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writingat12am · 2 days ago

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lil silly goofy thing for my D&D character Zink, and their ‘definitely-not-homoerotic-situationship-who-died’ Zephyrus

(And is getting resurrected for the purposes of this writing exercise 👍)

(Also note, have no clue how coffins super work- so not super accurate lol)

...this became really long I did not intend this (1,900 words)

welp enjoy! Any feedback is helpful :)

TW: depictions of corpses/ death (fairly decomposed, nothing crazy), vomiting

The earth under Zinks nails stung as he carved deeper and deeper into the cold terra firma. Palms raw and cracked from frantic digging.

He had come with a shovel, among other things. His wits were included in that list but as he drew closer and closer to his companions grave, heartbeat swelling closer to his ears they gave way to something else, scratching voraciously for a sign of the simple wooden coffin. Unmarked, unknown, left for the trees. How they both thought a grave should be. (Other than the small elvish markings in the stump nearby, but no one other than Zink, maybe Zeph, could make out the cursive.)

The sun was cradled by the mountain range as the rasp of nails against wood was heard. A shallow swallow all Zink could manage, “He’s here, I am doing this, oh gods, this is incredulous”

As he uncovered more of the coffin, more thoughts surfaced;

“What if he doesn’t recognize me?” He found the top lip of the coffin.

“What if I can’t save him?” He uncovered the rusted brass hinges on the side.

“…What if he doesn’t like the person I’ve become.” He paused as he held the corner latch.

The questions always ruminated in Zinks head, possibilities, ‘what if’s’, happy and sad endings. It never stopped him from pulling himself out of his stupor, finding a home, finding allies, finding answers. Finding a way to save Zephyrus- the man who saved him.

He owed Zeph this.

Zink pushed the white curls of his hair back into a small ponytail, inhaled deeply to bite the bile back, whisps of cold breath fogging his field of vision and open the lid.

There was no wave of the stench of death, no swarm of flies or spiders to engulf Zink in his doubt. Just cold, slightly soddy smelling, air.

When he dared a peak, it was, about as expected.

Some of the wood had rotted away- allowing for soil to seep in, among other bugs who had made a home out of his body for the time being. But Zeph…was gone. Remnants of flesh, clothing, and life seeped into the soil and gone from the yellowed skeleton in front of Zink.

He could feel his stomach tense, like he was expecting Zeph to have somehow been spared from the ever moving circle of life. Be preserved in the ground with his hands enclasped with a tulip and forget me not- their favorite flowers respectively. But all that was left was some finger bones, fallen through the rib cage near the center. The only thing indicating it had been Zinks friend, his vessel, was a chipped front tooth he’d had since childhood.

Zink moved cautiously, as if stirring too loud would cause the skeleton to fall apart, grabbing a ring inlayed with a tear drop diamond and his worn leather notebook full of notes on things as mundane as shopping lists to his spells.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting stark shadows above the grave and through the colorful turning early-autumn trees. Zink coughed as he blew away any webs and bugs from the area, slipping the diamond ring onto the boney index finger. The book thrumming as he took it into his shaky hands, flipping the waxy pages to the dog eared one containing the incantation.

Through bated breath, Zink began to read the incantation.

The words came naturally, like he’d practiced through hundreds of sleepless nights, but instead of a small rock, his hand now touching the diamond.

“Mors est filum quod ego rego.,” a wispy string of light connected Zink's fingers to the diamond, refracting the light across the sod and outwards towards the sky.

“Hoc decreto et voluntate Kythi,” the breeze whipped in his face, but the grass started leaning towards the grave, as if it was listening to the incantation.

He continued, ",animam eius corpori restitue." The light flowed into the ground, seeming to sap energy from the fauna, coiling up Zink's hand he could feel it taking him too.

"I haven't come this far to fail, c'mon just a little longer..." His hand began to pound, like the magic was trying to envelope it with the spell.

The light was mostly white, bluing at the edge like a low flame. But at certain angles it shimmered a warm orange and yellow and purple, refracting like a light catcher and growing in shine. The incantation continued, whipping the fall foliage around him, feeling the sting of gravel on his face and hand.

Tears blurred Zink's vision as he steadied himself, "Libera eum a morbo qui olim eum vexabat," the light blinding him as the sinew started to reconstruct and rewind itself around the bones, "his bones" Zink thought.

His head pounded, the only thought in his mind each word, illuminated to him behind his lids from desperation of hours of replaying this to himself.

"et ad hunc planum reduc qualis erat!" He didn't entirely find himself yelling the last part, but the whoosh of the wind around him made it difficult to hear.

The magic seemed to swell in that moment, overtaking in a surge of ice through his veins, so fast and frenzied, finding any part of him to feed the spell. He used his other arm to keep the other straitened, falling numb from the rigidness of the movement.

Everything moved too quickly. The light that felt like it held Zink taut as it took from him receded in one motion, sending him keeling; disoriented; nauseous. The world around him returned to its regular hum within a second.

Gods his head hurt, everything hurt. Like a wicked pound of thunder pulsating through the entirety of his body, as if he'd been revived. The setting sun too bright behind his eyelids, the squeak of wood too loud, his clothes too itchy and tight.

He heard a heave of breathe, not his own not his own not his own.

A cough wracked through the natural noise.

"Holy shit" Zink forced his eyes open, the edges of everything soft and disoriented.

He forced himself to look in the grave, the bile rising up, so scared of the 'what ifs', so many what ifs.

There were no yellowing bones to catch the remaining light, instead casting ruddy highlights on warm brown skin, bisected by shimmering bluish lines following the veins in pattern. His face casted in shadow as he turned to his side as the wheezing continued. Light refracted off of a large patch of magic still weaving on his side.

The side where he'd been struck by the poisoned dagger.

"Zeph?" Zink asked, like there was any question as to who this was. His voice cracked under a weight he'd carried for the last three years.

Curly hair stuck to his face as he turned, dark eyes catching as amber in the light as the heaving subsided. Squinting up and out of the grave at the figure who looked about ready to collapse into the hole in the ground.

"Zink?" he croaked, voice groggy as if unused, which it was. For 3 years, 2 mont-

He managed a small nod, "Yes." His body reeling from too much input. He's alive, he's alive, he's ALIVE.

A force knocked him backwards onto the grass, making the bile come closer to his mouth. But he didn't fucking care, Zephyrus Vandrinnos was alive.

"Oh my gods, you- you brought me back didn't you Zink? I-"

Zink felt the burn in his throat rise, realizing he was about to spill his guts onto the man he just revived, he tried to push him off.

"Get off, going to- puke," he managed before the chunks of soup and tea he'd drunk earlier came wretching out in waves, spilling onto the dry grass.

Thank the gods he'd had enough forethought to not eat too much solid foods.

In between heaves he managed, "bottle, next to me, healing."

Zeph fumbled for the small bottle, handing it over quickly The cork squeaking as Zink flipped it off and chugged the rosy colored contents, willing himself despite the burning sensation after the acid had come up. A warm, non invasive quality washing over his body. He gasped as he finished the contents, the pain already beginning to ebb.

"You okay?" Zeph managed, much quieter now.

"Yeah...yeah"

Zink blinked away the blurry edges of his vision, trying not to look at the retch below him, opting for Zeph instead.

A burn of embarrassment lept across Zinks face, "shit, clothes."

He clipped off the cloak he had on, trying not to look over at Zeph before he was decent, "there are some more clothes in the bag, and boots." The wind whipped him as he took of the cloak, getting colder as the sky grew more purple.

Zeph looked over to the bag, brow knitted, "You brought me back..."

"Yeah, somehow."

"With magick?"

"Yes."

"Why in the nine hells would you do that?! Do you know how dangerous that is."

The irony wasn't lost on Zink, he bit his lip, this was something he thought would happen.

"Because..." Zink started, trying to collect his thoughts? Because he could have saved him, because he wasn't good enough to survive, because he couldn't bear the thought of living on without Zeph. All options too honest right now, not when this was supposed to be about getting the other to a safe place so they could talk about this later.

In reality Zink hadn't thought this far.

"Because what?"

"Guilt," a summary of the storm inside his head. He pushed himself away from the grave, towards the stump to lean against. After a minute of neither speaking, he continued.

"I- I was lost. I thought that, if I were to revive you, things would...be normal again, us two against the world. But," he blinked up, looking at Zeph near the bag, unsure whether or not to go through it, "it's been years now, gods, now that I've gone through with it. I don't even know if you'll like me anymore. I just wanted you alive, happy. Even if its not with me." His voice was filled with more venom towards himself than anything else. Not angry at Zeph for pushing questions, because- by all accounts what he is doing is illegal, but he didn't fucking care.

Because he loved him. And even if he wanted nothing to do with him now, at least he was alive. Zink knew that he was alive and could live out the life he wanted in any corner of the world. That was enough for him.

Somewhere in between all this, Zink looks at his hand incredulously, it was even more ironic that now of all times, he'd become paled skinned, reverting back to his true form, changeling; freak.

"I'm still me, but.... Hell, I don't even have the same face I had while we were adventuring. You don't know this," he said, guesturing to his face, "You don't know me anymore."

Zink breathed in, not realizing his eyes were close to watering.

The squeak of leather a brush of grass echoed as Zeph approached him, squatting down so they'd be at eye level, using a finger to tilt Zink's chin up towards him to force him to face him.

"Well, the Zink I knew was definitely stubborn and loyal enough to go do something so stupid, and then doubt everything about us. Even if there are gaps, that's okay. Ill get to know you again."

End

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

#d&d #d&d character #d&d oc #dungeons and dragons #fanfic #original character #original character writing #dialogue prompt #bad writing #idk man #uhhhh #not proofread #tw: vomit #tw: death #? idk its the closest thing I can think of that is a fitting tag lol

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