#adavi

Adavi, nestled in Kerala’s Pathanamthitta district near Konni, is a haven for nature lovers and thrill-seekers. This eco-tourism spot blends adventure and tranquility, offering unforgettable experiences. Adavi’s star attraction is its coracle boating on the Kallar River. These bowl-shaped boats glide through serene waters, surrounded by vibrant greenery. The five-kilometer river stretch enchants…

Adavi, nestled in Kerala’s Pathanamthitta district near Konni, is a haven for nature lovers and thrill-seekers. This eco-tourism spot blends adventure and tranquility, offering unforgettable experiences. Adavi’s star attraction is its coracle boating on the Kallar River. These bowl-shaped boats glide through serene waters, surrounded by vibrant greenery. The five-kilometer river stretch enchants…

It was all very dramatic, this stumbling across town in the middle of the night in the pouring rain thing. 

Adair had never much been one for dramatics. Nonsense stressed him out, and he was- admittedly- maybe just a little bit of a control freak. He liked routine, liked patterns, liked knowing what to expect when. It was just... his life as it was now had been carefully cultivated. He woke with the sunrise, worked his patrol- usually interrupted by a smiling sunbeam of a fucking dragon- dropped by either the blacksmith or the flowershop or abuela’s on the way home, rinse, repeat. There were those that would have viewed his life as boring, but he looked at it as being stable. And he liked stable.

One Quarter of the town going up in flames wasn’t fucking stable.

He hadn’t been asleep when it had happened, thankfully, else he might’ve gotten trapped in the inferno before he’d been able to escape. There was all sorts of talk about what had caused it and why, and the whisper of witch was on everyone’s tongue. Some fucking witch in some fucking tavern, that was the going rumor. Adair didn’t know if it was true or not. Didn’t know if he cared.

He was just hopelessly, helplessly numb. 

If he’d been a good brother, maybe he would have stayed with Marisol and Pete in the aftermath of the worst thing that had ever happened to any of them. Maybe that’s what Abuela would have wanted. But Abuela was dead and all Adair wanted was to- forget, maybe? If such a thing was even possible. Wanted to feel something. Feel better. Find any scrap of comfort he could manage, and there was only one place in the world- one person- he could think to go to.

It didn’t strike him until he was struggling to climb the tree outside Ravi’s window how funny it was that the Quarter had raged with that endless, furious inferno for hours, only for the sky to open up and pour once it was too fucking late- once the damage was done, once countless bodies and homes and shops were burnt to a crisp. 

He sat on the branch and shivered for a moment, soaking wet and crying and laughing with hands scratched raw from scrabbling at slippery wet bark, and then he resumed the climb to Ravi’s window. Glad that that window was still there. Glad that this little house with the dragon and the old lady had been at the opposite end of the capitol, outside of the inferno’s reach.

He came when Adair knocked. Of course he did. Ravi was always there, even when Adair didn’t need him, but especially when he did- and Adair crawled through the open window with all the grace of a clumsy newborn foal, slippery legs and an almost hilarious lack of coordination. He stood, dripping wet all over the wooden floors, and stared, just for a moment.

And then his face crumpled. 

“I- um,” He started, voice wavering. “I... I need you.” The confession was raw but heartfelt in the otherwise quiet room. If he were drunk, maybe he could have blamed the alcohol on the insensitive way he lurched forward, clung to the dragon despite how wet and awful he was. But he wasn’t. Might have been if he’d been able to stop thinking about the look Abuela would’ve given him for it. He was so, so cold, soaked to the bone but the shaking likely would have persisted even if he’d been warm and dry. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. His fingers felt like ice even as they wrapped clumsily around Ravi’s wrist, and he hated himself for the idea that he was bringing any discomfort to the lovely man-- but at the same time, he wasn’t exactly in control. He couldn’t help himself. He just- he just needed to be close. 

He let loose a noise, soft and broken, and pressed ever closer, his other arm wrapping around Ravi’s waist. If he’d been more in his right mind, he would’ve probably asked himself what the fuck he was doing, but he wasn’t. Just pressed a needy kiss to Ravi’s mouth instead, not even something chaste and sweet- just wet and wanton and messy, desperate. Pleading. Needy. A request.