it’s the earliest taylor’s woken up in a long time. the clouds are hanging low over the countryside, swollen with rainwater it’s just waiting to dump out onto the nearby city of seoul. impending thunder rumbles dully in the distance, and mist is clinging to the outcrops of trees and mountain bases, like a cold blanket. it’s unseasonally chilly for a summer month. not that taylor minds, bundled in layers of soft t-shirt, flannel, and denim– a large canvas shopping bag slung over his shoulder as he periodically stops along the roadway to pick at loamy herbs and plants that only grow out here in the middle of near-nowhere, where the soil is just right and the humidity is perfect. witchthistle, with deep green leaves and velvet purple petals, is mainly what he’s come for– it makes a good poultice and an even better cleansing oil. but he’s gotten lucky this morning and has found a few rare types of moss, discoloured and impregnated with magic of the forest, and while he peels and plucks his samples, he knows spirits are quietly watching him work. don’t take more than you need. it’s a warning that reverberates down into the core of his chest and gut, accompanied by a gust of wind– and all the lavender-haired boy does is nod understandingly to himself, lifting a thorn-pricked thumb to his lips so he can soothe away the sting with the warmth of a quiet kiss.
another breeze follows this one. it seems to nudge him, urges him to step carefully through a thicket of ferns and shrubs, sending him right onto a dirt footpath. it’s overgrown. nobody’s walked this path for a while– save for a wild dog or two, maybe, judging by the pawprints honey eyes spot. and another set of paw prints.. more delicate than a dog’s. a fox? taylor shoves his slim hands into the pockets of his denim jacket and he trudges on down the footpath, careful not to crush any bell-shaped flowers or sprouts, and his careful gaze catches sight of a gate ahead covered in thick ivy, and headstones hidden behind it. a graveyard? how’s he never found this before? it’s small.. quaint, if you could assign such an innocent word to a place of endless sleep and mourning. the first thing he spots is a large patch of cape honeysuckle growing over the stone wall to the left, and quickly and quietly, he mutters a charm under his breath to pay respects to the bodies resting here before he’s padding over to the bright orange flowers and picking the blossoms, adding to his collection in his canvas bag. its contents smell like sweet blooms and fresh dirt. one of the best smells, in his opinion. but then.. there’s a shift in the air. a little waver and a spark. sun glints through a small break in the clouds and it’s making the messy haired boy turn his head, sleepy eyes scanning over headstones until they meet a pair of yellow irises and a sleek-furred face.
suddenly the fox is no more. replaced by a beautiful boy, all soft skin and curious gazes.
nymph? spirit…? demon? no– it happens all at once. the boy’s whole world shifts, tilts over and taylor has to brace himself on cold stone of the closest grave marker he can reach, a wavering breath spilling from his lips. the weight of added magic is pressing on his chest, forcing itself down on his shoulders, making the young witch buckle and submit. familiar. the fox is a familiar! the suffocation of sharing emotions and thoughts is quick to encroach on taylor’s heart, cluttering his chest up, and all this added power is vibrating and tingling right down to his fingertips, making it hard to get himself together, ‘til he looks up again and meets a steady gaze of a man that’s handling this.. well.. a lot better than he is. taylor’s trying to look casual, but it’s overwhelming, and now he’s jumpy and worked up, honeybrown eyes wide while his heart tugs awkwardly in his chest with every fiber of red string the universe is indeed weaving at this very moment to join them forever. forever. “you been through this a lot, fox?” the lavender boy manages, letting himself sink down into the grass, back pressed against the headstone he was using for support. everything is so heavy. “y– you had a couplea burns before, huh? i’m–”
taylor.
can you hear me? i’m taylor. and you’re mine now, and.. you’re kit.
The damp grass left his skin feeling so cold, but he barely noticed it over the energy that surged through him. The colors around him were more vibrant, the chilled air left goosebumps over his skin and yet all he could do was focus on the man before him and the warmth his presence brought. How could he have not wanted this? Why was he avoiding it for so long? Ever since he lost her he thought he was equipped to handle the lonely life that would follow. Seeing this witch and becoming human once more felt so right though. He supposed he was not the witch's first familiar either, with how easily he handled the fact that a fox turned into a man and yet the reaction when he sensed that the other was his familiar was extraordinary.
"There have been a few," he admitted, closing his eyes in an attempt to ground himself, gripping tightly onto the blades of grass. Going from feeling numb for five years to this was just not something he was prepared for. He wondered if the overwhelming emotions were coming from the witch or from him now but they would always be bonded so it was a question he would be asking until the end. Leaning against the marble gravestone, he tried to let the cold surface help him settle down. And yet that doesn't happen until the voice in his head soothed him. He opened his eyes again to find the human propped against the stone as well and there was something so oddly poetic about his past and his future together in his sight the way they were. He hesitated at first, hand reaching out and fingers curling before he could reach the human’s hair. Pushing through the uncertainty, he lightly combed his fingers through the man’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. The fox didn’t even realize how badly he missed human contact, their softness and their tenderness. The past few years have just been so cold and incredibly lonely. And it's what he wanted at the time, it's what he felt like he deserved.
He let out a small puff of breath, so completely stunned and happy for the random turn of events. There was something comforting before about closing himself off to a chance at this, at a home. The voice in his head is warm and every bit of loneliness that consumed him before quickly ebbed away. His fingers pressed firmly against his lips to keep from beaming at the human when he got his name. "My Taylor," he said gently against the pads of his fingers, still getting used to speaking again. Even as a fox, he was always rather quiet. 'Thank you.' His fingers brushed against Taylor's shoulder before his arm slid around him, engulfing his burn into a hug as he pressed against his side. The list of things he missed as a human was a long one, but he was sure the contact he had with humans was on the top. The fox- Kit- was trembling against the witch and he couldn't tell if it was from the excitement or cold air but he refused to let go or even say anything about it. "What are you doing visiting a place like this alone?" he asked, his chin perched on Taylor's shoulder.
He knew that the other wasn't looking for him, maybe not actively at the moment. Kit wasn't trying to be found anyways, so he didn't take it personally. But with how comfortable he was finally starting to feel, he was regretting not trying at least. He could sense the hint of loneliness underneath Taylor's surface. It's something they seemed to have both shared and Kit was determined to fix that. "I apologize," he cleared his throat, remembering his undressed state and he finally sat back on his heels and attempted to cover himself the best he could with his hands settling on his lap. "It's been a long time for me since I've been in this form," he continued sheepishly, fingers nervously flexing. "Would you be more comfortable if I turned back?"
