I've got you.
@lookbluesoup's Nahte seems to have had a bad time.
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I've got you.
@lookbluesoup's Nahte seems to have had a bad time.

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The boys, as Salt put it, "raising property values" in Empyreum. Featuring @lookbluesoup's Nahte'to and @seasaltandcopper's A'mahl.
Borrowing @lookbluesoup and @seasaltandcopper's boys to make shitposts.
And I would give all this and heaven too I would give it all if only for a moment
Some morning cuddles with F'ystran and @lookbluesoup's Nahte'to.
classics - muse a tends to muse bâs wounds with more care than necessary (for ystran and the boys!)
âIt isnât worth the fuss.â The knuckles were broken, mended now to where Fâystran could move them painlessly again, but Nahte held fast. Aether hummed and wound over their hands, and Lily fluttered curiously from one of Nahteâs shoulders to the other, as though she herself was trying to get an idea of what it was that had her masterâs attention so fixed.
Fâystran could not quite push past Nahteâs expression, that mixture of stony and pleasantly serene that made it difficult to parse what thoughts circled his head. The mismatched blue of his eyes remained glued to the bruised span of the back of Fâystranâs hand, impenetrable in his paradoxically gentleâinfinitely gentleâway.
âIt needs to be tended to, if youâre keen to hold a sword any time soon,â he replied, glancing up to Fâystranâs eyes. He smiled, then, soft and coaxing. âJust a moment more.â
It did not need it, the tingle of the aether weaving up the length of Fâystranâs forearm in want of things more pressing than the leftover bruise. The small scrapes and chafes stitched shut, skin smooth and unmarred where they had been that moment before.
It was excess, and one Fâystran would not tolerate from any other healer. From Nahte, it was not unwelcome. Where a plethora of tiny aches had built, they now eased away, leaving only warmth in their wake.
The promised moment passed, the glow of the magic dissipating into the air. Task complete, there was a heartbeat of hesitation, both of Nahteâs hands holding Fâystranâs one. Neither seemed fit to part in the silence that had fallen. Fâystran, without fully meaning to, squeezed Nahteâs fingers, thumb smoothing just a fraction of an ilm over the side of his hand.
âThank you, Nahte,â he murmured. Nahte smiled, returning the pressure. Fâystran near thanked him for that too.
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Featuring @lookbluesoup's boy! Set between when F'ystran started telling people Nahte was the only one allowed to heal him and when they finally got together. The rituals are intricate.

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Oh, all my nights taste like gold Yeah, when I'm with you It's like everything glowsđ
ft. @lookbluesoup's Nahte'to and @seasaltandcopper's A'mahl
domesticity - muse a rests chin on muse bâs shoulder to read/see what theyâre holding. I would love to see anything for the miqomen, whatever configuration you feel inspired for this
This is totally unedited and written in a flurry before work but yeet.
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The poor thingâs eyes were glued shut with cold and infection, her breathing punctuated by sneezes. The tortoiseshell kitten shivered against where Fâystran pressed her to his chest, violent tremors for such a tiny creature. When she mewed, he stroked the thumb of his spoken hand over the damp top of her head, rubbing the tips of ears that, just moments ago, would have threatened to fall away had he not pulled her from the frigid Ishgardian streets.
She was small enough to tuck into one hand, paws no bigger than his fingernail kneading against the space on his skin he bared to provide his warmth. She mewed again, and this time he hushed her, gentle and doting.
It did not take long for a curious head to poke into his room, black ears piqued up and eyes wide. Another followed suit, tangle of red hair that Fâystran suspected meant his contraband had woken the pair.
He turned quickly, half to keep the warm air of the fire on his front, half to keep eyes off the bundle. But she was stuttering a purr, and she smelled of street and illnessâeven were they not Miqoâte, there was no hiding it, and Fâystran knew this. He had no true intent, only gaming avoidance.
âApologies for waking you,â he said, head tilting down to watch her wriggle in an attempt to get more comfortable. He shifted his fingers to allow it. âI had not expected to be out so late.â
âWhy were you out so late?â asked Nahte, knowing and urging at once. It did not take long for a chin to come to rest on Fâystranâs shoulder, a hand on his arm to better look. A second head nestled into the crook of his neck on the other side, an ear twitching against his in question.
âSomething caught my attention,â he replied, rubbing a temple idly against Mahlâs.
âSomething, alright,â snorted Mahl, but despite the tease, he returned the gesture, reaching a hand around to scratch the kittenâs cheek. She purred a little louder, mewing again. âWhereâd you find it?â
âA crate in the Brume.â Fâystran brought her a little higher, just below the divot of his collarbones. His brows knit. âThe rest of them didnât fare so well. I could not well leave her.â
âNo indeed,â said Nahte, and it was his turn to reach forward and run his palm, careful and soft, over the top of her head. He cocked his head, faintest glow of aether twining around his fingertips. She wriggled again in response, a degree stronger than a second before, and Fâystran smiled, squeezing her just a little. âShe needs a bath right away.â
âA good meal wouldnât go amiss.â
âIâll go get Maurelin,â said Mahl, pulling away, but not before nuzzling Fâystranâs neck. âSee if he starts looking for fleas in the rugs.â
Fâystran huffed a laugh, turning his head into the touch before turning to bunt Nahteâs. This too was returned, Nahteâs hand still hovering, humming. The kitten mewed again, voice a little louder, and Fâystran laughed again, lowering to press his lips to the top of her head.
Casual day for baking. They're waiting on a pie to finish.