#BRAIN CELSS OFF SHITPOSTING ON

[enchantrum]

Can't stop thinking about how Wyll probably built this entire fantasy in his head, of how he would have liked to approach his love if things were different. If they'd instead locked eyes across a crowded ballroom and not a battlefield- somewhere he could be his most refined and presentable self.

He'd smile his most welcoming smile, sway towards them and hold out his hand, brimming with confidence when he finally gathers the nerve to ask for a dance. A warm and gentle beginning.

But the circumstances that brought them together aren't warm and gentle. They bond over gulps of blood more than sips of wine and any dance they partake in is through dust, smoke and daggers.

Maybe he shouldn't even think about such things. Maybe he should just let it go. There is no ballroom waiting for him- not for Wyll Ravengard, not for the devil he's become.

Yet he still dances in private, with no one watching- he dances and imagines a place that might accept him.

Until he realizes that place is here and now; it's the person fighting by his side every day, it's their dirty little camp where they dress each others wounds and soothe each others nightmares.

The battlefield has always been their ballroom.

And their hearts can keep time, the way they always do.