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Fulfillment Pt. 1 || Rune + Enoch + Hector || September 2nd, 1925

Rune: He had waited for a sign. A feeling like an itch on his palm, but his patience was defeated by exhaustion, and by morning, he had forgotten, at least until breakfast, why he had fallen asleep with his hand flat against Enoch's skin.

Their bodies had warmed, and his lover breathed evenly; what more did he need? A cup of black coffee and, finally, to slip quietly out of bed and build a fire, both in the bedroom and living room.

Rune tiptoed from one room to the other, rewarding himself with a kettle of boiling water and a cigarette. He was awake, but barely. How long had it been? He waited a moment, staring out the window full of darkness, and the barest hint of blue light. Two hours.

Enoch would be in worse shape if he stirred now. Another thirty minutes. Forty would be stretching it. He would give him warmth, a soothing, crackling fire, tea or coffee, and - yes, eggs. He set to work on scrambling eggs and slicing bread for toast.

Enoch: Enoch slept most soundly when the Euthanatos slept over, more often than not. Even these few hours were no exception, as if he knew he was safe from the nightmares his avatar pried open in that shadowed space. The whispers could not reach him where stronger emotions drowned them out in the presence of his companion.

Perhaps it was the added warmth of the fire, dancing and casting soft shadows across the room, but the professor did not stir. His nose was tucked beneath the covers, breath slow and even as Rune tiptoed from the room. Enoch remained asleep through those gifted thirty minutes, unmoved by quiet footsteps or shifting light. Even when the scent of food eventually drifted in, it was not enough to wake the sleeping blond.

Rune: Rune paused periodically, staring out and through the furniture and walks as he felt time pulse in its perfect constant. Ten minutes, then twenty. Thirty minutes, Rune poked his head in the bedroom. He mourned disturbing his lover's tranquility, then crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Fingers comber gently through his hair.

"The world waits for you," he guided, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

Enoch: “Mm, tell it to carry on without me,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He would gladly accept the kiss to his forehead, but Rune was no closer to getting the stubborn professor out of bed. Quite the opposite. Blindly, his hand reached up, fingers catching the front of Rune’s shirt, aiming to tug him back down to bed with drowsy insistence.

“Five more minutes.”

Rune: Resistance was only an ounce of strength, before the surrender of responsibility, crumpling against Enoch's chest with a sigh. There were moments when denial was crucial. Five more minutes?

"Five more minutes, then I'm pouring tea on your face."

Enoch: His eyes stayed closed, but a faint, victorious smile curved his mouth at the added weight against his chest. Small victories, and he would take every single one. His arms came up easily, wrapping around his favorite sailor and drawing him in with sleepy contentment.

“You’d do that? To your favorite apprentice?”

One blue eye cracked open just long enough to peer at the mage before drifting shut again. The fire crackled just at the foot of his bed, and the smell of food spoke of sweet gestures that had taken his lover time.

“…How long did you rest?”

Rune: "You're my only -" The realization made him smile. He was quoting himself.

"Shut up." Better, he thought, then shrugged. "Been awake half an hour. You've toast and eggs waiting for you. Water's boiled. You're almost out of butter. I'll get some, and fruit and jam while I'm out today. We'll eat like kings."

His fingertips caressed across Enoch's sharp jaw.

"You're spending your five minutes wisely."

Enoch: It had been too long since he had heard that familiar mantra, and it made him smile all the more. Enoch hummed his approval as he drew in a slow breath, shoulders expanding before he finally coaxed both eyes open to take in his beloved.

“You spoil me,” he whispered as he returned the touch, fingers slowly running up and then down the length of the mage’s back.

“I can send word I’m ill and play hooky,” he teased, just to make those five minutes last longer.

Rune: The temptation left a gap in his mouth. It would have been so easy to comply. To encourage scandalous behavior. But his mouth closed. Lips thinned as he considered the ramifications.

"You're not me. Next, you'll be spending your days at the pub, earning your rent with a lucky hand. No, no. Get up and eat your toast."

Enoch: For a handful of heartbeats, he watched that deliberation play across Rune’s face, their joke teetering on the brink of possibility before the verdict fell. He could have sent word with Geoff down the hall…

Enoch groaned softly as the fantasy was dashed, but retaliation came easily. Under the pretense of getting up, his arm tightened around the mage’s waist and he rolled him back into the mattress, ending up on top as he pushed himself upright. The firelight glowed behind him and the mark at his shoulder showed a little darker now.

“I would be so very poor,” he smirked, dipping down for his first kiss.

Another yawn and stretch followed, his five minutes up, and at last he conceded. With a reluctant huff, the professor slipped from the bed to wander toward the promise of tea, toast, and eggs.

Rune: Rune's eyes were on the ceiling before he processed what had happened. Air still in his lungs, he held his breath to keep from laughing and giving them away. The walls weren't as thin as they were weeks before - the story was still rather unbelievable - but he wasn't willing to take such risks. They already gambled enough.

But he would take pleasure in slapping Enoch's arm. Only then would he indulge in their first morning kiss.

"Your..." He stared at the mark on his shoulder. The memory twitched his cock. Hidden, thank God, as he sat up and over the edge of the bed. "Does it hurt?"

Enoch: “Mm?” The blond paused in the doorway, turning back at the question. His gaze flicked from his lover's face to the mark on his own shoulder.

“Not very much,” he admitted. “Though you did rather make me see stars.”

Fingers brushed over the tender skin, not quite touching at first, then tracing the edge of the bruise with quiet curiosity.

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes bright with mischief.

“Are you considering claiming me elsewhere?” he teased, already drifting toward the washroom.

Bare skin, thin white boxers, and absolutely no attempt at modesty. The mage could have his pick.

Rune: Rune made no attempt to move. Rather, he admired from afar and took Enoch at his word. He had no choice. Not a single tingle in his ear canal.

"Don't tempt me. I'd leave a nice bruise over your ribs just to hear you moan when I touch it, but..." But that wasn't Enoch. That was him. Could he finally, after how long? fifty years? could he finally admit it to himself? To Enoch?

"You should leave me one. As a parting gift."

Enoch: His steps faltered, the image alone enough to make warmth bloom low in his stomach. This man was better than a cup of coffee for how thoroughly he awakened him.

Enoch glanced down at the floorboards, suddenly very interested in the grain of the wood, before lifting his eyes back to the mage and extending his hand.

"Then join me for my shower."

Rune: He had done something to him. Noticed by the hesitation in his movements and the reluctance to look at him. At first, he assumed an apology was in order. Too much of himself. Too brazen. But then Enoch opened his mouth, reminding him of the stupidity of his thoughts.

"How do you have a shower here?" he mused, removing what remained of his clothes. "The pub has only one. You really are posh."

Enoch: “I would have thought the estate and title in my name might have been a clue,” Enoch replied, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as he watched the last layers of clothes fall away.

Much like Rune, he admired his lover before reaching for his hand and guiding him toward the washroom.

“It’s a newer building,” he explained, leaning in to turn the taps. “Designed by an architect from Mayfair, actually. He was very proud of bringing a little luxury north.”

Rune: Holding his hand even now. He was reminded of the estate. How they wanted to explore like children, both the house and their bodies. But was it childish, how often Enoch reached for his hand? He wouldn't dare say yes.

"In some other life, I think you would have made an excellent architect. I can see you, with your sketchbook, staring at cathedrals for hours, inspired by their Gothic nature."

Enoch: “A doctor, a chemist, a professor… an architect,” he murmured with a faint, self-aware smile as he tested the water. “I really was destined to be insufferably posh.”

He glanced back at Rune, brows lifting with mild surprise. “You think so?” Enoch momentarily considered what that life would be, but one thing stood out.

He tested the water again, and satisfied with the warmth, the blond shed the last of his clothes and turned, closing the distance so his hands could settle on Rune’s hips.

“If that were true,” he said gently, eyes searching his lover’s, “we wouldn’t have met. And where would that leave us?”

Rune: Those warm fingers pressing and pulling his hips did something to his insides. Made him want to drop to his knees then and there, but Enoch had things to do, more important than having a mouth between his legs.

"I'm not sure," he lied for both of their sakes. "But I think you would still be happy. Probably living in Paris, smoking, staring out your window shirtless, a beautiful man in your bed. Or staring at the Duomo, arguing over it with another artist."

Enoch: “I already have a beautiful man in my arms.”

Fingers curled against the sailor, drawing him closer. The corner of his mouth lifted in soft triumph at the absurdity of those imagined lives. A life in Paris didn’t fit the way this did.

However, the taste of a cigarette was tempting, if only to serve as a distraction from the heat pooling low in his stomach at the thought of what he could do with his lover and be even later to class.

“France was lovely, the last time I went,” he conceded, stepping into the warm spray of the shower. The water darkened his hair instantly, tracing little rivers and streams down his shoulders and chest.

“But I much prefer arguing with you.”

Rune: "It's ok." As though discussing tastes in wine. Here was a subject they could debate at their leisure. All the while, Rune lathered and rubbed a bar of soap across Enoch's shoulders.

"You should see the north. Gothenburg. Copenhagen. The Gulf of Bothnia is the most tranquil you'll ever lay your eyes on. If you don't want to freeze your nuts off, I could show you Greece."

Enoch: “I quite enjoyed their food,” was Enoch’s argument, standing under his lover’s attentive hands with a small, contented smile. He should have reached for a second bar of soap, but as it stood, he let himself be indulged for a moment longer until it was his turn with it.

“I haven’t traveled more north than Liverpool,” he said, eyes fixed on the tile in front of him. “Gothenburg sounds…bracing.”

And the mage made him laugh.

“Greece?” Enoch asked, glancing back over his shoulder with a faint, playful smile, “I can be persuaded to endure a little sun.

"How would we get there?"

Rune: "What other way would a sailor take you? By train?"

The bar of soap was relinquished, turning around for his turn, hands at his sides until touched. The lightest pushing would put both hands on the wall.

The scent of soap was as soothing as it was luxurious. He could lull back to sleep standing, if allowed.

"You would have a thousand and one freckles by the time we return home. You would be unrecognizable. Your hair sun-bleached. I would bet all the lint in my pocket."

Enoch: “Here’s a man who champions the use of magic yet shackles himself to the most pedestrian methods of travel.” Enoch had to bite the inside of his cheek before the grin could get him into trouble.

He took the soap and worked it between his palms, the slick warmth giving him a perfectly indulgent excuse to step closer and smooth his hands over the familiar muscles that made his heart beat a little harder.

“Can’t we simply appear in Greece using… correspondence and prime magic?”

His hands slid down Rune’s sides as he leaned in, lips brushing down the line of his neck.

“Because that would give you more time to map every freckle with your mouth.”

Rune: His mouth opened, closed. His argument was dead before arrival, to say he was a sailor before a mage, when it was the other way around. The truth was offensive only to his pride.

One deep breath expanded his back, giving more canvas for his lover to indulge. He couldn't recall the last time he was so pale; every freckle like a star across an unpolluted sky.

"Do you wish for me to hire a porter? Trying to win me over with sex, are you? You forget I enjoy the journey."

Enoch: Watching Rune’s profile from behind, Enoch couldn’t quite suppress the small, satisfied smile on his lips. His hands massaging at his leisure, admiring the same scattered freckles he had seen on the night of his awakening and ever since. They had been destined from the very beginning, he thought as he traced one with the pad of his finger to another, idly connecting them like constellations.

Tired thoughts led to tired words, and he was caught.

“A little,” Enoch replied honestly, “I’ve enjoyed getting to discover you.”

His arms came around Rune’s ribs, the blond leaning forward as his chest pressed to his damp back, chin settling against his shoulder.

“Let’s do a week in Spain, another in Greece. We’ll set sail in the summer, and I’ll document our journey.”

Rune: The warmth of those arms, in contrast to the cooler water bouncing off their skin, made him suppress a shiver. His arms came to rest over Enoch's, head gently falling back.

"Set sail? Not so pedestrian, is it?" He didn't laugh, but sighed, content. "I'll see to a porter here. We'll sail home. I want to see you on the open water. See how green you are," he grinned.

Enoch: “Mm why does my suffering please you?” he teased, leaning in to aggressively nuzzle into the crook where shoulder met neck. He lingered there, pressing a few lazy kisses along the exposed skin.

“You wish me sunburnt and seasick,” he accused lightly. “What have I done to offend you?”

Rune: "I want to see you as a sailor, at least for a day." Traveling from Greece to England would take more than a day. Somewhere upwards of 10, if their ship was inclined to stop at every port along the way. More time together. Time made up for using a porter. Most excellent.

"Come on. We can't have you late."

Enoch: They had begun to sway ever so slightly from side to side, caught up in the shared daydream.

“You want to see me tying knots and hoisting sails?” he mused. Perhaps the sailor was romanticizing him a touch, but he found he rather liked the imagery.

“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll be your sailor for a day… or ten.”

At the mention of being late, a begrudging sigh slipped from the blond. He was in no particular rush to bring their shower to an end.

“Not yet, you’ve asked something from me.”

With that, his fingers pressed lightly at Rune’s hip, guiding him to turn and face the scholar.

Rune: "Ha. I doubt very much any ship will allow you access. Our mode of transportation will be a steamship, unless... unless we time this just right, and my crew welcomes you aboard."

Ah. So he'd heard that.

"Did I?" He was still fighting the fatigue behind his eyes. Still, he turned obediently, looking expectantly at his lover.

Enoch: “Well, fortunate of them that they are visiting now. Perhaps you can plan that timing.”

It was a marvel either of them were still upright. A few scattered hours of sleep had proven just enough to keep them functional, barely. Though, perhaps what was to come would remedy that deficit.

“Mm. You did ask me to leave you with a reminder.”

He offered no further explanation. Instead, his fingers traced slowly down along Rune’s ribs and over his stomach, following the little streams of water that washed over him. His lips following the damp line of collarbone, tongue and teeth aiding in trailing kisses downward, intent on claiming his lover.

Rune: "I'll see what I can do. No promises." Promises made months in advance didn't suit him. Not even knowing how long he intended to live among the crew. Lingering in England hadn't been a plan; that much, everyone knew.

But promising to love this man, give him everything he deserved, to daydream of a house, someday... This was as easy as breathing.

"A remind - mm. I did." And his stomach was now doing flips, watching this man, so comfortable and so brazen. Both hands found their way into Enoch's hair, squeezing as teeth sank their promise into his skin. Biting his lip was for both of their sakes.

Enoch: “Do you still want me to?” he asked when his lips left skin warmed by the water running over them.

One hand rested at Rune’s hip while the other slid up along his sternum, savoring the feel of slick skin beneath his palm as he pressed his lover gently back against the wall. He resumed his task, teeth grazing over damp flesh and with the approval to continue, encouraged by fingers threading through his hair, he eventually lowered himself to his knees.

The first bite was gentle, then the pressure grew.

Memory of the night before flickered through him, sending a shiver through him. A quiet, reckless urge whispered for him to bite harder, and for a moment he indulged it, pressure deepening until he wasn’t certain whether he had broken the skin or not. He pulled back slightly, startled by his impulses. A softer kiss followed in quiet apology, his teeth having left imprints along ribs that would surely bruise.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking up at his mage.

Rune: All he could manage was a nod. Anticipation had locked his tongue in place and nearly stolen the air from his lungs. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe, and don't make noise. Don't give their life away over indulgence.

The suffering was as spectacular as it was cold in his stomach.

Pain shot from his ribs and through his groin. His body slowly writhed as if from orgasm, shuddering and melting against the cold wall.

Those teeth were sharper than expectation, and more determined than he realized possible.

At last, he managed to inhale. His mouth had dried despite their environment.

Words. German, English - what were these? He needed a moment to swallow.

"Mm. Mm...hmm."

The young mage was pulled to his needy lips. Just one more moment, before they returned to the world.

Enoch: He pressed his cheek against Rune’s upper thigh, one arm loosely wrapped around the man’s leg as he caught his breath, his heart still hammering high in his throat. Looking up, he caught that brief struggle for words witnessing his companion momentarily at a loss. Had he truly done that?

His gaze flickered, traitorously, to the tense muscle before him, temptation stirring at the thought of taking it into his mouth, if only to leave Rune a boneless mess. Too little sleep invited reckless thoughts.

Before impulse could drag him further down that path, he was on his feet again. Warm arms slipped around Rune’s hips as he leaned in, catching his mouth in a firm kiss. One hand slid up to push dark hair back from his lover’s face.

That same ache seized his chest again. It hurt to breathe sometimes, how deeply he loved this man, an insatiable mixture of affection and hunger that had not yet settled. The bite had awakened something restless in him, not entirely satisfied to end there. He pulled back slightly.

“Can I touch you?”

Rune: A thought shared, despite a dorm full of sleeper minds and rejecting currents. A pair of fools who could scarcely breathe, still willingly submerged because... just because. Love was and always would be just because.

"You don't have to ask for permission." There was a delicious gamble imbued in his offer; the idea of Enoch touching as he pleased when he pleased. Within logical reason, which he believed he would never have to question. This was a promise in their private, secret moments.

And his chest ached with the thrill, as did his cock.

"If I want you to stop, I'll say... pijnboom."

Enoch: “I like knowing you want me.”

There was something deeply satisfying in Rune’s enthusiasm for the professor. Never before had Enoch been coveted and the realization that the desire between them was mutual filled his stomach with indulgent warmth. For a fleeting moment he wondered if admitting that aloud made him sound childish and too needy, but exhaustion spared him the spiral of overthinking. Instead, he clung to the simple promise his lover had offered: whenever, wherever.

“Pijnboom,” he repeated softly, carefully turning the mage so he faced the wall. “What does it mean?”

His hands never left Rune, sliding down along his sides before circling around to the front, fingers wrapping and teasing against the firm length there.

Rune: "I'll always want you," he said without thinking. Enoch didn't have to articulate anything this close. He wondered if that would always be the case. Birthdays and anniversaries were going to be an exercise of will to keep secret.

"Kiefer," he explained. His hands pressed lightly against the wall, as one would being frisked by London's finest. "What, you haven't... mm... gotten to... plants... in Dutch?"

Slowly, his head lulled back to rest against his lover.

Enoch: He stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them as his slick, damp body brushed against Rune’s. The movement pressed him closer still, his hips shifting in a slow, repetitive rhythm in tandem with his hand as he let his brow rest lightly against the mage’s temple.

“Mm, no… not quite yet. I was thinking of learning anatomy next.”

His free hand wandered, spreading across his lover’s stomach before sliding upward, fingers tracing over the firm contours of muscles beneath them.

“I know one already,” he added, his nose brushing just behind Rune’s ear before he pressed a soft kiss there. “Mijn hart.”

“But what of here?” he asked, teeth grazing the outer rim of his ear.

“Or here?” he added with a faint, teasing squeeze to his lover’s cock.

Rune: The sound that escaped him teetered a fine line between a laugh and a moan. Wasn't there a word for that, too?

"I'm not giving you a lesson here and now." Their little shower would no doubt last all morning, if not until sunset. A day to themselves, clothes forbidden, and intelligence traded for base instinct.

But not today.

Today, this very moment, Rune was all but rutting against the wall, breath unstable and almost loud.

"You... enjoy - too much." He'd forgotten something. "Torture." That was it.

Enoch: “Then a lesson for later,” Enoch amended, a smile curling as he listened to the lovely sounds his companion made under his attention. The spray of water over them had long since turned tepid, but the warmth between them more than compensated for it.

His hand slid slowly up from Rune’s chest to the base of his neck, resting there. Much like in the shared dream they had, his fingers curved loosely around it, though without pressure for now.

“Torture?” he echoed softly, nose brushing against his jaw. Perhaps a little, though he wouldn’t quite admit it. Yet the way he was rubbing himself against Rune was maddening and enough to steal the breath from them both.

“I should… tie you down and…”

His hips angled in, his cock finding the space between his lover as he slid against him, teasing the line of his ass without pressing further.

“…and explore you how I want.”

Rune: Blunt nails scraped fruitlessly against tile, offering little solace when every fiber of his being begged to submit. Time didn't have to be of importance; nor responsibilities, careers - if only ten minutes more.

And then his eyes rolled, body shuddering. Delighted confusion struck like waves of heat through his entire body, pooling between his legs and throat simultaneously.

They were responsible people. Men with voices of reason, common ground, sound logic. All hopelessly lost as he arched his back. The first air to reach his lungs was used for the most erotic of noises.

Please... where were the words? Any words from any language.

"I... mn. Not... yet. W-Work."

Enoch: With a touch of sleep deprivation and intoxication in lust and love for the Euthanatos, Enoch was not entirely himself, though he was still aware enough to feel the heat rise to his face at the words he whispered.

At the sound of his vocal lover, his heart skipped, partly from pleasure, partly from weariness that they did not have complete privacy. Much like a similar night that had once gotten him into trouble, his fingers found Rune’s lips to muffle his cries.

Thoughts came slowly, if at all, with the way Rune’s body arched and moved. Sensation overtook reason and all he could focus on was rocking and rutting against his lover to relieve the building ache.

“Then… finish for me…” the words breaking under his own heavy breaths, his other hand never having left his lover, enjoying the weighty feel as he guided him with long deliberate strokes.

Rune: There was that hand again, that promise over his mouth. Rather than dredge unwanted memories, the loss of control encouraged a familiar ache from his body and soul. The splitting of hairs from sanity to pleasure.

It would take just one misuse of willpower, one shrug of his integrity, and he could become a slave.

The rocking of Enoch's hips, the feeling of his erection against his skin, relentless stroking, was all too much to bear. Warmth coated his lover's fingers in perfect synchrony with grunts, pants, and uncontrollable, inelegant thrusting.

Enoch: All that existed was the warmth of Rune's body beneath him, his own pressing in desperate search for release as the tension coiled tighter in his stomach, threatening to spill.

Panted breaths slipped past parted lips, soft groans following as his cock found residence sliding between his lover's ass.

What if he slid his fingers in? The thought was too little too late as warmth suddenly coated his fingers. Such a reaction stole his breath, but his body was already chasing the feeling with each thrust. Every shift of his hips brought him closer until suddenly he came undone, a flash of white spilling and staining against warm, wet skin.

This was not how he had envisioned his morning going.

Rune: Just a shift in position and they would finally be one. A temptation sitting hot on his tongue. One word, please, is all it would take, and Enoch would know his motives. And he would indulge them both. He knew it was his word alone which kept Enoch at bay. Duty was a mere obligation his lover was willing to discard, and so much did that little word want to escape his lips.

But his thighs were quivering uncontrollably. His chest ached as strongly as his tender cock.

Please. Take what you want. Finish inside of me, like a gift.

Enoch would have heard that, wouldn't he? He shook his head. No. His body and mind were at war. Logic and wisdom losing to carnal, desperate needs.

But it was too late. Whatever fate spared them - he felt the warmth against his lower back and had to feel for himself, face pressed to the wall, he reached behind with both hands just to have it. After all, it was his doing. It belonged to him.

"Next time," he breathed, "you'll have me completely."

Enoch: Their warm little bathroom was thick with the sound of their soft panting. Enoch tipped his head forward, resting it against Rune as his arms wrapped around his ribs, as if to hold them up while they reigned in runaway heartbeats. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the echo of those words and his wandering hands drew a faint, private smile from him.

He dipped his head, brushing past damp, clinging locks to nuzzle, then press a lingering kiss to the back of mage’s neck.

“How am I to survive you?”

The question meant for his thoughts had accidentally slipped out but the sentiment held true. He’d coax his companion to turn; fingers lifting to his chin and guide him closer because the need to kiss him was too great.

“…We should probably get cleaned up. Again.”

Rune: Survive? A question he could ask in kind. Here they were covered in sweat and semen when they were meant to be covered in suds. Better still, Enoch was meant to be dressing for work! Survive? How indeed.

The mage was pliant in his hold, turning obediently and smiling into their kiss. If they could sleep in this shower - no. No. He cupped his companion's face in both hands and nuzzled.

"Mm. You're an absolute mess. Can't have Professor Neumann looking like a whore." One more kiss for good measure, before turning Enoch toward the curtain and opening it. "Out."

Enoch: Enoch found himself leaning just slightly to meet the nuzzle, caught easily between damp hands.

“A whore?” he echoed under his breath, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn upward despite himself. “I’m only trying to make up for lost time,” he added in his defense, basking in that familiar, handsome face.

Then suddenly hands at his shoulders were turning him firmly toward the exit.

“Ah—! A moment, at least let me rinse—”

A final, hurried wash and rinse, and Rune had his way. Enoch stepped out soon after, toweling himself off as he crossed back into the bedroom, already half-focused on drying his hair and gathering himself.

“So,” he called from within, voice carrying down the hall, “do you intend to follow up with your specter friend today?”

Rune: "Lost time?" Was he still on about that? The time between acquaintanceship and romance? Surely not; this was about their rude incorporeal guest.

In which case, he felt the same injustice. As it stood, their privacy was in limited, precious quantities. And that tingle down his spine? His eyes closed with a sigh. Enoch was already gone, and once again, they were not alone.

"I have little choice. If I'm not mistaken, I don't believe we're alone."

The faucet squeaked tight.

"I need access to wherever his old desk may be..."

Enoch: His intuitive lover was correct, there had been feelings he’d frustratingly denied himself in the alleyway the night before.

With the warmer weather, the scholar had dressed accordingly: a pressed white shirt, blue pinstriped trousers, a matching bowtie, brown leather suspenders, and a jacket thrown neatly overtop, no need for the extra layer of a vest. He was brushing through his hair when he learned of their guest.

“Come by my lab after work,” he said, “I’ll see what I can uncover and perhaps find where his desk is kept.”

A careful dab of cologne at each pulse point and his neck before he stepped out from the room, adjusting his cuffs as he did.

“How do I look?” He paused, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Hopefully not like a whore.”

Rune: Rune had only just gotten to drying his hair when Enoch reappeared. There his man stood, naked as the night he was born, a towel draped over his head, looking momentarily like a babushka.

His cock pulsed once. Ignore that.

"Mm... not a whore. You've cleaned up nicely."

He turned to face the tile, if only to save himself further exposure of that physique and the consequences between his legs.

"Your lab, then. I'll keep our guest company, in the meantime." More like... he would try to pawn him off on his shipmates. Today would be far from boring.

"Do you dare kiss me before you leave?"

Enoch: There was nothing wrong with the naked Dutchman standing in his bathroom, quite the contrary. It made leaving this and every morning an exercise in restraint when this man chose to keep him company.

Blue eyes lingered as Rune turned to face away from him, offering the clean toned line of his shoulders and back. He smiled faintly, unable to help himself as he indulged just a little bit.

“Mm, yes but I still have my tea and toast that you’ve prepared for me,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against the warm skin on his shoulder. His fingers followed, light and absent, ghosting over the bruise surely forming along his ribs.

Rune: "Ah, right, that." He had forgotten all about food, except the taste of Enoch - and if he didn't stop thinking about it, he would need to relieve himself, again.

Hardly anything to grumble about. His lover and best friend was doing nothing to ease his troubles. He could hardly recall when he was ever this insatiable. He wondered, briefly, if there was any merit behind the tales of soulmates. This was not the first time he had considered, but liked to keep the thought to himself.

A thought which dissolved with a light touch of fingers.

"Leave me, you beast. Do you intend to keep me naked?"

Enoch: The tea and toast had likely gone cold by now, neglected in favor of a far more worthwhile distraction. Given the strain of recent days with his circumstances, it felt like a fair trade, even if it meant the scholar would be a few minutes late to his lecture.

A foxish hint of a grin touched his lips at the reprimand. “Yes, one day, but that day is not today.”

A little intrusive thought followed, but he let it pass. Instead, he pressed a brief kiss to his mage’s temple before releasing him.

“Go on, get dressed while I finish getting ready.”

Rune: "One day," he echoed. In a house by the sea. Just a little daydream. Perhaps, he thought - no. No. Live in the present. What a novel, silly idea for a Euthanatos.

But he no longer kept his satchel out in the open, and he no longer asked Enoch to fetch his things from within. The added weight would raise too many questions.

"I could just give you the key," he mused, brushing past to make himself presentable. "But that would mean having our guest in your ear all afternoon. You don't have to see and hear him clearly to know he'll be a nuisance."

Enoch: “Mm but if it brings you peace of mind…”

The temptation was too great, especially with the mage brushing past him in such a state. A quick, fleeting pinch to that bare backside, and he was already retreating toward the kitchen.

Enough mischief for now.

“Leave me with it so you can enjoy your day with your crew. I’m sure I can manage,” he called from the kitchen, setting the tea to warm again before finally taking a bite of his toast.

Rune: The towel in his hands was quickly rolled and snapped at Enoch's thigh. Ridiculous. He needed to dress before this madness continued.

"And lose the opportunity for our guest to terrorize Sang? Raeni? Hector? I think not. I'll find you this afternoon. Your lab."

Enoch: Rune was met with silence as the professor leaned over the sink, carefully balancing egg atop toast, attempting to eat quickly so he could dash out the door. It took several beats before he finally responded.

“And you like these people? Why would you subject them to our rather prude guest? No offense, Otto.”

He took a quick swig of tea.

“…And what, exactly, will you do to me when I inevitably annoy you?”

Rune: "It's because I like them, I wish to keep them on their toes."

And Hector was easy enough to rile. Rhys, not so much. Raeni? To see something more than a neutral expression.

One of the books on the shelf by the fireplace was pulled from thin air, floating, opening, pages turning. Rune quietly chuckled at something said.

"What? Me? What makes you think I'll retaliate?"

Enoch: The scholar smirked, brushing a bit of egg from his face before turning the faucet on just enough to dampen his fingers and clean them.

“I think you rather enjoy seeing my reactions.”

He finished the rest of his tea, pausing to watch the floating book for a moment, quietly marveling at how drastically his life had changed in less than a year.

But that familiar anxiety of being late to class nudged him into motion. He pushed away from the counter and stepped toward his lover to kiss him goodbye.

“Enjoy yourself and I’ll see you this evening, yes?”

Rune: "Always." Even now, however miniscule, every reaction was valuable. It was Enoch he watched as the young mage witnessed Otto Bauer making himself at home.

They had come many miles in what felt like a blink and an eternity.

He returned the kiss in kind, and made a point of stepping out of the line-of-sight of the door as it was opened. Left alone with their guest, he would walk quietly, speak softly, and clean as mindful as a thief. Eventually, he would slip from the dormitory during the goldilocks hour, when the majority of its occupants were absent, not yet to return for lunch or afternoon studies.

Straight to the pub, his second home, and an old invisible ship on the River Thames.

Enoch: “See? And that’s precisely why I think you’d retaliate,” the blond smirked, leaning in to give his mage a soft nuzzle and a parting kiss. Then he was off, collecting his bag and keys before slipping out the door entirely.

The day moved quickly after that. A morning lecture, followed by a faculty meeting, then a brief return to his office to meet with a student eager to assist in his research. Another lecture followed, and a short stop at the library before he finally settled into the laboratory for the remainder of the afternoon and into the early evening.

It had been during the faculty meeting that he managed to catch Thomas, asking somewhat carefully what he knew of the old Professor Bauer. The question earned him a curious look, but it eventually led him to the elderly librarian who had once been friendly with the late professor.

Through that conversation, Enoch learned the location of Bauer’s old room, though time hadn’t permitted him to investigate further. Instead, he made his way to the lab, determined to make progress on his work until whenever the mage would should up.

And when the Euthanatos would arrive, he would find Enoch deep in his experiments. His coat had been shed in favor of a heavy apron, thick gloves pulled over his hands as he worked with something far more noxious than usual. The laboratory windows stood open, letting the sharp smell of the experiment bleed out into the air.

Rune: Ever since that fateful day of confession, their lives had conspired against them. Days exclusively in each other’s company felt more like a daydream than tangible reality. Truth be, watching Enoch’s back and the last shadow of his hand upon the doorknob, he was exhausted. Not of the man still lingering on his lips, but of the everlasting war of propriety.

But the battles were chosen carefully, and today, the battle of Otto Bauer politely raged on. Polite… on one end of the spectrum, there was Otto, trying to carry a book out of the flat, only to realize his stamina was severely limited. The flare of his ghostly nostrils and the tremble of a nearly teacup, the canary in the coal mine.

On the other end, Rune, bathed, groomed, and bitter with the concept of babysitting.

The wraith was ushered from the dormitory, led through the wilderness that was London on a busy morning. Straight to his second home, staring across from the infamous river. A few familiar faces to come ashore had made themselves at home. A little vampire had curled up on his cot, sleeping peacefully. He was tucked in without word. Otto, for once, had been stricken dumb by the revelations behind the curtain. A poker table occupied by vampire, witch, werewolves, and an empath, most of whom were paying attention, staring, even greeting him as an equal. This had been precisely his strategy.

Rune: Soon, Otto settled into an all-day conversation with the empath. They huddled in the corner, two chairs, one seemingly empty, one woman, seemingly talking to herself. Rune excused himself to the ship, to his old room, where he helped himself to some of his old things. He made his rounds, greeting those too reluctant to leave the ship, and decided then and there he wanted Enoch to know a taste of this life.

But, in the meantime, he had to collect the wraith and return from the deviated path. That afternoon, Rune poked his head into Enoch’s lap, nose hidden behind his hand, a new satchel hanging from his shoulders.

“Are you trying to dispose of a body?”

Enoch: Despite the windows being open, the air still carried the smell of burnt chemicals tinged with iron. Glassware cluttered every surface: flasks, beakers, coiled tubing, some quietly bubbling, others stained with residues of past experiments.

Enoch stood there with his sleeves rolled, goggles shielding his eyes, and a white cloth tied over his nose and mouth. In his grip, held carefully with tongs, was a flask that caught the light oddly. Its contents shifting in color, somewhere between a deep red and then into a dark brown.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the right tools for that,” came the muffled reply of the chemist as he adjusted the angle of the flask over the flame. The liquid inside gave a soft, uneven bubble, releasing another curl of smoke

“Stay by my desk, if you would. I’m almost done here,” he said, though his gaze never left the flask.

“I’m forcing a change in the hemoglobin,” he started to explain, almost absently, though there was excitement threading through his tone. “Heating it, introducing an oxidizing agent… it alters how the iron behaves and binds. In this state, it can no longer carry oxygen properly.”

“It’s… not unlike what happens in certain poisonings,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “The blood looks perfectly capable but functionally, it’s useless.”

He paused, realizing that his companion probably wasn’t interested in a hematology lesson. Only then did he glance back again, just briefly.

“How were your adventures today?”

Rune: "I still beg the question why you're not an Etherite," Rune muttered under his breath. He followed the path allowed him, leaning against the wall, well out of reach - hopefully - of any disaster. He trusted Enoch to keep himself out of harm.

"Hemoglobin." The word tasted funny in his accent. Had he ever heard the word in Dutch? He wanted to know, now.

"I doubt it can do anything once you cook it." His sailor was smirking.

Adventures. Rune turned his head toward his invisible companion.

"I think he has a crush on our resident empath. I hardly had to babysit."

A pause, his hands raised slowly in surrender. Poor wording. "Ready to end this."

Enoch: “Hush, I do not need commentary from the peanut gallery,” Enoch grinned behind his mask, giving the solution another careful swirl. “Besides, I’m investigating whether awakened blood possesses different properties from that of those who don’t practice magic.”

So far, the results had been disappointingly inconclusive…including this experiment.

He set the glassware carefully onto a metal ring, freeing his hands to snuff out the flame and allow both the solution and flask to cool. The tongs were set aside next, followed by the gloves, which he peeled off and left on the table. His goggles were pushed up onto his head, the cloth mask tugged down around his neck as his nose wrinkled at the lingering chemical smell that would, eventually, fade.

“How are your shipmates?” he asked as he moved toward another set of gently boiling, softly clinking bottles. “Have they begun asking for you back?”

He inspected them with the same care, extinguishing their flames as well before finally turning his full attention toward the sailor.

Rune: The glass beakers were scrutinized. Were these used once and destroyed? Seemed a waste. But then, just as swiftly as the thought appeared, so too did another, more silly thought: this was where Enoch accumulated mess. While his flat was relatively tidy, one might assume from years of stern looks and dutiful ritual, here, mess was... allowed? Curious.

"Some," he wouldn't lie. What would it achieve? "They'll just have to wait. Do you... need assistance?" A single finger gestured around the chaos that was scientific discovery.

Enoch: Some glassware was reused, most of it actually, though a few pieces were intended for only a single use depending on the experiment. Rune received his answer a moment later when Enoch carried the flask he had been working with toward the sink to be properly cleaned later. The rest…well it could wait for when he was back.

“Uh…”

Perhaps the least elegant response the Brit had offered all evening, caught momentarily off guard by the request.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assured quickly. “I just need a moment to document my thoughts, if you don’t mind.”

His hand rose to the cloth hanging loosely around his neck like a makeshift scarf, tugging it free before setting it beside his notebook. He bent over the page, quickly jotting down the last of his findings.

“The library,” he explained as he finished the final sentence. “Mr. Abernathy was apparently acquainted with Professor Bauer, according to my sources and likely the person most familiar with where Bauer’s office belongings ended up after his forced retirement.”

Rune: Another gesture. By all means.

Otto had no comment to make. Not as he walked the parameter of the laboratory, not when he peeked into several flasks and sniffed, as though he might recognize a scent he could not even smell.

The mage quietly scoffed, pulling out White Fang by Jack London. This wasn't his book. At least, this wasn't his book yesterday.

While Enoch worked, Rune slowly sank to the floor, carefully reading over chapter one.

Eventually, dark eyes peeked over the pages when spoken to.

"So... this Mr. Abernathy is the... librarian? Has his desk there?"

Enoch: “Not quite. He should know where Bauer’s things ended up, though, and that’s promising. We simply make a quick trip to the library and hopefully get this all sorted.”

The notebook was closed and carried back to his desk and tucked away into a drawer. Next came the apron, which he removed and hung up. The scholar cast one last glance around the laboratory, checking to ensure nothing else required attention before they left. Satisfied, he gathered his satchel and suit jacket, organizing a few loose papers inside before finally approaching his companion.

“What have you got there?” he asked, extending a hand to help the mage to his feet.

Rune: Rune took the offering, and placed the book in Enoch's hand. On the opposite side of the cover bore the name Alma Moses, 1906.

"One of my mates gave it to me. Finished somewhere across the Tyrrhenian Sea. He said it was boring - the man only enjoys penny dreadfuls. Took it off his hands to study."

The book was tucked in his inner coat pocket.

"Shall we?"

Enoch: Enoch looked over the book, recognizing the title if only because he had read it quite some time ago.

“I remember enjoying it. You’ll have to let me know what you think once you’ve finished.” He handed the book back.

“But you still owe me the rest of the first one,” he smiled. “Speaking of which, we should resume our lessons.” The last remark came as he switched from German back into English.

“Mm, a moment though…I think you’ve forgotten something.”

Before the mage could protest, Enoch gently tugged him behind one of the laboratory benches, the tall shelving enough to conceal them from view for a brief moment.

There, hidden away among glassware and books, the scholar leaned in to brush a soft kiss against Rune’s lips.

Rune: "English for lessons, right? Our agreement still has a leg to stand on." Not officially. As far as the Arcanum was concerned, he was now an unappreciated wildcard, but that was neither here nor there, today.

"Ah, English, English," he grumbled in the language.

He was turning for the door when his wrist was caught. The mage made no complaint, uttered no question as he was pulled into the shadows.

The world was right again. Nose against nose, forehead to forehead, he sighed, breathed in their private air, and pulled Enoch into a deeper kiss, clutching the back of his head. Almost. At the very cusp of eager, redirected blood flow, he pulled himself away.

"Lead the way, beast."

Enoch: Holding his wrist soon became holding his hips as Enoch leaned in to return the kiss. The way the mage held him only intensified the moment, a hand slowly sliding up the small of Rune’s back to draw him closer and keep him there.

A loose, honest grin lingered on the scholar’s lips when they finally parted, though he still refused to let go of his companion just yet.

“Your shipmates will be waiting quite some time for your return,” he smirked. “Either until my death, or until you eventually grow tired of me.”

His eyes crinkled warmly at the corners.

“Unless, of course, I abandon London entirely and join you as a pirate.”

One of Enoch’s hands drifted up along the Euthanatos’s side, knowingly brushing near the bite mark from their morning, in quiet pursuit of a reaction before he pressed one final kiss into the crook of his lover’s neck.

Now he had earned that nickname.

Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from the mage and started leading them toward the library, locking the laboratory behind them on the way out.

Rune: His smile was soft, but, something flickered between the lust and the love. Something knowing. This wasn't the first instance Enoch had mentioned boredom. He was old enough to know it was more than simple jest.

But anything he had intended to say was forgotten. A simple touch gave the game away, his neck stolen like a vampire's kiss.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it was a game. Perhaps, he hoped, Enoch was being territorial. Words said out loud to make them real - his own little spell of confidence.

Disoriented, lavished in love, arousal, and soreness, Rune straightened his clothes and hair before coming out from behind their sanctuary.

"Fiend."

Enoch: The evening air was pleasant on his still- warm face as Enoch led them across campus. He was in the middle of buttoning his suit jacket as they stepped onto the sidewalk and made their way toward the library.

The campus remained lively this evening. Students lounged across the grass to enjoy the lingering warmth while others wandered in small groups, talking amongst themselves as faculty crossed between buildings.

Had the Euthanatos truly never wanted a life like this?

The thought surfaced unexpectedly, only for Enoch to immediately counter it himself. Compared to the high-stakes adventures of life at sea, this academic world must have seemed terribly tame. And perhaps some small part of him worried this sort of life would only remain charming for a little while before inevitably becoming dull to the sailor.

Why was he plagued with such pessimistic thoughts lately?

Enoch was pulled from his thoughts when a red-haired student passing by offered the professor a small wave and greeting on their way toward the library steps.

The scholar returned it politely before holding the door open for his companion to enter first. Once inside, he nodded lightly toward the front desk.

“I’ll see if Mr. Abernathy is in.”

Rune: As it were, Enoch's thoughts like stepping stones in water were too faint for notice. Too many people, distracted by his lover's brazen whims. He was still debating which it truly was: romantic, or sexual? He decided it had been both. As uncomfortable as it was to admit, he found himself comparing their carnal pleasures to Aoi's chaos. One was healthy, loving, one was...

Days like these were a reminder. There was only forward. If given the option to relive his life from childhood... it would be a living Hell.

Right. The library. Rune stepped inside and to the side. Otto Bauer looked from side to side, as though expecting something.

"It's been rearranged," he grumbled. "What was the point of that? It's the same amount of shelves."

"If I had a penny for every complaint," Rune sighed. "Not you." He gestured in front of them. "We'll be here."

Enoch: Now… it was no secret that Enoch was not particularly skilled at subterfuge. He had far too many tells. His stammer worsened, the tips of his ears pinkened, and sustained eye contact became nearly impossible for him.

What he was good at, however, was sidestepping the truth through half-truths and careful omission.

The young scholar was eventually directed toward the elderly librarian, where he explained that not all of Professor Bauer’s belongings had been collected after his departure and that he was inquiring on someone else’s behalf. There had been a brief moment where he faltered under further questioning, but he recovered quickly enough by claiming that Bauer’s brother had entrusted him with the key to the professor’s desk and that he merely needed directions to where it had been moved.

Plausible enough, apparently.

The old librarian informed him that the desk had been placed into storage in the west wing, awaiting reassignment alongside other furniture for incoming faculty next term. Fortunate timing for them.

He very much wanted to ask how the librarian knew so much, but pressing his luck further felt unwise. Instead, he thanked the older man politely before returning to his companion and their spectral friend.

Enoch gave a small nod for Rune to follow as he led them toward the left side of the library, where a pair of double doors opened into another corridor leading toward the west wing of the university.

“They’ve placed it in storage,” he explained quietly as they walked. “So hopefully his belongings are still there.”

Rune: Rune made himself a statue in his corner of the room, still by the door. A method of avoidance which usually succeeded. So long as attention remained elsewhere diverted, no one would remember his face, however strange or beautiful or hideous he was regarded. A fairly recent phenomena, one spanning years he could count on a single hand. The price mages paid for experience - some more than others.

Perhaps it was to their fortune, or simply his nearness. He would like to believe in Enoch's independent merits.

"Mr. Bauer congratulates you on being a good liar," he smirked. "Pardon me. A perjurer. His wording."

Enoch: His gaze stayed fixed on the hallway ahead as they walked, hands loosely gripping the strap of his satchel while he searched for what might pass as a storage room.

But the mage’s compliment made him glance over, blue eyes squinting in offense.

“I most certainly did not lie,” he argued. “I merely… obscured the truth a little.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling outright before redirecting his attention forward again.

“I cannot have either of you sullying my good name.”

Might as well change the subject while they were at it.

“Is there any way we could use the finding spell to locate the desk that key belongs to?”

Rune: Rune only chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. He was only the medium. Or median? Both?

"Otto is already poking his head in the doors ahead of us. Seeing as neither of us have ever touched the thing..." But, maybe with Otto's assistance. "Are storage rooms hidden like a dungeon in this place?" A rhetorical question as he rooted himself in place, slowly spinning his finger as he waited for the telltale distortion of space.

Enoch: Enoch looked ahead, wishing for a moment that he was able to see Otto, but not even the faintest disturbance in the air gave any indication of where the spectre had gone.

Instead, his footsteps slowed alongside his companion’s.

“I don’t believe so,” he answered thoughtfully, oblivious that it had been a rhetorical question. “But they likely wouldn’t store surplus near the lecture halls. More toward the least-used rooms of the wing, I would imagine.”

He nodded for the Euthanatos to continue following him.

“These are all classrooms and study rooms,” he reasoned. “We’ll probably have better luck further down.”

Rune: "Well, you were told storage, and storage - Otto's leaving us for dust."

That spell would do nothing. He dropped his hand in defeat, returning to Enoch's side and then ahead, turning left - west, it would appear.

"Yes, yes. We're here. Don't have another heart attack. He says he's found it. Third door."

Enoch: “For someone who’s dead, he’s rather impatient.”

Enoch followed after the mage, quickening his pace slightly as they turned down a corridor leading toward the less frequented parts of the wing. Every so often, the scholar glanced back over his shoulder. Not out of fear exactly, but he would very much prefer not to explain himself if they happened to be stopped wandering the halls after hours.

“Mm.”

From there, Enoch took the lead, counting doors beneath his breath until they reached the third one. He tested the handle and found it unlocked.

The room beyond appeared long abandoned.

Desks and chairs had been stacked haphazardly against the walls alongside several old easels, all coated in a fine layer of dust. The setting sun spilled through the windows in long amber beams, catching drifting columns of dust in the air and giving the neglected room an almost dreamlike quality.

Enoch stepped inside slowly, eyes scanning the clutter.

“Which one?”

Three large wooden desks sat piled within the room, chairs stacked awkwardly atop them.

Rune: "How you can tell the fledglings and the veterans apart. Trust me, this is preferrable."

Weren't grand old furnishings meant to be covered by a sheet? Something he had read in books, and heard from the mouth of Clara Kraus, after her father died in his sleep. 'It's a ghost house, now,' she had said, not a tear in her eyes. 'They filled it with sheets.'

Rune snapped back to the present with a sigh.

One of the chairs by the pile of desks rolled by an invisible force, coming to a squeaking stop by the window. The same unseen fingers wiped a trail of dust from the largest desk, trailing down to the bottom drawer. So, he was to be that kind of wraith. A swift learner, as he had been in life. A new suspicion festered in Rune's gut.

"And we're shown the way," he sighed. The key was tossed to Enoch. "Will this really be the end of it?"

Enoch: There was a hum of acknowledgment from the scholar as he moved to inspect the desks. His attention snagged almost immediately on the sight of the chair rolling away on its own.

It made him stop short.

For a moment, Enoch simply stood there, caught by the sheer surrealness of what his life had become, following ghosts through abandoned halls to search in forgotten desks for a manuscript. Then the fingerprints appeared from thin air, and his fascination only deepened. Blue eyes tracked them carefully, marveling at the impossible sight with open curiosity rather than fear.

“Is everything alright?” he asked suddenly, turning to look toward his companion just in time, his hands lifting to catch the key tossed his way.

“You sigh rather often,” he observed. “As though… something is weighing on you.”

He let the thought rest there for now, breaking eye contact as he approached the desk Otto had indicated. Following the spectre’s guidance, he reached for the drawer first and, unsurprisingly, found it locked. So the key was slid into place and with a soft click and twist, the drawer popped open.

“Brilliant.”

Rune: "Sorry." He almost sighed again. "It's just..." He shook his head. "It's nothing. The price of dealing with the dead."

Otto stood to Enoch's right, staring down at what he believed to be his unfinished business. His magnum opus. Paper and ink in a black, forgotten drawer. No one had bothered to break it open. No one had cared for the rattling within as it was moved into storage, to gather dust, useless, unwanted, unimportant.

"Otto," Rune warned.

Enoch was gestured away, gently at first, then sharply, as though swiping at a fly.

Enoch: It took Enoch a moment to realize that his beau had actually apologized, a rarity in itself, and even more startling when he noticed the mage echoing some of his own mannerisms back at him. The realization nearly drew a smile from him, and he bit lightly at his lower lip to hide it, instead focusing on the stubborn drawer he was arguing with.

At last, the drawer gave and carefully, he pulled the papers free, sitting back on his heels to inspect them more closely.

“May I?” he asked Otto, entirely unaware of the unrest brewing nearby.

He almost missed the first gesture had it not been for that sharp tone. From the corner of his eye he caught the movement, followed quickly by another that made him straighten at once, startled from his focus. The manuscript was tucked securely beneath his arm as he rose and moved away from the desk, concern overtaking his curiosity.

Rune: What Enoch could not see was a wraith on the verge of a frenzy. The room had thickened with humidity. The first escape of vapor from their mouths, and he knew they were past the point of return.

Rune wrapped his prayer beads around his hand, held out as if cautioning a rabid dog.

The drawer rattled in its desk pocket, snatched to the floor and flown across the room with a loud crash, shattering.

"Out. Get out." The commands which proceeded were sharper, well-versed phrases with heavy consonants. Familiar like Latin, and yet plucked from every language before and after its conception. The room filled with a symphony of rattling windows, chairs, and drawers.

And then nothing. Rune crossed himself and prayed, then crossed himself again.

There was no time to linger. Rune stepped quickly into the hall.

"That's what happens when wraiths indulge their emotions."

Enoch: Enoch had retreated to Rune’s side of the room, his attention flicking anxiously between the Euthanatos and the desk he had just searched.

The sudden clatter of the drawer ripping free and crashing apart into splintered wood startled the poor scholar badly enough that the hairs along the back of his neck rose at once. Fear plunged through him sharp and immediate, an instinctive kind born from danger he could not see nor predict.

He was only allowed a handful of seconds within the room before Rune snapped at him to get out.

Enoch hesitated.

His blue eyes stayed fixed stubbornly on the mage, fingers twitching with the urge to grab him by the collar and drag him out with him. But Rune knew what he was doing, right? And so the young mageling forced himself to trust him.

His hand stayed tightly around the doorknob once outside, listening to whatever was unfolding on the other side beneath the pounding of his own heartbeat filling his ears.

“Are you alright?”

The moment Rune emerged, Enoch shut the door firmly behind them before reaching out to grip the mage’s arm, squeezing as though reassuring himself Rune was alright and not... not possessed by Otto.

"What happens now?"

Rune: To their left and right. No one. Rune whispered in Dutch, eye closing and head tilting. No danger, no red. Glimpsing the future was unnecessary exhaustion.

Still a sentinel, he took Enoch's hand and squeezed, kissed his fingers, and released him.

"Put the manuscript away. Talk about work loudly. Be excited about it. Now."

Rune put his back to the room. Hands in pocket, eyes forward, his hardened features softened as footsteps started around the corner. In five seconds, they would discover the source of a floating thread. Just a human going about their day, blissfully oblivious.

Enoch: The poor professor was still thoroughly shaken by how quickly everything had turned. Yet he remained still, listening carefully yet heard no footsteps rushing toward them. Even so, it startled him when his beloved suddenly took his hand and kissed it.

Just like that, it became the newest reason his heart drummed in his ears. Honestly, how dare the mage act so casually after frightening him half to death?

For a beat, Enoch simply stared at Rune before finally being pulled back to the matter at hand.

The manuscript was tucked into his satchel, though Rune earned a pointed side-eye when he instructed the scholar to speak excitedly about his work, as if that was ever difficult for him.

Still, the scholar appreciated the direction.

As they walked away from the room, Enoch seamlessly slipped into conversation about the experiments he intended to attempt next, along with the progress he had been making on his own manuscript that he hoped to publish before the end of autumn.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the person in the hall, but the stranger paid them little mind. They would continue down the hall, Enoch fighting the impulse to look behind him and ask about Otto.

Rune: No one would suspect the gentleman professor animated over his life's work. More in character and unnoticeable than awkward silence, tight shoulders, staring at the floor. Rune glanced his direction but once, nodding when appropriate. It was a good call. What consternation? They were breathing easy.

Finally, the hall filled with only their footsteps.

"What happens now is a drink. Several. We're going to the pub. Do with the manuscript as you wish." But his face contorted in silent argument with himself. "If I may be frank, I think you should forget it. Lock it away somewhere, or I shall. Leave it for... a rainy day, or a more willing era. What you have in that bag is dangerous. As for Otto, I don't know. I don't think we'll see him for a while. "

Enoch: “What does this mean for him? Was that not his unfinished business?” the blond asked softly. Even with no one nearby, he kept his voice low, wary of how easily sound carried through these halls.

What had the ghost wanted done with the manuscript? To publish it? To have it read?

“It’s his story…”

There was much left unsaid in those quiet words, but Enoch had already resolved himself to seeing at least some part of the spectre’s wishes fulfilled if it might finally help the man move on.

His hand tightened around the leather strap of his satchel as his thoughts drifted toward the pages now hidden safely inside. So occupied by his thoughts that he barely registered they were heading toward the bar.

Rune: "I'm willing to bet money it is, but... wraiths are peculiar. I've told you, the dead feed on emotions, specific ones keep them satiated, healed. What we just witnessed... some sort of existential crisis. 'My life's work,' something-something 'we're all just broken memories.'"

His hand placed firmly between Enoch's shoulders, patted.

"If we hear about strange, violent paranormal activities in the area, or Otto's brother has a heart attack in the bathtub, we'll know who to blame."

Enoch: “Was he feeding on us? Your shipmates?”

The shift still left the scholar reeling. From everything Rune had described, Otto had seemed almost pleasant, and then suddenly...

Enoch was struggling to reconcile the whiplash of a good-natured ghost turning volatile so quickly. His eyes widened further at the mention of Otto’s brother’s fate, and he turned sharply toward the mage.

“I won’t forgive myself if that happens.”

The confession came quickly, his teeth worrying at his lower lip as unease settled deeper into him. Somehow this felt like a failure on his part, even if he could not fully explain why.

“What if we speak to him?” he suggested after a moment. “Try to calm him?”

Rune: "The fault would belong to know one, En. Not anyone living. Whatever emotions sustain him, seeing his book was an overdose. It's behind us, now."

In all his predictions, Enoch's worrying lip hadn't been on the cards. He felt obligated, but not to Otto.

"You wish for me to summon him? That's not happening tonight. I'm not doing it. I'm not having a volatile ghost anywhere near you."

Enoch: Enoch stared ahead as they walked, his gaze fixed on the worn flooring beneath their feet. His hands tightened around the leather strap of his satchel with weakened strength before eventually letting go, retreating instead into his pockets.

One had to choose their battles wisely, and from the firmness in Rune’s voice, Enoch understood this was not one he was going to win. So, he drew in a slow breath and gave a small nod.

"I understand. I... I won't ask that of you."

Silence stretched between them for a while as they continued down the hall, footsteps echoing softly around them before Enoch finally spoke again.

“Tell me about your crew,” he said, glancing over at the mage at last. “If I am to meet them.”

Rune: There had to have been at least a hundred people milling about in this enormous building, and yet, it was only Enoch, his world, his life, and some twinge of misplaced guilt.

"Some other time. I promise. We'll see to him again."

It was easy to say yes, he realized; saying no was an act of willpower.

"The Lord willing, you'll only meet a few of them. Ines, maybe. Ahanu. Not our captain. No. He's a deplorable flirt. We picked up a few more, recently." As in months and months ago. No mention of any new blood, but those in need of sanctuary or of transportation were rarely worth a conversation.

"Would you like to see my home?"

Enoch: The subject was set aside for now. Enoch could only hope they would not wake tomorrow to news of any deaths, particularly that of an older Bauer brother.

Fortunately, the mention of Rune’s crew proved to be a distraction, and the casual reveal of a flirtatious captain made the scholar blink in surprise. Somehow, that had not been what he was expecting at all.

“How do you know?” he asked, glancing over at the mage with renewed curiosity. “Do you write to them?”

A beat passed before another thought struck him.

“And… how does mail even arrive on a ship?”

The answer came to him almost immediately after the question left his mouth.

Magic.

"Of course. You've been living in mine, it's time I see yours."

Rune: One of the enormous double doors was opened, held until Enoch's passing. Seemed he had answered the question himself. The Euthanatos' smile reached his eyes.

"There is a designated place on the ship. A little correspondence spell. Only a few of us can do it. Guess who ends up being the postmen? I give them English news, they give me tales of islands with bird-women and a baby dragon."

Living. Not just knowing his home, but living in it. The mage cleared his throat, trying not to look pleased at nothing.

"How about the ship first? I might gather a few more of my things."

Enoch: “You once mentioned that ghosts can act as messengers. Is that it?”

Though the exchange of news drew a sharper reaction from him, Enoch’s brows lifting at the mention of dragons and harpies. Those certainly had not been on his list of things he considered remotely possible.

But then again, how many impossible things had already become reality in the past year alone?

Enoch glanced over at the pointed clearing of Rune’s throat and immediately caught that look on his lover’s face. The mage earned a playful nudge from Enoch’s shoulder just as they stepped outside and London greeted them once more.

"Lead the way, sailor."

Rune: "It's something. They don't do well over water. Our world and the Shadowlands are nearly mirrors." He didn't like the subject, but swallowed through it. It was no one's fault, but he suddenly missed a woman he had never formally met.

But the ship would be a well-deserved distraction. Better than the pub, where Captain Nachim almost certainly was. Someone, many someones, would be in Clarissa's salon. Someone was most definitely sleeping on his cot. This was the sane, pragmatic choice.

If the pair had passed familiar faces on the way to the navel pier, Rune made no mention nor glance. He didn't want to be stopped by a werewolf or a banshee.

More besides, he had to relocate the ship.

"Where are you, you big bitch." Only two small cargo ships took up space on the pier, and a tiny barge leaning heavily on starboard, being scrutinized by two old men with their hands on their hips. But something much larger was groaning. Creaks and moans that had once been his lullaby.

"Mm. There. Look." Above them, a small flock of black-headed gulls argued for purchase on an invisible structure. From the height, possibly the fore top yard.

Rune stepped carefully, his good ear seemingly turned to the water. There, a few feet - a gangplank, invisible, scraped against the pier. Rune felt at its edges with his foot.

"Step where I step." If Enoch didn't shadow him, he would witness the mage disappear into thin air, walking up an invisible incline. To follow, would be to lift the veil. An enormous first-rate ship, but not quite. Too clean, too colorful, like an unsailed vessel waiting patiently for her maiden voyage.

A man in mulberry and brown leaned with crossed arms on a shroud. His holler, like a wet cough wanting to scream, didn't faze the mage in the slightest.

"What do ya 'ave wit' ya? Bring yer arse o'er here 'n tell us news o' the world!"

"Where's Rhys?"

"Up me arse with a candlestick. Is it urgent?"

A sigh. A breath. Rune pointed to the man all but lying over ropes. "Moses."

Enoch: Then did he mean the sailors were the postmen? That had to be it. But Enoch didn’t dwell on the thought for long as they made their way toward the pier.

Truthfully, he rarely found himself near this part of London. The docks were a novelty to him, and the cargo ships lining the harbor easily captured his attention. None of them resembled the vessel his beloved spoke of with such fondness. Though admittedly, Enoch wasn’t entirely certain of what he had been expecting. It certainly had not been an invisible ship nor that Rune would have to search for it.

His gaze lifted to where the mage pointed, noticing the gulls circling and squabbling above seemingly empty air. Huh.

The scholar's steps slowed as he watched the mage test an invisible foothold before casually stepping onto nothing at all and continuing forward. And then, just like that, the Euthanatos vanished from sight. The scholar glanced around instinctively to see whether anyone else had noticed. No one had reacted and after a brief hesitation, Enoch followed.

Carefully, he tested the unseen step beneath his shoe before committing his full weight to it. And there the veil lifted like breath from glass. Suddenly the ship stood before him in all her grandeur.

The sight rooted him in place.

She was magnificent.

Enoch stared openly, awed by the vivid colors of the ship and by the sheer impossibility that something so massive could be hidden.

The sudden sound of another voice startled him from his reverie, his attention snapping upward toward the sailor draped among the ropes overhead. The exchange that followed only deepened the surrealness of the moment.

Rune’s sigh drew a faint smile from him.

Slowly, and perhaps a touch awkwardly, Enoch lifted a hand and offered Moses a polite little wave.

Rune: Alma Moses. The very name scribbled onto his new book. The man looked older than the oldest ship. The oldest-looking man to call himself crew. White hair peeked from behind his mariner cap, whiter than the salt and pepper beard hastily trimmed with a knife.

"We'll leave you to it, Moses. Sleep well." The old man huffed at the implication, removing his hat and swatting their direction, as though he might reach Rune's face for the audacity.

"You're back!" cried a voice from the wheel. A younger man sat with spread legs against the binnacle. An abandoned game of solitaire between his feet. His smile was tight, restricted by old burns across his jaw. He couldn't have been older than twenty - one might assume.

"I'm not back. I'm just getting some things."

Rune was heading for the companionway when the young man jumped to his feet.

"Renovations! Nono! Do you want to get stretched like Ines?!"

That would explain the crates on the quarter and poop deck. His running theory on the fate of this ship was still uncontested. Enoch might laugh, when he had the chance to explain.

"We just did renovations!"

"Hector has it. Or Raeni? Or Rhys?"

Deep breath. Slow.

"I'll... find... Hector?" The scarred man winced.

"Please."

The young man turned his attention to Enoch and startled. Had he been there the entire time?

"Who are you?"

Enoch: Enoch’s hands had moved behind his back, loosely clasped there as they ventured further into the ship. His attention flickered constantly from one detail to the next, trying to take in everything.

He listened to the conversation without interrupting, content for the moment to simply observe. At least until he was rather pointedly brought into it.

The scholar blinked, visibly surprised to suddenly become the focus, but quickly recovered enough to offer a polite smile as he extended his hand.

“Oh, I’m Dr. Enoch Neumann,” he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rune: There was something about that offered hand that made the man laugh. His smile had reached his eyes, all but disappearing behind thick lashes. Enoch's fingers was taken into a forceful handshake. Rune would bet it was the first of its kind.

"Imogene Astor. You stay up here, small fry. Recruited another one?"

"No. He's not for you, or Nachim, or anyone." Rune was heading for the companionway again, if only to yell below deck. Imogene fidgeted in place, scratching at his scars.

"But you are something. Youuuuu're something."

Enoch: Enoch’s smile wavered slightly when the other man laughed at him, though he remained a good sport about it and shook the stranger’s hand all the same.

“A pleasure, Mr. Astor.”

Once the handshake ended, his hand returned behind his back, fingers clasping together again as his attention shifted instinctively toward Rune. He very nearly stepped behind the Euthanatos out of habit before the sailor’s next words stopped him short.

Ah.

“Oh, um… yes, I suppose,” he answered, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m a professor at London University. Biochemistry.”

But maybe that wasn't what the man was asking for.

Rune: "Ah... Is - Is he on the level?"

Rune's head popped up from the hole in the floor, eyes darting between the two.

"If he wanted to tell you, he would."

"I'll tell you, but maybe you should pay me, first. Or I pay you? We pay each other. Then it's practically free!"

Rune reemerged with another shipmate at his heels. A man just shy of the mage's height, crate in hand, smiled politely from behind it. Eyes as bright as whiskey in sunlight, broken by flecks of brilliant green like zinnia flowers in bloom.

"Hola." Unlike Imogene, the smile that reached his eyes harbored not a shred of mischief.

Enoch: Enoch looked toward the shipmate, the response only confirming his suspicions. Well, after all, that did make sense.

And while he debated how much to share, his sailor’s head suddenly popped up, causing the scholar’s brows to ease slightly at the reassurance of his presence.

Right.

They were in relatively safe company. A ship full of supernatural beings. How Etienne would have reveled in such a discovery. Perhaps his grandfather as well.

The thought briefly soured the wonder Enoch had been feeling, dulling his excitement before he pushed it aside.

“Let's.... let's keep it free. I was born and raised here in England, human as can be, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered at last. “And a very lousy mage.”

Mage. The word still felt strange on his tongue. Not yet something he fully embraced as part of himself, and likely not something he would comfortably claim until he became far better at magic than he currently was.

“Ah, hello there.”

He offered the newest face a polite smile as well, trying not to look too visibly overwhelmed by the growing number of introductions.

Rune: Rune studied his beloved's face, reassured as to why he had chosen this hour, and not the early morning for a tour. A handful of greetings by the shyest homebodies was a better gamble than a hundred eager to poke, tug, and press for an interview. Or worse, Nachim giving one of his recruitment speeches. Poor Enoch would cave in on himself.

The balance between keeping his companion all for himself and allowing him space in his life was, in this moment, a conscious consideration.

"Mmmm. Mage. Another mage. There is only one me! Just one selkie." Imogene bowed deeply, arms wide.

The crate was placed atop another, cracked open with the crowbar Rune had been playing with. As he rifled through his things, the newest face approached, offering his hand.

"Enoch Neumann? It is an honor to finally meet you." A voice like silk, spoken from the back of his throat with Spanish inflections. He glanced once at Imogen, features still relaxed. "My name is Hector. Please, allow me to show you our home."

Enoch: This must have been how poor Rune had felt during Halloween, introduced to colleague after colleague and thrown headfirst into a game he had never agreed to play. At least here, Enoch still had the ability to still speak.

For the briefest moment, his gaze flicked toward Rune’s, sharing the thought silently before his attention returned to Mr. Astor.

“A selkie? As in the mythical sea horses—” He stopped himself mid-thought. “Wait, no, those are kelpies...”

Enoch went quiet for a second before snapping his fingers in realization.

“Seals, that’s it.”

And yet that only left him staring at Mr. Astor with even more confusion than before.

The sudden crack of wood nearby pulled his attention away, followed shortly by yet another hand being extended toward him.

“Yes, Dr. Enoch Neumann but Enoch works just as well. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he replied warmly, returning the handshake.

At the suggestion of being whisked away, however, the blond hesitated, uncertain whether he ought to stray when Rune had said he would show him around. But then again…This was rather like meeting a family of sorts. Best to not be impolite.

"If it doesn't disrupt what you were doing...I wouldn't want to be a bother."

Rune: Rune very nearly glared at Hector for the intentional slip. Did he already know something about Enoch that he didn't? Would that make him feel more at home, knowing that Rune had already shared their relationship with the trusted, most loved of the ship?

Keeping his attention on the contents of the crate was damn near impossible.

"You dare lump me in with those murder horses?!"

Rune straightened on the defense, but Hector had already taken Enoch by the arm, walking calmly toward the stairs to the poop deck. Whether he was making a show at Enoch's expense or earnestly offended made no difference.

"He meant nothing by it, Astor. He's still learning." From one seducer to another, Imogene didn't stand a chance. The selkie returned to his cards, falling as one would expect from a child on the verge of a tantrum. Once removed from his line of sight, Enoch was released. Hector's hands disappeared behind his back.

"Have you ever seen a ship like this one? You will never see stars the way you will see them here. And our captain has the best view." He pointed with his chin to the skylight directly above the captain's quarters. "Don't worry. I just wanted to have you to myself for a bit." His smile returned, just as soft.

Enoch: With the familiarity Hector spoke to him, Enoch got the distinct impression that at least a few members of the crew already knew of his existence. It was a strangely humbling thought.

Perhaps he and Rune should have discussed beforehand how this visit might go. But it was far too late for that now.

“My apologies, Mr. Astor, I did not mean any disrespect.”

Before he knew it, he was being swept away by the arm and redirected from one very upset selkie. It wasn’t as though he could dig in his heels without embarrassing both himself and his companion.

So, Enoch did what he often did best in unfamiliar situations, he adapted, allowing his new guide to lead him along while sharing details about the ship.

“I… have not,” Enoch admitted as his hands slipped back into his pockets, his gaze following where Hector pointed. “Though I imagine any view while onboard would be the best one.”

A smile touched the scholar’s lips as his attention drifted back across the vessel itself.

He found himself committing the details to memory, wanting to sketch them later while the images were still fresh in his mind.

But the stranger’s next words caused Enoch’s brows to rise slightly, his attention returning to the man beside him.

“That almost seems like cause for concern,” he replied lightly, finally meeting Hector’s gaze directly. “I apologize. I’ve heard far less about you than you apparently have about me.”

Rune: "I know." Fingers too smooth for a sailor rubbed beneath his chin. "He wanted to keep you for himself." I understand now. "But, having you up here... I know what it feels like. This ship can house eight hundred crew. More. If our captain could save everyone, collect everyone, he would. But my first time on this ship, my knees wanted to buckle. Everybody was staring as Capitán gives his welcome speech. Each time is the same. He gives our name, what we are, what we'll do, how we beat him in combat."

His hand returned to his back, slowly leaning in, but not too close.

"I'm sorry. You felt... scared. I think even Rune forgets... not all of us are leathered veterans."

Enoch: The scholar observed Hector quietly, maintaining a pleasant yet neutral expression as he listened. His eyes flickered back toward the ship at the mention of how many souls it could hold. Given the sheer size of the vessel, the number needed to be enormous. Still, he found himself wondering how one remained an individual among such a vast working body.

But Hector had just unknowingly offered him an opening to learn more, well at least until the sailor’s next words caused Enoch’s brows to furrow in mild confusion.

“Scared?” he echoed.

Then realization dawned.

“Oh...oh no. I’m… I’m not joining, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Rune: His smile returned with his head shake.

"No. Rune has already told us he won't be returning. No... it's just what you gave me. It was just a moment. Forgive me if I misinterpreted."

Enoch: “What I gave you?”

The poor scholar somehow looked even more confused at first. There had been nothing literal he could think of that he had given.

Then his gaze drifted toward the stairs, and a hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck as he realized what happened.

“Ah...being nervous, you mean?”

A faint, sheepish laugh escaped him.

“I suppose that is true, but I’ll be fine, honestly.” His smile softened. “Thank you for your concern."

Rune: "Yes. Being nervous." His smile was attached, now. The ice seemed broken. The air between them was comfortable enough to chuckle without concern for its regard. For all of the letters shared between their little circle, skittish wasn't once Enoch's adjective.

"You're welcome. Rune says you're insatiably curious. He said a lot of things, but, well, is it for me to say? I don't know. I had to meet you. An awakened mage. I've never met one. I haven't met a lot of people. My list grows every day."

Enoch: “I suppose I should have expected this.” Enoch’s voice softened as his gaze drifted back across the ship. “It’s… a bit overwhelming, if I’m being honest. Not you particularly,” he added quickly, “but the idea of meeting others who… share this world.”

His hands slipped further into his pockets as he spoke more to the vessel itself than to the stranger beside him.

“Especially as you pointed it out, being recently awakened to it all.”

Only when his sentence trailed off did his attention return fully to Hector, and the moment Rune’s letters were mentioned, color heightening in his cheeks.

“I hope it’s been good things he’s shared with you all.”

Trying to escape the embarrassment threatening to creep further into his expression, Enoch took a few steps away to inspect more of the deck.

“I would imagine, as a sailor, you would meet quite a few people along the way,” he mused before glancing back over his shoulder toward Hector. “Are you new to the ship?”

Rune: "He said you were enthusiastic. Isn't that how you met? You were trying to find us, magic, secrets. I'm glad it was Rune to have found you." And not some villain, one to chew him up and spit the pulp. Clairvoyance wasn't one of his gifts. He didn't envy any with visions, but he knew a fortunate circumstance when it was looking at him.

"I could dispel some myths for you, but I think you already have a grasp. We're just people. Proud people, most of us are very proud, but we're people. I hope that's not a disappointment."

From the quarterdeck, Rune was busy filling a satchel with clothes, a hat box, and another book. Hector walked to the edge of the deck, staring at the city lit like fireflies in a forest.

"I don't... I don't go ashore. I was rescued the year before last. I owe Capitán my service."

Enoch: “Mm, I was on something of a mission to prove magic was real,” Enoch admitted, a faint smile touching his lips. “Strange occurrences had been happening around me, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it.”

Though admittedly, he had become rather distracted from that original goal.

“I’m glad he did too.”

The young mage gave a small nod; having already come to understand that much from the few individuals he had encountered so far.

“Oh?” His brows lifted slightly. “But is that not the point of being aboard one of these? To go out and explore the world?”

His gaze wandered across the ship’s deck.

As lovely as the vessel was, Enoch could not imagine never yearning for something beyond it eventually. Wouldn’t one grow restless in time?

Still, he did not pry further. He sensed perhaps something tragic had happened to this man, given his words and the tone his voice had taken.

Rune: The London breeze was less than flattering, carrying with it a very human, bodily scent. Within the span of a day, discontent had begun to fester in his feet and legs. The arousal he felt every second of every day morphed with restlessness. It wasn't affection he sought, but carnal, stupid animal needs.

Though he would never disrespect a holy man aboard this ship, he couldn't help but admire the man he had chosen. Staring at him eased the disquiet in his loins.

Had his gaze lingered indulgently? Staring at more than his expression, he admired his lips, the structure of his jaw, the width of his shoulders. Like staring at art on the wall. He had a feeling Rune felt the same, and often stared at this gentleman. What fantastic energy.

The breath through his nose was audible, breaking his silence as he looked away, but only momentarily. It was impolite to look elsewhere, after all.

"It feels small, doesn't it? But I've seen so much ocean, so many shores. My purpose is here. We all have a purpose. Tell me, before, you said there were strange occurrences?"

Enoch: They had been standing in the same spot for a little while now, and Enoch got the distinct impression that perhaps this man was studying him, trying to determine the sort of person he was rather than the fact that Hector was indulging in his physique.

The truth that the sailor was admiring him never once crossed the scholar’s mind. And the longer the silence stretched, the more self-conscious he became.

Had he somehow offended this sailor as well, like the one downstairs? The last thing Enoch wanted was for the crew to think him boorish, arrogant, or someone who considered himself above them.

The thought distracted him, trying to think of a way to make amends until the sailor finally replied.

“Ah, yes.” Enoch visibly relaxed. “We can walk and talk while you give me a tour of the rest of your ship?”

As he spoke, he shifted to flip open his satchel.

“If you don’t mind me taking notes,” he added with an apologetic little smile, “I can repay the favor by answering whatever questions you might have about London.”

Rune: Not a flat refusal, but ignoring the question completely. The most frustrating type of person, nearly impossible to have a straightforward conversation with. He would know, having tried to play the role of avoidant as a child. One couldn't simply hide in a tree all of Sunday, then pretend to be deaf when confronted. That is how one ends up nailed in a coffin of good intentions.

"I'm afraid the tour will be here. Renovations. But I will do my best."

What questions could he ask, when his mouth would be otherwise occupied with a tour? Clever, or desperate? Perhaps both?

Hector gestured beneath them. He began to explain the wheel and its mechanics. The rope which wrapped around it, disappearing into the stomach of the ship, attached to the tiller sweep, controlling the rudder.

"You can see the rudder, here, just a little, if you look over the side. This is the poop deck. Down there, the quarterdeck. There are six levels, seven including this one. Quarterdeck, upper gun deck, middle, lower, orlop, and the hold. The captain's quarters are directly beneath us," he gestured again to the skylight. "Down below, we have stores, a bakery, the best chef in the seven seas. The... steward's room is being adjoined to the pantry. We have a medical dispensary, a surgeon, mess hall, armory, carpenter, and arena. Renovations are for none of that, but, we would have to pass dangerous magic to reach the orlop. Spells to... condense space, and expand it. This ship is... a decent size. Large, yes, but, in human hands, most everyone would be sleeping in hammocks. No privacy. Capitán intends to end this. Below us, inside, it is a castle, and it's having growing pains."

Rune sat near the top of the stairs, arms on his knees, listening.

Enoch: Enoch blinked when it was announced that his tour would be rather short, or perhaps more accurately, limited to only these two areas. And yet, from the way the sailor described it, there seemed to be so much more hidden within this impossible vessel. Still, the blond made for an attentive audience. What truly caught his attention, however, was just how intricate the ship itself was. Stores. A bakery. An arena?

“This sounds like it’s its own city,” Enoch remarked, unable to hide the fascination in his voice. “You tell me all this, yet aren’t able to show me any of it,” he teased. “Shame on you for bringing my hopes up and dashing them in the same breath.”

There was unmistakable hunger in those blue eyes now, the scholar having been handed a tantalizing glimpse into a world of magic and wonder that remained frustratingly out of reach. His notebook was cracked open long enough to jot down a few notes he intended to expand upon later, the word castle underlined twice.

“Are you a mage as well?” he asked, glancing back toward Hector. “How does all of this function? Is it a group effort to sustain magic on this scale, or is your captain…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “I’m not even certain what the proper term would be.” A brief laugh escaped him through his nose as he realized perhaps, he was speaking too much.

“Forgive me. Magic is just… fascinating. It feels like an entire field of study unto itself, much like science. And if I’m being honest, it’s become something of a passion passed onto me.”

His gaze wandered toward the stairs, catching sight of his beloved before it returned to Hector.

Enoch: “You asked about London. Well, the strange occurrences that started all of this for me were things very much like this. Things that simply could not be explained.” A faint smile crossed his lips then. “I was looking for a man that no one could remember. I looked like a madman asking about him at a bar and that’s how I first crossed paths with your shipmate.”

It wasn’t that Enoch meant to avoid speaking about himself. It was simply that this world, this strange hidden life of ghosts, magic, and impossible ships, was infinitely more fascinating to him than anything he considered about himself.

Rune: There was that excitement Rune had written about. Hector’s shoulders bounced with a gentle laugh. By all means. Rather than bothered by the barrage, he nodded to every question, each statement, mouth shut and patient as the next came, and the next. Yes, it sounded like a city. He nodded. No, he shook his head, he couldn’t show him anything. This was a matter of trust. Did Enoch hear a single lie?

“Forgive me.” His hand over his heart, his tour guide bowed, his laugh finally audible.

The muscles in Rune’s abdomen tightened at the sound. Nothing. It was nothing. This was what he had wanted, and yet…

“Do you wish for me to answer first to last, or categorically?”

But there would be more, before he could reach for the first or second inquiry.

“I see. This man you couldn’t remember, do you… remember if you found him?”

Enoch: Truth be told, Enoch had been listening for lies, a subtle itch in his ear, unsure of what exactly to expect aboard a ship like this, especially the first one he had ever stepped foot upon. Surprisingly, though, he had sensed no trace of subterfuge from his tour guide so far, and it quietly helped dispel some of the unease and rumors he had carried with him.

At Hector’s laughter, the scholar visibly grew a touch sheepish. His enthusiasm had once again gotten the better of him, and he could already feel himself veering dangerously close to making a fool of himself.

"S-sorry. I'll try to pace myself."

But first, he had to answer the sailor.

“I… maybe?” he admitted uncertainly. “I wouldn’t remember if I had crossed paths with him, would I?” A thoughtful crease formed between his brows. “I rather lost track of that mission once I awakened.”

With that, he circled back to his own curiosity.

“Answer in whichever way makes the most sense to you,” Enoch said with an apologetic smile. “Though I should warn you, for every answer you give me, I’ll likely have ten more questions afterward.”

Rune: Hector noticed a shift of light and shadow from the stairs. The Euthanatos had climbed one more step. A foot closer to their conversation, yet not between it. He leaned against the stair rail, chin resting in his hand, watching, admiring, loving. He would much rather this, than some unknown familiar. The night crew were his family. Every last one. This man, known only two years, was one he would kill for.

And yet, every laugh between them, every tease was a reminder of his species. He felt the warmth of his sincerity on his skin. It was a feathery, almost arousing touch. He could only imagine what Enoch was feeling, if anything.

If anything.

"Please," a soft word, "be yourself." The question was answered with a helpless shrug. "To my understanding, some mages are powerful enough to be... forgettable. God, or whomever, designed them that way. You. Designed you that way. But to," his finger circled toward his shoulder, "you asked, um... if I am a mage. Would you like for me to start there?"

Enoch: “Yes, that’s what I’ve been told as well. Useful as it might be at times when I wish to disappear from my students.”

The professor’s fingers flexed slightly around the notebook in his grasp, tightening briefly against the worn leather tome he carried everywhere with him. It grounded him in a way, part of the armor he wore into unfamiliar situations and perhaps the only indication the Euthanatos would get if Hector’s charms were having some effect on Enoch at all.

“Sure,” the scholar agreed with a small smile. “Sounds as good a place as any to begin our interview.”

Rune: "Is that what this is? We're having an interview now? First an exhausting tour of every nook and cranny, and now we interview? Ay, ay, ay! Please. Pull up a chair."

There were no chairs, only the floor, which Hector settled on. The pair were within eyeshot, now.

Enoch: “We climbed a set of stairs and you sold me the idea of what the rest of the ship might look like,” Enoch corrected, though his gaze remained easy, carrying a flicker of playfulness rather than any true accusation.

“Mhm.”

For now, the scholar accommodated, moving to sit across from Hector. His attention briefly flickered toward his lover, wondering whether Rune intended to join the conversation now that they were closer.

“As you were, Hector…” He trailed off for a beat, realizing he had not actually caught the man’s full name to properly document it in the notebook already resting open in his lap.

Rune: No further movement from the stairs, though an argument could be made that he had joined them. There was no pretending he wasn't a bystander. All for the sake of Enoch's peace of mind. He could have his interview; time was of no importance.

"Mm. Hector Tallulah Sanz Flores. I've never been interviewed before."

He glanced at his old shipmate, as though he had said something.

"Capitán wasn't - it wasn't an interview."

Enoch: There were a handful of glances cast toward Rune throughout the entirety of the visit, subtle little checks Enoch made in an attempt to read his body language and gauge his feelings on the situation without outright asking him.

The mage was giving him an opportunity to explore this hidden part of his life through the people he had spent the most time with. In its own way, it was rather sweet. They could hardly sail across the sea to visit Rune’s Dutch shores and childhood home as they had done with Bath.

“I… was mostly kidding. I wasn’t seriously going to interview you,” Enoch admitted with a soft laugh.

“But if you truly would like me to, I can.” His smile warmed slightly. “And may I say, you have a fantastic name. I don’t think I’ve heard the name Tallulah anytime recently—if ever.”

That, too, found its way into the notebook.

“Alright,” he said as he settled more comfortably into the conversation. “If we’re truly to do this, Hector, where are you from, and what exactly are you, if not a mage?”

Rune: They were both looking at him now, making him consider if going below deck was worth the danger. His presence had become an interruption. To say anything would be to invite himself where he didn't want to be invited.

"Mostly?" Enoch received Hector's undivided attention once more. "Rune didn't tell me you're a trickster." It had come from his mouth, after all.

The mage leaned forward, his own mouth opening, closed. Alma Moses was waving him down - or anyone, it was hard to tell from the top yard. Reason enough to excuse himself with a quick bow.

And there went their buffer, in a suit, climbing the shroud as though he had never left.

"I was picked up in Mexico. I'd never lived anywhere else. The world was just books, before, and what came to port." The young man, an actual young man among the masquerading, scoffed and scratched his chin. "I'm stalling, forgive me. I um... well, my mother is human. My father... my father is an incubus. That makes me a cambion."

Enoch: "Me? A trickster?"

That was certainly a first for the scholar, and admittedly, it amused him more than he expected. It almost even got a reaction out of the Euthanatos beside them.

But before Rune could properly be drawn into the conversation, the mage was gone, leaving the blond alone with his shipmate.

Enoch turned his attention fully back to Hector, already intrigued the moment books were mentioned, and even more so by what exactly the man himself was.

“I don’t believe I’ve heard of a being like that before.”

That detail, too, earned a place within the notebook.

“And what exactly does that mean for you when it comes to magic and its uses?”

Rune: Ankles crossed as he turned his attention heavenward, looking for stars in the light polluted sky. Only masts, seagulls, and crew.

"I'm not sure if what I do is magic, or if it's something demonic. It's what I am, you see. My father, he could do terrible things. I've only read about him. His kind. I know it to be true, because," a pause, finding Rune high above, securing gaskets with even more crew ascending to assist. "There are those, the faithful, their presence can... well, sometimes it stings."

Yet the man didn't flinch, didn't frown.

"I'm afraid I'm taking the scenic route again. What I am, what I do, my world revolves around healing. Sexual healing, and sleep. Those with insomnia, those with terrible nightmares, fear of sleep, they come to me. With their permission, I join them in their dreams, walk their demesne. That is my role, my purpose."

Enoch: The scholar listened, allowing Hector the floor without interruption. Eventually, however, his gaze followed the sailor’s upward.

For a moment, Enoch simply watched in quiet awe as members of the crew moved about the ship, working. It was amazing how easy they made it look. But...one of them in particular caught his attention enough that he blinked.

Was that...Rune?

The scholar was momentarily distracted and nearly missed what Hector had just said.

Did he say sexual healing?

That had his attention, Enoch reaching up to adjust his glasses as the other continued.

"But only a service you provide for your crewmates since you don't visit off shore and meet others, yes?"

Rune: "That's right. Everyone is here because we've been promised freedom. These are the outcasts, the scorn. Including myself. Everyone here has a story, and many are as heavy as anchors. I make my rounds each shift, assist those who allow it."

His fingernails scraped idlly on the floor.

"The day before we arrived here, before, Rune very nearly went overboard. Sleepwalking. He doesn't let me help."

Enoch: Enoch almost found himself bringing up his own experience with the sleepwalker, but he held his tongue at the last second.

He wasn’t entirely certain what Rune had or had not shared about the two of them, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally overstep and reveal something the mage preferred remain private.

“So how does one enter a demesne?” he asked instead, leaning forward slightly. “And how much are you actually able to interact with while inside one?”

Rune: "You haven't?" He pointed between the man on the floor with him, and the man high above. "That surprises me. To enter someone else's demesne, you go through the door of your own. Some people don't have doors. They don't want any visitors, just their own private universe. But if you've made a door, you've made a jumping off point. On the other side of your door is everything in the Astral Realms. Say, I enter your dream. I'm a visitor, you're my host. I can interact some. I can change my clothes, the color of the trees, maybe, the music. The landscape belongs to the host. Except, those with exceptional power of the mind," he added, fingers tapping against his temple. "Then it doesn't matter who is the host."

Enoch: There was a noticeable hesitation in response to that question.

Rune likely had not shared the details of their shared dream, nor the fact that they had interacted with one another believing they were painted reflections of each other.

Warmth crept across Enoch’s cheeks at the memory, though he kept his attention fixed firmly on Hector instead as he listened.

The insight proved useful, and a few more hurried notes found their way into the notebook resting in his lap.

Perhaps he ought to try again someday and show Rune the parts of his demesne that no longer entirely felt like his own.

"Interesting..." And the blond had gotten lost in his thoughts, the silence stretching as he stared at the notebook.

Rune: "Hm." Hector's smile returned. Fingertips glided across his lips. Must have been potent, he thought, to feel his heat from this distance.

"Dreams and demesne are different," he continued. "You can't alter someone's home, but you can dreams. That's how you know you're in one."

The crew were beginning their descent. It was the gentle roll of thunder above that had spurred action. A storm wanting to shed its woes in the city. It tickled the cambion, how easily one could resume old roles.

"You've been having troubles," he said, softly. "He's come to us for advice. If you would like, pretend I didn't say anything. But if not, I can correspond with you. Doesn't have to be about anything important. Can be anything you need."

Enoch: Enoch glanced up at the mention of the two terms, realizing he had accidentally conflated them. Though more importantly, it left him briefly wondering whether Hector might also be capable of hearing his thoughts.

Especially when the sailor brought up Enoch’s rather particular predicament with his avatar. His brows furrowed for a moment before slowly easing again as he gave a small nod.

“Yes. It’s… peculiar, given what I’ve been told about avatars.” His voice lowered thoughtfully. “Mine is not the most helpful.”

Ever since their visit to the manor, Raine had been ever-present. Always standing somewhere just at the left edge of Enoch’s peripheral vision like a silent statue. At times the scholar would think he heard Raine speaking to him, only to look over and find nothing but the avatar watching him with those soulless eyes. The thing was like an unsettling doppelgänger wearing his own face.

“Perhaps,” he continued after a beat, attempting a faint smile, “I require a specialist such as yourself to root around and determine whether something in particular has gone wrong with my demesne.”

Rune: The cambion leaned forward, legs crossed, chin resting on laced fingers. That undivided attention again. The men echoing orders from the masts, the returning crew with their shouting and laughter, the breeze, birds, nothing else existed on this deck but Enoch Neumann.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, I've never had one." The statement was said as though an apology. This was what he had been told. An odd, intimidating figure in Enoch's life. A hinderance, rather than empowerment. The mages aboard had said the same as everyone else; avatars were a reflection of the soul, incapable of true harm. The demon could give no opinion on what he did not possess, neither could the druids, or immortals, or anyone else. But he felt his role was not yet useless.

"But I can help you with sleep. If you're willing, and with Rune's blessing, I would have to sleep beside you. I'm not yet strong enough to find people without touch. Not quickly. Most of the night would be spent searching, otherwise."

Enoch: This setting was hardly conducive to keeping the scholar’s attention fixed solely on the cambion before him. It took genuine effort not to glance toward the sailors shouting across the deck. There was simply too much to look at, too much happening all at once. But the subject at hand demanded his focus.

“If half of you is human,” Enoch mused thoughtfully, “then I wonder what exactly dictates the threshold for wielding magic and possessing an avatar…” More a thought experiment to revisit later than an actual question. “Did you have an imaginary friend growing up?” he asked suddenly, unable to stop himself before the conversation drifted too far from the topic.

Though the offer to help with his demesne was an appreciated distraction, though the way how did give Enoch pause. And then Rune’s name had been brought into it.

It was strange.

No one had ever acknowledged it. Their relationship existed only in his apartment and a few stolen moments outside of it, the subject taboo enough to be criminalized. But here, aboard this impossible ship filled with awakened beings and sailors who existed outside ordinary society, there seemed to be no judgment attached to it at all.

What freedom there was in that. To be seen without scrutiny…without expectation. Warmth spread faintly across his face, and his gaze dipped toward the notebook resting in his lap, though he felt a sense of giddiness at the realization.

“…I suppose yes,” he admitted after a moment. “That’s likely how it would have to work, since…” His eyes lifted back toward Hector again. “It would have to be aboard the ship, wouldn’t it?”

Rune: The question was one he had asked himself from the very first witch's introduction, and every mage since. There were mages who could dreamwalk, split realities and walk the realms of the dead, and yet, why was he not one of them? Why was demon his sole title? Many days and nights of reflection had led to his ultimate conclusion: this was his lot in life. There was no escaping what he was, hiding behind something else. A demon was a demon.

"Imaginary? No," he smiled. But, there was something behind his eyes. An unspoken thought he would pocket for a later opening.

Affirmation returned his gaze, smile falling with surprise.

"Oh, I..." His chest swelled, stretching his suspenders. "As I said, I-I don't... go ashore. I can't. I'm so sorry. But... the upper deck is almost finished, and the quarterdeck. There is a place where we can sleep."

"You mean to take Rhys' quarters?" The sound of Rune's voice might as well have been a clap of thunder. Rounded shoulders tightened in, then relaxed.

"He would understand."

"You could come with us to -" Hector was already shaking his head.

Rune lowered to the floor hip first, arm on his knee. It was a matter of seconds, three at most, with a gentle unspoken argument filling the silence between them.

The Euthanatos sighed.

"How are you getting on?" Rune looked to Enoch.

Enoch: The blond had noticed that look in Hector’s eyes, though before he could press further on it, the conversation had already moved on.

“Right, you did mention that.”

And while he was undeniably curious to know what exactly kept the man from ever stepping ashore, they were hardly acquainted enough for that degree of familiarity. Yet somehow, they were talking about sharing a bed. What a very strange life he seemed to lead these days.

Enthralled as he was by the conversation, both he and Hector startled slightly at Rune’s sudden voice joining them again. Blue eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses lifted toward his companion, and Enoch nodded in response.

“I believe it’s going well,” he answered with a faint smile. “He has yet to grow tired of my endless questions, which I consider promising.”

Rune: "I don't see how I could. It's only a matter of keeping up with them. I'm aware I've left a few by the wayside. Please forgive me."

"And before the night's over, he'll apologize at least three more times."

This time, Hector's smile strained a little. "I'm s - mm. I don't always apologize."

"I know. You're so frustratingly polite."

Rune gave Enoch's knee a squeeze, waiting for his attention, to study the nuance of his face, his aura. Waiting to read a sign that they should show themselves out. Was he fine, truly?

"What have you left out?" he asked, hand falling to his lap.

"The... ah. What makes the ship function."

"Oh. Magic. Of course," Rune smirked.

Enoch: Enoch would not hold that against the cambion. Hector was already being a remarkably good sport about the entire ordeal.

“There’s nothing wrong with being polite,” he defended mildly, feeling somewhat compelled to do so given that he, too, very much fell into that category.

But the thought was interrupted by the gentle squeeze to his knee, prompting him to look up and meet Rune’s gaze. It was his silent way of checking in and the scholar appreciated it.

"Hoi."

He was fine. Turns out sitting down and having an informal interview was the quickest way for the scholar to regain his bearings.

And while he appreciated Rune's company, that particular response earned the mage a light smack against the knee with the back of Enoch’s notebook.

"Excuse me, I wasn't asking you."

Rune: That little word was all he needed. Their world was safe and for the moment, quiet... enough.

"Ow." The mage feigned injury, rubbing his knee and scowling.

"I'm afraid the truth is nearly as blunt. Deniz protects the ship. Rune has reenforced the durability of the wood, is that right?"

"Mm. The wood down in the hold, every few years."

"And it is you and Raeni to bring luck to the ship," Hector continued. "Finn brings good weather. He's our resident alchemist," he added, nodding to Enoch.

Enoch: A small smile played at Enoch’s lips at the mage’s reaction, his eyes lingering briefly across those features before returning to Hector once more.

“But your explanation comes with considerably more context than his.”

The scholar shifted slightly, propping his knees up as his arms draped loosely across them while he considered it all. In a way, everyone aboard seemed to serve a purpose, magic user or otherwise.

"Alchemist, eh? Probably someone else I'd get on with."

Rune: Hector was struggling not to appear obvious. He was smiling like a loon as the pair, biting on his cheeks to save himself - no, not himself. To prevent Enoch from blushing. The heat radiating off of their bodies was almost enough to sustain him. He tried not to think about it, but, it was his nature.

"You would get along with a lot more than you presume. Your hands are soft now, but you would make a fine addition."

"Don't fill his head with daydreams. He's a city boy," Rune finally grinned.

Enoch: He could feel Hector’s eyes on him while he stared at his companion, and perhaps it was the cambion’s fault, or simply his own growing desires, that for a fleeting moment Enoch found himself wanting to push the mage onto his back and continue their playful banter, but this was not the time or place to act like teenage boys.

“I believe I would be terribly seasick all the time,” Enoch admitted with a soft chuckle, “though I imagine it would at least make catching fish considerably easier.”

Rune earned a nudge to his shoulder from the scholar.

"Oi," he started to protest, "I can be adventurous."

Rune: "As was I, at first." Hector wasn't afraid of admitting his faults. Rune had never been caught mal de mer, but the man had spent more years at sea than Hector had on this earth. "Even on canoes. My grandfather would take me fishing. I had a terrible time."

"And yet here you are, trying to make an innocent scholar sick. What is this, revenge?"

The cambion laughed. He had never heard the mage make jokes before. Not like this. Dry, expressionless humor, yes, but this was... different.

A hum and a sigh later, Hector looked between them.

"Will you allow me to help you, Enoch?"

Enoch: “Ah! My grandfather used to take me fishing as well. Did you also feel bad for the fish and throw them back afterward?”

Between his politeness and shared experiences, Hector was quickly becoming rather likable in the scholar’s eyes.

Enoch smiled faintly as he pulled his knees in a little closer, loosely encircling them with his arms while he looked between the two sailors. There was something oddly lovely about this. Just sitting around and talking about nothing of consequence with company he did not feel obligated to perform for.

Here, he wasn’t a biochemist. Truthfully, his education did not seem to matter at all here, and that realization felt unexpectedly freeing, like a breath of fresh air after years spent carefully curating himself around colleagues, faculty, and expectations. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing he had more friendships like this.

“Oh…”

At the mention of his demesne again, his gaze shifted instinctively toward Rune as though expecting the mage to answer for him.

“I mean, if we think it would help any,” Enoch said after a moment. “Honestly, I could simply have a very odd avatar and be making a storm in a teacup.”

Rune: "I can't say I did, but I would much rather swim with them."

Rune nodded along. Was it wrong to miss this, he wondered. The life he led was a loving one. His choice. The man to his right was his honor. This was a chapter of his life free of regret, but that wasn't to say he had fallen out of love with what had once been. One would simply destroy him to live without. The other was the sea.

You will have it again.

Rune looked to his right, to the sky. Ruine? His hand returned to Enoch's knee.

"What we've done, he does better. So I'm told."

"I cannot alter anything in your demesne against your will, but I can see it. I can walk you through how to shape your environment. I will see whatever you wish for me to see."

"So, hammering a note to Rhys' door," Rune muttered. He looked to Enoch again. "If we do this, I'm watching over you all night, or I'm sleeping beside you. That's all there is to it."

Enoch: “I can get behind swimming. It’s been far too long since I last went for one.”

The last lake he had swum in was the very one where he had awakened.

His gaze drifted toward the mage, realizing that swimming had been one of the things he had hoped they might do while in Bath. At the time, however, Rune had been far too ill to spend an afternoon in the creek. Perhaps on a future visit.

His attention settled on the hand resting atop his knee. It took the scholar a moment to respond because years of social conditioning had taught him to be cautious. Here, though, it was different. His own hand came to rest atop Rune’s, fingers curling lightly around it.

His attention remained on his lover before flickering briefly to Hector and then back again. The mage knew him far too well, and that realization was both humbling and comforting. His fingers gave Rune’s a gentle squeeze.

“And there is truly nothing I can say to convince you to come ashore if we are to do this?” he gently asked Hector. “You would likely have better luck getting me to sleep in my apartment. No offense to what I imagine are perfectly fine accommodations aboard this ship.”

Rune: The silence wasn't awkward, not to Hector and least of all to Rune. Hector turned his attention to the sky, wondering which details of this encounter was going in his diary. Rune was getting tunnel vision. He wanted to know everything Enoch was thinking, yet only caught the abstract. He could spend all night letting everything flow from his head like a freed river. But this ship would eventually be gone, and the cambion with it.

The subject again. The one Rune had already pressed. Hector's shoulders tightened inward, knees brought to his chest. The mage let air into his lungs intentionally, slowly, refusing the muscles of his abdomen to tighten and brace.

"The last time I was... ashore... my lover was killed by his father, a sexton." Tilting his head, the cambion exposed scratch mark scars along his neck. He tilted again, the same on the other side.

"Because of me, a father killed his son, and a son killed his father. Don't ask it of me, Enoch. I promise, you will sleep."

Enoch: He had not meant any harm by the question, not knowing the history behind it or the weight it carried until now. By the time Enoch noticed the shift in Hector’s body language, it was already too late. He had missed the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere and spare the sailor from having to explain himself.

But tragedy seemed to be a common thread woven through this ship. Between Rune and Hector, Enoch could not help but feel a quiet sadness for them both.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Somehow, he had managed to mar the jovial mood they had been sharing only moments before.

Drawing in a slow breath, he let it out just as gradually, his attention settling on the grain of the wood by his feet. After a moment, he offered Hector a small nod without quite meeting his eyes.

“When do you propose we do this?”

Rune: Well, there it was. Not a can't, but a won't. Rather than a slave to Captain Nachim's whims, he was a willing cardinal in a cage of his creation, the key on his side of the bars. It wasn't Rune's place to warn; it wasn't his story to tell.

But neither man wanted to see the young mage wilt.

"I'm sorry," Hector said to his feet, daring to look up with clean eyes. "For what I..."

Rune held up a single finger, determined to put a stop to that sentence. "How many did I say, three?"

The demon smiled, grateful. "Whenever you're ready. I don't suspect you'll wish to be here in the morning. That's when it's the loudest."

"On deck you lovely dregs!" Rune mocked, arms open wide. "Time for head count. Is anyone flotsam?" The pair laughed.

Enoch: “This most certainly wasn’t how I planned to spend my evening either,” he admitted, his gaze lifting toward Rune. The sight of the mage’s antics was enough to coax a smile back onto his face. The sailors were laughing again, and just like that, the tension seemed to dissolve.

“I think not,” Enoch agreed. A significantly larger gathering of shipmates sounded rather daunting, and he was not entirely certain he was prepared to meet that many new faces all at once.

“Well, we haven’t had dinner yet. Perhaps after we get a bite to eat?” He paused, considering it for a moment. “Hm. Is there any food you miss that you haven’t been able to get aboard the ship? Perhaps I could pick something up and bring it back. It’ll allow me to get some things from home as well.”

Rune: "Certainly none of this was planned," said Rune.

"But here we are," Hector concluded.

Talk of leaving the ship had the mage gathering to his feet. For a brief moment, Hector's heart sank with a deep, unsettling feeling. He didn't want them to leave. Desperately, in the span of a breath in, a breath out, he feared he might never see them again. Silly, he told himself, but his hand still clutched his chest, reluctantly following along.

"I doubt you'll find chiles en nogada in London." He bit his lip, hand on the railing. "What are you having? English food is still new to me. Show me what you like." He felt in his tan coat for his money. A hand landed on his head, scratching his scalp and ruffling his hair.

"Stop. We won't be long."

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