#sumleer

~

“S-sir...”

The mediculler you’re sitting in front of tonight, or as much as it could be night with the morning sun starting to creep it’s way across the horizon, is looking nervously between you and the great hulking figure looming at your side, gaze intent and obvious in their focus despite that headgear he still insists on wearing.

Light-sensitive dork he is.

“It’s fine.” And yes, you are using your best General voice right now to reassure the younger troll that Darkleer’s not going to do anything to them, no matter what. Because he isn’t.

He’s just... looming like a great hulking mother cluck-beast that’s barely holding themselves back from just nudging in and doing whatever task is causing them their great worry on their own. Which... you usually wouldn’t be against but right now you would very much rather have Darkleer’s hands somewhere else, mainly in yours, letting you squeeze them while you ignore the fact the mediculler has to stitch closed your side to prevent you from bleeding out.

Which is something you would actually very much like to avoid thank you very much.

Your best General voice also has the benefit of making Darkleer press closer to your back, attempting to tuck you further against him he curls around you to keep his gaze on the mediculler’s hands... Which is starting to shake.

Which is not really that good. Not really that good at all.

“It’s fine. He’s not going to do anything.” The mediculler doesn’t seem reassured by that which you know, you can get, Darkleer is very tall, very intent and very very high on the hemospectrum. Which is kind of a big thing they’re all kinda against for the most part here, everyone with their own pasts and experiences and oh hey that’s your blood! Not slowing down!

...

Neat!

“You should get to work soon.” Darkleer’s voice is tense and clipped in a way you recognize as him trying to show he’s worried or concerned but obviously the mediculler doesn’t get that because they’re shaking more now and you know what?

Fine.

“One of you is going to leave right now.” You say, which gets them both staring at you, Darkleer’s whole form stiffening under you and you could have sworn you felt his pumper freeze which also neat. But not something to focus on right now. “And whoever’s staying is going to stitch me up and then let me rest. Are we understood?”

There’s silence, a long moment of still tenseness and you’re almost prepared to repeat yourself when Darkleer carefully squeezes your hand before releasing it, slowly pulling himself from the warm line of your back. 

“I will... I will be back later?” A question, the other asking for guidance, an order, something to cling and hold himself to.

“Once the mediculler’s finished and says you can.” He nods at you and moves like he wants to reach out and touch you again, reassure himself that you’re not going to just die without him there no matter how much more fragile you are compared to himself, but he doesn’t because there’s someone else in the room and that was a bit too much for him.

Could plaster himself to your spine like a very clingly tree-lurker-beast but touch your face? Scandelous!

You adore this idiot. You’re going to give him all the kisses later, all over his dorky face. 

...

Once you’ve been stitched back up and the mediculler says you aren’t going to die.

-

“Oh come on! There’s nothing terrible about holding my ha-”

“I said no!”

Summoner stared at Darkleer, surprised by the other’s sudden and unexpected exclaimation. 

Darkleer seemed surprised by his own response as well, eyes wide and focused on him before they dropped down to the floor, shoulders drawing up to his ears and spine tensing immediately made Summoner feel horrible. No, he hadn’t wanted this, he’d just wanted... 

Nevermind.

He pulls back into himself, giving Darkleer all the space he possibly could while remaining in the same room for the moment anyways, that doorway was looking more and more appealing as the situation progressed.

“Sorry,” he said, hands pulled back to his chest. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t uh, didn’t mean to push you.”

“Ne... nei-no, no I’m... I’m sorry please...” Darkleer tried to reach out to him but Summoner keeps retreating, shaking his head and curling into himself. 

“No, it’s uh, nothing you need to apologize for,” almost there, almost there. “I’m just gonna um, just gonna go now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No please!” Darkleer moves too fast for Summoner to follow, which really rude there, darn those Highbloods tricks. Summoner flinches back from the troll suddenly in front of him but Darkleer reaches forward to grasp his wrist awkwardly. “I didn’t mean for you too... that is it was not my intention to... I want you to stay. Please. If you still want to that is, I understand if you don’t, I’m sorry I shouldn’t be asking you to stay after I reacted like that I’m so sorry I’m - “

“Hey.” Summoner said firmly, cutting in and leaving Darkleer to suddenly silence his rambling. Summoner swallowed and carefully shifted his hand in Darkleer’s grip until he can gently, cautiously, watching the other troll all the while, thread their fingers together. Darkleer’s staring at your combined hands now, breath caught in his chest. “I said you could ask for things without apologizing didn’t I?”

“Well... yes you did but I - “

“No buts,” Summoner keeps his voice firm but kind, not quite an order but unwilling to allow the other troll any room to budge on the issue. “I want to know things, especially when you want me to go.”

There’s silence and the two of you just stand there with your hands clasping each others until Darkleer breaths out and squeezes his hand just the slightest bit.

“... I don’t want you to go.”

~

There’s a few things that tell Summoner that Darkleer needs to spend a bit of time with him, some actual one on one time with him, is his behaviour when he returned from his latest outing with his squad. 

Now, Darkleer being there to greet him after a mission wasn’t so bad, not usually anyways. But usually he was just there to see him back and then he’d return back to his hive to wait until Summoner had finished with everything needing his attention and he could completely dedicate some actual time to the other for a bit. Today he remained standing in place long beyond Summoner’s initial return to the camp, stiff and separated and watching him from the distance until he waved off those around him to approach the indigo.

Darkleer was trembling just the slightest bit when Summoner reached him, the smallest of shivers and quakes that would be unnoticed by all by those that were both standing close enough to see and knew what they were looking for. He was also refusing to meet Summoner’s gaze, eyes focused on the ground as he drew further and furhter into himself the longer they simply stood there, watching each other.

Summoner waited a breath more before letting himself start talking, there was no use in letting Darkleer remain silent and uncomfortable when there were ways he could help with that.

“Hey,” admittedly not his best opening but hey, something was always going to be better than nothing, right?

“Gr-greetings,” a stutter? That wasn’t good, usually Darkleer’s voice was as firm and steady as the rest of him, he must have been more frayed than Summoner had initially thought.

What on Alternia could have caused something like that?

“You wanna, uh” he paused, realizing he’d started speaking before getting his thoughts in order again. A soft exhaled huff and he tried again. “Wanna get something to eat?” Darkleer doesn’t respond for a few moments and Summoner takes that as a cue to continue speaking, to try to nudge the other troll into some kind of action. “I could eat something, kinda hungry after just getting back you know?”

That goades Darkleer into action. The taller troll’s gaze snaps up to Summoner’s for a fleeting moment before his head drops in a jerky nod and he reaches out to touch Summoner’s arm, another oddity to his usual actions, but one Summoner accepts for the moment, letting the other guide him away, back to Darkleer’s own hive, hidden away and secluded from the rest of the revolution’s camp.

“Hey,” Summoner said once they’re both inside and hidden away from the rest of the world, locking the door behind him with a loud, heavy sound that seemed to ease something in the set of the indigo’s shoulder. Darkleer hummed and strode further into the hive, towards where Summoner was well aware the meal block lay. “Darkleer,” the other troll continued to ignore him, almost through the doorway into the next room. “Isaias.”

That stops him.

Isaias turns towards him the slightest bit, eyes not clean meeting Summoner’s own over his shoulder. “Yes, Petrus?”

“You should come sit with me.”

“But,” Isaias paused, turning between Petrus and the rest of the hive. “But you said you were hungry, I should get you something to eat, you should eat after... you should eat.” 

“Nah,” Petrus shook his head, holding his hand out towards the other, slowly, like dealing with a frightened antlerbeast. “I think you should uh, should come and sit down with me for a while first. We can eat a bit later.”

“But you said -” 

“Doll,” that stops him, Isaias’ mouth snapping shut and voice falling completely silent, he waits for Petrus to talk a bit more. “I know, it’s alright though. Come and sit down with me first.”

Isaias’ shoulders rise back up to his shoulders but he nods and moves to follow Petrus through into the respiteblock, he remains stiff and standing once he’s in the doorway, watching as Petrus put a pile together using all the blankets and pillow he’d slowly accumulated within the rooms for reasons such as this.

Petrus steps back once he’s done, looking over the pile he’s created with a proud set to his shoulder before he turned to face the indigo. “Looks pretty good, doesn’t it doll?”

“Do neigh call me that,” it’s a weak denail, lacking any of the usual heat the other would usually allow into his voice. Isaias shuffles in place, turning his gaze towards the pile Petrus had put together for them both. “It is... it is good. If... if you had happy with it then...”

“You can’t say that,” Petrus hums, shifting to move back over to Isaias side and pressing against him with a small smile. He reaches up to tangle a hand in his tangled, (how did it always end up so tangled?) hair and tugging at it softly. “You’ve got to uh, come and try it out first.”

“... do I?”

“Yup,” Petrus lets his smile widen, rocking up onto the tip of his feet to press his nose to the other’s cheek. He thrilled as he felt Isaias push but into his touch. “General’s orders.”

Petrus could feel the other relax against him, could hear the soft sigh of relief from the mouth so close to his ear, and was more than pleased with the result.

“Come on,” he urged, tugging him gently towards the pile of pillows and blankets so he could push him down once he was close enough. “You gotta, um, get yourself comfortable, yeah?”

“... Ok then.” Isaias says relaxing slowly into the pile underneath him. He blinks up at Petrus who is still standing in front of him. “Are you... you are going to join me, yes?”

“Yup,” he follows the word by dropping down onto the pile, kneeling over Isaias’ lap he leans forward to rub his cheek against the other troll’s. “Hey, missed you.” Quiet and soft spoken, just for the other’s ears.

“... I missed you as well.”

“You been looking after yourself for me?” Petrus asked, letting his hands creep up to thread into the other’s hairs, tangled tangled, always tangled no matter how long he spent fixing it each time he got his fingers in it. “Remembered to eat? Take breaks from work like you’re supposed to?”

Petrus’ pretty sure he knows the answer before it’s spoken.

“... I tried.”

Yup.

“How hard though?”

“... neigh very much.”

Petrus scoffs and presses his cheek to Isaias’ again. That’s alright, he’ll natter at him about it later, once he’s got him calmer and chiller and fixed up his hair a bit. 

Speaking of which, he let his hands get to work, starting at the very ends of his long hair and slowly working out the knots and tangles. It takes a few pumper beats before Isaias is purring under him, eyes half lidded and chest rumbling with those mechanical, engine-like sounds.

Perfect.

“Darkleer?” You certainly don’t sound like the General right now. You don’t know what you sound like but you’re fairly sure it’s more in the area of ‘pupa just discovering what quads are’ than what you usually do, which is great, somebody’s getting a laugh out of this somewhere you’re sure.

And Darkleer is absolutely no help because he just huffs a breath and stays there, real good man not uh, telling a guy exactly what you’re up to and when did your HANDS get into his HAIR?

Oh he’s purring now though, a low rusty sound that reminds you more of machinery than a natural troll noise but that’s alright, that’s just Darkleer and yeah, yeah you might just have this.

You curl around him in return, claws scratching lightly against the other troll’s neck as you pet and play with his hair. Yeah you uh, you guess this is a thing now. Not the best way to go about it but hey if it worked than it worked right?

Oh jegus yeah, Darkleer would have had a pumper-attack if he’d tried to put this into words, better go with the action side of things for him. No need for your… new… diamond…

Anyways, no need for Darkleer to have a pumper-attack today, that could wait a little bit longer, yeah? Until then they’d just hangout like this, an indigo kneeling in front of a bronze, which is still such a uh, weird thing to think about, until they were both ready to move.

Darkleer doesn’t answer you but you see his jaw tighten and you can guess that he’s looking your sorry self over, taking in where your armour’s been punctured and nearly torn apart in places, how your wings droop with your exhaustion and the paler pallor of your skin from blood lose. You’re making the best picture of a commander right now, tilting on your feet and about to fall over, a great one.

“You are late.”

You snort and immediately regret it because it pulls your skin uncomfortably, torn skin burning under the makeshift bandages you’d managed to cover them with. “That’s kind of an understatement there,” you try to pull yourself to a more standing posture, lifting your head to something closer to how you usually do. “Did everyone make it back alright? Any unexpected casualties?”

“No,” Darkleer’s still stiff and tense in front of you, more of a machine than a troll. “Everyone made it back safely, thank to your stupidity.”

“Stupidity,” there’s more life to your voice now, you draw yourself up more, still nowhere near close to meeting his eyes without having to tilt your head up but you don’t care. “How is doing the best for the revolution ‘stupidity’?”

“You risking your life for no good reason is stupidity,” your wings flare out, teeth bare at the indigo though he doesn’t outwardly react at all, remaining a frozen statue in the night. You might as well be arguing with a statue for all the good it’ll do you. “You risked your cause for nothing but the lives of a few soldiers.”

You’ve had this argument with him before. Many, many times and you know what? You’re exhausted, bleeding, hurt and you don’t have any patience for him tonight, the sun’s close to rising and you want nothing more than a safe rest.

You flutter your wings, preparing to take off and fly over Darkleer, leaving him to take your well earned rest, but he reaches out to you faster than you can follow, which really isn’t fair for someone the indigo’s size, d*rn highbloods and their f*cking abilities.

“You are not getting out of this,” Darkleer says, voice pitched low and rumbling. “I am not finished speaking with you on this matter.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong doll,” the pet name finally gets a visible reaction out of Darkleer, his lips twist into a scowl and his brows furrow. A victory for you, if a petty one. “Some of us need rest, know it’s a new concept for you but that’s just how it is.”

Darkleer, seemingly forgetting the fact that you’re injured yanks you forward and you can’t stop the shocked, startled sound of pain you make at it, the rest of you instinctively attempting to curl into the injury at your side.

Darkleer almost drops you in his shock, just managing not to and tug you to rest against the firm planes of skin and muscle. “I am sorry, so sorry. I forgot myself.” Rapid words high with distress and fear, large hands doing little more than holding you in place while you breath through the agony spiking through your system like a b*tch.

“It’s fine,” you groan, pushing yourself back to your feet. “I’m fine I just need to rest.”

“No,” Darkleer’s voice is still higher, panicky. “No I need to, need to check you over. You are injured.”

“Fine then,” you sigh, letting him usher you away from the main body of the camp to his own hive. The sun was close to rising and you’d had enough of everything for tonight, you weren’t ready to deal with his persistent worry right now, easier to just let him do what he wanted for the moment.

Thankfully he doesn’t decide to just carry you to his hive, that would have been embarrassing. He does lead you very carefully though, large hands pushing you forward whenever you stall and catching you the few times you stumble. He at least lets you sit down once you’re inside, which you take gladly, slumping over your chest and letting your wings relax to a droop.

“Summoner? May I?” You snort, turn amused onto him. Really?

“Asking permission now, doll?”

“Do not call me that,” he insisted gently, ducking his head from you, though too slow for you not to notice the colour that had risen to his cheeks. “It seemed, necessary, to ask now.”

You snort again, a hiss following because that wasn’t the best idea was it? “Sure, go ahead.”

Then he does that thing that makes you remember he’d spent all his life under the control of a clown and bows his head with a quiet little ‘thank you’, like you’ve just given him the world and that’s always been weird, you don’t think that’ll ever stop. Makes you angrier at the highbloods though, they get away with so much bullsh*t don’t they?

He’s cautious as he starts to unfasten your armouring, carefully pulling away piece after broken piece until he reaches the torn material over bandages and has to pause, swallowing heavily before starting to remove it as gently as he’s able with your blood acting as a pretty strong glue trying to keep it in place.

You hiss as it’s finely free of you, almost missing the words he mutters at the sight of the wound.

“You absolute moron.”

“Using that ‘absolute’ word, huh?” you spit back at him, grinning through your grimace as large hands start to poke and prod at the bronze-stained wrappings. “Must be pretty serious then.”

“It would be less so if you had not put yourself in the situation you had,” you don’t interrupt him, you don’t really have the energy to, plus you think you heard something wrong in his voice. “What if you had not returned at all? What would have happened to – to the rebellion then?”

You raise your hand to hold onto one of his horns, thankful that he’d had to seat himself to inspect the wound, and bring his forehead to rest against yours. There’s no need for either of you to pretend you hadn’t heard that slip there, not now.

“Mindfang would’ve looked after you,” you assure him, gentle as speaking to a spooked hoofbeast, your thumb rubs his horn and you get a pathetic noise out of him. “And the rebellion doesn’t need me to keep going, not with where we are now.”

“Liar.” To what part of it? He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t say anything more and focuses instead on patching you up to his standards, so better than most of the camp’s mediculler’s standards.

“You’ll see,” you tell him, ignoring the huffed noise you get in protest as you make yourself stand. “But later though, I haven’t slept in days and I’m ready to pass out, doll.”

“Do neigh call me that,” a weak protest, you haven’t ever paid mind to it. “Come, you can use my ‘coon for the night.”

“Finally got one big enough for us both then?”

-

The first time you see Darkleer outside of his little tucked away hidey-hole you’re more than a little confused. You didn’t really think he ever left the secluded darkness of his makeshift hive, finding him kneeling in a sparse little gathering of grass and weeds at the very end of the warm months was the last thing you expected to see.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, dropping down to the ground in front of him, keeping your posture neutral other than a cocked head. “Didn’t really think you as the flower-picking type of troll.”

He freezes completely, tensing all over and dropping his eyes even further to the ground, somehow. This guy certainly goes through some lengths to avoid eye contact doesn’t he? Man, you would too though, serving under those clowns anywhere near as long as he did.

“I, um… neigh I mean, nothing, I mean, obviously it’s something but it’s nothing really interesting or worth paying mind or attention too, not really, hnnnrk…”

“Wow there, rein that in a bit,” your hands raise placatingly, voice dropping to the tone you use with startled and spooked animals. Which is a thought that’s a bit too pathetic to deal with right now so you’re just going to ignore it. “You don’t gotta answer if it’s gonna freak you out, dude. S’not like your doing anything against us, right?” You had straightened up a bit at the question, voice firming and wings lifting in as aggressive a display as a 5’5” bronze could make to a near 7’ blue blood.

You also choose to ignore just how terrifying a thought that is, and how equally pathetic it is that he let’s you intimidate him like this even though he could break your fragile, aerodynamic exoskeleton in less than a pumper beat.

“It’s uh… just… a small trad, tradition. From before…”

Oh neat, traditions are neat. You didn’t know the Highbloods had any. Well, with how long they can live you suppose it’s only natural that they can keep and carry on any traditions they want really.

Still neat though.

“Nice,” you offer, letting yourself drop to the ground a few feet from him, stretching your legs out and letting your wings relax. You catch the careful, weary way he watches you, like an injured animal expecting you to hit them cause that’s all they know and really Petrus, you have gotta stop letting yourself have those pity-inducing thoughts, it’s not nice to yourself. “What kind of tradition?”

“We… um, we’d weave… flowers and grass into a rope to keep in our hives in order to usher the warm months back quicker… during the cold season that is… which is upcoming… which is why, um…”

“Which is why you’re out here sitting in the grass.” You finish with a nod, getting the action repeated back at you a few moments later. “Makes sense, ours were different though.”

“Oh?” You see his ear flicker towards you even as he tries not to stare or show just how interested he is in what you’re saying. “Can I… that is… if you were interested… can I inquiry as to one of them?”

“What? One of the traditions I grew up with?” You gotta clarify cause for a minute you don’t quite believe you’ve heard him right but there he is nodding at you so apparently you did ok then, you’ve got this. Story time with Petrus Nitram and … you really needed to get a better name for Darkleer.

~

“Here you go!”

Darkleer doesn’t look too pleased to see you right now, but not in the displeased way more in the ‘I was neigh expecting you and therefore hoof had neigh time to prepare for you barging into my hive like an excited wriggler eager to show off your new strifekind’ kinda way.

And yes, you knew he wouldn’t phrase it quite like that, maybe, but you’re sure that’s the route his thoughts would take.

Either way he’s switching between giving you that confused, down furrow between his eyes and cautious hopeful looks at the little bundle you’ve got in your arm. Well, little is relative.

She’s probably little to him, but she’s actually more than a handful for you. It’s a good thing that you’re actually stronger than you look else you probably wouldn’t have been able to carry her here.

She’s getting kinda wriggly though so you set her down to the floor gently to let her explore, pumper doing something you don’t really care to thing about when you see that Darkleer’s following her closely with her eyes, almost ignoring your presence completely and that’s… that’s really trusting. You can’t ignore how trusting that is and feels and this guy, how do you deal with him.

“You… brought me a hoofbeast.”

He even sounds distracted, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it and cautiously hopeful like he doesn’t wanna get too attached or you might take her away and you really really hate whoever did that to him, like a lot. It the worst and most platonic of ways.

“Well, yeah,” you say, ignoring the turn your thoughts took to focus on the here and now and the little hoofbeast shuffling closer to Darkleer to inspect him for introductions and treats. “Found her on her own during the last raid and thought you might wanna look after her? You could both use a bit of company, ya know?”

Did that… did that sound too pitying? Was the offer too red or pale or ? You really wish shit like this could just be easier, everything would be so much easier if they just worked like they were supposed to in books, no more confusing emotions or flipping between two equally dangerous people in your attention.

But! They weren’t that easy so you just had to deal with it.

Deal with the oddity of confusing emotions around organizing and war and rebellion against the Empire and oh boy you were well and truly fucked weren’t you?

“… Thank you…”

You almost didn’t catch that, but you do and you focus back on Darkleer and the little hoofbeast and oh, oh no. He’s being so gentle, he’s such a fucking giant and a highblood and freakishly strong to boot and he’s just… he’s being so careful to make sure he doesn’t hurt this little animal you’ve brought him to keep him company and fuck Petrus you’re gone, you’re doomed, this is so pathetic, he’s so lonely.

Hmmm, you need to stop thinking about this before you get nervous again, she’ll pick up on that and you only just got her settled down, no need for a panicked hoofbeast in your hive.

This is immediatley thrown out of consideration by your door opening and someone striding CONFIDENTLY inside and there’s only one individual who would do that, at least one that doesn’t have the tell-tale sound of heeled boots and you’re nervous and sweating again and oh fiddlesticks.

“I need to consult you about,” the Summoner started, speaking to the tense line of your back since you have frozen completely and have yet to turn towards him. But then his cadence completely changes upon catching sight of your other guest. “Oh hey there sweetheart, what’s got you all stuck in here for, no need to be nervous nobody’s gonna be hurting you, promise.”

Oh... Oh fiddlesticks.

He’s addressing the young hoofbeast-foal lusus you’d found injuried like a wriggler and you can not deal with this, you can not deal with this at all, please go back to the other way of speaking around you at least that was familiar and known and -