#alkjsdf

Llevaba vagando por esas tierras ajenas por unos meses, si es que su noción del tiempo no le estaba fallando. Lei estaba en un estado incierto, donde no sabía si quería realmente llegar a su destino o si esperaba que alguien la regresara a su pueblo; lo único que seguía impulsándola era la mera supervivencia. Esa noche había estado experimentando con sus poderes, cautivada por esa gran tela de oscuridad exagerada, más que la noche, a la que sin permiso envió pequeñas lucecitas que asimilaran constelaciones. Quizás fue su último pedido de ayuda o simplemente, quiso mantenerse con esperanza. Y se notaba que iba a ser otro día largo, porque ya era mañana y su cuerpo seguía en una posición en su cama improvisada en la intemperie.

OMGSH bless your heart and soul alskdjfalksdf for these prompts Anon because #32 was like...a perfect excuse to finally drabble for the yet-unnamed DnD AU Mod Eli and I have been tossing around... AKA, more aptly a Faerun AU because nobody’s actually playing DnD they’re just....put into a possible DnD world so...yeah

Enjoy!

#32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

Gods do not ‘fall in love.’

But it occurs to Mikleo as he sits there in the shelter of night, under asky filled with as many stars as there are emotions, that perhaps a mortalheart such as the one he now bears may not care. His knees are folded underhim, his hands loosely curled against his thighs. He cannot take his amethysteyes away from the sleeping face of the paladin across from him; despitehimself, he cannot make his own heart stop its rapid patter.

In the camp’s firelight, Sorey’s tanned face is rosy, handsome. Theshadows bring out the strength in his jaw and the long curve of his cheeks. Hisdark hair brushes his forehead, curling around his softly-pointed ear; every tiny,adorable snore makes his eyelids shift against his cheeks.

For a moment, Mikleo wonders how it came to be that he should ever havefallen for such a mortal—nonetheless, a mortal who had once sworn his blade andlife to him.

For a moment, Mikleo wonders how he even got to this point, plucked from his seat in the heavens and wrapped in fleshand blood, left to stumble about within the cruel glass frames of time, space,and matter.

For a moment, Mikleo wonders just when it was that Sorey—his firstfriend, his first ally in this long quest to take back his godhood—became soimportant to him.

But then he recalls the beasts they encountered earlier that day. Hethinks of the way Sorey leapt to his defense, broadsword swinging and mouthparted in a rattling warrior’s cry. He remembers how Sorey called upon his namein battle, a half-formed prayer to bid for strength and courage—“LuzrovRulay!”—and he thinks of how strange it was, that physio-emotional reaction ofhis skin tingling at the mere mentionof his true divine name.

He still feels those vibrations in his very soul, he thinks, of Sorey soopenly praying to him.

Before he can stop himself, Mikleo reaches for the paladin’s brow. Hisfingers slowly, gently brush through brown bangs and his eyes scale over theyoung half-elf’s face again. They fall upon the feathers—blue feathers—dangling from his ears.

Fey knights do so loveto adorn themselves with images that reflect their oaths, don’t they?

Mikleo feels like his chest might collapse in on itself.

Just what was it he had done, who knew how long ago and who knew for whatreason, to deserve this worship and devotion? How did he earn the life of sosteadfast a follower…?

He wishes he could remember. He wishes he knew.

“I think I’m I love with you,” Mikleo whispers into the night. Hisfingers drift across to Sorey’s cheek. He grants him a tender, delicate touch. Hebreathes once and then twice; he bends forward and whispers just for theslumbering half-elf to hear, “…and I’m terrified.”