You Taste Like New Flesh

He wasn’t raised to be a predator. But he was prey that fought back. Zeffeero wasn’t helpless. If anything, he considers himself the opposite. The former Empress raised him well to defend himself along with her own daughters.

A gesture she did not have to make, to take in a young boy deprived of his birth mother and a god of a father that wouldn’t even bless him enough with the presence. Yet, he learned not to care.

His sisters were kind. They always tried to reach him. But almost every time, Zeffeero would crawl away before they could get any closer. Deep down, he felt something burning in his chest, against the current of his cold heart. A ripple in a still lake. A desire for more than he had.

And he took the risk without thinking of consequence. And his mother no longer called him son. And his sisters no longer call him brother. He didn’t think she would die, it was not his intention. But it didn’t change what he had done. After all that was provided to him, in his efforts to obtain more, he just lost all he had in the process of trying.

Zeffeero refuses defeat. If he lost a family then he will get the power he damn well deserved for his selfish actions and sacrifice. Forever will he refuse that it was the wrong choice, or admit to wrong. And his eldest sister cast him out, no longer Prince, and no longer safe from the jaws of predators.

Reiko was brought up a predator. Never falling to become prey. Havik learned to parry those who prayed on him and learned to bite back. The hunted became the hunter. And the two intertwined, sickly devouring each other. Couldn’t get enough. Hurt and tore at flesh, never close enough. Between their bared fangs and sharp claws, nothing was gentle, love was violent. But they were violent creatures, and that’s how they loved.

Zeffeero didn’t love like a predator. Not initially. An elk in the clearing, grazing peacefully. No herd in sight. Left alone, abandoned, vulnerable. But no elk was without his antlers. Yet, it wouldn’t stop the wolves from coming.

Two wolves, bloodied with the fluids of each other. They left their pack, and found within where they wandered together, tearing each other apart, a warm body. Dangerous yet alone. Prey to devour.

And the wolves circled the elk. Their maws agape and their tongues lolling between cracked fangs.

And then, Zeffeero learned how to use his antlers. Instead of soft nuzzles and the loving embrace of a mother, he felt teeth sink into his flesh, nails gripping his chest, hands around his throat and rough wrestling between sheets. Soft touches limited. All he felt was stinging pain as the two wolves devoured him. And he grew fangs to bite back.

One would be sick to call it love. Zeffeero wanted to refuse it. It had hurt, his body scarred and mauled. But it felt nice. A contrast to what he was given. And it was something. Havik and Reiko had no intentions of releasing their elk.

The three became possessive. Just because it was rare doesn’t mean it never happened. A night alone where they hid in a rough abode. Planning their uprising. Among the bed they shared, all three heavily gasping for breath, and no longer had the strength to tear or bite. And it was dormant.

Havik had laid himself against Zeffeero’s left shoulder, his arm over his chest. A scarred face against his skin accompanied with faint rugged breaths. The mage had his head against Reiko’s lap, he felt usually bloody nails and rough hands run through his hair, not gripping, no pulling. A gentle touch, as if handling something delicate. No one spoke, there was no need. There will be no violence tonight. Their jaws ached, there will be no biting.

The mage felt his muscles loosen, a hand slipped up against the back of Havik’s head, a light pull to press their bodies impossibly closer and a slight arch in his back for the hand against his own scalp, almost yearning for more contact. This was the love he knew. It was gentle. He didn’t exactly miss it, but it was familiar. Confusing, even. That all mutually agreed they were tired of tearing, tired of being bitten. Ripping each other open had no front here right now. Later it might, down the lane the cycle will continue. But once every rare moment, by themselves, all were quiet. All was bliss.

Zeffeero let his eyes close, inhaling slowly. Havik was slowly becoming more slack against his chest. Reiko’s free hand moved and his fingertips traced the rough scarring and bone of a burned face, his hair down and over his eyes as he leaned over, watching his own hand traverse softly across the features of the two men. Eyes wide but expression unreadable. As if confused by his own actions but made no motion to try and stop himself. Observing outside of his body. All such unfamiliar territory. Gestures such as these were never commonly shared, if not at all for the soldier. Even as a boy, he was strictly disciplined, his only reward for success was keeping his life.

But there was no consequence in the moment. There was no fear of one of them or both of them leaving, because Reiko wouldn’t allow it. Just as Havik would cage him like a bird if he flew too far, or how Zeffeero would pull him under the current if he tried swimming the other direction. Reiko’s hands trailed down from the hydromancer’s face to the base of his neck and the span of his bare chest, his other hand against Havik rubbing against his back in the space between his shoulders, knowing which scars were inflicted by him on their bodies and running over them once more in a practiced motion, but not to reopen this time.

This bond was a rush of adrenaline or an influx of fatigue. Even if pain were afflicted, it was enjoyable when muscles tensed and relaxed after every bite and relishing in the sores after. It was usually Reiko and Havik that stayed behind with each other in a bed. Zeffeero would usually be the first to slip away and relish in his own sores on his own, but was never far. It was a matter of preference, but that didn’t mean when the mage did stay they took it for granted. Even when half asleep, Havik was over half way on top of Zeffeero, an arm wrapped under his arm and gripping from under his shoulder with his chest against the other. Reiko silently watched as he saw the scarred man drift and his head fell lower against Zeffeero’s shoulder and the crook of it, feeling a slight arch of his back into his hand, Reiko responding in kind, as his breaths slowed. When the soldier looked back at Zeffero on his lap, his eyes were closed, but only in light sleep. Reiko trailed his hand back up from the mage’s chest from where it came back to his face, running against the side of his face and lightly pulling his head closer, turning it to the side against him. And Zeffeero didn’t stop it, if anything he leaned into it, shifting ever so slightly as much as he could with Havik and his tight embrace against him.

Havik’s attraction to Rain began after he watched him topple the capital of Seido. The amount of destruction wrought and the satisfaction knowing that his people were free made him almost mad with glee. But it also made him shift his attention towards the man who had done the job.

Water to Chaosrealmers is a staple in their beliefs. They believe that its formlessness and ability to destroy even the mightiest of empires perfectly encapsulates chaos. And although Chaosrealm does not exist in the new era, I feel as if Havik and other followers of chaos and anarchy still believe in this.

So when he watches Rain summon such a vast wave, completely toppling his mortal enemies in one fell swoop, the sorcerer’s status changes from peculiar mage to future follower of chaos.

At that moment, he thinks of all the destruction, all the anarchy, he and Rain could cause together. How they could bring the realms to their knees, and cause untold amounts of bloodshed. Needless to say, it doesn’t take much more thinking from then on for Havik to become obsessed with the former High Mage.

The fact that there is someone obsessed with him, who wants to be around him always fills him with a sick sense of pride, as much as he hates it. Like, he really wouldn’t mind it if anyone else BUT Havik was obsessed with him.

He feels as if his powers and ambitions are finally being recognized by someone who wasn’t attempting to manipulate him for their own gain. Who not only admires his abilities, but wants to help him become even more powerful. But the person in question, and the reason why he wishes Rain could attain more power makes him sick to his stomach.

So while he certainly doesn’t mind the admiration, he can’t say he’s particularly fond of who the admiration is coming from, curbing the pride he would’ve felt.

Havik’s love language is physical touch. He loves having some sort of contact with Rain if it’s possible. Likes resting his head on his shoulder, or putting a hand around his waist and tugging him towards him. He loves watching the mage get flustered or annoyed at their sudden closeness. Makes him all giddy.

Rain’s love language is acts of service and gift-giving. As knowledgeable as he is in the art of sorcery, he’s equally as proficient when it comes to art. He’s made a little piece of metal work for Havik that the other has had pinned to the leather of his attire since.

Havik finds Rain’s reluctance to engage in chaotic or messy habits irritable. He wants his partner to join him in chaos, to revel in the absolute anarchy that he brings with him. He wants Rain to feel free, and hates how his morals stop him from fully actualizing his own potential. Tries constantly to sway him towards chaos and although he yet to succeed, he won’t stop until Rain keels.

Havik likes to bite. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when, he will bite Rain. He likes to watch the look on the mage’s face as he does so, and gets giddy seeing Rain’s face twitch as he steals himself. He doesn’t do it as a way to claim ownership over Rain. He does it to prove his obsession, showing the mage that he’s obsessed with everything about him, and not just his destructive capabilities. Rain is free to bite him back of course, but he hardly indulges him (much to Havik’s dismay). (WILL MAKE FIC OF THIS)

Havik isn’t used to soft, reassuring touches, and so whenever Rain does something gentle with him, he’s both a bit shocked since Rain hardly initiates contact, and over the moon! Teases Rain endlessly about how he must be “warming up to him” and the mage is sick and tired of it. Really values these kinds of moments with Rain and considers it proof that the mage is growing closer to him.

Likes to freak Rain out by ripping off a limb or contorting his body in a way that a regular person would not survive. It’s not really the blood or gore that freaks Rain out, he’s had to study anatomy beforehand and has worked with cadevours, it’s just the fact that Havik can do it so… casually, and be not only completely fine afterward but laughing and joking about it too.

Both of them are cat people… I don’t make the rules

Havik always ends up bloody and dirty after his fights, which he gets into pretty frequently. Rain refuses to let him into his quarters if he doesn’t wash it off, and ends up just blasting him with a stream of water to wash off what he can.

Rain’s skin is soft and well-cared for, with hardly any markings or scratches on it. He’s gotten a few though through some failed spells, but he always takes some extra time in the morning to cover them up.

Havik’s body is marred and littered in scratch marks, and his skin is rough from the back-breaking labor he endoured whilst still enslaved under Seido’s government. Rain, if he’s feeling nice, might try to do what he can to smoothen his skin, rubbing him down with nice soaps and fermented oils in an attempt to rid him of the thick scent of iron that seems to constantly permeate off of him.