#drow boyfriend

You had been situated in a hunched position by the time you reached the town you had been staying in for a few nights for coin and profit, covering the mark as best as you could, even though you knew how you looked was not convincing.

People of the town of Duskgarde grew weary as you wandered through, avoiding you like you bore the plague, averting their horror-struck eyes as you stumbled back to the front door of the inn, where the door was heavily smacked in your face.

“Sorry, lad, you can’t come in looking like that. Best be off to find someone to fix ya.” The poor owner of the inn was speaking through the door, where the music and talks were hushed as they heard the groan of frustration come out from your lips, the smell of muck was heavy on you and all you wanted was a bath.

“Where can I get help from then?”

“There’s countless talisman who know of healing, they will be of help for ya. Come back when you’re fixed.” He shrugged, his voice growing weaker as he moved away from the door.

You grumbled to yourself as you slunk to put your horse in for rest at the stables, before slugging your way through to the several shops surrounding.

Your muddied and dishevelled hulking figure in the doorways of the few shops you visited came to many with a surprise, all who saw to you and knew of where you went unfortunately with how quick words spread through the small town. All and none who treated you, speaking of how the mark had already made its dent in you, with no luck of keeping you alive.

“There is one, who’s treatments are for curses like these are… predictable. I don’t believe he receives customers unless the need for service is needed immediately.” One of them suggested through the gap of the door, her weary eyes darting back and forth to you and through the cobbled streets.

“See to him on the top of the hill there – blue door. He will of better use.”

You grumbled all the way up the small tree that seemed isolated compared to the other shops, its blue-glazed windows were opaque so you couldn’t see on the inside. Some chimes hung lowly above the door, clanging and harmonising endlessly in the wind as you passed beneath it. It seemed reasonably small on the outside, until, you knocked on the door and entered. 

You don’t know whether the curse was coming to full effect already, but you thought your eyes were playing tricks on how much bigger the inside was; the size of a castle’s library stored with thousands of books.

There was a loud outcry that came from above your head, a small black beast flapped its wings at your visit as it fiercely stared down at you with its golden eyes, floating to a lower spot on its branch as it hissed somewhat like a cat to you in boldness.

“Glaumur? Is there a visitor?” There was a soft voice resounding from behind one of the bookshelves: a willowy shadowy figure that stood in the shadows before emerging with his head deep in a book. When he looked up, his eyes landed on you with almost keenness.

“Welcome, traveller. What can I help you with today?” It was an only assume that the person in front of you was a Drow, thanks to their purple-blue skin, but you were taken aback by how comely this person looked. You liked the sound of his accent, silvery and smooth, it was a nice difference to the general ones you had heard many times during your travels.

His hair was stark white and combed neatly back into a long a ponytail that reached past his back, his elf ears and elf traits stood out with his skin looking to be radiating under candlelight. He stood regally, dressed in a high collared midnight blue gown with sweeping sleeves, the trail glinting like starlight, catching your eye. His eyes seemed to be the prettiest thing of him all: like ice mixed with lavender. 

He was smaller than you and lithe in comparison, his head reaching just to your shoulders, but he was more graceful on his feet to you in hard leather boots.

When he looked to smile welcomingly to you, his soft features twisted into a subtle grimace, as if he caught a whiff of an awful stench. His white eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you worryingly. “You’ve… got something on you, something powerful. I can sense its magic has rooted itself in your body, damaging your soul. What is it?”

“This is why I came to get help from someone like yourself for. But I have been turned away at every door.” You pulled up your sleeve, grimacing yourself when you saw how badly it had festered. Not even a few hours later and the symbol seemed to protrude through the skin, veins blackened and reaching up and through your arm, thick and ashy in appearance.

The Drow snapped his book shut as he walked over to you by the door, tenderly reaching for your hand in his more delicate and dainty ones. You noticed how soft his fingertips were compared to your calloused ones, showing that he hadn’t worked a day in the field his entire life. His face concentrated on the symbol, muttering softly to himself.

“This is a powerful hex, I have only seen it in works so few times.” He marvelled, his voice not laced with concern like the others you had visited. He poked at your skin around the symbol for inspection, earning a wince from you. “My friend, this is a rather bad one.”

“Yeah, you don’t say. That damn witch was not so kind on me.” You retracted your arm from him, tensing your jaw uncomfortably. When you met his surprised gaze, you felt your body fall rigid, the sweat building on your forehead. “Oh, the blackwitch? Oh no, that one is merciless – the lands she wanders are haunted. You only go in there if you’re protected from her spells.”

Tell that to the townsmen, they seemed eager to be rid of her and me. You frowned. “How long do I have if not treated?”

“Most of the damage has been done, but if untreated, you could be living your final moments within the next few hours – before nightfall.” His voice was steady and rather soothing for you to hear in these nerve-wracking moments.

That’s not even in a few hours. Blasted winter for its early sunsets. “Am I going to die today?” Your voice was unsettlingly calm.

The Drow met your gaze and gave what you could assume was a reassuring half-smile. “I can offer something for the burning when it worsens, but it may take some before that symbol will fade.”

“Do what you must, I just wish to live.” You muttered, before abruptly doubling over in pain that struck in the side of your chest. The Drow in front of you peeled back your jacket and shirt, revealing the paleness of your skin underneath, almost a pale green in contrast to the blackening veins on show.

“We must hurry, my friend. We must work at once before it reaches your heart or head.” You were led through into the back past the tall bookshelves, and with a flick of the wrist, swept off the books and scrolls from the table, gesturing for you to lie on it.

“What happens if it reaches one of the two?”

He gave a grave look, one of pain that reached his light eyes. “I’m afraid neither one of us will want to know the answer to that.”

You grimaced as the pain worsened and the Drow moved soundlessly around you. He came with a large book in hand, and your tired eyes just about read that it said ‘The Book of Maledictions’. “Wait—won’t you need herbs?”

“This type of curse needs more than just herbs, I’m afraid. They would simply not work to help. But don’t worry, you’re in the right hands.” He gave a reassuring smile, a nervous one to be in fact, not for the situation – you felt confident in his hands – more the fact that he seemed to be somewhat of an awkward person.

He moved around you, his eyes flitting on the page as he finally peeled back your shirt to reveal your bare chest, the light hair didn’t seem hairy at first but in the right light, it would be obvious. You watched through strained eyes as he placed a hand upon the festering mark, his touches light and delicate.

“What—I don’t think-!” You were pulled back in surprise when you caught sight of the tattoo light up upon his skin, the light blue mark was in the shape of a lightning bolt with its branches twisting all the way up his forearm. The bright blue light rolled up higher his body through his clothing until his pale blue-lavender eyes turned the same cloudy colour.

You watched in breathless awe as the light passed through his hand and through into you: the bright colour dimmed in colour and brightness like a soaring star, before dimming and disappearing within the skin. When you looked down to your shoulder, you could see the hazy bluish light underneath your skin, before vanishing completely.

“Whoa.” Your words came out faintly, marvelling at both him and his work. You didn’t know exactly what to say, but you could slowly feel the piercing burning pain begin to fade slightly within you.

“There, that should lessen the pain,” he announced coolly, his eyes returning to their normal hue, “I cannot guarantee it will be the most comfortable, but it shall take a while before you are back to normal. But, I promise you one thing, you will live, I have done my best.”

“I- Thank you, how much shall I pay you?” You slowly sat up to cover yourself from the chill you felt. He dismissed you quickly before you could even grab for your coin bag. “Emergencies like yours are free of charge. I hope it helps you.”

Your lips felt dry as you leant into the table with your arms supporting you. You found yourself speaking once more before you realised what you were saying. “Is there a name I can call you by? You were the one who has helped me, unlike any other talisman.”

He paused momentarily, as if caught off guard. “Oh? I’m afraid I’m no talisman, my friend. Just a simple mage.” He smiled to you as he wiped his hands clean smoothly, and appearing from his hands was a cup full of water which he handed to you. “But you may call me Ardul. Ardul K'yorl.”

You told him yours whilst you drank your drink rapidly and messily getting it down you, dribbling down the stubble of your chin. The burning sensation that was set deep within your lungs were beginning to fade more and more as you drank the clear liquid down until that ache was no longer a terrible thing to exhale out. You weren’t wheezing through every breath now, nor through struggling to get your words out – a true prodigy was standing in front of you.

Ardul looked over you one final time as you finished the cup hastily. “You already look well, my friend.” There was a shy smile on his face when his light eyes averted from meeting yours. “May I ask how you knew what to do? The other mages didn’t seem to know what to do.”

Ardul gave a nervous smile, running his fingers through his already smooth glowing hair. “I… I’ve had quite a few experiences with the hex curses, but a good portion of them were delivering than receiving.”

Oh, he seemed far more powerful than he seemed. You noted. He seemed to be hiding far more than he could do then he showed on the outside.  

“I just assumed people enjoyed what they were good at.”

“Not all of us,” he admitted hurriedly, “I have seen many horrors, but what I used to do… I can say was not my best work, nor was I being a good person.”

You could understand his words in regarding what he did in his past may have been a bad thing, but the person in front of you was far from it. “You can’t let the past affect you know, it has helped improve you as someone new.”

“You’re right.” He chuffed, apprehensive with your words but he seemed grateful by the opinion. “I only ask that you avoid getting involved with powerful beings that can kill you.”

You chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through the back of your hair to calm your nerves. He was handsome, you had to admit, and his intense gaze was doing a lot to you. “I will try my best, but I can’t guarantee that I will be able to.”

Ardul seemed relieved to hear that, no matter if you were joking or not. He seemed cautious about what to say next. “Are… will you be staying in Duskgarde for long?”

“I will be for a while, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing much, my friend.” His smile broadened, smoothly as possible across his purple-blue skin. “I hope to see you around.”

His words and your promises to the Drow was assured as you stuck around for a few more days in the town, avoiding the stares and odd looks from the townsmen and whispers that came from them. If you had to go off and sort out a situation with a monster that lurked, you were never too shy to go visit Ardul to collect enough elixirs and protection charms to help you.

You had a spring in your step as you came through back into his lonely shop, the bell chiming as Glaumur stared down at you reluctantly, before resuming to shutting her eyes. Ardul looked up from his spot in his seat, uncertain yet curious as to what you were doing here. He was used to your visits, but not this late at night.

“My friend, is something the matter?”

“Ardul, do you go out?” You questioned cheerfully, bringing the Drow to be taken aback by your sudden question. “Ah, well, sometimes I do--- but I think it’s been a long time since I have been. I do prefer the comforts of my office and books surrounding me, I’m afraid. Why do you ask?”

You smiled from ear to ear broadly, slapping his back to seem more friendly, to seem less off-putting when you looked at his nervous expression. “How about we go out? You know, for a drink, a meal too? We can go to the inn I’m currently staying at.”

If you could see correctly and your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you swore you could see a dusty hue that coated Ardul’s cheeks with a lighting coating of a blush. “W-Well, ah, that is very kind of you – I don’t think I have ever been asked for such an idea like yours, but I cannot say that I would say no to that proposition.”

Your smile broadened at the sight of him so sheepish in front of you, thankful that he said yes. “I’m glad, I hope you’ll like it—I’ll be honest, I did try to think of a place that was ideal for you.”

“That—that was very generous of you.” He drawled with a softness to his voice, softly saying your name.

He dressed more casual for the occasion, although it was still very sparkly and formal compared to the other customers of the inn: having a Drow dressed in darks made him look as if he had a meeting with a high lord within the hour after drinking.

His delicate fingers were dancing around the rim of the cup as he observed quietly the other patronages surrounding and going about their evenings, the laughter and sound of drinks clinking made his long ears perk up with keen interest.

“So… is this okay?”

He looked up abruptly as if caught in the act. “Oh! Forgive me, dear,” Your own cheeks reddened at the sudden pet name he had given you, one that made you feel fuzzy on the inside, “yes, it has been a lovely evening, especially with you.”

“I’m glad, I wasn’t sure if you were going to enjoy this date- occasion!” You spluttered over your words, tripping over them to hurry over the one thing you wanted this night to be with Ardul. You thought you had gotten away with what you were about to say, but watched in horror when the Drow’s eyebrows rose in realisation. “Oh, well.”

“Ah, crap. Forgive me, I’m sorry—I didn’t think-!” You stuttered, standing from the bench and stumbling slightly before leaving for outside, trying to ignore the thrumming of your head and heart. It hurt to feel so embarrassed, and now you had possibly ruined your friendship with Ardul.

The chill met your face and you never lurched on your feet, the rush of nausea made you almost wobble but you stood to hold your ground. This was too much, you didn’t know whether you could face him again-

“Wait! Please!” You turned just to see Ardul step outside with you, coming to hold at your calloused fingers within his dainty ones. Everything seemed halted for the first time and you were almost too timid to even look him in the eye. “This was a mistake, but I’ll understand if you took my words the wrong way, I also understand if you don’t want to speak with me ever again-”

“But I do want to see you again.” He confirmed, taking a step closer to you. From up close and standing over him, he nervously looked between your eyes and lips, licking his own involuntarily. “I want to see you more often in this melancholic town, it helps to make things more exciting.”

“You said it was urgent?”

“What?” The hobgoblin tilted her head in confusion before looking at her hand and gasping. “Oh, yes! Yes! Very urgent indeed! From your dreadful Aunt Euphemia.”

“It’s not good to speak of the elderly in such a way, Braxa.” Arabella chided gently as she accepted the letter and held it close to her, though she didn’t disagree with her.

Braxa scoffed, “She’s a youngling compared to me! I’m twenty years her senior in human years, so I’ll say what I want about that dreadful woman.”

“Aunt Euphemia isn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Arabella sighed and was ready to pull her maid inside. “But let’s go inside so I can read the dreadful news.”

“There’s no time, ma’am.” Braxa shook her head and held her hands tightly in her own. “You must leave tonight, or you’ll miss the train.”

“Train?” Arabella blinked this knowledge and glanced at the letter and realized that it was already opened and carefully folded and closed again. Frowning most disapprovingly, she heaved a heavy sigh, “Braxa, did you read my private mail again?”

“The brownies got to it first since the mail arrived so late.” Braxa shrugged, completely unapologetic for her actions. “They were about to hide it into the mousehole in the wall when I came around the corner just in time to snatch it from them.”

It was a likely story. The brownies, while excellent housekeepers when bribed with a proper bowl of cream and occasional cookies, were also notorious for their little pranks. They had on more than one occasion run off with bills and other forms of important correspondence into the walls of the house. Braxa was the only one that could properly scold them and get them to return what they’d stolen.

“You read your letter while I tell the coachmen where we need to go.” Braxa shoved the letter into Arabella’s hands and darted towards the front of the coach.

“‘We’?” Arabella repeated as she grabbed Braxa’s hand, preventing her from darting off.

She shrugged nonchalantly and handed Arabella her handbag.

“Yes ma’am.” Braxa nodded her head vigilantly. “I can’t let a woman of your status and character go to Vandale alone. Now I’ll just be a moment.”

Braxa slipped her hand free and marched over to the coach driver. Arabella couldn’t quite make out what was said, but she heard numbers being thrown at the coachman as Braxa began to haggle a price. Not wanting to waste much more time, Arabella unfolded the letter and quickly read over the contents.

To my disappointing niece,

Upon receiving this letter, you are to leave immediately, do not even consider hesitating a breath longer. You are to join me on a train voyage out West to that dreaded monster filled town Ottilie to see your father. He’s not responded to any of my letters in the last three months and the banks claim the monthly allowance checks he normally sends has bounced. I can only assume that since you’re his dependent you’ve also experienced something similar; if not you must tell me if my younger brother is neglecting me.

I plan to get to the bottom of this myself. I don’t have time to dawdle with lawyers and men of the like who will take too long to provide a proper answer when the entire Edevane estate is at stake.

Before you come to the Edevane Estate, you are to go to Vandale and stop in at the O.H. Pet Shop and acquire the most suitable travel companion that will act as our protection as we travel. You are to pick up a male of an intimidating height, unoffensive face, and lean build so they don’t eat all the provisions along the way.

I’ve already signed and provided a blank check which you are to use to pay. Try to be reasonable and don’t allow the salesman over charge you.

My train car leaves Saturday June 19. If you’re not here, I can only assume that the postal service has yet again failed me in sending my urgent letters in a timely manner, or you are truly a disappointment and have left me to fend for myself.

Euphemia, the head of the Edevane Estate.

Arabella’s lips formed tightened into a displeased frown. Aunt Euphemia was still the same in bitterness, blunt insults and demands. While Arabella wasn’t exactly accomplished like her cousins with secure financial but loveless marriages, being called ‘disappointing’ was a little much, even for Aunt Euphemia. Then again Aunt Euphemia was known for stating her opinions, rude or otherwise, regardless of taking the other person’s feelings into account. The barbed words had admittedly stung and a part of her would almost rather risk traveling West alone, but if this was the letter her father had told her about, she needed to obey her aunt and depart immediately.

She was desperate to get out of her dinner dress and into something much lighter, especially since she was certainly overdressed for the ride to Vandale, but she supposed it would suffice so they could depart quickly. Even if it was late in the evening, Aunt Euphemia wasn’t one to wait for anyone, especially not Arabella. She carefully refolded the letter and the check with a sigh and slipped them into her handbag. She wished this could have waited until morning.

The clacking of Braxa’s heels made Arabella turn and she was more than surprised to see her travel trunk packed and ready for her. She did remember Braxa dragging it behind her when she originally climbed the coach but seeing it in the lantern light somehow solidified the face she was leaving.

“The driver’s got the address, ma’am,” Braxa said with a disapproving look as she bent to pick up the travel trunk. “I already took the liberty of packing your trunk.”

Arabella silently nodded and against her better judgement she climbed back into the coach and Braxa took the seat across from her. As the coach pulled away, she stole a long gaze at her mother’s childhood home she had the sinking feeling that she might not see it again. She prayed to the gods that she would be able to keep it out of Cousin Leroy’s hands.

OCTAVIUS

It was a particularly busy day in the pet shop, which was most strange. On average the bell above the door would only ring three times at most, but today the bell ran an incessant amount. Octavius could only assume that there was some sort of sale going on, especially since the storekeeper had upped the output of the herbal incense puffing in all the holding cells to keep everyone docile. He had kept his eyes closed in a vain attempt to ignore the noxious herbal incense puffing on his face and choking his lungs to keep him weak. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the incense or stares and commentary from the customers. None of them were worthy of note and had nothing interesting in their minds to listen to as they explored the wares.

Whatever the sale was, it must have been good to keep a constant flow of traffic in the shop. Normally the shopkeeper doesn’t allow more than five customers in the shop at a time due to the limited spacing in the shop. After being here long enough Octavius could assume it was that time of year when the Orion Hunters were auctioning off nonhumans to make room for the new stock. Enough of the others were gone by the time there was a lull in business that Octavius could see the Orion Hunters had made a small fortune today.

It made his inner beast more irritable than usual, scratching at his sanity to escape and howling madly as if to seek something out. Staked immobile in his cell he itched to stretch even his fingers or wiggle his toes. His throat burned for just a drop of blood to ease the need for his thirst. The conglomeration of humans traversing the shop only heightened the need for his thirst to be quenched.

The bell chimed for what felt like the twentieth time today as new customers entered the shop to gawk at him and the beast harrumphed in disappointment and curled in on itself back in the recesses of his mind. The gasps and low murmuring grated his nerves, and he wanted nothing more than the usual silence to pretend to sleep. Their commentary on his rarity and steep price was enough to make him open his eyes to cast a glare at them. Their faces blurred together beneath the swampy green haze that shrouded his holding tank and reeked of money and ill intent.

A hand slapped on the glass and the store manager’s chortle guided the people away from Octavius’s holding cell and warned them of his biting habit. Octavius was the center display piece in the store to draw in the customers only to be at such a high price that they were forced to purchase someone else. After all, what was as intriguing as a drow turned vampire? He was a novelty, coincidentally exotically alluring as he was dangerous, and his very nature drew wealthy fools to him like moths to a flame.

The store manager was wise to make his price so incredibly high as Octavius was currently the only one to have returned to the shop twice for the same offense. He had drained his previous owners dry with no regrets and was tracked down by the Orion Hunters before he could escape the city. The fools that purchased him were for their own ill-gotten gain and deserved their deaths. Had they considered keeping him in a gilded cage like some sort of pet, perhaps he would’ve given them the chance to live longer; then again perhaps not.

In his first year of being in the shop, his first owner was some sort of wealthy railway owner who was expanding towards the west of the continent. He had multiple crews working night and day to accomplish this. It was the first time Octavius had ever been on a train, and for how thrilling it was it came to an abysmal end the moment he stepped off the train. His first owner originally wanted Octavius to punish the night workers who were shackle bound moth folk who were too frail to lift a hammer over their heads to pound the large nails into the ground. A moth child had been thrust at his feet, and he immediately turned on the humans, causing an outbreak and freeing most of the moth folk. In his bloodbath he’d turned on his master and quickly found himself staked and back in the shop. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed returning to the shop, but setting some of the moth folk free had been worth it.

It wasn’t even two months later after his return that his second owner hadn’t minded the manager’s warning and bought him for a trade to the red-light district to make up for his deep debt. While the Tiefling madame of the house was most intrigued by him, she had a sharper eye for the danger that followed Octavius and wisely rejected the offer. His owner didn’t take the rejection well and immediately pointed a gun at her. Octavius couldn’t explain the compulsion that had come over him to take the bullet for the madame, but he had and with the pain of the bullet he allowed the beast’s bloodlust to devour his owner. In his bloodlust haze he vaguely heard the madame offer to assist him in his freedom if he killed a few more of the less than wanted customers. He had too readily agreed and caused too big of a scene that he was hauled back to the shop.

He was admittedly all too eager to drain a third just so he could be put on death row and end this miserable life he was forced to live. If the calendar behind the register was correct, it had been a little over five years now since he last had an owner. Given how dutifully the manager worked to draw customers in and then deter them, he was certain he wouldn’t have another owner until a generation had passed so time could forget him. However, the beast within him felt a strange call deep within his soul that was certain he would be purchased today. Octavius knew better than to hold onto a false hope, but with the foot traffic that came in, he found himself rousing every now and then to see if his third owner was arriving today.

As daylight faded for the evening to take over, the flow of customers slowed to a dull pace to the point where the manager muttered something about closing early. Whatever hopes Octavius had faded away with the day. Ready to resign to his fate, Octavius closed his eyes and tried to settle in for the night when there was a sharp pull in his chest. It came so hard and fast he thought the wooden stake had been ripped from his chest. His eyes snapped open in anticipation, but he saw nothing. The beast within him, however, grew restless once more and pawed impatiently at his chest, howling even louder than before.

Maybe even in the eternal slumber between the states of existing and drowning, you could not even prove yourself anything, nor them.

You couldn’t remember much: the scuffle with the group of Drow, the pain you felt that had numbed in your flesh, Vevmis-- oh, Vevmis, was he okay? Alive even?

You didn't want to believe it, never in a thousand years, but you accepted that his kind hadn’t been so merciful with sparing his life. The darkness, was this what all Drow saw in the Underdark?

When you had to open your eyes, the reality was dim and sullen, the sky was overcast and drab, with the sound of rain flooding through, dropping down in buckets around you.

You could hear it properly: the sound of the drops hitting the roof of something with such force, smashing down like a wave over cliffs below.

You keened softly, shifting, your bones creaked with the make-shift bed that you laid on, where you felt the dull ache reside in your ribs, your head tender from how you had fallen.

There was a sound that vibrated beside you when you registered it, not realising someone was there, talking you through something thoroughly.

Standing before you was a high elf that had been described many times before in the books you had read: of knights who were bold and brave - he looked to be one with his rich gold-green mail; a bleeding star sigil in the breastplate.

He was towering like all the other elves except he was pale in complexion compared to Vevmis: pale-silver hair that came past his waist, braided back, it fell beautifully past his shoulders with little movement when he moved. He radiated the pride his kind held grandly; with his appearance made him look like royalty.

With a hard disdainful look; his eyebrows raised to you when you saw his features, his eyes carefully: one eye was as fair as spring growth, whilst the other had a long fading scar that reached just above his eyebrow arch and down the middle of the lid - the pupil the hue of dull clouded moss.

You watched his mouth move open and close, his eyes scrutinising you when you didn’t answer but rather gape. When you came around to it, you blinked owlishly. “What?-”

“Common? Do you speak Common?” He asked impatiently.

“I-Yes. I do.” You found your voice again, the hoarseness resided in the back of your throat and when you moved your tongue, it ached with the pain of veiled swelling. Your fragile hand came to touch at your throat waveringly rubbing it.

The high elf sighed beside you, bringing forth a cup from his grip, holding the back of your neck so you had no other choice but to take down the liquid, the cup coming to your lips. “Drink, it’ll help your head.”

“What- I-” You choked nearly between swallowing and talking, your words muffled as you took down the earthy mixture; as syrupy as marsh water.

You nearly gagged but took it down, squeezing your eyes tight as you drank it down with too much force, finally having it removed from you as you wiped your mouth from the slop. There was a consistent feeling in the back of your mind, driving you to speak the one thing you had been worrying you since you had come around.

“Vevmis-- where is Vevmis?”

“The Drow?” He leered at the one word, his face wrinkled. “Probably fighting my men. Provoking them of some kind.”

Your heart sank like lead in a river, dropping to the bottom, your eyes glaring back at the high elf once more for little regard. He sensed your disdain for his mockery, stepping away but keeping his posture stiff as bark.

“I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be most eased to see you awake.”

“Yes, uh, thanks-“

“Fenrith.” He coolly replied, leaving with not much else to say, leaving you surrounded by the deafening sounds of the weeping sky. You listened to the best of your abilities, hearing nothing but the rain pour heavy through the tent you were in, the only body surrounded by hundreds of empty ones.

A lost soul. You lamented. Perhaps that is what I have been in this life, nothing more than a nuisance. Your head was pounding, thrumming like a constant drum who’s percussionist is consistent in the rhythm and pace. A pair of shuffling feet heavy and chaotic could’ve sounded similar to the heavy rain falling around you, but your eyes had known well enough that the footsteps belonged to someone important. 

The smell of rainwater strung up your nose when you heard the smallest of exhales released, a cold damp hand brought you out of your misery with a startle when it touched the knuckle of your hand.

Your name was spoken so soft you had mistaken a spirit to of been present at your bed instead of the Drow. Vevmis’ presence was dishevelled and unkempt, the rain had soaked his silver hair to look nearly greying in the dim light, his amethyst eyes so sharp and clear. “Vevmis.” You croaked, trying your best to shift to reach for him.

He noticed and with some tentativeness and wariness, came to the side of your bed and kneeled, his shaking hand came to hold at your head carefully, his eyes glistening with opaque drops that looked like rainfall. “I’m here.” His voice was gravelly as if he had been caught mid-screech and was trying to cool down. 

“I—what happened?”

“A camp came through, just before we were to both be executed. A Band of the Faith regimented by whatever high lord ruled that area came and slaughtered them, putting each one of them to the sword, sweeping through them like butter.”

You were a loss for words, astonished. “They spared you though.” 

“Hardly,” Vevmis had laughed humourlessly, his wine-red eyes flickering, “I knocked one of their teeth in when I had the chance to, another I broke their arm.” You chortled dryly, knowing that Vevmis would do such a thing. “they dragged me chained and bolted to the end of a horse, where we ended here in their camp. That was almost—” his light eyebrows scrunched in awareness, “that was almost three days past.”

You were left wordless, thinking about everything to yourself silently, the pressure of his hand on yours a soothing reassurance to bring you back to reality. “But I promised myself that as soon as you would wake up, I would get you out of here, no matter how.” There was a brittleness to his word as if the promise to you was everything you needed, but he knew more to the end of the story, a few pages ahead.

“You… wanted me to get back to my village, didn’t you?” You questioned softly. The Drow’s’s face fell downcast, full of emotion compared to when he had never once shown it anything to you but callousness in the beginning. “Vevmis, you know I cannot leave you.”

“But you could, and that is for certain. You could go and live and die in your quaint little village and live a wonderful life, with a husband and child, but what about me?” His irritation was not hot nor full of rage. It was him having to grasp at this being his only choice. “No matter where I go, my sister’s wraith will see to have me miserable in this life and beyond. No matter where I go, I shall never be welcomed.” 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at his words, the Drow hadn’t raised his voice nor show any tears. But he had shown you that there was a growing part of humanity he had that you had shown him and he had grown to accept one human. “You wish to become a doctor, but you will wish to become one in your village.”

“How so?”

“It has been your want, and you have that want to help people.” Vevmis accepted. “I cannot be happy anywhere.”

“I have a want- yes, but I also have learnt much more along this journey with someone who I did not believe would accept me.” You began. “There has been so much we have gone through and I will not stand to just have one person happy, Vevmis. I will not stand with it.”

He squinted his eyes quizzically to your words. “What do you mean, pet?”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you once, one that had the connotations to something sour and awful, but now, that little word had become something so much sweeter. “What do you dream of, Vevmis? The arrival of spring? Eternal wealth? To live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and live the rest of your days as a farmer?”

He had smiled at them all, but he had not said yes to any. “I could see spring every year and not miss it. Wealth only makes you happy for a short time, but not for forever. And to live on a farm spreading cow shit? Now, perhaps that would be your dream. I like no animals.”

He had cradled your face in his fingers, stroking the flesh there. “No, one thing would make me happy, and that would be to be beside you and live out the rest of our days in contentment.”

A soft groan had come from the pitched bed and the soreness of your bones and body when you had tried to sit up, Vevmis was hesitant in letting you when he helped you to the end. You had collected the strands of his moonglow hair, a small smile on your face when you had spoken.

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

-

The glare had been bright but heartening, it soft glows came in through the gaps of the sheltered interior, with the smell of buckwheat and hay strong in the air. Maybe a long time ago, Vevmis would never have believed he would’ve liked the long days of the summer, but he had grown to like many things. 

His dirk had been shining and pure, the cool smooth silver-blue stone had been clasped in his hand when he sharpened the silver blade over and over again; his own state of euphoria and tranquillity that had lulled him into a dream of hope.

He couldn’t have lied if he said he didn’t like the smell of nature around him, the constant essence of being outside, with crops flourishing in an everlasting heat that grew throughout the day and never ended in the nights.

Through the afternoons when the sun was not so high, he found serenity through meditating, controlling his breathing and going into a state of silence, breathing in the past and exhaling the future. This, he found was the most peaceful thing about his days, resting and keeping out of the sun and seeking shelter for a state of serene. 

He had been known he was being watched when a small sneaky snap of hay came from metres behind him, the noise that made Vevmis’ ears prick upwards immediately, a small smile gracing his features, pretending to remain oblivious.

The steadiness made Vevmis count in-between the waits, his breathing stilling as he awaited the strike, the moment for all to go stale and cold- “Gotcha!” 

A squeal came when he had been as quick as a deer, he swiftly grabbed the culprit and raised them high above his head, the joyous sound of laughter filling the sweet air. The Drow lowered the small one down, his wine-coloured eyes assessing with false discipline. “You almost had me there.”

“Almost,” Vevmis had looked over the little one with curls of silver-white just as bright as his, dusky skin with freckles along the skin, bright eyes that no Drow had before. “but I’m becoming quick.”

“I could hear you as soon as you were by the door, Rayelle.” Vevmis grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “But you’ll get there.” He was swift to once again lift the little girl up and swing he around and about, her joyous giggles and squeals echoing through the barn. “Again, papa!”

“No, we must get inside before mama has a go at the both of us.” He said, before finally putting his daughter over his shoulders, her small dusty feet dangling just below his neck. “You’re not wearing shoes, pet.”

“No,” Rayelle grinned from ear to ear, holding her father’s silver hair in her round fingers, “mama told me to get you.”

“Ah, so you thought you could test your stealth on me?”

“Uh-huh!” She beamed, pulling at his long ears.

“Hmm, you will have to remember them for next time. It is dangerous not to have them out.” Vevmis hummed as he sheathed his dirk into its holster, knowing that his daughter’s eyes were on the blade when he put it away. “When will I get a sword, papa?”

“When you’re older.”

“But I am older than I was today.”

“When you’re older than you already are tomorrow.”

“Aww.” Vevmis knew she had been pouting, so he compromised. “You can have a pony or another goat. I know your mother would like another one of both.”

“I don’t want a pony.” Rayelle thought for a moment, giggling to herself as she blurted. “I want a dragon!”

“A dragon huh?” Vevmis chuckled warmly. “They smell and always burn things. They would be irritating.”

“But I’d get to fly! Like now!” Rayelle brought her arms out to both sides, swaying side to side as she screeched and roared. “I am Zirenth the Old!”

Vevmis rolled his eyes playfully, pretending to sway with her when she rocked side to side. “Come now, young dragon. Before mama dragon calls for us.”

The two had wandered through the long tall grass, watching over the endless sunset that was beginning to fall slowly across the horizon, a sea of trees below in the distance. Vevmis wondered had he hadn't gone with you and lived this life of solitude, what would his life be like now? 

They entered through the back of the small home, the soft humming drawing Vevmis to the kitchen as he lowered Rayelle off his shoulders. The small home you had made five years ago had been filled with old scrolls of sepia and tubes full of crushed medicines and herbs, the constant smell of sage and mint burning in the air; a healer you had become and a good one too.

“You two back in?” You called. “Mama! I’m a dragon!” Rayelle pretended to breath fire when you came through to peer at the two, needle and thread you had put down as you picked your daughter up.

“Oh, and what a mighty one you are!” You exclaimed brightly, Vevmis watching from the side as he took in your matured features of the new wrinkles you had picked up and small fine silver-grey wisps growing through your roots. You had still looked beautiful in his eyes, no matter how much you had aged within the last few years.

Your eyes had been on him when he had looked to him, the glint that he had know a long time ago, bright and bold still. “But I see another one not too far. He is rather old too.”

He had chortled dryly at that as he neared to you, running his hands over your hips and along your waist. “My little family of dragons. Bold and daring, my two girls.”

You leant over to kiss Vevmis’ lips, earning an exaggerated “eww, that’s gross!” from Rayelle, before lowering her down. “Come now you two, dinner is ready. And this dragon wants to eat everything before it is consumed!”

Rayelle joined you with a linked hand as Vevmis joined behind, smiling broadly at the life he had made.