#moriddyn

"It's been some time since you last taught me this dance." Elffin hums, bringing to mind their first meeting. He grants a smile- soft, as he steps backward, a picture perfect bow.

Offering her a hand, "I hope your partner would not begrudge me a single dance."

two years to the day, to be exact, but what's the point in counting when it feels like they've known each other across lifetimes? their story is that of a secret garden, a haven for those once made to feel like outsiders. both uncertain in their footing, stumbling down stony paths — only to find themselves steadied in the other's light, like sunflowers stretching to greet the sun. how far they've come, and how far they still have to go.

"begrudge, no. turn it into a competition? more likely."

a teasing smile follows as dorothea curtsies and slides her hand into his, taking note of how familiar this had become. a tradition forged between two wandering souls, tended to like the most sacred of flames.

[ TXT ] : It's only been 10 minutes?

[ TXT ] : Hold on, I'm on my way. Do you have everything you need?

TXT GAME — accepting!

[ TXT ] : I'M FINE MAN dont sweat it doc says i'll be out before i know it [ TXT ] : you should see the other guy though [ TXT ] : totally rocked his world [ TXT ] : not like that i just mean i won

[ TXT ] : [attachment]

Friendfiction

Down on one knee, the blind prince felt another grip his hand. The touch was gentle, even if the palm that held his was rough and calloused. The hand of a killer, so tenderly and comfortingly holding his own... it was reassurance of everything he had already believed to be true: his dear knight had room yet in his heart for his liege. The prince's face turned, a smile cast in the direction of his stalwart companion before those lips moved to brush against the hand that had been offered to him.

"Thank you," Prince Alvin's voice was barely more audible than the wind, and every bit as gentle. "I entrust my safety to you, my dear Porcius."

Oh. Elffin waits for the first pair to settle back down before he spins the game’s namesake bottle- and… ah. It has picked a favorite already, it seemed, slowing down before pointing once again at the white haired man.

Eyes dart to the host of the party, then back at his chosen partner. “I, ah, won’t get in the way of… I mean, shall we see what the challenges are?”

Pick someone from the group and give them a backhanded compliment

…

Not much better. 

He turns towards one member of the group, not even knowing their name- (what an introduction)- and takes a deep breath.

“Um. Well- I apologize… There are a great many compliments that one can give to you, but they must be slipping my mind at the moment.”

CUPIDO BASH — spin the bottle!

Beloved was Rafal to the whims of selection or so it appeared, a curse laid upon one who ought attract them in bulk. Regardless, the Atoning Dragon was not inclined to believe himself beloved in any scenario, and certainly not in the fashion implicated by two darting eyes. Gazing at the flaxen-haired young man, expression shifted with as much curiosity as dark and flourishing suspicion. "In the way. . .?"

For sake of his own sanity, he did not pursue that undertone any more than strictly necessary. The return to more straightforward challenges was a welcome distraction, even if some would come in forms most eccentric.

"Now that seems as no challenge at all. Yours is to give someone a compliment? That is far less troublesome when compared to mine."

12. Try to drink a glass of water without using your hands [Roll: 15] Success!

Drink without employing the use of one's hands? Troublesome, indeed, but this dragon bowed to no challenge. Unconsciously, he licked at his lips and swiped away the remainder of iron, wiped the slate even cleaner with the lift of a neighboring water cup using his mouth alone. Tipped back, the contents drained with seamless and gushing finesse, cleared across no time at all. Rafal could even be thankful for its effectiveness, a superb palate cleanser for sweet chocolate and dry biscuit.

And Fogado.

※— IF YOU ARE SO INCLINED TO LOOK, SHOULD HE RETURN THE FAVOR? There are plenty who visit just to fawn, after all, and Julius has all the awareness in the world that it was in due part to his addition. He allowed the man to settle in this room full of invisible smoke, flicking his thumb to undo a couple of dog-earred pages left behind by careless others. His own eyes angled away, lashes long. Waiting.

This new one, this visitor that never stays in one place for too long, is all parts amusing. How does one situate one's self in a destination, not to be present but to be witnessed? For someone so permanent as Julius, he found it entertaining to find a man who liked to flicker in and out. Frequency to Julius was just another flavor of impermanence.

Do you enjoy watching from outside looking in?

Why bother going through the trouble of leaving just enough of an impression? Like a press of a palm on sand? A subtle smile wriggled its way onto Julius' face as the crackling emotions surfaced on this stranger's end. Pity, horror—not fleeting enough to be left unnoticed.

Come in. It's warm inside.

His smile flashed like a play on innocence. "I am, yes. A pleasure."

"Julius Velthomer."

Being by the sea, there are numerous small caves and grottos carved into the stone walls by time. Even scattered as they are on the edge of the sand, the number of guests ensured that one would not be alone for long- if at all. If- and it was less of a hypothetical than an inevitability- one wanted to have a moment of peace, they may find better luck in searching the cliff sides.

And so, Elffin does. The rumored grotto with the ability to see soulmates, of course, would be swarmed with those hoping to catch a glance, but there are others, and he slips into one, smaller, to find some solace.

He is not the only one there, he finds.

“... Good evening, Bernadetta.” Tired, he settles into a seated position near the entrance, though that does not stop him from observing basic politeness. “Would you like a charm?”

bernadetta, who cannot tell one grotto from the next, is fine being alone either way. where she oft finds peace is not in people. it is in solitude, in art, in untampered nature—and the viscount's territory had no shortage of it.

high in the oghma mountains had lived the reclusive daughter of house varley—what fitting terrain for the legends spun around her. but she did not always dream of high walls to hide behind, she did not start out a hermit. the sea, for all of its vast, terrifying unknowns, had been just as beautiful in her mind. bernadetta hums while exploring it. she ogles the plants and the starfish. she giggles as a crab scuttles by. and it is peaceful, at least, until the call of her name startles her a foot in the air.

"ah! wh-who's calling me?! you can't prove that i did it! you—" wild, darting eyes finally settle on him. "oh. hi, elffin."

just like that, her shoulders slouch back to their regular hunch. bernadetta steps gingerly across the sand, over a few shallow puddles before nearing the craggy entrance. she picks a random rock beside him to perch upon, and a hand reaches for one of her own charms.

“Saint Elimine- Hugh, are you alright?” He doesn’t need an answer, hurrying to the man’s side. “Here, I have some bandages-”

He holds them out, before drawing back, words running faster than they seemed to come to mind, “Ah, but first something to clean you up…”

It had been a miracle that he survived. That he and the other three that fought alongside him were ok, and that they were able to escape the hell that they had no choice but to lock themselves inside of.

Some attention was brought to his wounds - but Hugh, knowing full well that there could be others, had shrugged his injuries off as minor. He's pretty sure he wasn't fooling anyone, but the medics were short-staffed. They didn't have the time to push an argument.

But Elffin...Elffin could, if he wanted to. And, seeing the hastily brought bandages, followed by a concern for the blood and dirt on his body? That's an expression that Hugh can't contest, especially not when he's this tired.

"...yeah. Yeah, that'd help." He slowly speaks, accessing himself once more. It hurts, but with enough bandages, he'll be alright soon.

But the way Hugh looks now...

"Do you have some time today? It's been a while since we had time to chat. How have you been?"

happy birthday 2k25!

“look at you, always spoiling me!” 

what she has come to learn in nearly a year and a half is that elffin’s as predictable as most things in life. just as one knows to expect the migration of birds each winter, or the swarms of bees in flowerbeds each spring, dorothea knows he will always come looking for her. in rain or shine, and in good times or bad.

tease as she may, it is not something to be taken for granted. a welcome change, the songstress thinks — to be someone worthy of pursuit without the usual strings attached. 

“why, elffin!” she poses, tongue-in-cheek, “asking as though i wouldn’t make time for you. you should know by now that you’re always an exception.”

a beaming dorothea accepts the wrapped gift from him gratefully, before switching it to one hand and wrapping her free one around his arm to playfully pull him along.