blotandfangs

[blotandfangs]

🐲🪷🐉✨

[blotandfangs]

Shed Happens

Kleo was curled up in one of Savanaclaw’s sturdier armchairs, the kind built to withstand even Ruggie’s "totally innocent pranks." A thick book on magical plant toxicity balanced on her knees, she turned a page, but paused as something tickled her tongue.

A strand of hair.

Not hers.

She plucked it off with a slow blink. Long. Thick. Dark. Leona.

Again.

This was the fourth time this week. She’d found his hair in her blanket, in her tea, inside her boots, and once horrifyingly embedded in a beetroot.

At first, she'd assumed he was just... everywhere. Leona was the kind of person who napped wherever the sun was warm and the air vaguely quiet. But lately, the trail of fur had intensified. He was molting like a lion in summer.

Kleo, frowning, tilted her head “Are you trying to bury me undead?”

A low growl came from the other side of the room. Leona, sprawled belly-up on a sunlit spot, cracked open one eye. “Tch. It’s shedding season.”

Kleo blinked at him “Is this contagious?”

He snorted “What do I look like? A plague beast?”

“No, but I am inhaling you like pollen” Kleo held up the strand of hair like it was evidence in a murder case. “Do you know how many of your hairs I have consumed this week? At least three. The normal ratio is zero, Kitten! I’m practically part-beastman now”

Leona didn’t even flinch “You're welcome.”

“Welcome?!” she sputtered “I am going to start coughing up hairballs!”

“That’s a you problem.”

A long silence stretched. Then Kleo slowly lowered her book, eyes narrowed with purpose.

“…You are getting brushed”

That got a reaction. Leona’s eyes widened like she’d declared a blood duel “The hell I am!”

“Oh, yes” she said sweetly, standing with predatory calm. “Get the brush, Ruggie!”

Ruggie popped in from the hallway like he'd been summoned by a divine force “Finally! I've been waitin’ years for this.”

Twenty minutes and one wrestling match later, Leona was trapped beneath Kleo, who sat triumphantly on his back like a smug forest goblin brushing out his shedding mane with alarming efficiency while humming a lullaby.

"You could warn me next time" Leona grumbled, face mushed into a pillow.

"You could warn me nex time" Kleo shot back.

In the end, she left with a full brush of fur, a smug grin, and no remorse.

Leona pretended to hate it, but in fact this would make his shedding less bothersome.

Next day morning light filtered through the high Savanaclaw windows, streaking gold across the dusty floor. Ruggie, armed with a metal spoon and a pan for maximum wake-up trauma, crept into Leona’s room with the grim determination of someone who had absolutely seen battle before.

“Alright, Your Lazy Highness, time to— ” He froze.

On Leona’s bed sat Kleo like a small, determined earl of chaos. She held a brush like it was an extension of her will. And in front of her, Leona sat cross-legged, unmoving, shirt loose and hair draping down like some kind of reluctant royal sphinx. His expression was that of a man who had made peace with his fate, but not with his dignity.

Kleo hummed sweetly as she brushed “Hold still, kitten.”

Leona didn’t even growl at the nickname this time. He just stared blankly ahead, like a soldier on his final mission.

Kleo brushed through a stubborn tangle, tsking softly “You are worse than my homeland wolves. Do you roll in your sleep?”

Leona grunted. Maybe in protest. Maybe in pain. It was hard to tell.

“You know” she added innocently “this is all your fault. If I find one more hair in my mouth, I’m shaving you bald.”

“Try it” Leona muttered, eyes dead “You’ll lose a hand.”

Kleo ignored him completely, switching to a finer brush “You are being a very patient kitten today”

Ruggie couldn't take it anymore. He staggered backward, trying and failing not to laugh. “I— I’m comin’ back later. I can’t look at you right now. This is ridiculous. It’s too much. You look like a pampered housecat.”

“I hate you both” Leona growled.

“Brush brush” Kleo hummed cheerfully.

Leona sighed, the sound of a man defeated by vampiric hair management. A curse he accepted on his own dorm.

[blotandfangs]

Gargoyles and Lighthining

It was supposed to be jsut one more of the normal days at Night Raven College. An afternoon as soft as fresh-washed sheets. The kind of where even the ghosts seemed content to drift lazily between the halls.

Kleo sat in a corner of the science club room, nose buried in a thick volume on magical toxicity and notes scattered around her like a paper nest. Everything smelled like chalk and old pages. Even Rook was quiet absorted by his own experiment.

Then thunder cracked. Sharp and sudden, like the world had split in two. Loudly startling the distracted vampire.

Kleo glanced up. A dark cloud had swallowed the sky outside, pulsing with flickering veins of lightning that danced too low for comfort. The air felt… wrong.

That’s when she spotted Silver running past the Science Club. Kleo joined him. Silver doesn't get anxious without real motives. He is not Sebek.

“Kleo!” he panted, eyes wild and hair wind-tousled while running. “It’s the gargoyles! And Malleus! He’s��� he’s destroying school property!”

She blinked. “What?”

“I don’t know much!”

She had no idea what was going on, but Silver looked confused and serious. Too serious. So of course she kept following him into the storm outside.

The wind howled as Kleo and Silver pushed through the courtyard. The world outside looked less like a school and more like a battlefield. The air cracks when they walk across stone paths, and arcs of green lightning danced between shattered lanterns and scorched trees.

And there, floating above the chaos, was Malleus.

He hovered in the air, cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a storm. His eyes swept the crowd below, cold and narrowed, sharp as blades. He wasn’t looking at students. He was looking at suspects.

Kleo shivered. Not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming pressure in the air. The eletricity of Malleus' magic buzzed against her skin, made her ears ring. This wasn’t a tantrum. It felt more like a trial.

“Malleus” she called gently, but her voice was drowned out by a crash as lightning split a garden bench in half.

Students and staff stood at a distance, whispering, wary. A few brave Heartslabyul students tried casting shields over windows, but the glass still spiderwebbed from every new strike. Their magic would never be a match for Malleus'.

Lilia stepped to her side, arms crossed, cloak tugged tight.

“He was just walking aroun” he said, tone clipped but calm. “And then some idiot misfired a spell. Right into his favorite gargoyle.”

Kleo blinked. “Favorite…?”

“He hand-enchanted it to squeak when the moon was high. Now it’s rubble.”

She glanced at the pile of stones beneath Malleus’s shadow.

“I take it… he is not taking it well.”

Lilia gave her a side glance. “He’s interrogating everyone. With lightning. If he keeps it up, we’ll need a new science wing.”

Another bolt cracked across the sky, frying a lamppost.

Kleo took a breath. “I will try to talk to him.”

Lilia raised shrugged “I say we should wait till he tires out.”

Kleo frowns “Not an option. Humans don't like being struck by lighthining”

“Neither do I” Lilia sighs “They will survive. Probably”

Kleo puffed out her cheeks in a pout, eyes fixed on the ominous figure above. Malleus really did look furious, much like the personified wrath of a storm god. But she’d seen him smile over a teacup, hum while watching fireflies, and fuss over gargoyle placement like a grandmother. This? This wasn’t like him. And he ignored her.

Kleo frowns at the storm. It's too strong for her thin wings, so she grabbed a broom from a nearby storage rack and kicked off the ground. Thank the stars for flying class supplies! The wind nearly ripped her red hood off. The broom wobbled under each crack of lightning and wind, but she pressed upward, weaving through bolts and static.

He saw her.

And he didn’t soften.

“Kleo�� Malleus said coldly, voice carrying through the storm like thunder itself. “What do you know of the gargoyle?”

She squinted, baffled. “What?”

His eyes narrowed. “You are part of the Science Club. You’re often near the older wings. It was your spell?”

She reeled back like she’d been slapped. "Excuse me?" Her voice rose an octave. “You know I can not even cast magic unless I’ve fed! Don’t act like you forgot!”

The air crackled between them. For a moment, even the lightning paused. Kleo flew closer: right into his storm radius. A bit of her hair lifted from the static. Eyes blazing red now.

“You are making a fool of yourself!” she shouted over the roar of the wind. “Throwing lightning like a child throwing a tantrum! The real culprit is probably halfway to the woods by now while you are too busy threatening everyone else!”

She pointed a finger at him. “You are not scaring them into truth, you are just scaring them. You broke more things than they ever could.”

He stared at her, unreadable, but the wind stilled slightly.

His next words were low. “You think I am being foolish.”

She crossed her arms tightly, glaring back. “I know you are.”

Malleus’s gaze sharpened, his eyes flickering with a sudden spark of offense. The lightning around him crackled louder in response, a jagged arc flashing across the sky as if to emphasize his growing frustration. He floated just a bit higher, narrowing the distance between them.

“You mock my care for the gargoyle?” His voice was like ice: chilling and distant “Do you find my attachment to it trivial?”

Kleo froze for a moment, the sharpness of his words stinging more than the electric wind. She blinked rapidly, realizing what she had said “No, that is not what I meant!”

But Malleus wasn’t listening, his anger too thick now to let her explanation through. The lightning intensified, and the storm above them seemed to spiral further out of control.

“You…” Kleo started, eyes burning in frustration. “You are being ridiculous, Malleus! Just because it is important to you does not mean it is okay to destroy everything in your path because of a stupid mistake!”

The air between them felt charged with pure tension, the lightning flashing around them like a ticking clock. But in that moment, Kleo had had enough. She snapped, fury in her chest.

“Malleus Draconia!” she screamed, pointing right at his face, the words hitting him with the full force of her voice “You are grounded!”

The lightning stilled.

Malleus froze.

For a long, taut moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if even the storm didn’t know what to do next.

Kleo’s chest heaved as she glared at him, but inside, she was a little surprised at her own boldness. She had no idea what had possessed her except maybe a mix of frustration and the strange, almost instinctive need to stand up to him. But she couldn’t just let him act like this, not when it was so unnecessary.

Malleus’s expression shifted slowly and in that instant, he almost looked... small. A little embarrassed. Like a child caught in the middle of something he didn’t entirely understand.

He slowly lowered himself, and the storm calmed, the lightning fading into a quiet hum.

“I… am grounded?” His voice was softer now, edged with confusion. “But... I am the housewarden of Diasomnia. I cannot be grounded.”

Kleo felt a small laugh bubble up, not out of mockery, but from the sheer absurdity of the situation. She had just told Malleus Draconia, of all people, that he was grounded. And it had worked.

“Yes, you are” she said, crossing her arms with a small smirk “And you are not allowed to destroy anything else, either.”

Malleus blinked, taken aback. The storm was gone, the world returning to some semblance of normality, but there was a new tension now, something unexpected between them.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“…I am sorry,” Malleus finally said, looking more like a bewildered child than the powerful being he truly was.

Kleo didn’t let the silence hang long.

“Oh no. You do not get to float there looking sad after throwing lightning at everyone” She flew right up to him and grabbed his sleeve with the stubborn grip of someone who had decided this was her hill to die on. “We are going down. Right now. You are going to apologize to every student you terrified, and to Headmage Crowley for the damage. And then you are going to sit and think about what you did.”

Malleus blinked again. “I… must I truly…?”

“Yes!” she snapped, tugging his sleeve with surprising strength “You scared Silver, destroyed half the courtyard, and someone’s broom exploded in midair! You are lucky no one got hurt. Let us go!”

To the stunned crowd below, the sight was almost unreal. The housewarden of Diasomnia, prince of Briar Valley, feared dragon fae, was slowly descending like a scolded puppy while a tiny vampire in red yanked him along by the cloak.

Silver covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking as he tried and failed not to laugh. His eyes glinted with restrained amusement as he muttered, “That’s a first.”

Sebek’s jaw was practically on the floor. “L-Lady Kleo! What— how dare you— That is Lord Malleus! You cannot just— You’re— What is happening?!”

Beside him, Lilia laughed in amusement to hide his concerns. “Hah! Of all the people in this school… No one dares speak to Malleus that way! Not teachers, not royalty, not even Crowley! And yet she scolds him like he’s a naughty hatchling… and he listens! He’s being obedient!”

Kleo landed with a firm thump in the courtyard and turned, hands on her hips “Well?”

Malleus stood beside her, oddly subdued, glancing at the many wide eyes around them. His voice was low, a little awkward.

“…I apologize for the damage. And the storm. It was… excessive.”

Some students still looked too stunned to speak, but one of the Heartslabyul boys nodded rapidly, as if afraid of changing the current mood. “Uh… apology accepted, Your Highness! No hard feelings!”

Kleo crossed her arms, satisfied. “Now Crowley.”

Malleus grimaced “Must I really?”

She raised an eyebrow “Grounded, remember?”

He sighed “Very well.”

And with that, the two of them marched toward the main hall. Kleo leading, Malleus obediently following like a child on timeout.

Sebek continued to sputter. “I— I don’t understand— how— WHY?!”

Silver just gave him a pat on the shoulder, grinning. “Just accept it, Sebek.”

Lilia muttered with false chuckles “Briar Valley’s heir has been defeated… by a scolding and the word grounded. Remarkable.”

Inside the school, the headmage was mid-rant when they arrived.

“—and do you know how expensive those crystal windowpanes are?! That lab equipment was imported from the Rose Kingdom and now it’s sparking! Not to mention—"

He froze as the door opened.

Kleo stood there, arms folded.

Malleus stood behind her, hands behind his back like a student called to the principal’s office.

Crowley blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating.

Kleo nodded toward the headmage with all the firm poise of a school monitor “He has something to say.”

Malleus sighed. “Headmage Crowley… I offer my sincerest apologies for the damage done to the school and its equipment. It was not befitting of my station.”

Crowley just… stared.

“…You do?”

“Yes” Malleus said flatly.

“And you’re… being made to say this?”

“I am currently grounded” Malleus replied without emotion.

Crowley slowly turned to Kleo, incredulous. “You grounded him?”

She smiled sweetly “I did. He accepted the sentence.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. And then, for once, Crowley had absolutely nothing to say.

The headmage was still recovering from the shock when Kleo straightened her hood and turned to survey the damage reports on his desk. She gave a little hum, tapping one finger thoughtfully.

“All right” she said, voice calm but firm. “We will start repairs tomorrow morning. What can be fixed with magic, we will fix. What can not, we will replace. Right?”

Crowley blinked “We?”

She nodded once, decisive “We.”

Malleus turned to her then, eyes narrowing. Not in offense this time, but in curiosity “You said ‘we.’”

Kleo met his gaze, a little exasperated but sincere “Of course I did.”

“But you didn’t cause any of the damage.”

She sighed and gave a small, tired smile. “No, but you are grounded, not exiled. You are going to make it right, yes, but not alone. That is the point of… you know” She gestured vaguely. “Consequences. And friendship.”

“…You are quite strange” he murmured staring at her “In Briar Valley, one would be punished alone”

“You are lucky to be here, then” she said with a shrug, “Now one shall still be punished, indeed, in a way one's keeper judge appropriate for the offense”

Malleus looked at her a moment longer, the faintest touch of awe curling at the corner of his lips. “Very well. We shall begin repairs at dawn.”

Kleo frowns dramaticly “Not that early.”

Behind them, Crowley cleared his throat. “Well. I suppose if my office wasn’t completely fried, I’d put that in your permanent records. Since it is, I’ll just go collapse somewhere.”

As he shuffled away, mumbling about fae weather patterns and stress ulcers, Malleus turned to Kleo again, quietly.

“You did well” he said “grounding me.”

She blinked. “That… might be the strangest praise I have ever gotten.”

The walk back to Diasomnia dorm was quiet. Malleus followed a few steps behind Kleo, unusually subdued, shoulders slouched just slightly, as if still processing the events of the day. His pout was faint, but unmistakably there. Lower lip barely jutted, eyes avoiding hers with the sulky precision of someone not used to being told no.

Before they reached the tower’s grand doors, Kleo suddenly stopped. Malleus nearly walked into her.

“What is it?” he asked, still avoiding eye contact.

She turned, stepping into his space with her usual gentle determination, eyes narrowed not in anger, but in attentive worry.

“I want to check you over”

Malleus blinked “Check me… over?”

She ignored his confusion and took his hand, taking away his glove and turning it palm-up to examine the skin. “Lightning takes a toll. You may be used to it, but I will not take chances. Not with you. I want to make sure you are not hurting.”

He opened his mouth to object, but she was already onto the next inspection: tilting his chin and checking his eyes for any strange flickers.

His pupils adjusted fine.

No blot clouding the irises.

Then she gently pushed back his bangs and checked the tips of his pointed ears. He froze, tension humming beneath his skin.

“…I am not injured” he mumbled, just a bit stiff.

“I will be the judge of that” she muttered back, already circling him. Kleo stood on her tip toes and her fingers trailed up toward one of his horns, checking the base for heat or cracks. He made a strange, startled sound in the back of his throat and went rigid.

“You’re twitchy” she noted.

“You are touching my horns” he said, voice tight. “Do you know how what this could mean in Briar Valley?”

She paused. Blinked.

Then made frowned face “I do not, actually. Judging by your reaction, it must be something important”

“Indeed.”

A pause passed between them, awkward until Kleo spoke again “…Sorry.”

“…It is fine” he murmured, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

She crouched slightly, peeking up at his face “Still not done.”

He startled again as she gently tugged his lip down to check his fangs. “Open. Say ah.”

“I am not a hatchling—”

“Ah, Malleus!”

Grumbling low in his throat, he relented. She examined the sharp tips with the focus of someone who’d memorized every warning sign of overblot, and only when she was satisfied did she pull back with a small nod.

“Okay” she said softly. “You are clear. No magic distortion, no cracks, no blot symptoms. You are just grumpy.”

He raised an eyebrow “You are remarkably thorough.”

“Of course I am” She rushed with the tone of someone who saw blot acting closely, then Kleo smiled “You are my friend. I would rather be safe than sorry”

His eyes lingered on her for a long moment. “...I see.”

[blotandfangs]

Home on Yellow Pages

The rain was whispering against the stained glass windows of the Diasomnia common room. Green light shimmered on the floor like reflections in a deep pond, and the hearth flickered low and warm. Kleo, just like every night, sat curled in her favorite corner of the velvet couch, an old book open in her lap: The Language of Flowers. She had been flipping through it quietly, tracing illustrations of camellias and foxglove with the tip of her gloved finger, when she sensed him.

Malleus had entered without a word. His presence familiar, heavy like a summer storm. He didn’t speak. He simply seated himself beside her, posture in princely elegance, his gaze distant. Contemplative.

She watched him from the corner of her eye without saying a word. Malleus has some strange habits and usually keeps his distance from others. Kleo didn't gave much thought and looked down at her book again.

"The cyclamen flower means goodbye. But in some dialects, it can also mean resignation. Or protection from pain" she reads outloud, her voice breaking the silent hush of the room.

Malleus blinked. His gaze shifted to her—not sharp, but surprised. As if unused to being read to. He was just there. Not really expecting conversation or anything.

Kleo didn't look up, just kept going. Her voice was gentle, steady, not asking for attention but offering it nonetheless.

“White chrysanthemums mean truth. And also sorrow. A flower for graves and confessions.”

He didn’t interrupt. In fact, he didn’t move at all, save for the slow tilt of his head as if leaning closer to her voice. Time seemed to slow between the words, punctuated only by the turning of pages and the occasional hiss from the hearth burning warm fire.

It wasn’t until she reached a passage about forget-me-nots that she noticed the faintest shift in his breath.

He decided to stay.

★———★

The next night, the common room was still as ever. Kleo, being a vampire, didn't have the need for sleep. So this was her night by night: reading there, where she could spot the first students moving and the sun starting to rise at morning.

The fire was lower than usual, embers like watchful eyes in the dark. Kleo had returned to her reading place, blanket over her knees, the book from yesterday open again.

She hadn’t expected him to come again, but her eyes had wanderer more than once toward the door.

So when Kleo heard the soft tread of boots over the rug, she didn’t look up. The smell of his magic was enough for her to know who was approuching.

Malleus stepped into view without ceremony, dressed in dark layers that shimmered slightly with the remnants of outside mist. But this time, he carried something in his hands.

He held it out to her without words.

A book. Old and worn, the cover embossed with faded gold filigree. She recognized it immediately: Myths and Tales of the Early Realms, a rare edition from the school library. She had mentioned it once in passing weeks ago, admiring the cover, but the book wasn't allowed to leave the library.

Kleo looked up at him, eyes wide. Then softer. She didn’t say anything, only took the book with curious gloved fingers. Maybe this is the perks of being a housewarden. Or a prince.

Her smile bloomed like a candlelit bloom, and she didn’t need to thank him aloud. It was all there in the way her eyes gleamed excited to devour every page.

Malleus sat beside her again. No questions. No words.

Just the quiet, and the sound of her voice as she began to read again. This time, a tale of a fae princess who loved the stars, and the wolf who sang with the moon.

★———★

The night meetings became an unspoken ritual.

Every night, Malleus would find her there: always in the same spot, legs tucked under a blanket, a book in hand. Sometimes it was myths, sometimes legends, sometimes old poems with tangled verses that curled in the air like dense smoke. And every night Kleo read aloud, her voice a soft thread weaving the silence.

He never asked her about it. She never asked why he came.

But he did. Without fail.

One evening, the room was especially still. Rain again, tapping faintly on the high windows. He entered as quiet as always, a shadow wrapped in green. But this time he paused.

Something was different.

On the small table beside the sofa sat two porcelain cups. Steam rose from each, scented with something soft like lavender and dried citrus, maybe chamomile. A little plate of honey rested between them like an offering.

Kleo was already curled up, book open in her lap, but her hands were still. Waiting.

She looked up at him with a small smile “It is cold, so I thought you might like something warm tonight”

Malleus stared at the cups for a moment, as if they were something fragile and magical. Then he sat beside her, taking one in hand with unhurried grace.

He didn’t need to say thank you, simply taking a sip while Kleo searched his face for approval before beggining to read.

★———★

The tea had become part of the routine now: always ready, always warm. Tonight Kleo had even brought a tiny saucer of sugar cubes shaped like stars. She liked to leave little things like that behind, as if the room itself might remember them.

Malleus entered at his usual pace, but there was something different in the way he moved tonight. More purposeful stops catching Kleo's attention. Under one arm, he carried a book.

It was thick, bound in black leather, silver-edged. When he settled beside her, Malleus offered it out without a word. The title was etched in dusky script: Stone Guardians: The Forgotten Gargoyles of the Old Kingdoms.

Kleo’s eyes sparkled. “Gargoyles?” she asked, voice catching on a giggle before she could stop it. “I did not take you for the type.”

Malleus raised a brow, almost imperious, but his lips curved just faintly. “They’re... misunderstood” he murmured.

It was the first time he’d spoken during their nighttime rituals. His voice, low and rich, filled the space like a spell that lingered in the hearthlight. Kleo’s smile widened, warmed. She carefully opened the book and ran a finger down the page.

“In ancient castles where rain carves whispers into stone, they wait… guardians with teeth and wings, not made to fly but to watch”

She read slower tonight. Perhaps because the book meant something to him. Perhaps because his presence beside her felt closer now and not just shared space.

As she read about warding spirits and grim laughter etched in marble, she felt him shift beside her. Not away. Closer.

And when she turned the page and glanced up, she found him already looking, eyes glued to every gargoyle sketched on the book. Kleo sublty moved the book so he could see them better.

★———★

It didn’t take long for people to notice.

A hush that settled over Diasomnia after sundown. No one declared it, but it became understood: do not wander on the common room during night. No matter how cozy the smell of tea and old book is.

Because that’s when they were there. At first it was just her, the resident vampire of Diasomnia. Now the housewarden joins her. Night after night.

At first, some students had wandered in late for water or a forgotten textbook, only to stop short, startled by the sight: their housewarden, regal and still, sitting beside the soft-voiced vampire reading myths about mermaids or starbeasts. The sight was so oddly tender, so out of place in the fortress-like gloom of Diasomnia, that students slowly began adjusting their schedules to avoid it.

Now, no one dared interrupt.

Not even Sebek, though it took some heavy effort.

It was especially hard the night Malleus sat closer than ever. Not just beside Kleo, but leaning in enough that their shoulders touched when she turned a page and pointed the drawings. Sebek had risen from his bed in his dorm room and rushed to the stairs, sensing something. Muttering.

“He’s— he’s far too close! W-who knows what foul vampire magic she’s using?! What if he’s under a—”

Silver caught his sleeve without even looking opening his eyes as if sensed Sebek's dread. “Sit down, Sebek.”

“But—!”

“Sit.”

Sebek growled softly but obeyed, glancing toward the common room like a knight torn between honor and exile. He glanced from the stairs, now sitting on the steps.

Meanwhile, Lilia watched it all from afar. Eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable. He never intruded. But he never missed a night, either. Too wary to leave that girl alone with Malleus.

Until one evening, after Kleo read a particularly sweet ending about a castle built on dreams, and Malleus chuckled under his breath, actually chuckled! Lilia finally stepped in. He approuched silently from the shadows and walked right up to them, arms crossed and smile sharp.

“Kleo” he drawled. “You’re spoiling him.”

Kleo blinked, startled mid-pour of tea. “I… what?”

Malleus looked at Lilia with faint amusement but didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

“You’re reading to him. Bringing him tea. Treating him like some storybook beast that just needs a little warmth and attention to turn tame” Lilia’s eyes glittered with worries as if that tiny vampire was plotting to hurt Malleus after lowing his walls “I’m telling you, wolf, you’re making him soft.”

Kleo smiled folding her hands politely in her lap. “I would never dare to try taming a dragon.”

Malleus gave a single, content nod, sipping his tea.

Lilia sighed, still creeped out by Kleo's presence so easily close to Malleus “Hells above. He really is doomed.”

But that night, for the first time, Lilia sat in the corner and listened to the tale she read.

Just once.

★———★

Another night. Another book.

This time, Malleus had chosen it again: an ancient tome bound in midnight blue, with faded celestial symbols etched along the spine. He placed it carefully on the table beside the tea tray, where two porcelain cups had quietly multiplied into four.

Kleo smiled when she saw the title. “The Moon-Maiden and the Dreaming World. This one is lovely.”

“I thought you’d like the ending,” Malleus said softly, already settling beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as if by habit now. A way to remind himself this was real. He finally had a friend.

Lilia was already there. He had been for the past three nights, truth be told. At first, his presence had felt more like a guardian’s watchful eye. But now he lounged across from them in his self-declared throne of an armchair, legs crossed, a soft cookie perched between his fingers. His smile was lazy, but his eyes were alert, fixed on the way Kleo cradled the book in her lap.

“You're all entirely too cute youngsters,” he muttered as Kleo began to read. “This would’ve made past me gag.”

“Present you keeps coming back” she replied with a teasingly grin, and Lilia only clicked his tongue and bit into the cookie.

Tonight, though, there was someone else. A new addition.

Silver sat cross-legged on the carpet, his silver hair catching the firelight like moonlight on snow. He’d asked earlier that evening, voice gentle and a little unsure: May I listen too? Kleo had nodded immediately.

He rested his hands on his knees, peaceful, eyes half-closed as Kleo’s voice wove the tale of the moon-maiden who fell in love with a dream and wandered the skies searching for it.

It would’ve been perfect, but then—

A rustle. A faint sound from behind the bookshelf.

Kleo paused mid-sentence and looked up with a knowing smile.

“Sebek” she called “we can see the top of your head and I can hear your heartbeat.”

Silence.

“No, you cannot!” came the indignant whisper-hiss from the shadows.

“Yes, we can” Silver added calmly.

“Sebek” Malleus said, not stern but inviting, with the faintest curl of amusement. “Come sit with us.”

There was a long pause. Then a slow, sulky shuffle of boots against stone as Sebek emerged, clearly battling internal chaos. His eyes darted from Malleus to Kleo to Silver, as if expecting judgment or doom.

Instead, Silver patted the carpet beside him.

Kleo smiled gently. “There is tea, if you would like some.”

Sebek huffed. “I do not—! I mean, I suppose I could remain... briefly. For the prince’s sake.”

When he sat beside Silver, it was with stiff pride and ears burning red.

Kleo waited until the room settled again, then picked up where she left off. And as the story spun around them like stardust, all four of them listening with firelight flickering and tea cups steaming gently, it no longer felt like a routine.

It felt like home.

[blotandfangs]

Azul Ashengrotto aka Boss

Azul sat at the Mostro Lounge bar, casually flipping through a rare, ancient tome bound in cracked leather. Its pages filled with indecipherable script from a dead language only a handful could understand. Kleo appeared like a shadow slipping in, eyes sharp and fixed solely on the book.

“I want that” she said, voice flat.

Azul looked up, eyebrow raised “This old thing? You do know it’s worth a fortune and the knowledge inside is far more dangerous than you realize.”

“I do not care about the danger. Just want the book.”

Azul smirked, folding the book closed and slipping her a contract already designed for the situation “Fine. Part-time gig at Mostro Lounge. Two months. No exceptions.”

Without hesitation, Kleo took his quill and signed the contract, her eyes never leaving the book.

“Wait— did you even read the terms?”

She shrugged. “I do not care. I want the book.”

Azul blinked, stunned silent for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “You’re a 400-year-old vampire who just signed away her time like it’s a coupon.”

Kleo looked up at him with mock innocence “Guess that makes you the boss for now.”

Azul’s face flushed a rare shade of red. He cleared his throat and straightened. “I am the manager of this establishment, thank you very much.”

Jade, watching nearby, caught the flush and the sudden stiffening in Azul’s posture. A slow grin spread across his face.

“Boss, huh?” Jade whispered to himself, mischief sparking in his eyes.

⚓︎———⚓︎

Kleo arrived precisely on time for her first shift at Mostro Lounge, a bloodstained notebook tucked under her arm and no concept of customer service in her mind. She was here for the book. The work was incidental.

Jade greeted her with his usual polite smile and a box tied with a velvet ribbon.

“Miss Kleo,” he said smoothly, “Azul has requested you wear this during your shift. It’s… tradition.”

Kleo opened the box.

Inside layed a meticulously crafted maid uniform, Octavinelle-themed. Deep indigo fabric, crisp white apron, lacy cuffs. The long skirt swept elegantly to the floor. And nestled on top—a massive, perfectly tied bow for her hair.

She stared at it. Then looked up.

Jade, picture of composure, inclined his head. “He also insists you address him as Boss at all times while on duty.”

Kleo blinked slowly. “Is that so?”

Jade’s heartbeat didn’t change. He’s good, she thought. But then Azul stepped into view from behind the bar, saw her holding the box, and—

His soul visibly left his body.

“I did not— Jade!” Azul’s voice cracked halfway. “That is not standard—”

Kleo turned to Azul, calm as moonlight bathed in mischief. “You did not choose this?”

“I—O f course not! I would never— maid uniforms are not— Jade!!”

Azul’s ears were practically glowing red. He was fumming in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.

Kleo smiled, all fang and sweetness. “Too bad. It is very cute.”

She wore it. Every shift.

And called him Boss. Every time.

“Boss, we are out of octopus fritters. Are you replacing them?”

“Boss, someone asked if I bite. Should I charge for that?”

“Boss, I reorganized your costumers ledgers by blood type. You are welcome.”

Azul stammered. Fumbled. Turned various shades of coral pink. He even begged Kleo to stop. She never did.

And Jade? He watched it all, delight blooming behind every sip of tea.

⚓︎———⚓︎

It started the third time Kleo showed up for her Mostro Lounge shift in full Octavinelle maid attire.

Floyd flopped over the counter, eyes lighting up. “Oooooh~ you’re still wearin’ the frilly thing, Vampy Squidy.”

Kleo adjusted her apron, utterly unbothered. “I like the skirt. It twirls.”

Floyd’s grin widened. “I want one.”

Azul, somewhere in the back room, screamed internally.

Jade did not bothered to stop it.

The next shift, Floyd burst in wearing a custom maid dress: same colors, shorter skirt, glittery apron, and no sleeves. He dragged a mortified junior through the hallway to “make it official.”

“Look, Vampy Squidy! Twinsies!”

Kleo clapped once, delighted. “You look adorable.”

“You gonna call me Boss too?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” she replied, deadpan. “You bite.”

He leaned in with a snicker. “Only if they ask nicely.”

“But you do have nice legs for desses! Bet we could charge for that.”

Floyd paused.

Eyes narrowed.

“Wanna bite?”

“No way! You would bite back!” Kleo sighed. “Chompy.”

He let out an unhinged cackle, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

He wore the maid outfit for four days straight.

Azul banned it on the fifth.

Floyd protested by attaching a giant bow to the back of his regular uniform and adding lace to his gloves. He insisted it was “vampy-core.”

[blotandfangs]

Idia Shroud aka Square

Kleo had been at NRC long enough to learn that ghosts weren’t the scariest thing haunting the halls. The boys with modern tech and terrible sleep schedules were. Thanks to Ignihyde dorm, they usually keep themselves on their natural gloomy habitat.

She didn’t mean to target Idia Shroud. Truly. He was quiet, twitchy, and so rarely seen outside of club rooms or his dorm that he practically qualified as cryptid wildlife. Kleo respected that kind of commitment to the bit.

But one afternoon, as she was looking for the science club’s attendance sheet, she noticed a tablet hovering near the lab’s door like a surveillance drone. Not flying away. Not moving. Just floating there.

She squinted at it. The screen showed a familiar tuft of flaming blue hair.

“Oh my thorny stars” she whispered “It is staring at me.”

The tablet darted back a few inches, then froze.

She leaned in dramatically “Is that you, Shroud?”

The screen turned away trying to flee.

“Oh, no, do not dare hover away from me, Square.”

The name popped out before she could stop it.

Idia’s voice crackled softly from the tablet speaker. “Wh— what? What did you just call me?!”

Kleo clapped her hands, delighted. “Square! Because you keep sending this floating screen instead of talking like a person. You're a perfect four-cornered little anti-social defense mechanism with Wi-Fi!”

“You— you can’t just nickname me based on my coping mechanism!”

“I can” she said, hands on her hips. “You are Square. Like a nerdy little wall. Very little. And expansive looking. I know the signs, Azul taught me. And I will keep calling you that until you show up in person.”

The tablet whined. “This is bullying.”

“I guess it is indeed” she declared.

At first, Idia was stuck, but he talks again “Why are you calling me that?! That’s not even an insult! It’s just a shape!”

“It’s not meant to be an insult, I am a very polite vampire. Squares are stable. And occasionally explode in four directions at once.” she adds “you remind me of one of those puzzle game blocks I can never rotate the right way.”

“...Okay,” he muttered.”

From then on, she called him Square in public all the time. And when his tablet passed by, Kleo greeted it cheerfully like it was a character in its own right.

“Hey, Square. Come outside. I want to do research on your hair.”

“Square, Sam got beet chips at the store.”

“Baked cursed cookies again! I swear to my unholy life they are safe, Square.”

“Hey, Square, can I use your face to look into beastmen temper? Leona is giving me a headache again”

At least it made Idia feel less like her next dinner.

[blotandfangs]

Floyd Leech aka Chompy

It began, as many of Kleo’s most memorable adventures did, with a terrible idea disguised as curiosity and sheer boredom.

She had wandered into Mostro Lounge after a long week of classes, experiments, and sparring bruises, hoping for a quiet corner to read in peace. Instead, she walked into the tail end of an argument between Floyd and a freshman who had knocked over a tray of drinks and fled in terror. Kleo paused, sniffing pomegranate juice. No blood. But Floyd was already grinning with that particular slant that meant chaos was about to follow.

“Oh, it’s Vampy Squid” he purred when he spotted her. “You here to squeak at me?”

Kleo, arms full of books, raised one brow. “I came to read. Not to get chomped.”

That should’ve been the end of it. But Floyd slinked over with his usual eel-like grace, eyes glittering with mischief. “Chomped, huh?” he echoed, leaning in too close. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I do have the best bite in the school.”

Kleo blinked once. Then dramatically gasped and recoiled two steps nearly dropping her books. “Floyd Leech, you absolute menace! Do not try to out-bite a vampire!”

He cackled. “You’re just scared I’d win.”

“You bite people with zero nutritional value,” she huffed, flipping her hair with flair. “I could call you a biter, but you got that crunch-crunch energy. Like a feral toddler. A teething one.”

Azul had poked his head out from the kitchen at that exact moment, expression already pinched with dread “Kleo, please don’t encourage him.”

But it was far too late. Kleo tilted her head thoughtfully. “No, no. Not a toddler. More like a snapping turtle. Very chompy.”

Floyd’s eyes lit up like a kid on their birthday. “Chompy?! Ooooh, I like that! That’s great! Like a pet name but dangerous.”

“Exactly” Kleo said solemnly, placing a hand over her heart. “You are now Chompy. Because every time you are near, I feel one bad decision away from losing a finger.”

From that day on, the nickname stuck. Even when Floyd dragged her into underwater chaos or tried to convince her to join him in playing “scare-the-tourist,” she called him Chompy with a smile that made Azul sigh in defeat and Jade raise eyebrows in amusement.

Floyd never minded. In fact, he’d lean into it.

“Hey Vampy Squid! Chompy’s hungry!”

Kleo would throw a beetroot at his head and laugh.

Balance, in its weirdest form, had been achieved.

[blotandfangs]

Press F to Flee II

Some nights later, Kleo returned to Idia’s room. There was no game controller in her hands this time, but book recommended by Ortho. She perched quietly on the edge of the bed, clutching the thick book with a leather cover worn soft by age.

“I am recovering” she said softly when Idia glanced up from his screen, controller poised. “Too much horror. I just want to be near someone. Diasomnia's silent is too loud today and Ortho gave me this book about blot and curses and I may have questions for you.”

Idia blinked, surprised. “You don’t want to play?”

Kleo shook her head, eyes tracing the familiar glyphs printed on her book’s pages. “Not tonight, Square. I want to read and listen to you play. Go on. You will not even know I am here.”

The glow of the screen painted the room in shifting blues and greens. Idia settled back in his chair, controller clicking steadily. He could feel her presence close by: quiet, patient, like a red shadow. He was relieved she didn't want to play.

Every so often, Kleo would peek up from her book, eyes drifting to his face as he concentrated and screamed at the game. With the feeling of having a vampire on his back, Idia could barely pay attention to the game. If that's her plan, today is the best day to end him! No one would hear him scream! And Ortho was on recharging cycle.

Minutes slipped by in this rhythm: Kleo turning pages softly, Idia navigating digital worlds with heavy tension on his shoulders.

While waiting a loading screen, Idia, half-leaned into his chair, was staring at her through the reflection of the dark screen. She was still. So still. Scary as hell. Dead person. Dead? Is she rotting? On his room?

Finally, when he was sure Ortho's recharge cycle had entered deep silence mode, Idia spoke. Quiet, barely above a whisper, scared to even hear the answer.

“…Are you really undead?”

The question hung in the air like a spell, slow and careful. The kind you only ask when no one else can hear. Kleo blinked, lifting her gaze from the page. Her eyes met his through the reflection of the screen.

“Yes,” she said, voice calm. “I did die. A long time ago.”

Idia didn’t turn around. He kept watching her in the screen’s mirrored flicker, as though turning would make the moment too real for him. Creepy. Terrifying.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

She was quiet for a while. Then, softly: “Probably. I do not really remember dying. The waking was horrible. Worst pain I ever felt.”

That answer settled in his chest like a glitch that became silent, irreversible. He nodded once. His reflection flickered, but hers remained steady. There, in the corner of his vision, she stayed gently haunting.

“…So you're stuck like this? Forever paused?”

Kleo chuckles faintly “Not paused. Just changed. Time does not move the same for me anymore. It can be quite a hassle, but not really bad.”

Idia swallowed, still not looking at her directly. “That’s… heavy.”

“It is lonelier than one might expect” she said, her fingers ghosting over the edge of the book and avoiding to look at him now “And I hate being alone, so there is a cycle, you know? Everyone I love will die around me. No matter how close they are now, I’ll have to grieve them one day.”

She turned a page she wasn't reading. “That is why I like Malleus. And Ortho, actually. They are not so fragile. Thought I do not really understand Ortho yet.”

“You won't need to grieve him” Idia felt something sharp twist low in his stomach.

There was no mockery in his voice. No irony. Just a crack. Something raw beneath the usual static.

He stared at her reflection again, fingers twitching nervously. “Have you… seen a lot of people die?”

Kleo took some seconds to answer, now staring at him trying to understand his curiosity. Then, slowly, she gives a response “Yes. Some were strangers. Some were friends. Some were as close as family. Some I tried to save. Some I had to let go.”

She folded her book, resting her head against the wall looking at the ceiling. “I remember some of their names, but not all of them. And I do not remember their faces or their voice. I do not know which is worse.”

Idia’s chest tightened. He stared into the screen, into her reflection, and whispered before he could stop himself:

“Did any of them come back?”

Kleo blinked. “Back?”

He swallowed. “After they… after they died. Did any of them come back?”

This time, the silence wasn’t gentle. It was sharp. Kleo sat up straight slowly, sensing the shift in the conversation, now turned personal, even if he hadn’t said why or explained the question.

“No,” she said quietly. “None of them came back. Only me.”

His jaw clenched.

Kleo’s gaze went to his back. “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because his brother hadn’t come back. Not really. Because Ortho— the Ortho in this room— was perfect, bright, and artificial. A shadow in the shape of love. A masterpiece built over a grave.

Idia forced out a small laugh that didn’t reach his eyes “Just curious.” He wished it was a virtual conversation. If it was, he could turn off his tablet and pretend to be asleep.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Kleo was also quiet for a long while. Idia hadn’t gone back to playing. The controller sat in his lap, untouched. Ortho's soft recharge hum filled the room like distant waves.

Kleo shifted just slightly, then spoke, her voice soft enough that it could’ve been mistaken for the rustle of turning pages.

“Square, can I ask you something?”

The reaction was instant.

“No” Idia said sharply, cutting her off before the words even left her lips. His voice cracked at the edges, like glass just before it shatters.

Kleo blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t protest. Just studied him quietly.

He wasn’t looking at her, not even through the screen now. His eyes were fixed on the monitor, but it was obvious he wasn’t seeing anything. His knuckles were white around the controller. His posture hunched in on itself, like he was physically bracing against something heavy, something old.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” he muttered. “And I’m not talking about it.” His breath hitched slightly. “Not now. Not ever.”

The pain in the air was suffocating. Not the kind that screamed or sobbed. The kind that sat, cold and immovable, like stone pressed to the chest. Kleo recognized it. The kind that came from a wound that never healed properly. She closed her book quietly and sat still.

“That is okay” she said, with no judgment, no pressure.

Her voice held no pity, just knowing. Quiet compassion from someone who had lived through too many funerals. Someone who had learned, the hard way, when not to ask for more than someone could give.

Idia’s breath was shaky. He curled in tighter, shoulders drawn up like armor that couldn’t protect him anymore.

“I will leave now. Need to go back before dawn. Vampire, you know” she pretends to laugh, but leaves anyway to give him space.

Space to break.

[blotandfangs]

Press F to Flee

“No. No way. Negative. Over my dead— wait, no, I didn’t mean that literally! Just— Ortho, no. Do NOT engage with the vampire!”

Idia hid behind his chair inside his Ignihyde dorm, only his flaming blue hair visible as it peeked over the top. His tablet floated in front of him, buzzing with Ortho’s excited talking.

“She just brought me a scarf” Ortho cheerfully replied, the warm red wool wrapped around his neck in a fancy bow. “It has little bat patterns on it! Isn’t that cute?”

“That’s how she gets you!” Idia hissed. “First it's scarfs, then it's blood! I’m too squishy to survive a vampire bite. My defense stats are garbage! And you don't even need scarfs. It may get stuck on some part of your gear and then boom! Maybe that is her plan all along!”

Ortho sighed, floating mid-air with a mildly exaggerated impatience. “She’s just lonely, Nii-san. Vampires are nocturnal, remember? She’s awake all night while everyone else sleeps. Doesn’t that sound… familiar?”

Idia faltered pretending to not understand where Ortho was going with that.

Ortho softened his voice. “She waits for the whole dorm to wake up just to talk to someone. I thought... maybe if you kept her company for a bit…”

“Why me?!” Idia wailed.

“Because you’re awake too.”

Idia glared at his reflection in the darkened monitor. The cursed truth.

✝———✝

That night, the knock came on his door.

Idia froze. The clock read 2:11 a.m.

Another knock. Polite. Barely a sound.

Then Ortho's voice came “She's here”.

“Tell her to go away!” Idia whisper-yelled.

“I can’t. I already told her you’d let her in.”

“Whyyy?!”

Outside the door, Kleo stood quietly with her red cloak wrapped tight around her small frame. She said nothing. Made no move to open the door.

Ortho blinked. “Um… Kleo? You can come in.”

There was a pause. Silence.

Kleo smiled apologetically to him “I can not. You are not... a living being.”

“Oh” Ortho blinked. “Right. Vampiric entry restriction protocols. Oops.”

Inside, Idia heard everything. He groaned, smacked a pillow against his face, and dragged himself toward the door like a man condemned.

The door creaked open, just a crack.

Her red eyes met his. Quiet. Patient.

“…You can come in,” he mumbled very unhappy about it. Ortho, on the other hand, was already floating around Kleo.

She stepped inside soundlessly, bringing with her the faint scent of cold night air and forest. In her hands was a little basket.

“I brought tea, Square” she said gently as someone trying to bribe a wild animal. “And a magazine about that horror game Ortho said you like. Azul got it for me.”

Idia mumbles something about "damn octopus and creepy vampire trying to debuff my defenses". Ortho was feeling this would not work.

✝———✝

The horror game’s menu music echoed softly in the dim glow of Idia’s room. Kleo sat curled on a beanbag Ortho had dragged in, her red cloak pooled around her like a bloodstain, hands clutching the controller with the solemnity of someone defusing a bomb.

Idia hunched over his desk chair, watching her struggle to guide the character through a foggy forest on screen. He keeps the biggest distance possible, but keeps watching the game before realizing something terrifying.

She sucks at playing.

“You— you walked into the ghost again” he muttered.

“I thought it was a tree!”

“That’s a headless ghost bride, how did you think that was a tree?!”

“I panicked, okay?” Kleo wailed, already jamming the revive button.

Ortho hovered beside her, cheerful as ever. “You’re getting better! That time you only screamed once!”

“It growled at me, Ortho! Not even Leona growls at me!” Kleo whispered, wide-eyed. “And the music changed!”

She crept forward in-game, character lantern flickering. Distant whispers began.

“Ah” Idia said. “Here comes the boss.”

“The what?!” Kleo bolted to her feet like a startled deer.

On screen, the spectral boss shrieked and charged.

In real life, Kleo shrieked and chucked the controller into Ortho’s hands, diving behind a pillow she’d snatched from Idia’s bed like it was a shield of divine protection.

“Get it away from me!” she cried. “It is following me, it has legs this time!”

Idia completely lost it.

A sharp snort escaped him before he could stop it— then another. Then he was clutching his stomach, laughing in high, wheezing bursts.

“You’re— pfft— you’re a literal vampire and you’re hiding from pixels behind a pillow!?”

“It was running at me! With arms! And legs!”

Still snorting, he wheeled his chair around to hand her back the controller. She peeked over the pillow, red eyes wide and betrayed.

“You were supposed to help me” she said.

“I am helping” he said, smirking. “By laughing every time you make Ortho take the controller like a human shield.”

“IA shield” Ortho corrected helpfully.

“Ortho is so evil! Invited me over just to torture me with these creepy things. My heart my stop, you know?” Kleo buries her face in the pillow, dramatic to the core. “I’m going to die so many times the game will un-install me.”

Idia laughs a “You’ll respawn. Probably.” because she is just utterly ridiculous.

“This is very emotionally damaging.”

Ortho, ever the chaos facilitator, clapped his hands the moment Kleo respawned for the ninth time in ten minutes. He really wanted to get a friend for his brother and Kleo was just very easy to be chosen as a test subject for this experiment.

“New plan!” he chirped. “Let’s play a co-op game! Less spooky, more teamwork! That way, you two can bond while not dying”

Idia froze mid-sip of his energy drink. “Wait, teamwork? I hate team gameplay”

Kleo perked up, already hopeful. “I will not have to face anything alone?”

“You’ll have Idia,” Ortho beamed.

Kleo turned to him with the kind of reverent awe one might reserve for a holy savior. Idia, in turn, looked like someone had just asked him to solo the final boss of reality.

Within minutes, Ortho had set up a zombie apocalypse survival game. Kleo’s character spawned in swinging her melee weapon at literal air. Idia’s character immediately crouched behind a crate in despair.

“We have to scavenge, build shelter, and protect each other” Ortho explained. “The monsters come at night.”

“Like a cozy camping trip” Kleo smiled. “Alright, done it before, can do it now”

“Camping trip with death,” Idia muttered, adjusting his headset.

The first wave was rough.

Kleo tried to "befriend" a zombie dog. It bit her.

Idia fell into a spike trap. Kleo's own trap she hadn't told him she put there.

Kleo screamed when she got cornered, tried to use a bandage on the zombie, and then accidentally set their shared base on fire.

“I was just trying to boil water!” she cried.

“You boiled our camp!”

By sunrise in-game, their base was ash, Idia was respawning with a broken leg and Kleo was sobbing laughter into her teacup.

“You’re the worst survival partner ever,” Idia said, but his voice was caught somewhere between exhausted and entertained.

“The art imitates life, I guess ” Kleo pointed out. “I do not know why you would think an undead girl would be a good survival partner”

“...you really need to put all your charisma points on being creepy?”

[blotandfangs]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖘 - 𝕶𝖑𝖊𝖔'𝖘 𝕸𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘

— ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔟𝔶𝔲𝔩

— 𝔖𝔞𝔳𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔴

Shed Happens

— 𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢

Floyd Leech aka Chompy

Azul Ashengrotto aka Boss

— 𝔖𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔞

— 𝔓𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔣𝔦𝔬𝔯𝔢

— ℑ𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔶𝔡𝔢

Idia Shroud aka Square

Press F to Flee

Press F to Flee II

— 𝔇𝔦𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔦𝔞

Home on Yellow Pages

Botanical Legacy

No Fangs Welcomed

Gargoyles and Lighthining

[blotandfangs]

Botanical Legacy

The Diasomnia common room is calm, lit by the soft greenish glow of magic candles. Malleus stands in quiet conversation with Lilia, their tones low and private. Silver is nearby, fighting sleep as usual, while Sebek stands with good posture, sharp-eyes and stiff as stone.

Kleo passes through, book in hand, gaze drifting across the room. As she nears Malleus, she pauses, then rises onto her tip toes and gently brushes a rogue lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place with gloved fingers.

“There,” she shows a faint smile turning to continue on her way.

Sebek erupts shivering.

“MISS KLEO!” his voice echoing off the stone walls. “That is— That was— INSULTING! Utterly improper! You cannot just touch the Young Master like that! He is the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, and you— !”

Kleo blinks slowly, confused, her tone soft and honest. “...I did not hurt him. His hair was just... a little messy.”

“That is not the point!” Sebek shivers with an alarmed face. “You cannot simply touch the Crown Prince of Briar Valley as if he were— were your equal! It’s insulting! It's improper! It— ”

Silver, barely opening his eyes, already used to Sebek's yelling, adds: “She’s like that with everyone. She uses Leona-senpai as a pillow. Squishes Epel. Pokes Azul. It’s natural.”

“She what?!” Sebek nearly chokes, scandalized. “That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself?! That’s the Dorm Leader of Savanaclaw, a child and a fish! There is etiquette! Tradition! Dignity!”

“You forget that Leona is also royalty, even if he is all hakuna matata” Kleo tilts her head. “But Malleus did not mind.”

Malleus, who has not moved or reacted much at all, calmly agrees with the resident vampire: “Indeed.”

Kleo’s eyes widen ever so slightly, pleased. “See? No harm done.”

“No— harm— !” Sebek clutches at his head like he’s about to combust. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Kleo, unbothered, drifts to a couch, flops over the armrest, and opens her book upside-down while Sebek makes a sound like a dying engine. Lilia is watching behind the cup of tea he has on his hands. Silver finally closes his eyes again.

Then Sebek moves again, still in the midst of a honored crusade, his voice sharp with disbelief. “It is a disgrace! There are rules! One must respect boundaries! You cannot just touch the Young Master like— like— ”

Kleo sighs. Not tired, not exasperated — just quiet. Heavy. "Like a friend, Sebek."

She closes her book slowly and sits up, her red eyes meeting his. They’re older than her face suggests. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

“I’m a 400-year-old vampire” she says softly, as if Sebek needed a reminder. “Everyone I love… I watch them grow old. I watch them die. And when they are gone, I care for their graves until time swallows even that.”

The room stills. Even Sebek falters. What a morbid way to break the fun.

Kleo tilts her head, voice still gentle. “So tell me... is it really that disgraceful to care for my friends while they’re still around? To fix their hair, hold their hand, or nap beside them while I can? Before they vanish like all the others?”

Silver is fully awake now, watching her with something like understanding. Lilia’s smile fades into something quieter, wary. Malleus gazes at her with unreadable eyes, still silent.

Sebek is wided eyed. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“I know” Kleo murmurs, standing. “But I do not have time for stupid pride or silly etiquette. I only have time for kindness and tea.”

She walks past him, silent, and Sebek doesn’t stop her this time.

☽———☾

The next afternoon in Diasomnia, with the sky outside darkening in gray mist, a warm cake was baked by vampire hands and a fresh tea was brewed by knight ones. The common room is still, save for the rustle of pages and the occasional clink of tea cups. Weird and silent bonding time with each one doing their own thing.

Kleo sits by the window with Silver by her side, sharing a history study book and each holding a plate of honey cake. He’s quiet as always, but not asleep— just watching the clouds roll by and listening to every word of advice Kleo has to share on that subject.

“Kleo” Silver says softly, clearly didn't paying as much attention as the girl thought he was “about what you told Sebek yesterday... I’ve been thinking about it.”

She tilts her head, nibbling delicately at her cake and accepting his try on the subject.

“That you’ll outlive us” he says. “That you already know how it ends.”

Kleo smiles, a sad little thing, but sincere. “You are very sweet to think about that.” She brushes a crumb from her lap and adds gently, “I will plant violets on your grave. If you would like.”

Silver pauses. “That would be an honor.”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”

Sebek’s voice cracks through the calm like a thunderstorm. He comes yelling, eyes wide, already halfway through combusting. “That is— You can’t— That’s CREEPY! You can’t just say you’re going to— plant FLOWERS on Silver’s grave! He’s right there! ”

Kleo blinks slowly. “He agreed.”

“He is ALIVE!!” Sebek adds, raising one hand to point at Silver.

Kleo smiles serenely. “Exactly. That is when the decision matters.”

Before Sebek can gather more indignation, Malleus speaks from the armchair nearby, his tone calm and thoughtful. “Violets are fragile flowers. They require daily care and close attention. It’s rather kind.”

Sebek freezes, caught mid-rant by his prince's words. “But she’s talking about his grave!”

“Yes,” Kleo says simply. “Because Silver is my friend and I love him. And it matters to care for people even after they are gone.”

There’s silence while Kleo hums a little as she returns to her tea. “Violets also bloom well in shade. They don not need much light, but they like to be near something warm like memory.”

Silver’s expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he leans back against the windowsill, eyes closing. “Then I hope you plant them thick. Enough to cover the whole place.”

Kleo nods “Leave it to me.”

Sebek, sputtering, finally slumps into a nearby chair, muttering something about “gloomy traditions” and “morbid tea parties.”

Malleus smiles quietly with a “She means well, Sebek.”

Sebek throws his hand up his face. “Why am I the only one alarmed by all this?!”

No one answers, letting rhe fire crackles softly while casting a warm glow over the room. Sebek is sulking in a corner, grumbling under his breath about “ghastly grave talk” as Malleus sips his tea in silence, seemingly amused. Kleo wonders if it's because of the chaos around him or because he thinks this is a normal teaparty.

Silver, still beside Kleo by the window, opens his eyes again. He studies her for a moment, then asks in his usual, calm voice:

“What about you, Kleo?”

Her eyes go back to him "Hm?"

“If someone were to plant flowers on your grave,” Silver says “what would you want?”

Kleo smiles faintly. “Roses, of course” she says without hesitation.

“Red?” Silver asks gently.

She shakes her head. “White.”

“Why?” Malleus asks from across the room, his voice low and curious. She was always wrapped on her red cloack, so red ones made more sense on his head.

Kleo sets her tea down, fingers brushing the delicate porcelain. Her eyes are distant again, but there’s something soft in them.

“Because white roses do not scream for attention and yet they still last, and they still hurt when you touch them wrong.” She smiles, a little wistful. “They remind me of things I wished to protect... and things I still want to.”

Silver gives the smallest nod. “Then I’ll remember that.”

Kleo hums, tilting her head toward him with a soft chuckle. “I hope you won’t need to.”

Sebek groans audibly in the background. “Why are we planning each other’s funerals over tea?! This is not how normal people bond!”

Kleo raises her cup, gloved fingers curled delicately around the handle. “To flowers that bloom in the dark” she offers.

Silver clinks his cup softly against hers. “And to those who plant them.”

Even Malleus sublty raises his own cup.

Sebek’s voice cuts through the silence again, louder this time and tinged with a mix of exasperation and something else. Curiosity, maybe. Annoyance covering interest. Challenging for sure, it's public knowledge how wary and scared he is around Kleo and her vampiric antics.

“Fine! If you’re going to assign flowers to graves like gifts— then what would mine be?!”

Everyone turns to look at him.

Kleo blinks, then grins— slow and bright with a touch of mischief, like a cat who’s just been handed a challenge.

“Oh” she says, almost playfully “lilies.”

Sebek sputters. “Lilies?! But— but those are funeral flowers!”

“Yes” she replies serenely. “Elegant. Noble. Always standing tall. Everyone steps back respectfully when they are around. And” she adds with a sweet smile, “they’re toxic if you try to eat them.”

Silver makes a small snorting sound that might be a laugh. Malleus raises a brow, clearly invested on the subject but not knowing exactly how to enter.

Sebek frowns deeply “You’re comparing me to a plant that poisons people?!”

Kleo shrugs lightly, sipping her tea. “Only if they bite.”

Sebek opens his mouth to argue, then pauses. Closes it. Looks to the side. Is this Kleo's way to say she won't bite him?

“…Well. At least it’s a dignified flower.”

Kleo beams. “It is. You would look nice surrounded by them.”

“STOP BURYING PEOPLE ALIVE WITH FLOWERS, KLEO!”

There's laughs on the Diasomnia common room thanks to the odd ways of their resident vampire —soft, warm, unbothered by the morbid subject. Even Sebek, though he tries very hard to hide it with a scowl.

As the laughter fades and Sebek returns to grumbling, now into a teacup he ended up accepting, Malleus sits silently. He hasn’t said much and just observed, as he often does. Malleus is still interested on the subject, but now there's the feeling of a broken wave. The flowers and graves are a buried conversation.

But then his gaze shifts, just slightly, to Kleo. It’s not a demanding look. Not a question asked aloud. But it lingers.

And she understands it. He wants to be a part of the dreamed flowered graveyard.

Kleo meets his eyes over the rim of her cup, her smile turning soft —gentler than the usual mischief she gives Sebek. She doesn’t ask “Do you want to know?” She already has the answer. Instead, Kleo answers him directly.

“Forget-me-nots,” she says softly.

Sebek quiets again. Even Silver glances over, surprised by the sudden hush in her voice.

Malleus lowers his cup slightly with a curious gaze.

“They grow in the cold” Kleo says, her tone still calm, but very clear. “In shade. In silence. Most people do not notice them until they have walked past.”

She folds her hands in her lap. “But they are eternal. You can press them between pages and open the book years later, and the blue will still be there.”

Malleus studies her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“They mean remembrance,” she says. “And magic. And something that never fades— even if no one else sees it.”

Malleus doesn’t reply right away. But the way his eyes soften, the way his shoulders ease— he heard her and liked the answer he never asked for.

”I appreciate” he says at last, voice deep and low. “That’s a flower worth keeping.”

The room falls quiet again— not heavy, just reverent. Like something important passed between them, quiet as the petals of a blue flower pressed in a book that’s still being written.

[blotandfangs]

No Fangs Welcomed

The scent of moss and mist clung to the air in Diasomnia’s garden. The low clash of metal rang out in rhythmic bursts — Kleo and Sebek, locked in their usual afternoon sparring jut like any other day since the vampire saw this as an opportunity to bond with the loud boy. Her hair, white as moonlit snow, glinted with each dodge, each turn of her red-hooded figure. Sebek barked encouragement and critique in equal measure, but his eyes kept flickering to the empty space usually occupied by Silver’s calm stance.

Kleo finally paused, catching her breath with red eyes squinting toward the horizon. “Where is Silver?” she asked, voice soft but puzzled. “He never misses training.”

Sebek huffed, lowering his weapon. “He did not say anything to me, which is highly irregular.”

Even stranger, Kleo realized, was that she hadn’t seen any of the sophomores this afternoon. The halls were quiet. Too quiet. Maybe they have been kidnapped!

With a furrowed brow, she sheathed her weapon and wandered inside. Sebek followed fuming under his breath. They found Lilia and Malleus by the great windows of the west hall, deep in discussion over something that sounded suspiciously like Malleus not attending another housewarden meeting.

“—you can’t simply vanish and expect the others to wait for you with a smile.” Lilia was saying with exasperated fondness.

Malleus sighed, arms folded. “I missed the notice for—”

“Lilia,” Kleo interrupted gently, “Have you seen Silver?”

Lilia turned, blinking. “Ah! Yes, Silver’s off at Heartslabyul. Riddle invited all the sophomores for a tea study party.”

Kleo tilted her head. “All the sophomores?”

At that moment, Malleus made a quiet, unmistakable miserable sound. It was small. Subtle. But it was there. His emerald gaze drifted toward the window. “A tea party… and I was not invited?”

“It was just for the sophomores,” Lilia explained, poking his shoulder with a smirk. “Not every royal is invited to every party, you know.”

There was a pause.

Kleo slowly raised a gloved finger and pointed to herself. “...But I am a sophomore.”

Lilia’s face twitched, trying very hard not to laugh.

Malleus blinked, then slowly turned to her, as though just realizing a grand injustice had occurred. “You are,” he said. “And you were not invited.”

“Unthinkable,” Sebek growled. “If you desire it, I shall march to Heartslabyul and demand an explanation!”

Kleo flinched slightly. “No, no, it is okay. I just was not invited. They probably do not want me there.” Her voice grew smaller. “I am not welcome.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Malleus’s frown deepened.

“That is most regrettable,” he said, serious voice gentle but sharp. “You should have been included. You are one of them.”

Sebek stiffened in agreement with his liege. Lilia raised both hands in surrender, clearly not wanting to be dragged on their affairs.

Kleo gave a pout, folding her arms. “I could have brought some special beet sugar cubes…”

Malleus added with solemn gravity ignoring the fact he was not a sophomore, “And I would have brought my own teacup.”

Lilia gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh no. That’s how wars start.”