#luxxrays

Sitting up, they adjusted the mask, squinting in the dark at the figure beside them.

"Mushy?" They questioned, rubbing their eyes and pushing their hair out of their face.

Musrio had his face buried in his hands, claws fisting in his hair. He was trembling, his breathing ragged in his throat.

Drayco extended a hand about to touch his shoulder, before they hesitated.

"Hey, Mush. Musrio. Can you hear me?"

The rustblood let out a strangled whine, his grip on his hair tightening. Drayco would usually ask before touching, but this time they reached up, carefully and gently coaxing Musrio's fingers open.

"Hey, babe, you're gonna hurt yourself. Stop." They said softly. Musrio's fingers tried to tighten again, but Drayco pulled their hands out.

So instead, the rustblood pulled his knees up to his chest, his hand like a vice around Drayco's.

The bronzeblood put a hand on his shoulder, a forewarning before they pulled Musrio against their side and wrapped their arms around him.

"Another nightmare?" They asked softly, shifting around Musrio's large horns to get comfortable.

The rustblood made a noise that vaguely resembled a yes, pulling his hands in to cover his face.

"What was it this time?"

"Mngh."

"You dying?" Drayco guessed.

"..." No answer.

"Me dying?"

"..."

"Our death day?"

"..."

"Was it about the past at all?"

"..."

"The future, then?"

"Ribbit."

"Ah." They sighed softly, gently taking one of Musrio's hands and guiding it to the amulet around his neck. He seized it, squeezing the skull pendant tightly. "Will you tell me about what's been bothering you, now?"

"... I can't." Musrio finally rasped, "I..." He swallowed and took sever breaths, trying to gather himself, "I don't want to put... these ideas in your thinkpan, and I... I don't even know if they're what the future holds. Ribbit."

"Even so... It's been bothering you ever since we met Hierophant. Is it about the chosen child?"

"No, it's..." he groaned, grinding the palm of his free hand into his eye, "I can't tell you. Ribbit, I'm sorry, I can't-" He went to grab his hair again, and Drayco stopped him.

"Okay, okay. Breathe, mushy." They soothed, massaging the necromancer's hands between their own. "Want to tell me about your dream instead, then? What happened?"

Musrio was quiet for a long moment, before he took a shaky breath and flopped back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Drayco slowly laid back down, too, reaching over and taking his hand.

That was a familiar position, they thought; lying side by side with Musrio, their hands clasped together?

"... This is how we died." Musrio said their thoughts for them.

"Yeah. Cathartic, ain't it?"

The rustblood snorted. "No."

"Tell me about your dream, then." Drayco prompted.

The only sounds for a long while were the wind outside, and the low hum of Drayco's recupercoon. They simply waited.

"We... We were in space." Musrio began, "Standing on nothing. It was dark, all the stars were dying. It was you, me, Maddel, and Bohwie. Everyone else was there, but they weren't, at the same time. Ribbit. Like... Like my companions."

Drayco turned their head in time to see Musrio reach for the darkness beside the bed with his free hand. For a moment, the shadows seemed to come together to form a pair of clawed hands, gently cupping the necromancer's, before they vanished.

"Okay?" Drayco prompted, unfazed.

"Oliver and I started arguing, before Neviserrath appeared above us. I don't... Ribbit, that's what woke me up."

"I see." Drayco said softly. They hesitated, before they rolled over, propping themself up on their arms to hover over Musrio. "What did Neviserrath say?"

Musrio blinked up at them, before he looked away. "... I can't tell you."

Drayco couldn't help it, they collapsed onto Musrio's chest with a frustrated groan.

"Musrio, babe, come on. I'm your mate, you're supposed to talk about these things with me."

"I couldn't even tell a morail this stuff, Dee, this isn't about quadrants." Musrio insisted, raising his head.

Drayco raised their head, resting their chin on the rustblood's chest and adjusting their mask. "Okay? Quadrants aside, what if it really was Neviserrath?"

Musrio was already shaking his head. "It wasn't. It didn't feel like it."

"Does that mean it's come to you in your dreams before?"

Musrio nodded, staring up at the ceiling still. One hand came up to card through Drayco's hair, and the bronzeblood saw him swallow.

"When I couldn't figure out which ancestor I needed next, yeah. It'd come and point me in the right direction. Or sometimes it would borrow my body. Ribbit."

""Borrow your body?"" Drayco tipped their head into his hand.

"... Sometimes... I wake up in places I didn't fall asleep in. I've woken up standing in the middle of the street. I woke up on the Warshark when I went to revive the Deepbite. I hadn't known where the ship was, but Neviserrath walked my corpse right to it. Ribbit."

Drayco swallowed, having to repress a shudder. "That's horrible."

"Yeah." Musrio closed his eyes for a moment, and Drayco felt his chest rise as the necromancer took a deep breath. "But this wasn't like that. I'm sure it was just a dream." He opened his eyes, a scowl deepening on his brow, "Just an uncomfortably vivid dream that had to bring up my fears. Ribbit."

"Nothing scares you, Mushy." Drayco scoffed.

Musrio rumbled. "You know that's not true. I'm scared of everything."

"You've faced down an eldritch deity, have gone face to face with trolls like the Hounding-" They reached up, hand slipping under Musrio's sweater to press at the scar above his blood-pumper. Musrio shivered at their touch, and Drayco felt the beat of his dead thump-organ against their fingers, "and willingly threw yourself at Forsaken to take a bullet for me, Mush."

They pushed themself up again, their hand staying where it was as they hovered over the small rustblood. "You're the bravest troll I've ever met, dead or alive." They continued, "I know you're scared, because I'm fucking terrified. But you're the one who has sucked it up, buckled down, and done what needed to be done."

Musrio's face and ears were getting redder and redder with every word, and Drayco felt his breathing hitch under their hand. They reached up and tugged their own pendant out of their shirt, the red crystal with Musrio's sign suspended in the stone. Musrio's eyes locked onto it, watching it sway.

"However this ends, Mush, I'm gonna be right there beside you. Even if we lose, we died together before and we'll do it again."

Musrio blinked at them, before he actually laughed.

Oh... Breathing was already difficult for Drayco, but hearing their mate's chuckle made them stop entirely. When was the last time they'd heard-?

"Was that your idea of a rallying speech?" Musrio asked, "A suicide pact? Ribbit?"

"Y- yeah?" They stammered.

Musrio only snorted, and Drayco couldn't help it.

They lurched down, intending to kiss him. Musrio caught their face in his hand mere centimeters before contact, though, brows furrowed.

Drayco froze, afraid they'd overstepped, but Musrio reached up and gently tugged their mask down.

"That was in the way." He murmured, his expression softening.

Drayco's lungs were full of fluid, but their blood-pumper was overflowing with crimson feelings as they leaned down and smashed their lips into his.

Musrio's arms came up to encircle their neck, and Drayco dug their claws into the mattress, the fingers still on Musrio's chest twitching.

Even when they were struggling to inhale, Drayco was reluctant to pull away. Musrio slid their mask back up for them when they did, though, and they took a shaky breath.

"I mean it, Musrio." They said once they caught their breath, "I'll be right there with you, to the very end."

Musrio gazed up at them, an unreadable expression in his black eyes, before his mask slipped off.

After concluding his typical shower yodeling session (though some might've just considered it incoherent screaming), he exited the bathroom with a grin and a towel over his shoulders. Siroco paused and shook his head, sending water droplets flying from his yellow-spiked hair before he carded his calloused fingers through his sopping wet, yet still voluminous locks. He loved his fluffy hair, even if it was a pain to tame at times.

He took the time to dry himself off before he approached the somewhat haphazard pile of clothing in the middle of the floor. His hive was a mess, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to find anything otherwise. This was Organized Chaos. Luckily for him, he quickly found his desired attire and plucked the items from the pile before he yawned and walked back into the bathroom.

The Goldblood stood before the mirror, viewing himself from the neck up, and he gave a fanged grin at the sight of his vibrant eyes and sunny-yellow freckles as he stretched, clasping his hands together high above his head and leaning left, then leaning right and repeating the motion before he brought his hands down and slowly rolled his shoulders. Evening stretches were always important to a healthy body... healthy. Siroco subconsciously touched the shoulder of his prosthetic arm.

The lowblood took a few breaths as he gripped the first item, a grey-toned binder, and shook his head once more to dislodge any excess water before he slipped it on. So far, so good, maybe he wouldn’t- damn it, he was stuck. Siroco scowled and furrowed his brow as he grumbled to himself. Why were these things such a pain in the neck? In time, however, he successfully worked his way inside and wiggled his shoulderblades to their briefly-inconvenienced freedom. Ah, that was better.

His dark gray T-shirt and black cargo pants were uneventful in comparison save for a rogue pin lightly pricking Siroco’s leg. No harm done, or at least none that he bothered to check. All that was left was his hair gel, deodorant, breakfast, and he was all good to go... yet at the same time, he felt like he was forgetting something. Oh well, he would probably figure it out.

He did not figure it out. Even after everything else was said and done, Roco felt like something was missing. The Goldblood paused as he looked around with a pout. What was it? He’d done everything that he needed to do; his routine was in order, as it generally was. What he did know was that he was running out of time, and it would defeat the point of waking up early if he ended up being late anyway, right? He’d just have to cut his losses and leave.

Which is exactly what he did, running out the door and locking it before he pulled it shut. Unfortunately for him, his keys were still on the counter. Again. 

Gog. 

Fucking.