#fizzywriting

Ivan wasn’t sure when he fell, but he had. The thin layer of snow pressed into his cheek as he stared ahead at the green that couldn’t have been more than a few feet away. His limbs felt like lead, and this must’ve been it.

His life’s research around this location; he could die with it somewhat confirmed. Distantly, he felt disappointed he couldn’t explore it. But he was right. An ancient and forgotten sacred land atop this mountain existed. And soon, his eyes felt shut, despite him not remembering closing them.

Then Ivan woke up.

The first thing he processed was the scent. It was warm, like a wood fire and incense. And oh, he wasn’t cold.

All at once, his body ached. Everything felt heavy and it hurt down to the bone.

So, he probably wasn’t dead.

Ivan opened his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings. He was on an enormous bed, tucked into the corner of a room. At least, he figured it was a bed. It was shaped like a half circle, many blankets and pillows strewn about. It reminded him of a nest. Above him more fabric draped about, like some kind of canopy.

There wasn’t a whole lot to look at. There was a window, no light shining in through it’s sheer and laced curtains. All the light came from the flame of a lantern, glowing bright and orange on a desk. Next to it, a filled bookshelf. Lots of plotted plants around the room.

Ivan must’ve fainted much sooner than he thought. He wasn’t anywhere near as far up the mountain as he thought- and he hallucinated the clearing. And now he had just been brought back to a nearby village he somehow didn’t realise was in the area.

Maybe this was the Goddess’s way of telling him to not give up on his goal and to just be smarter about it. Or maybe she was telling him the opposite. He heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, getting about as comfy as he could. If he was safe, he was going to take the time to rest.

Whether or not he fell back asleep, Ivan isn’t entirely sure. It could’ve been minutes or hours later when his mind snapped back to attention at the creaking of a door.

What stood in the doorway wasn’t a normal person. No, it couldn’t have been, because no man could be as beautiful as what stared at him in surprise.

He looked exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes and red streaks running down his cheeks. Striking, bright green eyes, sharp and wide. He looked so youthful, yet shining gray hair- tinted with the slightest teal- fanned across his face, and what wasn’t tied up messily fell around his neck. The oddest part of him, though, were the long pointed ears and the way he was dressed.

A large green stone strung onto cord hung around his neck, otherwise only a shawl covering his chest. Ivan only briefly glanced down over the rest of him, but he seemed to be wearing a short tie wrap skirt and thick looking leggings.

“Oh. You... are awake.” The man stated, and Ivan realised they’d just been staring at each other.

“Yes.” Ivan said, slowly pushing himself to sit up. “...I figure this is your home?”

The man tilted his head and blinked a couple of times. It was endearing. “That’s right. What are you doing so far from yours?”

It felt like it should be straight forward in it’s meaning, but Ivan didn’t get it. Maybe that was the exhaustion or whatever weird fog was hanging over his mind. “What do you mean?”

With a sigh and running a hand down his face, the man walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for how huge the bed was, it probably would’ve felt more intimate. “I have not seen a human make it here in... I do not know, a hundred or so years...? Who keeps track.” He spoke as if he was rambling absently to himself, and Ivan could only blink dumbly at him.

“A hundred?” He repeated, because while it should be obvious that this guy wasn’t a normal human, a hundred?

“Ah,” was all the man said as he turned to face Ivan a bit more. “I am Till.” It didn’t answer anything, but Ivan nodded slightly. Surely it was fine to give Till his name in return. “My name is Ivan.”

Ivan wasn’t sure how to interpret the expression Till made. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows slightly, looking down and to the side before back up to Ivan with a quiet mumble of ‘Of course not.’

“Come again?” Ivan asked with a slight, forced smile.

And Till looked at him, the unnatural brightness of his eyes making it feel more intense than Ivan hoped he intended. “You do not know Valen, do you?” “Valen, Valen...” Ivan hummed, placing a hand over his mouth in thought before dropping it and shaking his head. “I cannot say I know any Valens personally.”

Till only seemed to deflate further, nodding. “Right. Of course not. That would be ridiculous...” “Why? Do I look like a Valen?” Ivan pried, regretting it only slightly as Till bristled.

“It does not matter.” Till stood up. “Are you feeling well? You are lucky. And stubborn.”

Ah, no answers. Ivan shook his head. “I feel terrible, but not dead, so yes, I am lucky.”

To that, Till nodded and started to walk to the door. “If you can stomach food, I have made stew.”

“Are you a manakete?” Ivan asked, perhaps blurted out, and Till froze. He looked over his shoulder to Ivan, eyebrows furrowed again.

“And what, exactly, are you?”