a tiny watermelon with a face on it." You showed the plastic watermelon briefly before chucking it back in.

  You smoothed down the bandaid. Your touch lingered. It was hard to focus on anything else.

  "Again, I'm sorry. I just haven't been this close to anyone in ages."    You sighed. 

  "How long is ages, exactly?" 

  "There was a girl three years ago. And some... guy... hundreds of years ago." 

  You couldn't hide the surprise on your face. 

  "I assumed you had a lot more exes. In hindsight, it doesn't make sense knowing you. Still, feels wrong." 

  You kept talking for quite a while. 

  The moon was slowly drifting away, the horizon brightening. Heavy clouds rolled in and it seemed like it would rain. 

  "It's been fun, but I should probably go. I'm getting sleepy." You stretched as you began to get up. Your legs were falling asleep. Your eyes felt dry and your voice began to creak and deepen. You were thoroughly wasted and your common sense was drifting off with the moon. Your arm also hurt to move in the wrist area. You were over it though. 

  "Touché. Not long 'til the sun rises." 

  Marshall floated up. You almost forgot he did that.

  He began to float along you. You left soft dents in the grass. He left nothing. 

  "Aren't you gonna take that cloth?" You pointed back to the spot you had sat in all night.

  "Oh, that? It's not mine," He said calmly.

  "WHAT." 

  You blinked, face twisted in concern. 

  The ground beneath your feet was plush and the green was ridiculously vibrant even in the dark. You nearly fell over as you stopped at a fork in the hills, one towards Marshall's cave cottage and one towards your place. Your heart nearly lurched out of your body, suddenly set into a faster pace. You didn't notice that Marshall was ready to catch you. The treehouse would've been visible if you turned around. 

  "And this is where we say goodbye," Your voice broke the silence of the landscape with exhaustion-caused softness. 

  "C'mon, let me help you get back home. You're falling asleep," Worry and what you wanted to be care laced his voice. You crossed your arms with a lowering of your brows. 

   "I don't see how you could do that," You said skeptically.

   Marshall's knee-high sneakers touched the ground. He transformed into a giant bat in seconds. 

   "Oh, right." You felt your face flush. 

  His eyes were the same, but rounder and more upturned, with the black scleras much less visible. His ears had the same color but were like that of a bat. They retained their piercings, but were less noticeable. His nose was highly boopable, upturned even more. He was covered with black fur and his arms were wings, the skin fading from its usual hue to black at the claws. He must've been way over 4 meters tall. 

  He picked you up and placed you on his back. You yelped as you gripped his fur for stability. You were startled by how soft it was. The strands were like satin. You couldn't help but run your hands over it, lost in the sauce. 

  "Whoa..." 

  "Uhhh. What are  you doing there?" Marshall's voice took you out of your fixation. You flinched at it. 

  "Sorry!" You held your hands close to yourself. You heard him laugh faintly in response before you took off without warning. You couldn't even scream in shock as you felt like you were being yanked up and down simultaneously. 

  The ground shrunk beneath you and the gusts of wind that had been intensifying became an advantage to Marshall's flight. His wings moved quickly at first, and then he began to glide. Your heart began to slow as the pace evened out. You still looked, and were, utterly terrified. You had to move your jaw to pop your ears from the sudden rise of altitude. The prospect of being so high up was enough to kill you. But the clouds looked pretty, and your vehicle was calm. 

  After a while of undisturbed flight, you stopped caring about the past or the future or what could be or would be- you just cared about this moment. 

  It smelled of fresh petrichor. There was nothing interfering with the fresh air. It was a feeling like no other, and nothing would ever compare to it. If you could fly you'd never complain about anything. Why was Marshall such a dick if he could do this at ANY POINT?! Maybe it was only special to you because you experienced this rarely (never). Like you looking at the stars or at him, he had grown used to the wonders of flight, and it was just another thing, another automatic thing. 

  "Where do I go?" 

  You grimaced. You hadn't even told him where you lived. Oh shit. 

  "To the right! Over the river and forest! Behind the Candy Kingdom and Mountains, overlooking water," You yelled to the best of your abilities. 

  "I can hear you! I have bat ears," He replied. 

  "Great, because my throat hurts," You rasped. The good thing about him being old was that he had to know where that was. You hoped so. 

  You really didn't want to get off Marshall. He was fluffy, and you sneaked one last pet. Glob damn him for being so cute in that form. Not like he wasn't cute in his usual form. But that thought was gonna stay in your vault for the time being. 

  As you got into your house you struggled with the lock. As soon as you entered, you rushed around the house. 

  "I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's a mess in here," You muttered as you shoved stuff and junk under furniture with your shoe. You did so rather lazily, half-conscious. 

  Marshall followed you and spooked you with his lack of footsteps. He flicked on the lights, for your sake. The light assaulted your eyes and you groaned. 

  You dragged yourself to the couch and crumpled onto it, sighing at last, the familiarity of your house coercing you into that good night. Marshall was being uncharacteristically quiet and helpful. You felt unbelievably comfortable as you nuzzled into the smooth fabric. The world began to fade away. You felt a cold pressure on your shoulder, tugging. Your name was repeated several times. You hummed.

  "You gotta get to bed." 

  You opened your eyes minimally. You made incoherent noises. You were too comfortable and too tired.

  "I could carry you-" 

  Without letting him finish that sentence you shot up with a bewildered gaze.

  "NoImgood and suddenly feel veryawake," You interrupted. Marshall squinted at you suspiciously.

  As you were walking to your room you passed by a doorway. Marshall peeked in, disappearing in its darkness. You followed him in, turning on some lamps. Marshall floated over an instrument, pointing to it. 

  "What's that?" You swear you saw his eyes sparkle as he stared at it.

  "Omnichord." 

  "Can I try it?"  

  You nodded.

  He looked around the various buttons, the glinting strum plate catching his eye. He clicked the on button and pressed on A minor. He touched the strum plate. As soon as it made a warm shimmering sound his ears stood straight, gaze mystified. He did it again, dragging his finger against the strum plate. He looked over the plastic buttons and letters, clicking on some until he found a chord progression. 

  It was novel seeing him mess around. You leaned against the doorframe as a smile found its way to your tired face. You had that beautiful bastard in your house, in your music room, playing with this ancient shit like a kid. It was probably from around his time, too.

  "Where did you find this magical machine?" He looked over his shoulder. 

  "Gumball helped me get it." You flipped your wrist. He slowed his playing. 

  "Gumball." His tone wasn't happy. The atmosphere did a 180, but you didn't notice. 

  " Yeah, we're vaguely friends, without him, I probably wouldn't be able to find all this old tech." Your hands found their way around your body. You closed your eyes for a second.

  "Cool," You vaguely heard Marshall's faux chill tone. The darkness behind your eyelids was fuzzy. For a second, you'd just close them for a second...

  Your name resounded in your head. Again, and again, a chorus echoing in the dark. Cold on your shoulders and cool air around your face. Snowing? Was it snowing? Ice Kingdom? Ice cream? You scream? We all scream for her? 

  Your name close to your face. A familiar, melodic voice. You opened your eyes. Blurry. You looked around, neck movements slowed. You looked straight ahead. 

  "You fell asleep."

  You blinked, groaning. You blinked once more- the face- Marshall. You had never been so close to him. You could see his smudged eyeliner set with eyeshadow and his dark lashes, the furrows and crypts in his iris, all his glinting black metal piercings, the texture of his black lips. His brows lowered and you saw every hair. His hair, was it as soft as his fur? You reached up but stopped.

  "Oh shit. This isn't a dream?" You muttered as you froze. 

  Marshall instantly unhanded you. 

  "No." He looked at your hand, raised to the ends of his hair. He silently asked you what you were doing. You hummed in thought, dropping your arm. 

  "Just dreamed... of something... sorry," You mumbled. 

  The walk to your room was short. A minute at most. But now, it was like your body was in water, and everything was spinning in a washing machine inner drum. Your room smelled familiar, woody, a slice of nature. 

  You were about to close your door.    Marshall stopped it with his arm, startling you with the ease of his resistance to the pressure you put on the door. 

  "Wait-"

  You hummed in question. 

  "The sun- the sun is rising and it's raining. Can I stay the day?" He looked down at you with pleading eyes. You would've agreed to anything at this point. Sea lard in your bed? Sure. Cactus in your hair? Sure. Whatever you want, man. 

  "Of course. Take the couch," You forced out dryly, head nodding sleepily. You hoped he wouldn't steal your couch, literally taking it. Anything was possible with Marshall.

  "Sick-" 

  You shut the door and closed the lock, walking around your room as you discarded your clothes. All you wanted was the sweet embrace of the void, for a little reprise.       - Bonus!

-

  After you awoke, feeling like a corpse, you fixed yourself and with immense willpower, opened your door. You were mad hungry. The sun outside was setting. You must've slept for over ten hours. 

You found your kitchen empty of any vampire demons and ate anything you could get your hands on. 

  You carefully crept into your living room, looking around the corner. You saw a bat hanging off the chandelier. You frowned. 

  "What the what is a bat doing here?!" You clutched the couch, wondering how you'd get it out. 

  The bat flew down and turned into Marshall. You pursed your lips. 

  "Good morning to you too."

  You gulped. Oh glob.

  "... Good morning." 

  The next morning you awoke in confusion. And with a raging, hellish headache. You groaned as you got up. You looked around groggily. 

  It was a small room with a mat on the floor. The light was dim, either evening or dawn. You thought about what you did before you passed out. 

  You got your dagger back from two yokai. Tomoe and Akura-ou. Akura was in the large room, passed out in a chair. Tomoe led you to a balcony where you must've dozed off. Well, led, you followed him. 

  You were in the castle, evident by the architecture and the same incense smell, but no longer on the balcony. Had you walked there in a drunken haze? 

  You left the room silently, searching for a soul of any kind. Preferably one you were familiar with. 

  You heard whispers down the hall. A small furry creature with an odd face stepped out. It stared at you. You resisted your urge to run as hard as you could. You clutched your dagger. 

  "This dagger has cut down many yokai, and I'm not afraid to use it to cut down another." You scowled, straightening your posture. The uncertainty in your voice showed through the cracks in your facade. 

  The furry creature scuttered away. 

  You sighed in relief, slumping over. 

  You stood at the stairs with a dilemma. You headed upstairs. Your head radiated with a throbbing, crushing pain. Hangovers. Hangovers, dammit. 

  You looked around the corner. There were belongings of the treasure variety scattered around as well as some weapons and maps. What a mess. You weren't gonna clean that. 

  You peeked into a room. What the hell? It was empty. Just filled with rubble. You didn't expect any less of yokai... especially yokai such as them. 

  A breath on your neck startled you. You were picked up roughly and raised to a freakish height almost as tall as the ceiling. You exclaimed. A giant oni had crept up on you. You questioned your hearing and could not believe your eyes. You reached for your dagger. You struggled as the oni squished your back, flattening your aching body over his shoulder. You huffed. Too early for this shit...

  You stabbed at his ribs, and he let you go with a horrific groan. You fell on your ass. You've had worse falls. 

  But that one was pretty damn bad. Your bloodied dagger dug into the wooden ground, hair obscuring your vision. An unpleasant smell of iron filled the air. 

  The head of the oni came off in one swipe, rolling to the side on the floor. He fell into a heap. 

  "Talk about clutter," Remarked Akura-ou as he stared at the body, kicking it with his boot. 

  "Akura-ou..." You whispered from the floor. His gaze shot to you, his smile falling.  

  "What are you doing here?" 

  You shrugged, leaning on your knees. A little blood got on your clothes.

  "Takin' a stroll," You replied nonchalantly. He stepped over the body, pulling you off the floor roughly. You wedged your knife out of the floor. Awkward. 

  "I didn't know you were still here." 

  "I am. And my head's killing me..." You mumbled in pain, rubbing your temple. Akura wore a weird knitted long sleeve that mimicked mesh... or clothes eaten by moths. He had a thin leather belt around his waist, stacked necklaces, and a... belt around his neck. How strange. 

  "You should get out," He muttered, pulling you by the arm. 

  "A-a- hey!" You grabbed his wrist. He glanced at you in confusion, frowning. 

  "Do I have to leave?"

  He rose a brow and chortled fruitily. 

  "You're crazy. Don't you want to?" 

  You tilted your head, averting your gaze. 

  "I don't have anything better to do. And my farm will be fine if I leave it for a bit..." You trailed off. You must've still been delirious since none of your words made sense to you.

  "You're right! I should leave, I don't know what I was thinking." You laughed nervously. Loneliness must've driven you to madness. 

  Akura waved his hand. 

  "Whatever. Just ask Tomoe." 

  He turned away, going into a room and closing the door. You called after him hopelessly. He gave you a mocking "good luck" and you heard his footsteps disappear. You put your hands on your hips, kicking the oni on the floor. You huffed.

  "It's just you and me, corpsie."

  You stretched your arms as you explored a new part of the castle. You had wandered quite far, to a whole other quarter. It was a tad darker and neater. 

  A shape raced towards you. You strayed to the other side cautiously, watching the shape come into focus. It was a humanoid yokai with a strange face and a bouquet of... heads. How sweet. 

  He screeched to a halt near you, reaching for your head. 

  "Oh! You'd be a lovely addition to my garden!" He chirped, painted lips twisting into an unnatural, giddy smile. 

  Too damn early. 

  You thought quickly.

  You squinted, scoffing, making the snottiest expression you could, posing like a pissed-off diva. 

  "It's me, Tomoe," You said lowly. The yokai halted. "I can't believe you'd mistake me with a human." You rumbled. 

  "O-of course, master! I'm so-sorry, your disguise was perfect! You looked just like a pathetic human!" He sputtered. 

  You scoffed, actual anger boiling over. 

  "You think I'm pathetic?! You better start runnin'!" You barked, raising your hand, an illusion of fire created by an ofuda of yours flickering. 

  The yokai ran. 

  You smiled triumphantly. 

  "Do you think that's how I talk?" 

  You flinched. 

  "Fu- can you all STOP doing that!" You whisper-yelled, clutching your chest. Tomoe smiled faintly. 

  You searched his eyes for judgment.  He looked kinder than usual. What stupid thing had you said when you were drunk? This castle would wreck your nerves for life at such a rate. As if they weren't wrecked enough.

  "Did you sleep well?" He said with a strange tone bordering on sarcasm. You raised a brow. Was he asking for real? Was he being an asshole? 

  "Eh... as well as a hungover sleep can get," You said, clasping your hands around the back of your neck. 

  "Horribly?" 

  "Precisely." You hung your head, your tone utterly defeated.

  "And I had wandered to a random room in the castle..." You muttered unsurely. Tomoe's smile turned smug. You frowned in confusion. You didn't make eye contact. It felt like if you did, you'd melt. 

  "I wouldn't say you wandered," He lilted, holding back laughter. You fluttered your eyelashes, face heating up. 

  "W... What did I do?" 

  "Nothing." His smile was wide. 

  You blanched. 

  "Oh-" You touched your forehead. "Akura-ou told me to talk to you." 

  "You did just that." 

  You sighed. 

  "No. I don't want to leave the castle yet." You tensed your muscles, crossing your arms. The idea began to make sense in your head. You had gone mad. You accepted it. 

  He hummed, bringing a hand under his face, elbow propped up by his other arm. His sleeves, decorated with flames, shifted. 

  "Fine. Suit yourself, human." He swept his claws through the air, turning away from you and disappearing in a fog. 

  Your shoulders slumped. 

  "Why does everyone keep leaving me?"  

  You wandered from room to room, avoiding the ones behind which you heard strange noises. Not only did they aggravate your headache, but they were also highly disturbing based on previous events in this castle. 

  You walked into a room. 

  It was messy, filled with a lot of smaller objects. There was an unfinished go game. It seemed one of the players had a fit of rage during the game. There was a shogi ban with scattered koma. 

  There was also a ban-sugoroku, which people had gambled over judging by the remnants of sake bottles and glasses as well as loose coins. 

  You left the room. 

  You stumbled upon another room filled with residual smoke, clouding up the room made of warm-toned wood. You coughed. You squinted. The smoke felt more like fog. You could make out some larger furniture pieces. The smoke cleared up as you walked through the room. You studied the room. It was by far the most organized one you'd seen so far. High-quality kosode lay piled nicely. One was a kosode you recognized- it had a chrysanthemum pattern. 

   "How's my room?" Asked a soft voice from the direction of the sliding door. You turned your head, hiding your hands. 

  "Tomoe! This is... your room?" You looked around once more, pretending you hadn't figured that out already. 

  He breathed out smoke from a long pipe. 

  Awful manners. 

  "Of course. It's the only nice place in this castle, I'm sure you've noticed." Smoke spilled from his lips, engulfing him. He began walking to you slowly. You stepped back, hand finding your dagger. 

  He stopped in front of you. He eyed you up. 

  "Are you just gonna stand there?" You asked. His eyes were sheepish. 

  "Why? Do you want me to do something?" 

  You huffed, leaving the room. 

  "Oh, never you mind." 

  The main yard wasn't too eventful. There was a nice bonsai tree in the middle. You watched its branches softly move in the breeze that moved through your hair, soothing your headache after the hangover and the stuffy castle. 

  A small shadow scuttered across, and you recognized it as the furry one. You furrowed your brows. 

  You went into a room. Maybe it would be fine and you could stay in it for a while? 

  It was the largest room you had seen so far. It was truly impressive, and the ceilings were higher. There was a nice, giant bed hidden by curtains. The furniture was rich red. The sun had begun to set. You had spent the whole day wandering around. You had managed to snack on some of your roasted soybeans and washed it down with a small bit of leftover sake you found. 

  The room also contained screens and a table, as well as a lot of mats and scattered clothes in piles that probably made sense to the creature in the room. You didn't see anyone though, which gave you some hope. They wouldn't mind if you just took a nap somewhere there, right? No one minded when cats did it. 

  You approached the bed cautiously. It was dark behind the curtains, and the orange light from outside wasn't much help. You leaned in. 

  You froze when you were met with blood-colored hair and ox horns. You were about to- silently- bolt away when Akura-ou grabbed your wrist and pulled you into himself, hugging you tightly. You writhed. 

  He hummed in his sleep. He was suffocatingly warm, bordering on hot.

  You felt his silky hair on your neck, engulfing you like the tendrils of a fire, arms long and smooth around you, pressing you into his flat stomach and chest. He was too strong for you to push his arms away. You stayed still in silent fear. His claws brushed your sides. You didn't want to get scratched by him again. Shit, being so close to him, you remembered the day you met him. The holes he left in your hip were still there as off-colored scars. 

  He was the raging fire through a house, a fire that could wipe out a village, and could level a forest, could level buildings you couldn't even imagine. 

  His silky hair and his warmth and his strong hold were such sick reminders of it all. 

  You slid out from his arms as best as you could, your clothes getting disheveled in the process. 

  He cracked open an eye. It shone golden through the low light. 

  "Who said you could leave?" He rumbled raspily. You felt your face get hot. He pulled you back down, and you couldn't do a thing as one of his arms wrapped around your chest and the other around your hips. He buried his face in your neck. You breathed in sharply. 

  What did you feel? 

  You felt like you were being torn apart. Pure fucking terror. 

  "You could be a fun game, human." 

  You didn't like how he said that. And you didn't like how your stomach did a flip at his voice. 

  What a demented sleepover.

  You felt his teeth graze your neck. Your eyes widened, adrenalin rushing through you. You shut your eyes tightly, terrified of his teeth piercing your skin. Instead, you felt his tongue against your skin. You exclaimed, writhing and turning to face him as you uselessly wrangled his arms. He smiled innocently. A fire raging through a house? No, a fire raging around you, through you. You met his gaze. It was horrible, and his teeth were like knives, your chest rose and fell and you struggled against him as he was still. 

  "Wasn't that hilarious?" Akura-ou flashed a smile. You felt your heart beat feverishly. 

  "That was horrifying!" You whisper-yelled. Your hangover was receding and you knew then more than ever before that staying was a bad idea. It had hinged on you having control over your stay. Fuck that idea, that's what Akura thought, you assumed. You could see it on his smug face. 

  Still much more interesting than the farm. Overall, not the worst decision you have made or would make. It could be a lot worse. 

  "Humans are weird," He muttered as he rested his head against the pillow, gently stabbing the pillow with his horn, ear folded up awkwardly. 

  "Why are you holding me?" You frowned, tone unhappy. 

  He moved his ear up. 

  "'Cause I want to." Akura-ou held you more firmly. "I don't hear you complaining." 

  You didn't reply. 

  He was right. Unfortunately for you. 

  "It wouldn't do much of anything." You deflected. You didn't look away from his eyes. There was no escape as he held you. 

  Peaches. 

  The bastard smelled of peaches. And uh, blood, which sent you spiraling. Where the fuck would he get blood? God knew he had plenty on his hands, did he not? He looked like it, and the dark splotches on his boots were always there like fluttering red flags. 

  You missed those peaches. 

   You stayed tense in his arms. Your pride wouldn't allow you to relax. 

  Time seemed to pass by painfully slow. It couldn't have been that long, there was still that orange glow that was fading into red, but each second of his touch felt like a million years of carnal sin.

  He had closed his eyes, either asleep or blissing out, unlike you, wide awake and tense as a string. 

  You sighed, finally relaxing. Your muscles loosened and your head drifted into his chest. You forgot that he wasn't wearing a shirt, at that point, you were just glad to relax the muscles in your sore neck. 

  It felt really good. It felt wrong. You put aside those thoughts as much as you could, letting your mind buzz with empty noise. Your eyes fluttered closed. Who knew you'd feel so comforted in the arms of the very thing you despised? You must've been loopy. Yokai- they were all sinful and evil creatures no matter how soft their skin or how silky their hair. Especially that one! He killed like it was a joke. And you stabbed like it was a greeting.... oh, well, maybe it was the fate you deserved. 

  Your slice of heaven was interrupted when you heard the double doors open, followed by hasty footsteps. 

  "Brother. I'm here to ask you about the human. You told the human to speak to me. What do you intend to do-" He stopped talking as he saw you together. Akura slowly opened an eye, glazing over Tomoe. You pursed your lips. 

  "Well, well, well. Seems like I missed a lot," Purred Tomoe from above you. 

  You pushed on Akura-ou's chest. 

  "It's not what it looks like!" You protested with pleading eyes. 

  "He dragged me down and forced me to stay!" 

  Akura pressed you against his chest sleepily and you gave Tomoe a worried look.

  "Why are you being so loud..." The oni grumbled. 

  "Once again, you never fail to disappoint with your buffoonery. Let the human go." 

  Akura-ou untangled himself from you, and you nearly fell off the bed in your hurry to get away. He seemed unimpressed and annoyed. 

  You caught yourself and slicked back your hair, smoothing out your clothes. You left the room, fixing yourself up. 

  You flicked your eyes to the side. Somehow Tomoe was already there. 

  "Do you have a kitchen?" You asked, out of breath. His tail swung like a pendulum. 

  "Yes. Somewhere in here." He glanced to the side. "I'd have to wander to find it. And I happen to be very tired..." He feigned a yawn. 

  "I'll find it on my own then, pokin' through every room I find, happening upon the weird creatures in this place..." You began. His ears lowered and his tail flicked upwards aggressively. 

  "Somehow I don't feel tired anymore," Tomoe said tensely.

  The kitchen could hardly be called so. 

  It was disheveled, smelled like mold, and the dishes present were enough to make you feel sick. You swallowed uncomfortably. You ignored the dark stains all over the room as best as you could 

  "Can you cook?" You turned to Tomoe with horror barely concealed in your eyes. Yokai didn't eat, so it'd be odd if he did. 

  Tomoe almost looked embarrassed, covering his face with his hand. He pointed somewhere and you followed his directions. 

   .... 

  You were met by amorphous sludge in the corner of the room. You screamed. 

  "EUGH! That's awful!" You bent over, coughing from the mess.

  "For the love of god, clean this up!" You begged, shutting your eyes which began to water. 

  He swung his tail low, ears pinned back.

  "... I don't want to," He whispered, your horror rubbing off on him. 

  You cleaned the kitchen. After, it seemed like a whole other room, and if you hadn't seen it transform, you'd believe if someone told you it was another room. 

  Tomoe had graciously helped, after you encouraged him with some gentle threats, such as "I know where you sleep" and "I have a dagger" among others. 

  You washed remaining... substances off your hands. 

  You were determined to teach that fox how to cook for shit. Maybe it'd make him more human, and less of a mess. Give him more to do besides taking over castles and being annoying. Plus, think about it, you could force him to cook for you. 

  His pal was a lost cause though. 

  Poor bastard. 

  For the rice part, you had found some in the castle. It was a rather unfortunate treasure hunt and the things you saw during it... you wished you didn't have eyes for that whole sequence of events. You thought nothing could shock you. You were wrong. 

  As for the fish, you didn't have any on hand. Just when you leave your whole live fish at home you suddenly need it! Ugh! Tale as old as time. 

  You stood knee-deep in a rushing river. You stared into the water so hard nothing else seemed to exist. You stayed perfectly still until you saw a shadow. Then, you reached in and caught the fish by what you hoped were its gills. 

  You pulled it out of the water with a splash, stepping out of the river disgruntled. 

  "That would've been impressive if it didn't take you five tries." Tomoe watched you closely. You scoffed, throwing the fish at him. You ignored his comment. 

  "I'm going to go scrape shiitake mushrooms off some castle walls." 

  You instructed Tomoe as he cut the fish up after cleaning it. He got the hang of it quickly, clearly- concerningly- experienced with blades. 

  You cut the shiitake mushrooms into even slices. You arranged them in a burgundy bowl on top of fluffy rice, the other side taken up by fish. 

  Tomoe watched you arrange the composition with purple puppy eyes, tail still, and ears alert. Your knife went through smoothly, in calculated and rehearsed motions. 

  Once he tried himself, he focused, frowning as it didn't turn out right the first time. He had tried to line it up perfectly, but the slices were uneven, thicker at the bottom and thinner at the top. 

  "It's alright, you'll have plenty of time to learn," You soothed calmly. You instinctively began to lift your arm and hand. 

  "I have an eternity." 

  His tone was ambiguous. Your arm fell to your side. 

  You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you picked up the bowl and a pair of chopsticks.

  Your vision blurred due to a thick fog that formed around you, clearing up once you were in another room, a small bedroom you hadn't seen before. You turned your head to Tomoe. 

  "You're letting me stay? I thought you hated humans." 

  He crossed his arms. 

   "You're no regular human." 

  Your worry was clear on your face. 

  "A mere human wouldn't use an ofuda."

  "How did you know..." You frowned. You had used an ofuda before he appeared earlier, but that had been invisible. That meant he was talking about...

  "Akura-ou tells me everything. You're a human god." A fan materialized in his hand from a sputtering of blue fire. He fanned himself, white hair fluttering. 

  "Stay out of trouble." 

  He was gone in a flash of fire. 

  You set your bowl down on a table, sitting down. 

  You had gotten yourself into quite a situation, hadn't you?