#dragoat

The first thing I feel as I slowly come to my senses is a dull sting of cold on my arms. Confusion cutting short my worry over separation from Asra, I try to open my eyes, but have to shut them again to blink away the stark white light reflecting off… is that snow?

Then, I become aware of several feelings at once. The warmth under my cheek, the scent of skin and fur and faint perfume, and then – movement.

I scramble onto my hands and knees as Lucio underneath me stirs with a groan. For a few long moments, I am transfixed by the color returned to his hair and clothes, the ghost I got used to over the past weeks now properly resembling the figure from the paintings adorning the Palace rooms and hallways. It is almost dreamlike, and when my voice comes back to me, all I manage to utter is:

“It worked.”

The bright red of his eyes’ sclera briefly startles me.

“What–“ With that single word, Lucio freezes with his mouth agape, meeting my eyes with a wide-eyed stare of his own. It quickly grows frantic, moving from me to his own hands, his clothes, and then he sits up so quickly that I barely manage to avoid collision. His right hand quickly shifts from feeling his own stomach to his chest, face, then raking fingers through his hair. When Lucio looks back at me, the shock and disbelief on his face gave way to the most sincere grin I have yet seen from him.

“You’re right! You’re right! Ahahaha!”

He jumps to his feet, getting a gasp out of me when he easily lifts me with him. Lucio’s laughter echoes through the snowy woods as he spins me around, giddy with excitement. I whoop and giggle along with his sheer infectious joy over something that seemed impossible just a few hours ago.

“I can feel things again! The snow’s cold, you’re warm… This is the best day ever!”

Lucio doesn’t let go of me after he sets me down on my feet, instead pulling me into a desperate, firm hug.

Firm, but not crushing. As I eagerly hug him back, barely keeping from self-indulgently nuzzling into him, I realise that Lucio still does not feel quite right. He is solid against me, certainly not a ghost anymore, but my senses seem slightly dulled, the touch missing just a small tinge of weight behind it, and his scent being weaker, less personal than someone should have. I recall Asra’s teachings about the magical realms, people visiting them with their soul and mind, but almost never – physically. I have to wonder if Lucio, too, cannot feel me like he would in the material world, but this is not the time for such questions.

Not if what he has now is already plenty, compared to his existence as a ghost.

Perhaps without analysing my own senses, I would miss the slight tremble in his arms, or how a few of his breaths have a quiet shake to them. With ache in my heart, I hold him closer until it soon passes, wishing I could do more, but that would be completely inappropriate—

Releasing his hold on me, Lucio plants a messy, lingering smooch on my cheek.

…

…

I touch the spot where he kissed me. My skin is still warm from his lips. When I speak, it comes out as something between a whisper and a squeak.

“Did you just… kiss me?”

My broken voice, or possibly my questioning of the obvious, gets a short laugh out of Lucio.

“Hmm. Pretty sure I did.” He winks at me. “And why not?”

I can think of plenty of reasons, the same reasons that I have been repeating to myself for the past week in futile attempt to still my own feelings, which sprouted like weeds and seized my mind in the most distracting fashion. Lucio’s casual compliments and teasing were not helping matters, but I convinced myself so firmly that this’d been nothing more than his manner of talking or entertaining himself.

Lucio does not give me the time to voice any of the thoughts rushing through my mind. His smile turns utterly shameless and he holds both hands out to me.

“I’ll just say it, Alastor. I’ve had a lot of fun ever since you showed up. You’re a wicked smart, adorable, hotshot magician. What’s not to like?” He moves a little closer, my face suddenly feeling hot under the intensity of his gaze. “And I know you like me, too.”

My breath hitches. “Oh, gods, I was not hiding it well, was I…”

“Hah! No, not at all.” Of all the foolish— “It’s hard to miss with those big, pretty eyes of yours.”

He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from my face and tucks them behind my ear, giving him a better view of the said eyes, and I finally have to look away. I can almost feel my pupils dilating as his fingers then gently trace my jaw until his forefinger rests under my chin, slightly tilting my face upwards so I look back at him again.

“So… how about I kiss you properly this time? I say we’ve waited for that long enough.”

This is a terrible idea, the rational part of my mind reminds me. I cannot offer nearly enough as a partner to someone like Lucio, once a count of Vesuvia married to Nadia.

Yet after the sleepless nights, the hours spent on wishful sketches and scribbling lamenting prose throughout my diary’s pages, whatever rationale I might have had to refuse this offer is overpowered by the selfish, emotional part of me. The part that hopes, yearns, desires this, him, so fervently that I can do nothing but follow its demands at last, breaking the silence just before it becomes awkward.

“You… Yes, I-I think I’d like tha—”