#tiny spite

I wanted to write a little ficlet about two insomniacs (actually only one, Lydia didn't want Lucanis to feel bad about her keeping him company to sooth Spite instead of sleeping) passing time in the Lighthouse's dining hall. About fleeting touches and stolen glances, about not knowing what this is other than it is nice. About finding out that there's someone that's not scared of your inner demon (not to mention that it's someone said inner demon seems to be quite fond of and actually listens to), that trusts you enough to fall asleep next to you, an assassin and abomination that has nothing to offer. About worrying that the man you're slowly falling for is just too polite to stop your rambling on the very inaccurate and stereotypical descriptions of autopsies (and who perform them) in the mediocre adventure book you're currently reading (he makes his distrust of necromancy very clear every time Emmrich tries to talk to him about intricacies of this fascinating field of magic, so you must be too weird to him, right?). Takes place somewhere between Weisshaupt and Bloodbath.

But I simply don't have time between painting (I really want to have something for every prompt) and reading tones of lovely fanfics made for the event. Not to mention that English is not my first language, that writing down my streams of consciousness is hard, that last time I wrote fanfic was 20 years ago as a teen and that I'm quite jittery about putting my scribbles out in the wild.