#fwhornoth

Note: They are speaking elvish when the words are in {brackets} and common when they are not. Xornoth is an elf and Fwhip is an elfling (half elf, half human)

“It’s getting late,” Xornoth murmured, rubbing at his tired eyes. In his defense, it was the middle of the night. If he were to glance out the window, he would be met with nothing but dark skies and distant stars.

Xornoth was sitting at a meeting table within Grimland’s castle, elbows on the smooth surface and long purple hair falling into his face. His wings were spread out, laying limply on the armrests beside him because Grimland didn’t have many backless chairs. The Magenta bloodline had too much human in it to make wings not a significant genetic probability, meaning the Grimland castle didn’t tend to cater towards those with wings.

Normally, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so informal during a meeting with another empire, but he and Fwhip had literally been there all day, and he wished he was exaggerating that fact. They were trying to figure out their mutual problem plaguing Rivendell and Grimland, and it was taking far much more effort than it should. Why couldn’t the citizens causing problems protest peacefully instead of taking such a violent and destructive route?

“When has it being late ever stopped us?” Fwhip remarked, leaning back in his chair with two chair legs in the air and his notebook resting on his freckled face. Xornoth wasn’t sure how he could keep his neck bent back like that without it hurting, much less be comfortable. Part of Xornoth hoped that Fwhip would prop himself and the chair back too far, causing him to fall backwards. It would be funny, at the very least. Hilarious, even. Xornoth could use a good laugh.

Fwhip’s ginger hair was messy and unkempt, moreso now than before because his goggles had been discarded on the table’s surface. They often acted like a headband when he wasn’t using them in the forge, but he removed them over an hour ago because they were starting to irritate his head. He had been wearing them since he got dressed the morning before, after all.

Xornoth had expected Fwhip to remove his signature red scarf as well, assuming that would be even more irritating, but it stayed wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t as tightly bound as it usually was, though. One would only have to tug at the end with little force and it would pull off of him. With the scarf as it was, Xornoth could count freckles usually hidden, and he did in hopes of keeping his mind awake. 

“Unfortunately true,” Xornoth sighed, stretching out his arms and wings at the same time. A few joints in his shoulders popped and the muscles around his wing roots ached something fierce. Xornoth winced from the cracking, muttering elven curses underneath his breath. He needed to see a healer or something again to see if they could ease the pain. All of this excess flying back and forth that he’d been engaging in lately was causing far too many problems. “I should head back though. I can only look at your face so much before I start going insane.”

“Xornoth.” Fwhip sat up to stare at him, deadpan as the notebook fell to his lap and the chair dropped so all four legs were on the ground. They’ve ditched formal titles long ago, not bothering calling each other “King” or “Count”. “Are you really thinking of flying back to Rivendell in the middle of the night? I can guarantee that most people are asleep right now!” Xornoth simply sucked in his lips and scrunched his nose, nonverbally communicating to Fwhip that that was exactly what his plan was. Fwhip pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated groan. “Xornoth, I know how long it takes to fly to your castle— it’s a long ass time, I’ve done it myself too many times to count— and you don’t even have one of my speedy rocket fueled elytras to help speed it up! Plus, your back is clearly bothering you— you’re not subtle— and it’s way too dark to see.”

Xornoth flattened his mouth into a thin line, summoning some fire onto his fingertips for a moment before extinguishing the flames. “What do you suppose I do then? It’s far too late to bother your servants to prepare a room, if they really are asleep as you say everyone is...” “You’ll stay in my room, duh,” Fwhip rolled his eyes, talking as if it's the most obvious thing ever. “My bed is huge! I am Count, after all. And, if cuddling with the homies is too gay for you, I can go spend the night in Gem’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind; we’ve done it before.” Xornoth eyed the elfling suspiciously. “Why would you give up your room for me? Or be willing to sleep beside me?” “You elves are too skeptical,” Fwhip started to speak. “You’re half elf,” Xornoth interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Look, Xornoth, I know we’ve had some arguments and some little tiffs in the past, but I don't hate you. I never have and, frankly, you annoy me a lot less than some of the other emperors. I’d much rather share a bed with you  than, say, Sausage. That guy has some problems, let me tell you, and he’s pretty handsy when he’s sleep deprived.” Ignoring the bit about the ruler of Mythland, that was high praise coming from Fwhip, especially from Fwhip to Xornoth. Rivendell and Grimland, in general, had never been too close to each other despite being next door neighbors in terms of empire location. That relationship only soured after an incident between their respective siblings, Scott and Gem, but that was over eight years ago. 

“‘Sides, you are queerplatonic partners with Pearl,” Fwhip shrugged, continuing his sleep deprived ramble, “and she’s more or less like a— I wouldn’t say sister for we’re not that close— but she’s like a cousin to me. Eh, maybe not a cousin either, but you know what I mean. We’re close. If she likes you that much, there must be something there. Plus, I’ve spent far too much time looking at your face to not start to like what I see. If I didn’t, I may have gone fuckin’ insane. And, and we can just be in a mutual agreement that we don’t talk about this after tomorrow morning. Simple as that.”

Xornoth ran his tongue against the back of his teeth, keeping himself collected despite the fact Fwhip had basically said he found him attractive, that knowledge doing Aeor knows what to him. While he may be aromantic, that didn’t mean he didn’t experience other forms of attraction. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t felt something towards Fwhip as well, but he had simply pushed those thoughts away. Xornoth never thought it may be reciprocated, and he was with Pearl, though they both have discussed the topic of potential polyamory in the past…

Still, Xornoth didn’t acknowledge it, tucking that information away to not be addressed later. Instead, he let a teasing smirk grow on his face as he raised an eyebrow. “Are you claiming you aren’t already ‘fuckin’ insane’?” Fwhip snorted at his comment and flipped him off, causing Xornoth to snicker in response. Fwhip’s face contorted as he tried to muffle a yawn. “Ugh, I’m beat. You can sleep here or sleep with me, but I’m going to get ready for bed. Make your choice; I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince you anymore.” Xornoth had spent plenty of nights fast asleep, slumped forward onto his desk, and it wasn’t something he wanted to willingly repeat. His back hated whenever he did that, making sure to express its discontent with sharp pains and stiff muscles the next day.

That being said, he made his choice and followed Fwhip toward the royal wing. The aesthetics of the halls were similar to the rest of the castle, dimly lit, with lots of sculptures, and red and black theming. There were plenty of redstone elements scattered around as well, but Xornoth wasn’t sure if they had always been there or if they were something Fwhip had added sometime during his rule. He didn’t ask.

Moving only made Xornoth more aware of his sore limbs, exhaustion pulling at him with every step. Xornoth tried to pretend it wasn’t hurting him, but he must not have been doing a very good enough job at it. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was because he’d spent enough time around the other emperor that Fwhip was starting to pick up on his mannerisms. Either way, Xornoth recognized that Fwhip noticed he was struggling, but that knowledge stayed unspoken between them… at least for now.

“I don’t think I have any clothes that can fit you,” Fwhip commented as they entered the room. “I could maybe find some pants, but I don’t have anything that would accommodate your wings.”

“I’ll just take off a few layers and sleep in what I have.” Rivendell was in a much colder place than Grimland, so Rivendellians tended to wear a lot more layers no matter what time of year it was.

Fwhip nodded in acknowledgement before grabbing some garments to change into and going behind the privacy screen. Since Xornoth wasn’t fully stripping, he stayed where he was to “change”, putting all the extra clothing and jewelry in a neat pile. Luckily, his base trousers were made from fine wool, making them not the worst thing to sleep in, and his base shirt was a backless halter top, giving his wings plenty of space to move around

“Uh, Xornoth?” Fwhip had been part way into changing when he spoke up, clearly hesitant.

“Yes?” Xornoth paused what he was doing. He had sat down on one side of his bed, idly straightening out some of his feathers.

“You know I… bind, right?” Xornoth hated the way Fwhip’s voice went small. “To make my… pecs… flatter?”

“So does Pearl, occasionally.” Xornoth knew first hand that gender was a strange concept. Personally, he didn’t really understand having a strong association to a gender as a gender apathetic agender person, but he knew many other people had such a thing. While strange, it was also, at its core principles, a simple concept. Fwhip said he was a boy and introduced himself as a boy, so he was a boy. It was as easy as that! It didn’t matter whatever he chose to do to present how he wanted to. “I’m not going to judge, nor do I care what’s under your shirt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not sure why you care about my opinion, though.”

Fwhip scoffed, though Xornoth didn’t detect any scorn with it. “Well, I’m not binding to bed, not wanting to fuck up my ribs and all that, so if I catch you staring, we’re going to have to have a chat.” “If I stare, it’ll be respectfully,” Xornoth decided to tease, feeling comfortable enough (and maybe a tad delirious) to jest with Fwhip. He seemed open to it based on his comment and tone, at the very least. Plus, teasing each other on and off was part of what their working relationship was built on.

Thankfully, Fwhip was receptive to it, proven by a loud, sputtering yet amused laugh. Xornoth grinned at that, pleased that he managed to put Fwhip’s concerns to rest. Shy and hesitant weren’t good looks on such a typically confident and unapologetically brash man. “Can I come out?” “Is you being queer not already common knowledge?” Xornoth asked rhetorically before he fully thought it through. 

“Coming out” was a term used for when people became public with whatever terms they used, though it was more often used when it came to gender than sexuality. There was no “default sexuality”, but some areas subscribed heavily to gender roles, making the term needed in order to describe an experience many face. Xornoth understood it only partly because, being gender apathetic but agender, he tended to use masculine terms for himself simply because it was easier than “correcting” everyone.

“I’m flipping you off from behind the privacy divider,” Fwhip informed him with a cackle. “I just wanted to know if you were dressed, dumbass. I don’t know about you, but I would like to get to my bed.”

“Yeah, I only took off a few layers. You can come out,” Xornoth couldn’t resist continuing the bit. He knew his public image could be intimidating and put together, and he very much was like that at times, but, when in the company of those he was comfortable around, he liked being more… silly? Who knows, it was probably all those years he spent around Pearl rubbing off on him.

“You’re impossible.” Xornoth could almost hear Fwhip’s eye roll as he walked around the privacy wall and into view.

Neither of them spoke as they took in each other’s appearance, both in a state of dress (or, perhaps, undress?) they weren’t used to seeing the other in. Fwhip’s heterochromatic eyes wandered from Xornoth’s exposed collarbone all the way down his bare arms to his hands. Xornoth found himself enjoying the attention.

Fwhip, for better or for worse, was wearing an oversized baggy shirt, but he was wearing shorts. Xornoth didn’t think he’s ever seen Fwhip in shorts, even during the summer months. Was it just something he did to sleep? Either way, Xornoth was pleased to notice that he also had freckles sprinkled on his toned legs. Speaking of his legs, Xornoth had never realized just how much strength Fwhip carried in them. He knew that Fwhip’s arms got worked out a lot while he messed around in the royal forge, but his legs must have received similar treatment over the years.

Fwhip cleared his throat and they both tore their gazes away from one another, neither acknowledging that they had been checking the other emperor out. It’s not like they did anything wrong! Xornoth has admired plenty of people’s beauty before. It was only natural, especially since elves were known to be inhumanly beautiful. 

At least they were according to some ancient human folklore from sometime long before the empires were as they were today. Based on experience, Xornoth would like to confirm, but he’s also spotted plenty of beautiful fae, humans, and oceanfolk in the past. There were also gnomes, but they were far too short for him so he barely glanced in their direction unless it was for something political or business related.

“Before we go to bed, I have some muscle soreness cream if you want me to rub that in,” Fwhip offered, as he opened a drawer and pulled out a small tin. “Gem concocted it for me to help when I overdo it in the forge. It works really well and it is fast acting, lasting for about twelve hours before the effects start to wear off.” “Uh,” Xornoth hesitated dumbly, not used to people other than Scott and Pearl touching his back, especially not so close to his wing roots. He fluffed out his wings subconsciously before biting down hard on his tongue as a wave of agony shot throughout his back and wings in all directions. It’ll be fine. It wasn’t like Fwhip was going to preen his wings! “If you want to, sure.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing, {wings,}” Fwhip tutted, sharply outlining a circle in the air as a direction. “Now turn around.” “{Wings?}” Xornoth repeated the nickname, highly amused. Still, he obeyed, turning his exposed back to Fwhip. From there, he slipped into using elven instead of common, like they had been using the entire time before. “{Did you really use ‘wings’ as a nickname?}”

“{Yeah, so?}” Fwhip, stubborn as always, stuck by the choice of name usage he made with his sleepy brain. He removed the top to the tin and scooped some of the ointment onto his fingers. “{What, would you prefer ‘back muscles'? Or ‘angel’?}”

“{‘Angel’? Ha, alright! I didn’t think you thought that high of me, rose boy.}” Xornoth took the opportunity to throw in his own nickname for Fwhip since the opportunity presented itself to him. They were terms they would likely only use in private to avoid the other emperors’ unnecessary comments and input, but Xornoth quite liked the idea of Fwhip calling him “{wings}” or “{angel}”, more than he probably should.

“{My view of you is actually on the floor, if you couldn’t tell by how I’m letting you share my bed tonight,}” Fwhip quipped back sarcastically as he lathered the ointment generously around the wing roots. Xornoth could feel with great sensitivity whenever Fwhip used broad movements and when he ran his fingers against the natural curves of his defined back muscles from a near lifetime of flying. “{‘Fallen Angel’ would probably be more accurate, but I can’t be bothered. It’s too long.}”

“{Mhm, okay, sure, rose boy. Whatever makes you sleep better at night,}” Xornoth dismissed with a “I know the truth” inflection to his voice. If Fwhip’s hands weren’t currently occupied, Xornoth would expect him to flip him off again.

They didn’t speak beyond that, falling into a peaceful silence as Fwhip rubbed the ointment into his back. Xornoth could feel it working its magic, literally, and it helped him relax, so much so that he struggled to stay upright. His eyes fluttered close, focusing on nothing but the pleasant sensations of Fwhip’s touch and the ointment’s effects. Eventually, Fwhip pulled his hands away, followed by the soft sound of the lid being snapped to its tin. Xornoth couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at that.

“We should sleep,” Fwhip murmured, his exhaustion seeping through his partly slurred words. “My headache is only gettin’ worse.”

“M’kay,” Xornoth murmured back, already half asleep. He staggered to his feet so he could actually get under the blankets instead of simply sitting on top of them. He climbed into bed, facing toward Fwhip so his wings could stretch out off the bed. Xornoth didn’t want to accidentally smack Fwhip with his wings in his sleep. “G’night, Fwhip.”

Fwhip didn’t answer at first, and Xornoth didn’t open his eyes to see if Fwhip was still awake. Instead, he let himself start drifting off, and that was when he heard an airy reply, so low that Xornoth wasn’t sure if Fwhip thought he would hear it, “{Goodnight, angel.}”