#Metalsea snippets

[tryingtimi]

33

A Home So Far, Yet So Near

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan. It was a song you showed me, and I immediately started writing a Metalsea bit for it. And now I ended up finishing it, after many many months, lol. So thank you, love! I don't think it needs so much context, it's just a little siblings dynamic exploration between Syon and Avelyn.

TINY CONTEXT: Avelyn and Syon weren't so close when they were little, and their paths separate. After a long-long time, they meet again, and have some bonding time.

BOOK II EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | MOSTLY FLUFF | SISTER DYNAMIC | WC: 1787

Yaran’s Mid-Summer Festival held such a strange version in its glowing belly.

Avelyn smiled at Cronyl, suppressing a sigh.

The grandiose bonfire crackled in the centre of the desert, people dancing and singing around. They ate, drank, and celebrated in a way that could nearly convince Avelyn that life wasn’t fully known back in her home. Bra’aka could lure even Cronyl to the dancefloor, teasing relentlessly about his make-believe inability. They did not last too long, yet the ghostly touch of a smile still rested on his lip when he walked back to her. Since then, they sat on the two sides of this rough stone table, watching the lot, hands touching on the top just enough to feel the other’s presence.

Avelyn should have wanted to dance with Cronyl. Every couple did that. She, however, was overwhelmed by another feeling. She loved to be around Cronyl, she wanted to be around him. But tonight, for the longest time perhaps, her mind was not focused on him. Tonight, she looked at the colorful, gemlike fire lamps and saw herself as a kid, reaching for them to grab it; just like a little one did the same thing not far from them. Tonight, she noticed the rigid little stumbles she and Syon made, when they practised the required siblings dance — exactly like two little ones on the edge of the dancefloor. Tonight, the sweet-scented desserts on the tables have made her see herself nervously pulling on Father’s clothes to get his attention and let Syon convince him to buy them some. Just like the Shar-Dlin twins did, doe-eyes watching the desserts intently on the food table.

Tonight, Avelyn realized this Mid-Summer Festival wasn’t so much different after all. If only this epiphany could have filled the hollow that a home being out of reach has left.

“Shall we?” The voice of crackling fire asked, earning her attention.

Avelyn looked up to find her sister standing before her, one delicate hand extended forward. Her features bore the same calm confidence she used to see in her in their entire life. Yet, she could also see her shoulders slump in a way that others might have missed. But not Avelyn.

Not her.

Avelyn accepted the hand. It was a strange feeling really, her hand in Syon’s. Something she rarely experienced, even in their childhood.

She rose from her seat and was about to turn to Cronyl so she could inform him — or ask for reassurance of her decision. However, he was already walking past Syon’s back. One, metal-focused eye glanced at Avelyn and a slight nod made her feel gratefulness bloom in her chest. If someone, Cronyl knew way too well when to be on his way.

With that, Avelyn stayed alone with her sister. Syon held her hand carefully, but firmly, leading her onto the dance floor. Only then, did Avelyn notice how the gathering settled and slowed down. The fire still flickered and blazed at the centre, but there were very few people standing. The music died out, so the only melody came from the djanvaar’s gentle humming. Fluttering, playing starbugs conquered the dance floor, tiny explosions of their small stars lighting up even more. She wondered if the old tales had been right; that wild starbugs only did that if they were happy.

Syon stopped them in the middle, equally far from everyone and everything. She then turned to Avelyn and slid her hand over her waist. Such a strange feeling still. Avelyn did the same, noticing her movements being more rigid than relaxed. It wasn’t something she was used to. Yet she wanted to stay.

So she lifted her gaze to look into her sister’s eyes.

Bad idea.

They were staring at her as well, both of that unusual tinge she only saw on warriors. Syon never failed to seem intimidating or let her gaze be just a little less intense. That was one of the reasons why Avelyn never really locked eyes with her.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean to speak, but she couldn’t stop herself either. “This festival. So strange. I mean, what they did with all these plants as decoration and the djaanvar as some kind of musicbox. It’s eccentric the least. Can you imagine what Mother would think?”

Children laughed in the background, their voices turning small but just as full of joy as before. Syon scoffed, yet a genuine half-curve painted her face softer instead of the humourless smile she always gifted people with.

“She’d be out of her mind. But she’d enjoy the dance, if Father would ask her for a round, that is,” she chuckled, and Avelyn needed to swallow back a surprised gaping. A similar giggle left her throat, as unintentional as unstoppable.

Their bare feet tapped the warm ground close beside each other, Syon’s presence ruling their dance. She guided Avelyn’s movements just like she did when they were small. Those lessons were one of the most challenging in their childhood. She remembered clearly because they were a spectacle back then, the peculiar siblings who were not easy to forget.

She felt a gentle push on her back, looking back into Syon’s eyes.

“Do you remember our dance lessons?”

Avelyn opened her mouth, then looked at her feet that almost stepped on Syon’s accidentally. Her feet avoided Avelyn’s as proficiently as always, smoothing out their performance the best she could. Yet, no force was in her anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Avelyn started, trying to lean back. Syon let her. “Clearly, I do.”

Another chuckle joined the humming of the djaanvar.

“You’re doing great, Lyn. Dance Master Liona would be proud. She’d even forgive all the headache we gave her.” They turned, the flames coming to Avelyn’s sight, outlining Syon’s form like blazing fireflies in the night. “She might never forget us.”

“Not much sibling pair made her nearly quit. We could thank Father’s soft-spoken charm that she stayed — that’s what Mother told me.”

The memory came alive in the fire’s flickers, Avelyn’s eyes following their little forms sway to one side and the other. Rigid hands touched, a gaping distance laying between their child flame-figure. Too much distance. “Closer!” and “Act like you’re siblings” faintly echoed in her ears.

She held Syon’s sparkling crimson eyes and found herself smiling with her.

Her body remembered the tension of those touches. Of being so close to the girl who shared the same blood with. Of fear, terrible fear from dancing with a sibling that was no more than a stranger.

“I’m so sorry, Lyn,” Syon whispered, yet it could be heard loud and clear. Confident. Genuine. Avelyn kept the scratching feeling in her throat at bay, forcing herself to keep looking at her sister. To keep listening to her. “I know I’ve been always farther away than I should have been. There is no excuse for that, though I had many. You tried to come close, yet I did not let you. I believed you chose the Temple only to pull yourself out of the noble betrothal misery. At some point, I believed you did it just to let every responsibility of our house fall on me, and me only.”

A feather touch weighed on Avelyn’s back, asking — begging to come a little closer.

She did so.

“I’m aware that was foolish,” Syon continued, voice softer than Mother’s night song. Softer than Avelyn had ever heard. “You might have had a shard of that reason, but I know you merely wanted to get away. From Mother, from Father… from me. You need connections, I realise that now. People to be close with, to be open with. You care so much, it’s frightening. Especially for someone like me. I felt threatened by you, I confess. I envied your ability to read people the way you did; with ease and compassion. And that made me bitter, because compassion I lack, even still…”

“No.” Avelyn’s voice was but a whisper, but nothing had sounded clearer. Syon smiled, her eyes misting the most subtle way. “You do not, sister. I was just as selfish, only more of a coward. You faced your duties and expectations with valiant grace. You had every right to…”

“Lyn.”

A delicate finger, tangled with Avelyn’s, swiped a single teardrop away from her cheek. So kind. So close. So tender. Hearing the kind little nickname Father gave her constantly rolling off of Syon’s lips made her own quiver. All the memories of the lonely girl practising dances in her room alone faded, longing for affection withering away. A glance, a joke, a smile. Everything her soul starved for from a sister out of reach. It twirled in the fire, slowly blending into smoke, and joining the cooling air around them.

Syon embraced her, when Avelyn dared leaning over her shoulder, cheek pressed in the crook of her neck.

“Let me have my regrets, and I let you have yours. Both of us learned and changed, all right? And oh how you did so. I regret how I pushed you away, how I abandoned you, but I am exceptionally proud of who you became, little sister. It was and still is all you. I can only hope you are to forgive me, so I can keep watching your path of becoming an incredible woman even further.”

Words crackled in her throat along with the fire’s flames, hands holding each other so close, that Avelyn found it hard to believe. A soft, silent hiccup left her lips when she felt a distant wetness on her shoulder.

“Not only me. I wanted to become like you, sister. Your memory gave me strength when I used up mine. Even if you couldn’t give me affection, you gave me strength. You gave me will and a role model. I regret not being able to stand beside you when we were little, but I am grateful for a bastion in need,” she breathed, losing herself in the swaying.

A throaty giggle made Syon’s chest resonate, making Avelyn smile along under her closed, drenched lashes. A bastion in need; Father’s attempt to be romantic with Mother. Their only humour source from their childhood.

Huddled beside the fire, Avelyn could still feel the chill that slowly settled onto the horizon, but she was not cold in the embrace of her sister. They stayed tangled, close as never before, until the fire began to flicker. Syon hummed with the djaanvar, yet not the same melody, but an old song they used to sleep to. Avelyn couldn’t help, but join, feeling a weight so profound crumble. She might have been a great distance away from home, yet she did not feel the absence anymore.

Not beside Syon, her sister.

[tryingtimi]

Until It's Only Us

The last piece of my Cronlyn era for now, because the juice ran out, and I need to stray from them for a bit. But DO 4 LOVE by Snoh Aalegra was too much of an inspo for their first time, so here we are.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF | SMUT THO VERY SOFT | WC: 1,136

“Is it alright if I touch you?” Cronyl asked barely above a whisper. 

He’s been sitting before Avelyn, the soft silk sheets creased where he leaned on his arm. Eternal patience gleamed in his eyes, both which she could actually see, and which should have been hidden from her.

 He was waiting for her, always waiting for her.

Yet, it didn’t seem to bother him, not an inch. No, he gazed at her with his ever-intense care in his eyes — which alone nearly made Avelyn crumble under it. 

She slid closer to him, nodding along with her hand that brought his palm to her chest. It was a bold move, one which she could never picture herself doing. She never imagined herself being so sure about anything then she was at that moment either. Yet there she was, facing him, and having no crumb of doubt in her heart. 

Cronyl tilted his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Use your words, please,” he breathed so gently, she wasn’t sure he had said a word at all. It wasn’t a command or a request. It was a plea, the most subtle begging she ever heard. 

“Yes, Cronyl. Touch me, kiss me, show me everything you hold inside.” 

There was a new glinting in his eyes as he locked his gaze with hers again, caressing the exposed skin on her chest. Avelyn sighed, her mind turning way too aware of his fingers on her. It lasted only for a little, because he travelled to her kimono, loosening the clothing softly. He still held her gaze and leaned in to kiss her as requested. 

Tender, loving waltz was what their lips danced, an incense-filled daze Avelyn could only drown in. She loved his touch on her, his breath entangled with hers, her heart in his hands. 

Warmness burned her skin from under which made her wonder if that is how red or orange could have felt like. The colours of fire, and heat, two things she could feel in her body, blazing. 

Her hand sneaked up on Cronyl’s already bare chest, her fingers carefully drawing over every line of lean muscle. Then, her heart sank for a moment. 

Her hand travelled over many scars and eventually stopped on his neck, right where his tattoo started. She knew it was exactly there because she saw it many times now. 

Avelyn pushed herself closer to Cronyl, her teeth grazing his bottom lip before she detached from him. Her kimono fell from her shoulders like an elegant waterfall. She imagined being nervous about turning bare before him, yet she was nowhere near to that. Instead, she positioned in a way that made the clothing slide all the way down, while she leaned over. 

A hum escaped Cronyl’s lips when she kissed the edge of his tattoo. She breathed in his scent, looking up at him from under her lashes. 

He was searching for her eyes too. 

“Is this alright?” she asked. Her fingers slowly wandered on his skin, outlining every little scar she found. 

“Yes.” 

His voice turned so deep, she could feel the vibration on his skin that she kissed again. There had been moments when she wondered how this would happen. If he would turn from her, or lean away, not letting her near them. They were the marks of what the world couldn’t do for him, the love it couldn’t show for him, and so she was determined to make him forget he ever had them empty, painful. 

His touch was delirious, nearly as thick with desire as the swirling incense in the tent. Avelyn had not noticed when the rest of her clothing landed on the ground, or when she laid back on the sheets, with Cronyl’s lips sealing hers in an everlasting promise yet again. His skin brushed hers at every angle, his heat sharing hers. Kisses like feathers glided over her body, as Cronyl started his way from her jaw down to her chest, over her breasts, to her hips. He covered every little inch of her body, his slightly rough palm cupping her breast to play with a nipple. 

Avelyn sighed a moan when he planted the first kiss at her core. 

The sheets sizzled under the slow motions she made under the sweet pleasures of him grazing his teeth over her thigh, taking his time before he tasted her. 

It wasn’t fair. Her head emptied, her hips bucking closer to his face, while breathy sighs left her lips. He was spoiling her in every way she longed to do to him. Because she knew; in every touch, every kiss, and every heavy hum he hid his carefully piled-up love. He had so much in him, she was sure she would lose her mind before she could give.

And so she laced her fingers into his dark, scattered locks to earn his attention. She barely tangled the strands, when he looked at her, eyes waiting and searching. There were no words needed for him to crawl up to face her. 

“Leave me some time for you too,” she whispered to his lips. The corners tugged upward, Cronyl’s body rolling to Avelyn’s tenderly. She hummed a moan into his mouth. 

“Later.” 

Soft fingers caressed her side, his desire reaching hers. She couldn’t stop touching him wherever she could reach him. Never ever she had thought she’ll be greedy, yet she found herself not having enough. Her hands pulled on his back, bringing him closer. She wanted him closer, the closest. She longed for him so deeply, she wanted to forget they were two separate souls instead one. 

Cronyl understood, without a word. He was slow, careful and he did not take his eyes off of her. Those eyes that watched her as if she was the crown jewel of an empire. Not fragile, yet something you treated carefully just so you could enjoy it longer. So you could cherish it longer. 

Avelyn’s ears filled up with their breaths, their sweet callings, from Cronyl’s every “Tell me if I hurt you.” to his honeyed groans. His eyes gleamed with the reflection of herself, dripping with love she had rarely seen anywhere.

 He kissed her like the first and last person he ever would. He touched her as if he was playing an instrument — delicately trying out everything, and observing so closely, he could directly continue further if it sounded the right way to go. 

She couldn’t tell when she lost track of time. Not only time but everything all at once. Avelyn was feeling every bit of him, hearing every sound of him, smelling every inch of him. Her head was spinning, clouding and clearing. She had seen him, and him only. 

Until there was no Avelyn Dione, nor Cronyl Eldenwer anymore. 

Only them. 

[tryingtimi]

"after everything you've done, i still love you. with all i am."

(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Follow You

Sitting in my drafts for a while now, I decided to add that two last sentences and post this finally. Sliding a bit of Darnehlia into the Cronyln era lol.

CHARACTER EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | SLIGHTEST ANGST | WC: 1,537

There were nights when the Humming Oaks did not sing.

The moon’s shine swept into the Dione manor’s room, its light creating a stairway through the window. The faint light of a candle called it into a soft waltz, both dimly brightening the space together.

Darmon scraped the last finely formed letter onto the parchment when the wind rustled the flame just enough to weaver over the words.

“What are you doing?”

He placed down his pen before he looked up.

Syonehlia’s form has always been a sight for him to drink in, yet tonight she didn’t cross her arms before her chest to lean against the door frame. Nor did she gaze at him with a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. Tonight, her red eyes blazed silently in the shadows of the quietness of the world.

“Finishing the contract,” he answered, a slight frown finding his forehead. He’d sworn the air grew thick with something. “Is something wrong?”

It was strange to not hear the singing trees outside. Since his stay, they turned rather natural for Darmon. As if he was listening to them throughout his whole life.

Syonehlia stepped closer, into the light that revealed her form and face, showing a clearer view of her. She did not wear her nightgown or her bandages. Her spikes have seemed to sharpen ever so slightly.

“Yes. You need to stop this.”

Darmon sat back, confusion blooming in his chest. His frown deepened.

“I am not sure I understand what you mean by this.”

“You are aware, Strotagor. You’re doing my work.”

A simple statement that did not bring clarity as easily as the words rolled off of her tongue. Her manner was as sharp as her steps to the opposite chair beside the table; something that wasn’t unfamiliar, yet still strange.

Darmon didn’t flinch from the authority in her posture.

“I apologize if it’s intruding, I only meant to help.”

There has been a gentle breeze that made the candlelight dance again, tender pushing tangling among Syonehlia’s platinum locks over her frustrated features. She put her fingertips over the contract as she sat down.

“Did you?” Darmon cocked his head at the accusation in her tone, yet he remained silent. She leaned closer to him over the table. “It is an important matter, Strotagor. I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to understand that you cannot do this anymore. It’s not the first time you take upon one of the tasks I am required to do. There is a difference between helping and doing everything for me. I am more than capable of managing my matters, and I was under the impression you’re aware of this too.”

Anger.

Darmon let his lips part as he deciphered Syonehlia’s expression. Something he saw on her many times now, yet it was different this time. In what way, he wasn’t sure, but it was nevertheless.

And it put a strange thing into his mind as well.

“I am. I never doubted your capability. My only concern was your well-being, considering the amount of work you’ve been tasked with.”

“I haven’t been tasked with anything. I chose to reform our system. It’s a hard and slow process, but there is nothing to be worried about. I am handling my part. What concerns me to this day is that you’ve been idle since then. You’re around me, which normally doesn’t bother me, of course. I quite like it. Yet, you’re always around, Strotagor. You do my work, you do what I say, but tell me, don’t you have anything to occupy yourself with if I’m not around? What have you been doing before I came around?”

A moment of silence conquered the room. A loud, very present silence that could even cut through the Humming Oak’s music as well — if they would have been singing, that.

With that, Darmon found himself speechless. As if the noises of the night would have stolen his ability to speak. He held Syonehlia’s blazing red gaze, and couldn’t utter a word for several seconds.

Then, a grim sensation washed over his chest.

“I was nothing before you came around. A vessel of a man, if that much. What I’ve been doing wasn’t what I truly wanted. I did my chores, my part in the destruction, following someone I shouldn’t have. Then you appeared. Since then, I can’t fathom the idea of my life without you in it. My trust and my devotion is yours, and I’d follow you to the Hells and beyond,” he said, his voice calm. That did not capture what he had felt completely, yet he tried to convey as best as he could manage it. It was still odd to feel so much all at once.

His answer, however, didn’t seem to satisfy Syonehlia. Indeed, it appeared to rather make her even more heated, considering how she straightened herself, and then closed her eyes for a second, sighing.

“Look, it’s not right. I do not desire someone I can drag around by a string without question. What you’re telling is that you’re giving yourself up to me completely, something I never did and never will ask for. I do not need a spawn in a game, I do not desire to lead you. What I need is a person— a partner.” She looked into Darmon’s eyes in a way that made his soul shudder. “Someone who knows themself and what they want. Who can help me, rather than save me. Who can complete me, rather than build me over. Who can live beside me, not for me.”

Are you someone like that?

The question loomed in the dimly lit room like the shadows of the candle’s slowly settling, even flame. Drops of wax ran down on its sides, nearly reaching the holder’s golden edge.

Darmon remained silent, Syonehlia sizing his gaze, not letting wander.

In that nearly complete silence — there lurked no lie, no deception. As he was gazing at her, the woman he would have given up his life for, the one he could have been thrown into the flames for; there, Darmon seemed to beginning to understand Avelyn’s belief a bit more. For he’d been lost for so long, willingly letting someone lead him by his nose, always looking but never seeing.

Not once seeing The Truth.

His one and only truth he thought he was actively seeking, while he only pretended. There was no effort taken, no courage piled.

For more than some decades, he was as silent as the Humming Oaks and as blind as the starless night sky.

“I understand, and you are right. I am not sure I ever learned who I am.” Darmon let his mind roam, his chest heavy as ever. The fine edge of truth finally found him, reminding him why he was and always will be drawn to Syonehlia. He swallowed the edge of the sword. “Therefore, I can’t delay anymore. Nor would I want to. It’s not… easy, I confess. But I’ll do my best. That is the least I can offer.”

He gently slid the contract towards her, never leaving her eyes. There were no words needed for what he had meant. The past was clear for both of them, clearer than the future ever could be. Darmon was determined to make it as certain as he could, even if it meant taking a turn he never imagined he should do. Not after everything.

Syonehlia’s voice turned more tender. “After everything you’ve done, I still love you. With all I am. Not because it’s right, or because I was told to. Rather because I chose to. You can complete me, and so could I do the same to you. But, I need you to figure out the rest of your pieces before I can see if mine could fit in too. Because nothing can change that I love you. Nor on that, I would be willing to work on us, too.”

The night’s edge softened, and her blazing eyes almost seemed to smile at him.

Darmon had long forgotten how it felt to be overwhelmed with emotions. Another thing he could re-experience with her — beside her. He reached for her hand and gazed at it as he caress her skin with his thumb.

She smiled her subtle half-smile, taking his hand in hers. Their gaze entangled, and Darmon wished to transfer at least a shard of the feelings that swirled in his chest. If he had any idea, how exactly.

The fire in Syonehlia’s eyes changed. She stood up but did not let go of his hand. It’s been an elegant motion, guiding his attention until she arrived right before him. She walked further, towards the entrance of the bedroom. Her head turned there for a moment, then she looked back at Darmon, a gentle tug on his hand shaking his heart alive.

[tryingtimi]

Metalsea Snippet Question

Since I need some juice to start writing and posting again, please help me choose. Also, I wanted to try out polls forever now that I've seen them everywhere.

[tryingtimi]

“I can only talk to you.”

Intents and Implications

Thank you so much for the prompt, my sweetest friend! <3 It was good food for another Syon and Cronyl scene. To be precise, when he basically confesses Syon lol.

Context: They had many meaningful chats now, but they still keep the distance. Syon wants to ask Cronyl to join her for the Proposal Performance.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | BOOK I | BIT ANGST | WC: 1,161

Syonehlia nearly knocked Cronyl off of his feet.

He barely stabilized, before backing away but to no avail. She was a living storm in the night, a spitfire running towards him on the ground, counting her blows at him. There was a certain grace in her movements, yet it did not soften her hits. Wrist and ankle spikes attacked Cronyl, each one a mere inch from his skin. If they wouldn’t have agreed on no blood, he would have been covered in more injuries than any of his encounters could cause him in his life so far. Of that, he had no doubt. Not a single shred.

Cronyl grunted from the bandaged punch on his side. Again.

He shielded his face from her feet, only to feel a muted pain surge through his left thigh instead. A hiss slipped out of his mouth.

She was good. Metals, she was phenomenal.

Cronyl lunged forward, trying to deflect her hands so he could get behind her. However, Syonehlia plopped down in a half-split, perfectly avoiding his manoeuvre, and using her momentum, she pushed her hips up to rotate her legs around his waist, bringing him down into the dirt with a thud.

In a split second, she was weighing on his hips, one hand chaining his attack-ready hand over his head, the other hand’s wrist spike poking the soft skin of his neck.

Their panting entangled, as a subtle smirk took over her lips, her eyes proudly boring into Cronyl’s. He could feel the mud on the tip of his tongue and stuck to his skin, every bit of his body aching. Yet, Syonehlia’s clothed form on him turned those very minor inconveniences.

Sweat soaked her face, and her training clothing just like his. Cronyl’s bare chest pressed to hers as they heaved, his free hand itching beside her tigh that cornered his lower half.

Gleaming of ecstatic excitement reflected in her lavender eyes.

“5 to 1,” she breathed, her smirk deepening.

A soft wind tried to cool them down with the scent of autumn in the air. He clicked his tongue, deliberately ignoring the itch of touching in his hand.

Yet, he couldn’t ignore her intense gaze, or her reddened, smiling lips.

Which flattened at the moment his eyes dropped to them.

Syonehlia’s weight disappeared from him as fast as it came. She rose with ease, without any unnecessary movement. Her spikes were nowhere to be seen anymore, her incredible control over them showing clearly yet again.

She walked to the stone stair where she stored her waterskin.

“Your eyes are still the same,” Cronyl said, sitting up. He groaned as he did so.

“Come again?”

Syonehlia gulped down most of the water, finishing with a sigh. The next time she looked at Cronyl, her eyes were piercing. Reserved. Usual.

She tossed the waterskin to him, sitting on the stone.

“Your eyes, heiress.” He did not drink, but instead crawled to his feet and walked to her. “They’re not changing, yet you’re over the level of any in the Ivory Guard.”

A delicate brow rose on her face.

“What are you implying?”

He leaned back on his hands as he sit, his muscles burning, his bruises evenly turning visible.

“That you’re keeping secrets,” he added calmly. “But it’s your business, not mine. It was a simple observation.”

Or a distraction.

He gritted his teeth slightly, slowing his breathing while gazing at the dark sky with the Moon shining over them mightly. It was a peaceful night, even though he experienced the storm of Syonehlia again. But it was only him to blame, considering how he told her to show him everything she got.

“You and your simple observations. What are they for? Or would you really want me to believe you made that comment without having any intent behind it?”

A scoff bubbled up in his throat at her pragmatic tone.

“Of course not. You wouldn’t be able to, anyway.” Cronyl glanced at her. She was also inspecting the sky, mirroring his posture. “My intent was to compliment your skills, heiress. Your progress is pretty incredible.”

Quiet chirping filled the air, the Humming Oaks silent, but the grasshopper’s songs were a fair replacement. Some starbug might have strayed from the forest, finding the Dione garden. Cronyl counted three, before some more appeared, bobbling and shining in the night as little guiding lights.

He glanced at Syonehlia again and found her looking at him too.

There was no fluster on her face, but something told him she wasn’t far from that state. Which, honestly, surprised him. Maybe it shouldn't have to, but it still did.

For that, or whoever knows why, he became painfully aware of the little distance between them, and their hands behind.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she eventually said.

Her cold statement tugged Cronyl’s lips almost up.

“Of course, you don’t.”

Another content silence blanketed them, the starbugs dancing in the distance, guiding their gazes. The smell of autumn strengthened, all the dirt stuck to Cronyl’s body hardening, and pulling on his skin. His muscles did not stop aching, and his bruises were constantly throbbing as well.

It never bothered him in the past, and it would never do it in the present either.

“You can’t stop my training. I need you.”

Syonehlia’s words sounded nearly loud under nightfall. Was that worry in her voice? Yearning? Did he hear it wrong? Another scoff scratched Cronyl’s throat, but he kept it down. He did because if anything, an overwhelming feeling took over his chest. Something he tried to ignore for a long time now, but after hearing that it became rather difficult.

A soft feather touch caressed his insides, all the previous flames turning and changing into something different than before. Stronger, more alive. More irresistible.

His screaming muscles tensed as he carefully turned the words in his mouth before he spoke them.

“I am here and I will be,” he uttered, trying his best to stay quiet. But he did not command himself anymore. “You can always count on me. Because as you to me, I can only talk to you, Syon.”

And there, Cronyl knew, he felt he stepped over his own line. He showed her that fracture he bore as a heart, the cracked thing he tried to hide deep enough for no one. Not even himself. Yet it seemed to find its way up, to be in the open. To be shown to her.

He set his jaw in the silence, his hands are warm from the closeness of hers.

Then, he decided to look at Syonehlia eventually.

A sense of coldness washed over his bones when her lavender eyes locked with his. Piercing. Reserved. Usual.

Yet still hiding something inside he couldn’t grasp.

“We are not alike, Rescuer.”

[tryingtimi]

5✨

Waiting Game

Well, what a mix of prompts. I just remembered one of my goal this year was to clear out my drafts. So I guess I’m at it and my brainworms help me plenty recently. Also, I’m sorry for the length again. Spotify prompt was Waiting Game by Kalandra.

Context: Cronyl teaches Avelyn how to ride a cougar, after they arrive at Yaran. It’s probably after he had some injury or a low moment Avelyn witnessed since she’s pretty worried about him. She’s already figured out she has feelings for him btw. They’re still pre-relationship here.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF FLUFF AND FLUFF | BIG CATS | WC: 1,764

“Easy, gently,” Cronyl whispered beside Avelyn’s ear. “There. Good. Very good.”

A pearl of sweat ran down her spine alongside the cold shiver his low voice caused. The desert’s heat was nowhere near what she felt from Cronyl’s chest. He couldn’t have been farther from her back than some inches.

Their all-covering, yet thin Yarish clothing rustled as the cougar gracefully sauntered underneath them, its movements rocking them evenly.

Her grip tightened over the leather rein again when she lost the rhythm of the beast. The cougar growled quietly.

“Easy.”

Another soft advice, another all-body shiver. Avelyn wasn’t sure how long they were out in the open, but she was very aware of where her feverish state of mind came from. Her composure barely, held the last threads of her will keeping her spikes at bay. The reason wasn’t the desert’s burning hotness or the seemingly infinite sand. Nor the blazing sun over them.

She slowly breathed in the warm air like water.

“Is this alright?” Her tongue felt like parchment in her mouth, her palm sweating over the rein. Yet, she was determined to learn. That was why she came anyway.

“It’s great. Keep going, let her guide you,” Cronyl said, his breath hitting her shoulder. “Don’t think. You’ll follow her movements naturally if you let her lead.”

Avelyn almost closed her eyes for a second. His breath was like a wisp of fresh air in the burning heat. She nearly became used to the constant shivering of her body when he spoke.

The cougar’s fur poked her bare legs under the thin clothing, but she could easily forget about that.

She tried to do as he told her.

With eyes losing focus on the sparkling dunes under the midnight sun, Avelyn shepherded her concentration towards the feline’s motions. To the sensation of the legs elegantly counting every step, the moving muscles pressing to her tighs with it. The cougar did not make any sound, yet her paws sank into the sand, crunching softly. There was nothing before them, only the waving heat’s brushstrokes over the meeting of the desert and the horizon.

She tried to do as he told her, yet her mind couldn’t ignore his presence. Nor could her body.

Cronyl’s legs only touched her clothing, when the beast strayed to one side. Still, she couldn’t be less aware of him sitting behind her.

Avelyn stopped herself from pulling on the rein. There was a lingering force in her hand that never stopped.

“She’s stubborn.”

Cronyl remained silent for a moment. Then, she could feel him lean even closer.

“Don’t try to control her. You can’t. She’s a feline, and a wild one no less. They’re not one to control, they’re our equals.”

“What should I do then?” Avelyn murmured, her lungs burning, her back aching from the closeness of Cronyl.

“Breathe,” he said.

With that, she realized she was holding back her breath. She slowly emptied her lungs, the cougar nervously meowing some gibberish, while wiggling slightly.

“Breathe, slowly. You need to control yourself, so you can partner up with her.” There was another pause, then, his hand scooped before Avelyn’s stomach, not touching it, but hovering over it. “Keep the air down here, and let it out evenly. Yes, like that. You’re doing great.”

Was she? Her chest seemed to be full of swirling sandstorms, blazing warmness flaming inside like wildfire. It threatened to turn uncontrollable. Avelyn continued to breathe, but she had the rawest urge to lean back into his arms.

However, she couldn’t move.

Her body was rigid as if frozen. She needed to clear her mind, so she closed her eyes for a second. Her embarrassment took over her nerves in the meantime.

Then, the cougar let out a bestial, high-pitched prow.

The world suddenly turned and blurred, the beast coming on full speed to run towards the sun. She trashed under them, her grace fading into wild cries and quick, fast hops. Sand whirled around as her enormous paws kicked up fine dust, making it hard to see anything. Panic surged through Avelyn’s body, her lungs slowly filling up with all the desert within.

When it seemed certain she’ll end up in the glistening sand or under her paws, a firm arm closed over her waist, and another reached for the rein.

“You’re hurting her,” Cronyl said softly, his voice still low and calm. He pulled her closer, touching her hands, and gently pushing on her palms from under to let go.

How could I…

Avelyn pulled back her hands, fast.

She stared at her slightly sharpened nails, the tiniest specks of blood staining the edges. Her heart sank into her stomach, and her eyes couldn’t wander from the animal sprinting under them. She…

“It’s okay. Breathe. Slowly.”

Cronyl’s voice made her sigh heavily, letting out the damned held-down breath. His arm kept her secure, in place, and she could feel the heat of his palm over her clothed skin. His other hand held the rein proficiently, and somehow made the cougar stop her sharp turns. Stop her trying to throw them down.

Avelyn grabbed Cronyl’s arm to hold onto something, and he tightened his brace, pulling her closer to himself.

The animal did not slow.

“It’s okay,” he repeated into her ear, “you’re okay. She’s not mad, just upset. Surprised. You need to assure her of your intent. You can do it. If someone, you can do it.”

That in itself nearly calmed her down to the point of contentment. Why would he be so sure about her? It was madness. Yet, it helped. Helped so much, after some more minutes of staring at the cougar’s rushing form, she reached over carefully. She continued to breathe, and when her unsureness threatened to take over, she leaned into the touch of Cronyl’s hand. Her hand touched the animal, earning a growl and some bearly bared fangs she could see from the side. Her breath shook, but she did not let go.

Fingers pushed into fur softly, and she felt every hair brushing her skin. She did not sweat as them, but she was warm, nearly burning. And she was soft, softer than Avelyn have thought, considering the poking in her legs. Golden light swirled inside her, a tiny speck leaking somewhere. Avelyn brushed her own golden light over it, healing the small wound she caused.

Then, she cautiously moved her hand further, caressing the beast. She could feel its tensed muscles and could hear its panting. Her head sometimes twisted to one side, as if she was trying to wriggle out of Avelyn, while strange chuffing, then hissing left her mouth. As if she’s been fighting with herself.

Avelyn realized she was just as frightened and uncertain as she was.

Hot air snaked under her clothes as she continued, her other hand joining in. She matched her breathing to the cougar’s, and let her body relax enough so it could completely take up her rhythmic movements. The speed still sent chills to her bones, but she kept her focus more on the animal. She watched her and felt her. She understood her.

Slowly, the hissing was replaced by silence or some quiet, raw meowing. Her hand slid higher carefully, and reached the head, scratching it lightly.

A low, rumbling purr resonated from her through Avelyn’s whole body.

“See? You don’t even need the rein.”

Cronyl’s voice almost startled Avelyn. The cougar huffed under them.

“Unbelievable,” Avelyn breathed, a smile creeping onto her lips. “How did you know? How could you be so sure in me?”

Wind-touched dust cloud ran over them, forcing their eyes closed for a moment. Then, as Avelyn opened them again, she could catch a glimpse of the first thick plants. With that, the earth changed, perhaps trembled slightly, and she could hear something else than the strong breeze.

Paws stomped on the sand.

Avelyn’s mouth fell open under the niqab. One, two, then four and five cougars appeared on both sides, soaring beside them. They exchanged roars and purred with the one under Avelyn and Cronyl.

“You stripped away the walls I built, Avel. An animal’s is nothing in comparison.”

Avelyn’s hands stopped in the caressing. Only so an unstoppable giggle could climb up on her throat, warmness still building in her chest by hearing that name.

When did Cronyl start jesting with her?

“Well, it’s still you, you know. It’s always been you who let me in. So if it was about how long it lasts, you should have built them higher, then.”

He scoffed, shards of jest still lingering in the sound. The awareness of his closeness returned, as the cougar slowed her speed. Avelyn felt their hips move in sync with the beast’s back, his chest warming her back, legs closely tucked under her thighs. His hand stayed around her waist, firmly keeping her in place, the other reaching over to barely but still touching the rein. That made him stay so close to her, she could feel his breath on her neck.

The cougar meowed in an unsatisfied tone and pushed her head into Avelyn’s hand which stopped scratching her head for a while now. She startled up from her daze, a chuckle leaving her and Cronyl’s mouths as well. The other cougars echoed her, shifting closer, and stirring up the desert more to reveal the rest of what it hid under. Strange-looking plants reached for the sky, tiny creatures scattering around. The felines crept close enough to gently poke Avelyn’s and Cronyl’s legs, their head softly brushing them.

Cronyl reached for the closest scratch behind its ear, his other hand still holding Avelyn. It wasn’t something that needed anymore, there was no danger or a situation that would require it. Yet he did not let go. And she wouldn’t want it either. It was a secret they both shared, an aspect they wouldn’t mention. She wondered if he was as afraid for his words to run free as she was. Because she had a lot to say, yet she feared if she spoke, the moment would wither away. Perhaps forever.

So, they wrapped themselves around a thick silence, many unspoken words hovering under the blazing sun.

[tryingtimi]

“we have just met and yet it feels like i have known you for a lifetime.”

We Have Just Met and Yet It Feels Like I Have Known You for a Lifetime

PART I | PART II

Oh man, this isn’t something I thought I’ll write for this. But here we are. Thank you for the prompt even tho it’s been a minute! (I used it more as a title, because it just fit more as one in my head.) It’s a Metalsea AU and I’m not sure if it makes sense or is any good, but it’s something. Inspired by Dope Lover by DPR IAN.

MODERN AU | AVELYN AND CRONYL | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | WC: 1,492

Neon streaks stalked the dance floor, pink and blue snuggling among the sweating, perfumed bodies. Every beam caressed the people from their twirling toes to their unruly hair that lost shape from the muggy air. Slipped-up skirts, loosened pants, unbuttoned shirts, grasped blouses, long hairs stuck to foreheads, short cuts ruined by fingers tangling among the locks. However big the nightclub has been, the people pressed together as if desperately trying to mold into one big mass of longing.

Cronyl tore his gaze away from the crowd as they waved in unison to the music.

He raised his glass to his lips, thinking for a moment before he swallowed down the burning whiskey with one swift gulp. The beats of the song thumped in his head as he put his glass back with the slightest grimace on his face.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed the bartender trying to pour him more with a hand over his glass. He couldn’t decide if the bending music made his voice so hoarse or if it’s always been like that.

“Are you sure? It’s medicine for rough days.”

Cronyl lifted his heavy lashes. The bartender’s face bathed in the dim reflection of the neon lights that bounced back from the mirror of the dance floor. Yet, he could still make out the softness of her features and her pale blonde ponytail that cascaded onto her shoulder. Her blouse opened only a little over her moderately tight vest that hugged her torso.

She was holding a bottle of water over the counter.

He pulled his hand back. “Am I that obvious?”

“Hm, oh no, I walk around asking the same from everyone.”

Loud, chest-trembling electric bass repressed Cronyl’s half-hearted chuckle as the bartender filled up his glass. The motion seemed way too delicate for anyone working in a nightclub, even if a fancy one. She wiped off the mouth of the glass bottle with a rug, then tossed it over her shoulder and leaned onto the counter.

Cronyl cocked an eyebrow as he took a sip from his drink.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” Her blonde ponytail slipped from her shoulder as she watched him, a smile spreading across her lips. “Just trying to figure it out.”

“My rough day?” he asked, no amusement coloring his tone. There was something in people that worked in nightclubs that chased Cronyl’s apathy to the surface. Their openness, or nosiness, maybe.

“Your drink.”

Embers of the many faces of desire reached higher behind him when the music reached its peak, the quick silences for effect, the deepening of the bass, and the cacophony of electric waves following each other to blend. Pink-blue merged into a sensual purple, wiggling and bouncing shadows dancing on the bartender’s figure.

Cronyl clicked his tongue.

“I’m not in the mood for cryptic flirting.”

Her smile widened. “Good, wait then. I think I got it.”

She pushed herself from the counter, turning around with momentum. Her hips swayed for the melody as she grabbed two bottles, one holding a black, the other a golden liquid. She moved with a dancer’s delicacy, collecting two more ingredients and her shaker. Cronyl had seen many different movements on the dance floor, yet none could have challenged her motions. The bottles swapped in her hands as if they were mere playthings, little details to aid her performance with flavor. Ice cubes snickered and aluminum clinked as she did her thing, her smile glued to her face.

Long locks bounced and flipped to each side as she shook the shaker, her figure in perfect sync with the music.

“Try it,” she purred, when she eventually turned with a shallow glass full of a pitch-black liquid, its mouth sprinkled with what seemed to be ordinary granulated sugar.

Cronyl found it hard to tear his gaze away from her. She looked at him from the glass, her face – surprisingly – radiating a kind of excitement he hadn’t found in this hole of lost souls anywhere else. Then, she smiled at him, gently pushing the glass forward.

He eyed the drink before he took a moderately big sip of it after a tiny shrug.

His throat caught on fire, some kind of alcohol and cinnamon burning up from the inside. However, a slight sourness washed it away, soothing it hand in hand with the overwhelming sweetness that sealed the experience. Cronyl’s mind ran away from him as he closed his eyes for a second, far from the nightclub back to a peaceful room. A closed place that felt vaster than the world under the open sky, because there was no rush, no crowd. He had no worries, nor he was alone. He’d been seen, bare and raw. The taste has been the one's who somehow knew him, but he couldn’t know her yet. Tender excitement spread inside his chest, a wait worth bearing. Sweat and perfume evaporated, and his nose filled with the strong, biting scent of cloves, and cinnamon, accompanied by something soothingly sweet.

Cronyl opened his eyes again, looking straight into the bartender’s eyes.

“Silent Night,” she said, biting her lip while smiling. “It fits you, don’t you think?”

He remained silent, the music changing and with that, he’d been violently yanked back into the present, all the quiet peacefulness disappearing.

“It does. How did you know?”

“Well, I’ve been watching you,” she admitted, her fingers playing with the rug in her hands. “You didn’t come here for the company or to lose yourself in the party. I thought you’ll drink yourself down, maybe. But you didn’t. Some things hold too much weight to drown them in alcohol. So, I guessed the silence you seek is not on the outside, but on the inside.”

A beginning smile found his lips as he put his elbows on the counter, holding her smiling eyes. He squinted, though, contemplating how she could figure this out. Those shadowed, golden-brown eyes pulled him inside, not making that so easy. The people’s chaotic crowd reflected in them, yet all he could see were those soft features, the way she played with the cloth’s edge, her lip still being held back with her teeth, all these so to speak nervous movements that didn’t match her slightly provocative way she put her clothes on today. Her genuine care beamed from every particle of her presence, but her waiting eyes told Cronyl something else.

She pursed her lips before she softly pulled on his shirt’s collar so she could invite him into a kiss.

He couldn’t deny his tiny surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Her soft embrace of a kiss found him tender, gently deepening as she licked the remaining drink off of his lips. Sensual, and forward, she leaned onto him showing up her eagerness. And that made Cronyl realize how hard she tried to cover something that might have been way too obvious to notice if you’d watched carefully. He didn’t know what exactly, nor how could he be so sure about that, but still, something deep within told him he should hold onto that feeling. And he if something, he knew that feeling way too well.

His fingers found her face, just before she slowly pulled away, breathless.

She looked at him with searching eyes, lips still smiling, with a great weight of visible nervousness.

“You’ve grown tired of not getting a taste of your creations, I take it.” He earned a moment of pause before a giggle bubbled up in her throat.

“You’ve got me.”

She wiped her lower lip with her thumb, maybe trying to cover how she looked away for a second. The neon streaks didn’t reach them anymore, and the changing music lost its edge, not being as loud as it has been before. It seemed as if the party turned its attention away from them as the night deepened onward.

Which meant in the shadows of the bar, Cronyl could get a glimpse of tiredness on her face.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she blurted, just before he could say anything else.

Cronyl thought of stopping looking at her for a second, but instead, he focused on her slightly reddened face, her full yet somehow empty eyes, and as she tried to hide the barely visible fidgeting of her body. She didn’t seem to be used to this, but something drove her to make this decision. And he could see in her reflection of her eyes that he looked exactly the same. It was strange and yet familiar. She was ready to run away from something and put her trust in him for that. And he realized he did the same when his answer materialized in his mind.

“Yes, yes I do.”

[tryingtimi]

Ash and Rot PART III.

Side title: I would

PART I. | PART II. | PART III.

Poll babies' request, tho it's still not the first one. However, here's the Cronyl and Avelyn fluff, because my mind couldn't leave them alone and my writer's block just crashed under the inspo of this. The inspo song were Panic Attack by Liza Anne.

Context: Avelyn visits Cronyl after the ritual. She confessed him before, but he basically rejected her, saying he's too broken to have a relationship. Now he might have came to another conclusion.

BOOK III EXPLORATION | VERY TINY ANGST | MOSTLY FLUFF | DYNAMIC AND CHARACTER EXPLORATION | WC: 1,179

A knot like a stone weighed down Avelyn’s stomach as she fidgeted with her hands.

She raised her palm over the hut’s door, letting it hang there until her fingers felt numb from the cold. Then, she pulled them back again, for the who-knows-how-many-times.

Her head seemed light and ridiculously empty, while it was as if something tried to cave inside her chest, pulling her inside around itself. It shrank with every heavy-lidded blink until her chest seemed no bigger than a needlepoint. She wasn’t as tired, yet she felt exhausted, her eyes barely staying open.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized she couldn’t see her breath.

One deep inhale, and a slow exhale. One in, one out. Repeat it. Nice and calm. And again.

She forced herself to do it constantly, never again missing a visible breath as she exhaled into the freezing atarqian air.

Calm down, you fool.

She swallowed a big bite of air, right into her belly and pushed the door open.

Gentle warmth attacked her face, her nostrils filling up immediately, making it hard to breathe for a second.

Playful fire blazed on the hearth, giving just enough light to give the room a welcoming atmosphere. With the puffs in the corner, right beside the leather pieces, and the table with three chairs that stood on a furry rug, she found the room just enough stuffed to feel comforting.

And comfort she needed as she turned to the bed under the window, opposite the fireplace.

Cronyl’s been already sitting, fur cover blanketing only his injured leg, his bare chest, and the scars scattered on his skin radiating under the aurora’s light. He was quiet, not noticing her arrival as he stared outside the window. Those always stiff shoulders now hung low and relaxed, his back comfortably leaning against the bedhead, his hands resting in his lap. His forehead seemed even, without any sign of a frown or wrinkle, his eye slowly following whatever he watched outside.

Avelyn saw him like this many times now; raw and true as one could be when no one is around. However, this was the first time she found splinters of calmness in him.

She finally found herself breathing evenly.

“Hey,” she offered quietly, taking a seat on the chair beside his bed.

Cronyl’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly, only to relax back as his eye trailed at her.

His figure seemed to brighten even more as the morning light seeped inside. She could see the faint golden glow in his body; the magic that pulsed inside him and concentrated in his eyes. No matter his bandana, she was now able to see both of his eyes outlined as two glowing golden orbs, thanks to Nareethi’s teachings. And both were watching her.

“Hey.”

Avelyn’s heart sank from the hoarseness of his voice. She held herself back from scraping her skin beside her thumb with her nail.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not dead,” he said with the tiniest smile on the corner of his lips.

She did the same, warmth spreading inside her chest. The fire crackled silently as she was watching him, respectfully stealing a glance at his bare upper body. He had no new scars, luckily.

Avelyn looked down at her hands when she realized she was scarping her skin beside her thumb. She scolded herself inside her head before she turned back to him.

“I, well, heard everything. I don’t know what you saw, but it sounded… dreadful. So, I was worried. Still am. Those screams and the way Bra’aka could barely hold you down…”

“You were inside?” he held her the question. His voice remained calm and quiet, not sounding upset or angry. Yet, she couldn’t be sure what he thought about the whole situation.

Avelyn stopped biting the inside of her lower lip.

“I arrived at the end, but yes, I was, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stand to stay somewhere else and just listen. Bra’aka, well, he didn’t approve of my decision either. But, I had to come.” She exhaled deeply, feeling the heat of the flames on her back. Avelyn wanted to look away from those intense golden orbs; that unreadable gaze that’s intensity always made her stomach flip. But she didn’t. She held his eyes, the same way she held his hands when he raged in delirium.

“Did you call my name?” Cronyl asked after a moment of silence.

Avelyn blinked, feeling a tender warmth spreading across her cheeks.

“I did. I was hoping it would help if you know someone there. That, well, I am there.”

Cronly smiled.

A smile, a visible, gentle, modest smile. A simple gesture that’s been the most telling among everything. Avelyn might not be able to see colors, but she somehow felt as if the room would have brightened. Remembering those heartwrenching cries Cronyl let out from time to time during the procedure, and as his face wrinkled into a different kind of agony she never saw on anyone before, this small thing made her eyes sting.

She wanted to reach for his hand, to squeeze as hard as before. She almost did, but then she restrained herself.

Cronyl, however, thought better.

“I was in a place I never wanted to be,” he said, taking her hand in his. “This ritual showed me everything I never wanted to face. What I saw there, what I… did there… It’s been more than I could bear. But I had no choice. And that led me to realize more than one thing about my past and my present.” Cronyl slowly scooped closer to her on the bed, a soundless grunt leaving his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever. Not because it was told to me, but because I love you.”

Avelyn remained silent. She focused on blinking and breathing evenly, yet she couldn’t hide her slight inner shaking completely. Cronyl’s touch felt warm, genuine, and right. He didn’t flinch anymore when she slid closer to him.

“You said…”

“I know. I am still as broken as before, my scars will remain forever, and I will always be capable of hurting you or anyone. But I don’t want to, therefore I will do everything in my power not to do that. To control what I do, to know what I am. Among you, not alone. I will learn to be around you without causing pain. Because I want to stay beside you, Avel, I want to love you. If you would still let me.”

A chuckle bubbled up in her throat that she wasn’t strong enough to stop. It came out along with a breathless whimper, which she didn’t mind anymore. She slowly leaned onto his forehead and closed her eyes when her lips turned upward from the fact she didn’t feel him tense anywhere.

“I would. Always,” Avelyn whispered, squeezing his hand.

[tryingtimi]

“your smile brings me so much joy.”

Joy of Two

A bit of Avelyn fluff, with someone who I had no chance to introduce yet; Priestess Rheata. She's an important person in her life, and basically a grandma for her, tho not by blood. She's gonna have a big role in the first book too. Inspo song was Beside You by PHILDEL

CHARACTER EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF | WC: 953

“Can I come in?”

Avelyn’s soft question lingered in the air before the thin door. She waited patiently for the muffled “Yes, dear.” she was accustomed to, and only then she entered.

She found Priestess Rheata sitting on her habitual spot — on a Phravani carpet carefully weaved delicacy, situated right beside the tall window. She did not kneel the way they did during prayers, and her veil hung idly from a hanger on her bedside table. They reached the time of the year when the sun could bathe her in its magnificent glow during late afternoon still, and Avelyn had no doubt she was watching the little ones play in the Oak garden secretly.

“Good afternoon, niele,” she said quietly as she bent forward.

Priestess Rheata mirrored her gesture. “Just a moment. It is such a beautiful day.”

Her pale eyes lingered on the outside while Avelyn walked over to her. Heartfelt laughter climbed into the vast room through the window and the Priestess’ thin lips turned into a gentle smile. Her kindly gaze followed the children, wrinkles deepening on her face.

“All right,” she said while bending forward to begin the process of standing up.

Avelyn rushed to support her with her plump arms.

“How are you feeling?”

Every muscle tensed in Avelyn’s arms as she helped her to her feet, yet she stood still, letting her huff and puff while straightening. Then, the Priestess let out a quick, bright trill of laughter.

“Old,” she put her palm over Avelyn’s arm to squeeze it, “and rusty. But I am better each day.”

The weather might have been changing, however, it could never compete with the warmth Priestess Rheata’s words brought to Avelyn ever since they met in her childhood. She let her put most of her weight on her as they strolled into the bathing area of the chamber. A beautifully decorated archway led to the already steaming, completely tiled room, a large built-in bathtub waiting for them. There was a window situated beside the tub, letting the slowly dimming sunlight sneak in to waltz on the tiles’ surface.

Avelyn smiled to herself as she guided the Priestess to it, matching her steps to her feet by feet pace.

“That’s a delight to hear. The others won’t leave me peace since Priestess Cascelin became your replacement. Everyone is awaiting your return, niele.” A playfully dismissive wave of a hand kept the smile on Avelyn’s lips.

Yet, she still held her breath for a second while helping the Priestess out of her loose ivory and gold embroidered tunic. It wasn’t merely because of her completely bare state; Avelyn had seen her rotund built without clothes before. There has been no costume for it, still, the Priestess had let her bathe together until Avelyn reached the age of desiring more privacy. It’s been more for her expectation of what change she’d notice this time.

Avelyn spread out a towel on the tiles as she always did. Then, the Priestess could sit down, her breathing turning slightly heavy as if she already exhausted herself.

Priestess Rheata folded the textile into a neat, wrinkleless package, edges sharp and crisp, just like everything in her chamber.

“It is a beautiful day,” she repeated, looking out the window. “The roses are already blossoming, and the magnolias are nearly ready. You must visit the magnolla’s soon, my dear.”

With a dampened cloth, Avelyn evenly began cleaning the Priestess’ skin. The mention of magnollas almost squeezed a nervous giggle out of her. Priestess Rheata did not notice it, and she did not press further. Instead, she chattered joyfully, commenting Avelyn’s process the whole time, just like she always did. Even if she told her so, Avelyn did not want to add more force to her touch. She obeyed for stray moments, when the Priestess seemed to forget this aspect, but only for those.

As much as she focused on the chirping of her mentor, her eyes still caught the things she was afraid to see. Some patches on her skin that weren’t there before. Her skin itself, that more and more reminded her of the old parchments of books in the library.

Avelyn reached her neck, and her heart sank when she realized the Priestess lost some weight.

“How was lunch, niele?”

She did not intend her voice to sound slightly thick. If the Priestess noticed it, she did not mention it.

“Wonderful, I ate everything,” she said, pride lurking in her tone. “I am, however, not the biggest admirer of that sour meat. It was a nice plate, nevertheless. Not like my own cook, of course, but very decent.”

Avelyn smiled, giggling at her enthusiasm, yet her mirth did not feel right. She noticed more and more, from how Priestess Rheata’s skin hung heavy from her arms to how petit she seemed now without as much weight as she bore before. As if she wasn’t in her own body, and she was slowly shedding it away.

“There’s nothing better than your cook.” Oh yes, her voice grew thicker. She kept her smile on her face, nevertheless.

The Priestess glanced at her as Avelyn nearly finished patting her dry. She mirrored the gesture, her smile as gentle as ever, while she adjusted some locks on Avelyn’s shoulder, then caressed them tenderly.

“Your smile brings me so much joy, my dearest Lynni.”

Some muted laughter travelled to the bathroom from outside, echoing on the tiles. Avelyn swallowed hard, taking the Priestess’ hand in hers to let her play with her fingers as she always did.

“So does yours to me,” she said, deepening her smile.

[tryingtimi]

Listen

Basically the continuation of this scene. It's one of those that I started a long time ago and now I just wanted it done lol. When in the actual story there will be some things in the two scenes, and after it but yk. Anyway.

Context: Syonehlia tells Cronyl she need him because of the Proposal Performance. Cronyl does not know Syonehlia doesn't want to be the Princess, and will only find out after they performed. Until then, there is a tension, since she basically rejected him earlier. However, not as openly to crush all his hope.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | ARGUMENT EXPLORATION | WC: 841

“This was not part of the deal.”

Syonehlia did not look at Cronyl, while he slammed the carefully decorated piece of paper at the table as if it was no more than garbage. She calmly busied herself with her wrist bandages, not even flinching, nor acting as if she cared about any inch of his remarks.

Cronyl gritted his teeth.

“It is now,” Syonehlia answered, voice even. “I need your help to complete the performance. Furthermore, it’s a generous offer. Your fee is doubled,” she elegantly flipped the parchment and put a delicate finger at the top. “Supplemented with the newest medications you can find on the market, besides the fruit and vegetable stocks those were fermented and sealed properly to stay esculent for a fine amount of time…”

“So you give pickled food.” Cronyl finally earned a glance from the Dione heir, even if a rather piercing one. She did pull back her pragmatic mask real quickly.

“Yes. Also, I’ve sent Delion to our tailors where they make two pile-lined linen inexpressible with matching tunics and blouses, all coated with spider silk from our farms. There will be various sizes in the package.”

“So you also give pants and shirts.” Syonehlia didn’t seem necessarily proud of herself after listing all these, but Cronyl still crossed his arms before his chest. He wasn’t trying to hide the lack of amusement on his face, in contrast to this annoyance that nested in his nerves. “Great, in that case, we can finally prepare that summer ball we’ve been delaying for weeks now. The handful of half-ruined houses the people live in will serve well as a decorative touch.”

A short silence conquered the room. Cronyl held Syonehlia’s gaze which seemed unreadable. Until one, tiny little twitch of her lips.

“Mockery is something I was not expecting from you. I offer much, Rescuer. You should consider these at least.”

He held her gaze, his tension seeping into the brightly lit office area.

“The ridiculous offer is the least surrealistic among all the things you listed here,” he said, his tone as cold as hers. He could shield the painful disappointment well enough. “How do you plan to execute your plan, tell me, heiress. The Performance is not for pairs, there is no chance you can take me in with you. And if you could somehow manage to do it, I don’t see the appeal in helping you to marry off to the Prince. I’m not out here to fulfil all your whims.”

“Does that mean my idea could work?” Syonehlia stopped adjusting her bandages, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. “The fight scene. In disguise.”

There was a moment of pause in the room. Cronyl tried his hardest to process the sheer ignorance towards his words. It wasn’t the first time she did that, he slowly realized that. There were moments they would converse, and she would do it as subtly as a serpent would sneak into your bed unnoticed. Still, he didn’t really care about it. So far, anyway.

He released a deep breath, not loosening his posture.

“Only if you would want them to kick you out of the suitors. Even if the other nobles wouldn’t notice it, there is no doubt the Prince wouldn't miss how it’s actually fighting. That would be the most inappropriate performance in the history.”

The chandelier’s light made the room bright enough for him to see the most subtle smile creep onto her lips. It felt like a knowing one.

Confusion scattered into Cronyl’s chest.

“We’ll make it work.”

The use of the plural was the last thread of his patience. He closed his eyes, and he would have loved to turn on his heels to take his leave. Anger bubbled in his chest, towards her and himself as well. Yet, he found himself stuck in that room. No matter how much she seemed to tell him the exact thing he wasn’t expecting.

Helping her to get married to the Prince? Metal-cursed woman. She was playing with him, or he was a fool from the start.

Focus.

His feelings should have played very little part in his decision-making. And with that, a realization hit him on the face that made his heart crack further. Yet, it was more important like that pathetic thing.

His people were that, way more important.

“All right, listen,” Syonehlia started. She didn’t sound tender or apologetic. Her voice was of someone’s who knew what she wanted and what she needed to do to get it. “I need you because it would only work well if there are two people. And you are close to a master in this topic. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask for this if I’d know a better option.”

Cronyl left his gaze on her, none of them looking away.

The people.

He untangled his arms, his palms showing.

“I’m listening.”

[tryingtimi]

The Home She Brought | Aka A Mistletoe Kiss🎄

Happy Holidays, my dears! ✨🎊 I'm joining in for this little, sweet game @bloodlessheirbyjacques started with a snippet I was working on for a lil while now. It's all started with I Belong To You by Jacob Lee, by the way. It's also not an AU, nor Christmas in my world, so I guess this is something of a meta mixture lol. Anyway, thank you for the tag, My Love!

Rules: If anyone wants to join in and turn this into a mistletoe tag game for the holidays, I'd love to see yall's OCs kissing under a mistletoe, or your WIPs version of it! Whether in-world or a modern AU version where mistletoes exist. Tagging: @aschlindartroom, @circa-specturgia, @the-void-writes, @muddshadow, @stormbrightwriter, @italiangothicwriteblr, @friendlyneighborhood-writer, @approximately20blorbos, @blind-the-winds

The crisp of heartfelt laughter filled the room, as Bra’aka recited his tale beside the fireplace. The children’s sparkling eyes were brightened by the warm flames, their cheeks pink from the kisses of excitement and heat. Some little one snuggled closer to Avelyn and Nareethi while they sat in their lap on the carpet. Even Eldnar hung upon every word of Bra’aka, situated beside the armchair the old man sang his fables from.

Syonehlia quietly discoursed with Darmon and Drehana a little farther, but Cronyl could see them only stealing glances, then eventually, turning towards the tales as well.

When only the crackling fire walked around in the dramatic silence the warrior created, Bra’aka stole a glance from Cronyl at the other end of the space. He was leaning against the wooden wall, feeling a tiny smile tugging at his lips as everyone else held their breath in anticipation. They listened quietly, the children’s little fingers impatiently kneading the edges of their tunics. Then, the warrior continued, and another wave of laughter washed over the audience, all the doe-eyed little ones flashing him a toothy smile while he ruffled some of their hair.

“Why deviate?” Cronyl looked at Zaherra as she cleared her raspy voice. The elder draar leaned upon her cane, shifting her weight from her injured leg to descend beside Cronyl in the alcove. She glared at him when he reached forward to support her by her elbow. “My teeth can bite through your skinny arms easily, sadlad. Think about that. “

Cronyl scoffed and let her sit down with a slight thud on her own. Satisfaction spread across Zaherra’s face, her solid scale’s reflecting the orange light of the dancing fire from afar.

“I don’t deviate.”

“Sure you don’t,” she snorted, putting the other hand on top of her cane too. “That’s why you’re here alone. Far from everyone.”

Cronyl stayed silent. He watched Eldnar passionately convince Bra’aka about him singing next, instead of another tale. Then, his eye wandered away, right at Avelyn. At her relaxed figure as she helped the draar child up from her lap to let them go their way. At her widening, yet still restrained genuine smile. At her, sliding a blanket over Nareethi’s shoulders while she focused on the performers too immersively to notice her slight trembles.

At Avelyn’s golden eyes sparkling with such quiet care.

“I’m watching.” He kept his stare at her when she stole a glance from him. Bra’aka and Drehana already tuned in their instruments to accompany Eldnar’s voice.

“Oh, that is very clear.” Zaherra lifted her cane to knock on Cronyl’s shin slightly. “You can’t only watch forever, though, son.”

The cold slipped inside the room through the half-open window, caressing Cronyl’s back under his tunic. Its touch carried the soft calmness of winter. The blankets of snow, the embrace of fireplaces, and the overflowing longing for others.

The first accord filled the room. Then, Eldnar started singing.

Cronyl watched Avelyn patting Nareethi’s back carefully to the rhythm. She leaned from one side to the other slowly, the melody enchanting her as well as the others one by one.

“Shall we?”

Avelyn’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she looked up at Cronyl extending a hand to her. She locked eyes with him before she slid hers into his eventually. Pale roses bloomed on her cheeks as she let him guide her into the middle of the room. Cronyl did not take his eye off of them, not if he wanted to do that ever.

“What’s this?” she whispered, as the roses deepened when he slipped one of his hands to her waist.

“Dancing.”

Avelyn’s embarrassment disappeared as she glanced into his eyes seriously. Then, as a baby starbug slowly floated through between their faces, bursting out tiny stars; she giggled soundlessly.

“You’re oblivious.” Her body seemed to relax under his touch when he pulled her closer softly. Cronyl held her hand gentle, thumb caressing her skin.

Another starbug hovered around behind Avelyn when he rested his cheek on her hair. The little thing twirled with the rhythm of Eldnar’s as many more joined them.

“They’ve found the window,” Avelyn breathed, like whispering a secret. She leaned more toward him as they both swayed at the melody in sync.

Cronyl could look at the starbugs, but he didn’t want to see them. He could imagine them flowing in through the window, yet what he wanted to see was Avelyn’s gazing goldens. Her silent amusement by the creatures as they rode the cold winds and sprinkled out stars here and there.

He buried his face deeper into her hair, drinking in the scent of old books and ink. The warmth and light she brought into the grey lands of his soul. The wildflowers she grew on the ruins of his wall she stripped away brick by brick.

The home she brought him.

Cronyl planted a wisp of a kiss upon the back of her hand.

“In another world, I might have been a mapmaker just like my mother. Selling to the royals, bringing the images of artists alive. Helping out the poor who lost their way.” He could feel a smile spreading across her lips as she listened to his quiet tale. “Or a bookbinder. I might have gotten excited about finding the perfect leather for a story or a lexicon like Father did. I don’t know. But, there’s one thing I know for certain.”

She hummed, waiting patiently. Always waiting patiently.

“In another world, I’ve proposed to you a long time ago,” he ended his vow as she froze for a moment. Then, slowly, she leaned back so long as she could look into his eye finally. Soundlessly bursting stars behind her turned Avelyn slightly surprised figure into a glowing phenomenon. Cronyl inched closer to her. “It’s a pity I need to wait until all this ends in this one.”

Avelyn’s lips parted ever so slightly, tender mist conquering her gold-tinted irises.

Then, a little chime, a soft jingle really; dragged their attention back into the room eventually. They both turned to the sound, up under their heads.

A mistletoe embraced with a little bell hung over them, finely attached to a faintly glowing crystal. Its purple shine vibrated and the bell chimed again as the crystal wiggled a bit.

Cronyl loosened his touch just enough so Avelyn could glance behind herself, right at the smirking, smiling bunch that stared at them. Syon, Nareethi and Drehana’s subtly mischievous expressions clearly stated who encouraged the calm, yet smiling Darmon to call his crystals out for this. Eldnar seemed way too satisfied by Bra’aka who leaned back in his seat, winking at both of them. The children did not look at them, but Cronyl could see the curious little glances they shot them while they tried to seem occupied.

He could even feel Zaherra’s grumpy and pleased stare at his back.

“Don’t mind us,” Eldnar stated loudly, a smirk widening on his punchable face.

The home she brought to him.

Cronyl felt a genuine, unstoppable chuckle bubble up in his throat, which guided Avelyn’s eyes at him. Sweet confusion spread across her features, the roses on her cheeks burst out new blooms the same way starbugs did with the stars around them.

He pulled her closer, his hand finding its way to cup her face.

Avelyn’s rose garden grew more crowded when she followed him with her sparkling goldens.

“They’re all watching.”

Cronyl didn’t see, nor hear, let alone feel them. He didn’t care.

He saw her, and her only.

A tiny, tiny smile found his ragged lips.

“Let them,” he whispered before he softly leaned onto her lips, tasting home for the hundredth times.

[tryingtimi]

Ash and Rot PART II.

PART I. | PART II. | PART III.

It is quite the read, so I advise you to start it cautiosly. It's Cronyl's darkes moment in the story, which was inspired by If I Surrender by Citizen Soldier.

Context: Cronyl drank the previously offered na’koro juice, so the ritual could began. This is how it goes for him after it.

BOOK 3 EXPLORATION | BLOOD | DEATH | MENTION OF DEATH | VERY DARK PLACES | GRAPHIC VIOLANCE | WC: 1,121

Cronyl was falling. Cronyl was floating. He smelled ash, the itching, choking stench of dirt and dust. He danced and turned on his heels when he realized he was on a battlefield. His ankle spike sliced up one of his enemy’s throats with the movement. Just in time.

The Vessel’s body collapsed onto the ground; a swirling wisp of dust followed behind. Consuming black eyes stared at him, hollow echoing inside.

He was bleeding from a million cuts on his skin, his face aching, his wounds deep.

However, he vowed to protect.

Cold sweat drenched his forehead as he slammed his piercing wrist spike into another’s neck. A punch on his side made him grunt, but the Vessel fell when he pulled them down on the ground, his knee at their neck finishing with it a crunch. He didn’t feel tired, but he was panting. Exhausted. He didn’t know how long he fought, nor how long he has to continue doing it. There was no sign of the enemy, yet he felt as if there was no end.

Cronyl.

He killed another one with a kick, turning towards the calling. It came from Eldnar.

Cronyl!

Now, Darmon. The Vessels did not stop, they were attacking him, coming out of nowhere. They were all standing in a reddish-orange desert, black sky towering over them. Fresh blood spilled on the dried splashes on his body. When was this ending?

Cronyl! Syon screamed. Cronyl! Izohr shouted. Lad! Bra’aka roared.

He turned a hundred times, searching for the voices, but all he faced were growling enemies. Another Vessel. And another, and another. They walked up to him, trying to corner him, and surround him. But he didn’t give up however exhausted he felt. However heavy his limbs turned with every movement. He panted, his chest tight as if rocks weighed it down.

Yet, he was holding on so he could continue, so he could protect them. He could save them. He must do that. Always save them.

He saw the enemy’s weaknesses, their muscles. That... It couldn’t be. He touched his forehead when he turned to face a Vessel yet again. His eye, his red eye was free and working. It helped him. It controlled him.

It ruled him.

One look. Cronyl needed one look at his surroundings, to realize he was raging.

“Cronyl,” a familiar whimpering made him turn immediately. Avelyn was standing over the field of lifeless creatures laying on the ground, alone, abandoned… except they were no Vessels. Cronyl’s eyes widened as he stumbled forward, looking at Eldnar’s blood-covered figure. At his face. It was almost unrecognizable, the unmistakable cuts of spikes deforming his features. Beside him, Bra’aka’s head hit the dirt, face forward.

Cronyl saw his own hands tremble as he tried to reach after Darmon’s twisted body over the draar warrior. He was still holding Syon’s hand, her whole figure blanketed with cuts.

Chocking bubbled up in his throat when he turned his hands.

All of their blood dried to his wrists and palm.

“No.” He looked up at Avelyn. Who wasn’t before him anymore.

Her motionless body weighed his arms down when he glanced at them again. His knees sent a whirl of dust into the air as he fell to them, staring at the fresh cuts blooming on her face just like on Eldnar’s. Her chest never rose again.

Red throbbed in the corner of Cronyl’s sight while he held her closer.

“No!” Ice-cold dread froze up his veins, the smell of ash, rot, and death twirling into a visceral vortex. The touch of her cheek felt just as cold as his own, as he pressed his face to hers.

“No, no, no,” he quivered, voice cracked and raw, “this can’t be real. I can’t… I can’t lose you too.” He held her even closer, his hot tears meeting her almost frozen skin.

She seemed so fragile now, even more delicate.

Warm wind blew the blood-soaked sand far away, the grains sticking and nestling into his wounds.

“I…” Cronyl’s throat turned hoarse from agony scratching its walls. “I told you to stay away, but still you didn’t listen. None of you did! None of you… How? How could you imagine me as the rescuer of all?” He choked on a bubbling whimper, squeezing her closer to him.

Under all the various scents of terror, he could faintly smell ink and old books.

“It was their dream. My parents, it was theirs to save everyone, to change the world. Not mine, theirs, so I held onto it. I needed to, so a piece of them stayed alive. The cost didn’t matter.” Cronyl bent forward, rocking her and sobbing into her neck. “You didn’t know, Avel. I tried to tell you, not once, but I never could. You called me a “good man” for saving others. For caring. But you didn’t know.”

Burned flesh and blood; the stench blanketed her scent, devouring it all, his friends’ desperate voices echoing inside his mind constantly.

Then, the world began to spin.

“I cannot sleep, nor stay awake without seeing them. No matter if I open or close my eyes, all I can see is their death.”

Black clouds blended into the reddish dust whirling up from the ground as the world just spun, faster and faster. Cronyl was falling, crashing, drowning, breaking apart. The cracks on his soul widened, his chest merely ripping up to let everything out. Darkness erupted from him, gathering around, the monstrous sounds of the Vessels’ fading as it swallowed the rotting scenery.

“I don’t want to save anyone, Avel!” He rasped so loudly as if trying to shake her from a deep slumber. ”I never did. I don’t care! I just… I just want my parents back. That’s all I want.”

Everything shattered into nothing.

Cronyl heard only his own desperate weeping echoing as he pressed his empty hands to his wide-open chest, his forehead touching the earth. He squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to open them, yet he knew he was kneeling in a completely black, empty space. Alone.

There was no one and nothing left. He lost them all for the only, most vile one he couldn't proctect them from. Himself.

It didn't matter anymore, there was nowhere to hide, nor to supress. He had said it, he had shown himself.

He sorrundered, finally.

And with that, like the caressing of a gentle sunlight, a faint touch really; a hand slid onto his shoulder.

[tryingtimi]

“Make me love myself so that I might love you.”

Devoted to None But One

Since I’m living my Cronyln era right now, I couldn’t help myself. Rip everything else I’m doing in the meantime (like drawings and, you know, work).

Context: The group goes to draar land where there is a tradition that one needs to prove themself to the Queen somehow to stay on her lands. Its not necessarily a canon thing, and not this simple, but yeah. Bra’aka vouched for Cronyl anyway.

CHARACTER EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF IG | WC: 681

Avelyn had been kneading her sleeve into a ball, she was aware of that. However, she couldn’t stop.

“Show me,” the draar Queen ordered. “Where does your faith lies, small one? Where would you pledge your loyalty to, what would be your last wish for your divine? Show me, and I will take you all as mine.”

Every eye in the room turned to Cronyl as one, waiting. Lines of warriors, shieldmaidens, advisors. Their own group, with Bra’aka on the front. Avelyn was crumbling under their expectant eyes on Cronyl’s behalf.

And not in vain.

Her throat turned sore from the dryness, and she couldn’t swallow from the wet lump it formed there. The worry of how things will turn around.

Because they have seen every present warrior pledge their loyalty to Her Majesty. They descended to one knee and assured her of their faith. Of faith in their Gods, who chose Her to be their voice. They all have witnessed it, and so Avelyn could only stop herself from blinking or breathing rapidly.

The Queen knew what she was doing. She knew, who she needed to address her challenge.

Cronyl had no faith, no religion. He would be loyal to whatever seems right to him, but he’s not believing. He does not pray, nor worship. He’s devoted to none…

Oh dear God above the heavens!

There was a moment of silence and pure stillness when he descended onto one knee without hesitation — right towards Avelyn.

Gasps filled the quiet, and she would have joined them if she wouldn’t be stunned to stone. Her legs were rooted into the ground, her chest vibrating from a sudden thunder. He bowed his head just enough, so he could still look at her from under his lashes.

And those ever-intense eyes had made it clear; whatever he was about to do or say, it will be everything.

He spoke on the tongue she couldn’t nearly understand. In the native tongue of this land, on the language of the draar. Yet, the powerful tone of his words, accompanied by the gentle rhythm of his sentence, well, those softened her heart from shock into hope. Wouldn’t she battled with her emotions about the very man who was kneeling before her, she shouldn’t have been on the edge of tears, perhaps.

“Rise up, honourable one,” the Queen ordered in the common tongue. Her melodic voice brought Avelyn back to the present and reminded her they were among a crowd.

Cronyl lingered his gaze at her soul for a moment longer, before he did as he was told.

She was finally able to drag her eyes away and escape by turning to the Queen instead. Who was smiling a little.

“Bra’aka Suthbrog, your companion is accepted. You may all stay here as one of ours.” She gestured towards their group from her seat. “Welcome.”

A belly trembling, one accord laugh came out through Bra’aka’s mouth as he nodded. Then, the crowd began cheerfully conversing, some shouting for nak’oro juice, some suggesting they all move to the drinking house. The air of strangers shattered into pieces, and at least one local approached Avelyn’s companions. They treated them as long-seen friends and even Cronyl got caught by Bra’aka’s son, Xorrum to join the gathering.

Avelyn looked after him, then at the place he stood before. And only then, she became painfully aware of her heated face.

What had just happened?

She followed the crowd flowing out from the room, barely noticing Bra’aka’s presence beside her. Yet he did not go anywhere, as if guarding her side.

“Make me love myself so that I might love you,” he murmured suddenly. Avelyn looked up at him, her heart still thundering in her chest like the drums that began singing outside.

“What does that mean?”

“I have not the faintest idea,” Bra’aka said with a knowing smile on his face, “but that is what he had told you, little gold.”

[tryingtimi]

Ash and Rot PART I.

PART I. | PART II. | PART III.

Here's a scene or an almost half a chapter from Book III that I was meaning to write for a while now. It started as a prompt scene, but ended up like this. Blood Upon The Snow by Hozier was a great inspiration to get started with it and then finish it up as well. Incoming In-World legend also.

Context: Cronyl loses control during a fight, where Syonehlia tries to stop him. It ends up as a disaster, because Cronyl tries to kill her, so In order to finally, actually stop him, Eldnar trashes his leg. He then completely separates himself from the others during his recovery while they travel to draar land for help. So Bra'aka tries to offer thim something that might help him get over himself and what for they eventually started the journey to his homeland.

BOOK III EXPLORATION | MENTION OF DEATH | BLOOD | SELF-LOATHING | WC: 2,759

Screams. Silence. A lion cub lost in the forest. Snowflakes falling. Cronyl was surrounded by a thousand starbugs, all of them circling around him.

Blood.

Mother’s smile appearing as she watched the glowing creatures crowding him. She was always amazed by how much starbug loved Cronyl. She said he must be one of them.

Red and black snow.

Cronyl was hiding behind a trunk with Father by his side. Watching the wandering cub carefully. It dragged its leg, an open wound gaping at it. The injury reminded him of a biting mark, its pain surging through his leg as well.

“It was its mother,” Father whispered as he leaned closer, red blooming on his nose from the cold. Cronyl grasped the trunk stronger upon hearing this, not daring to lift his gaze off of the young animal. Father continued. “They do this sometimes. If the little one can’t bond with the mother or acts strangely, they might try to eat them. Either because they stayed a stranger to them or as a protection so they won’t suffer social exclusion. No matter if they’re the same kind.”

Snow, red on white. Silence.

Starbugs approached the cub, curious. It wandered so far with that leg and still, it wouldn’t stop. Cronyl’s chest tightened hearing and seeing nature’s doings.

“It’s mercy.”

The nearest starbug disappeared in the mouth of the cub with a crunch as it bit down on them suddenly.

Cronyl snapped his head at the side, where Commander Caldan’s frigid stare pierced him through. His indifferent tone making Cronyl tremble as ice would.

The Commander never revealed his spikes and yet, now they were visible. Thick blood dripped from his wrist, staining the snow.

The blood of Cronyl’s leg injury. The blood of his parents.

Silence.

Screaming.

Cronyl slammed his wrist spike into the arm which startled him up.

His breath as wisps of air puffed out of his lungs, the same way the surprised Bra’aka’s. The warrior’s clawed hand held Cronyl’s arm firm, but his incredibly sharpened spike still touched fur and skin, sinking in slightly. If it hurt the man, he didn’t show it.

Cold sweat like pearls prickled down on Cronyl’s forehead, his eye trembling as he stared at the warrior. His leg throbbed with spiking pain. And yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. In the corner of his eye, he still saw Commander Caldan’s motionless figure, covered in blood and snowflakes; and so he just wasn’t capable of letting himself turn away, giving in to the tiniest chance he could be truly there.

Bra’aka slowly pulled his spike out of his arm.

“You’re safe,” he said as he placed two plates at the desk beside the table finally. One was packed with fresh, colorful fruits and roasted meat slices. The other had a strange plant lying in it; thick, fleshy leaves or blooms embraced each other, dark red specks covering the dirty white base. Like...

At his arm, tiny redness stained his white fur, like blood upon the snow.

Enough!

Cronyl restrained the urge of shaking his head to drag himself out of the twisted lands of memories and nightmares. Clearing off any remnants of sleep from his clouded gaze and mind.

He tasted iron on his tongue, his sharpened teeth making it difficult to keep his lips closed. He set his jaw, still.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” The draar leaned back on the chair he seated himself, right beside Cronyl’s bed. He wore his light armor as always. “That scratch? All good, lad. I didn’t feel a thing.”

He cocked an eyebrow anyway.

“Bad dream,” Cronyl stated, not looking at the warrior while trying hard not to grimace from all the numbing, underlying throbbing in his leg.

“You have nothing, but bad dreams. I’m more interested in how are you doing.”

Tightness nested in his muscles as he forcefully pushed himself up to a sitting position by his elbows. He grunted, letting his blanket fall back at his hips, his injured leg still free from it. However cold it was outside, the hut had enough heat so Cronyl didn’t need to force the leather to touch his bandaged wound.

“Good.”

A bestial growl ran out through his clenched teeth when Bra’aka touched the cloth wrapped around his leg.

“You can keep saying that, I won’t stop asking.” Despite his enormous hand, the warrior was incredibly careful with it, perhaps even more like Avelyn would have been. However, it didn’t ease Cronyl’s building pain and tension. It towered upward, reaching his chest to gather there.

“What do you want from me?” he snarled, clenching the sheets as the cloth slowly disappeared from over his wound.

Bra’aka calmly stole a glance from him, before he continued to roll off the bandage. Although, his touch softened further.

“Not much. Just talk. You mad lad won’t let anyone inside when you’re awake and it’s been three weeks since Syon. She’s doing well, by the way. Nareethi could heal her wounds impressively fast. You can imagine how quickly little gold bullied her into teaching her; she needs the distraction since she can’t talk to you. Eldnar, also, is giving us way less headache than he used to. He disappears for hours during the day, and when he’s around he only talks to Darmon. It’s a whole load of gemclouds out there. Drehana’s the only one who still laughs with Ne’ekra while grooming the animals.”

Cronyl looked away, a loud huff bubbling in his throat when the last bit of cloth separated from his skin. He couldn’t risk glancing at Bra’aka’s injury while he inspected his wound. He couldn‘t risk falling back into the dream. Or worse.

Because the pain, he was used to. The excruciating agony the procedure came with, he was used to.

The fresh, heavy guilt blanketing all of it, however, he couldn’t deal with.

“They just need time,” to process I’m a monster. To get used to my absence. To finally realize they’re better off without me. Because I am alone and I’ll stay like that.

Bra’aka hummed to the unspoken words. Some minutes passed silently.

“Have you heard about Hoxxar and Unir, The Twins?” The wound had been fully revealed, Cronyl, however, couldn’t look at it. He kept his stare at the window beside his bed, watching the slowly falling snow after the storm through frozen glass. He remained silent.

Bra’aka continued, his tone changing, deepening. A quiet, humming rhythm accompanied the words.

“They lived in the ages long-long before us, even before Darmon. In the Age of The Beginning, they were born to be the children of a chiefess and her husband. They were strong and vigilant from the moment they were brought under the waving sky. As twins, they had many similarities, some tales say their father has often mistaken one for the other. However, it wasn’t something Hoxxar and Unir found bothersome. They loved each other as only a brother could one another. And as many things have they shared, they differed in an equal lot, if not more.” Bra’aka’s tone turned tender, melodic even. He slowly started to clean the wound out with a wet cloth. “Hoxxar liked to fight. He enjoyed the thrill of dealing with the problems of the world this way and the dance around Death itself. He judged, he killed, he took. Hoxxar, The Great was the finest, legendary warrior of old Ataria.”

What must have been minutes only, it felt like an eternity to Cronyl, when Bra’aka finally finished patting the cloth over his leg. He forced his eyes to stay open and watch the dancing lights on the night sky, his nails buried in the torn sheets way too deep.

“Unir, on the other hand,” Bra’aka continued. “Well, he was more drawn to nature and Life. In appearance and life path as a child, he was just like his brother. But never in heart. He helped others wherever he could, he healed, he farmed and planted, he built, he gave. Thus, their parents eventually offered him the title of the chief.” He reached for the white-red plant at the table. A pierce of his thumb claw was enough to slice the thick skin up fully. Its inside seemed to be something like a densely opaque liquid, but it didn’t flow anywhere as Bra’aka scooped some out with one finger. With that, the warrior’s tone turned erratic, aggressive, almost barbaric. “It happened to be the first time in their life when Hoxxar became furious at his own blood. Blinded by his wrath, he attacked their home that night and took the life of both of their parents. When he was done, he went right after Unir. A merciless snowstorm raged outside as he searched for his brother, the harsh wind cutting into his skin, wearing him down step by step. Still, nothing could falter, nor stop him.”

A breathless hiss left Cronyl’s lips as the strange gel met his wound. He could barely feel Bra’aka’s touch as he gently smeared it along his leg.

“He found Unir eventually, sitting in the snow on the white-coated meadow they used to play at as children. The storm didn’t soften as Hoxxar approached his brother. I have come to claim my title, he said to him, I am not afraid to take what’s mine. Unir remained silent, watching the far horizon. He seemed at peace.” Bra’aka’s voice muted, its rhythm slowing. “I know, he offered his words, when Hoxxar lifted his bloodied, frozen axe over him. I know brother, as I know you’ve taken everything from us. You’ve worked for this and would have died for this. They should have given it to you, so you shouldn’t take it yourself. But they didn’t. So here I am, giving it to you.”

Slowly, with even easing, the nearly unbearable pain softened into a familiar little ache in Cronyl’s leg. This gel cooled the flaming sensation, taking away the edge of the agony. Its smell reminded Cronyl of something very familiar.

Bra’aka’s humming voice turned even more benign, almost reminding Cronyl of a gentle breeze.

“Hoxxar froze upon hearing this. The first rays of dawn glinted on the tear on his face and the storm turned into steadily falling snowflakes as he fell to his knees beside his brother. He was ragged and wary, the storm took his strength, his will, his conviction. He’d been blind. He, Hoxxar, The Great was ready to take what could have been given. Why? How can you give after everything? he pleaded. Unir didn’t answer immediately. Because of you, brother. I could have never give, if you wouldn’t taken. And so they realized, they couldn’t have been who they were without each other. They couldn’t change, however. Which led them to make a decision, together. For the people never make a mistake like theirs, Hoxxar decided to take the place of the storm, while Unir had been given to be the light after him. Hoxxar judged and challenged the wanderers, pushing them the farthest, where they might never want to go. Only so Unir could have given them hope and relief, when they survived the storm, lighting up the path they’ve taken and showing them how far they came.”

Silence conquered the hut.

The fire quietly crackled once in the fireplace, when Bra’aka leaned back in his chair, finishing up his work. He locked eyes with Cronyl, and the driadlin realized only then, he was looking at him for a while now. He couldn’t say, when his nails stopped digging into the sheets, and when his teeth stopped poking his tongue. Some kind of peace as the evenly waving aurora outside surged in his chest. He could lean back on his pillow as well, finally.

“Thank you,” Cronyl said to the big man. He wasn’t sure what to make of the tale, but he was grateful. Beyond words.

Bra’aka smiled, then reached inside the pouch on his belt. He pulled out a glowing crystal that seemed to be almost as wide and long as Cronyl’s wound.

“You’ve asked me what I want from you. Well, I want you to make a decision. This is a piece of our atarqian crystal, the one we used for me too,” he stated proudly, lifting his crystal hand which in he held the remnants of the plant. The crystals seemed to merge into his skin where his wound should have been. Making it look like as if he was born with this arm. “We have a special ritual for it. One, only our most honorable warriors get offered to. It is not without pain. But it can give you back the ability to walk on two feet again. If you’re willing to take the chance.”

His eyes were flaming vortexes of colors from a blazing fire, while his enormous figure still seemed gentle in the dim light of the aurora that seeped inside the room through the window. Cronyl’s always-nesting fatigue and exhaustion disappeared from his veins as if nature could finally give him rest from all the strength he took from it.

His head also felt somehow clearer, yet he frowned and closed his eyes for a second.

“What’s the risk?” There was always a risk. And he knew Bra’aka didn’t tell him yet.

The warrior didn’t look away when they locked eyes again.

“Normally, the ritual requires three things. A crystal, a sip of the na’koro juice, and a drop of driadlin blood. Our ancestors discovered this during the Silent War when many of the opposite side died and some bled on them accidentally. During peaceful times, however, Caelis offered her aid in it, when she settled here. We never kill for it, especially not on purpose. In any case, since only one drop is enough to take you to another land while the ritual ends; what it would do to someone who possesses a fine amount of the blood, I cannot say. That is the risk.”

Cronyl didn’t know what to say. Strangely, his peace stayed with him, however disturbing all these sound. He had no doubt, Caelis wasn’t a simple settler, considering how she decided to build a home in draar land despite her driadlin heritage. But this was something Cronyl didn’t expect. And yet, the first question that popped up in his mind had nothing to do with her or the ritual itself.

“Is it the same na’koro juice that…”

“…that Xorrum was drinking with Eldnar to get drunk the last time, yes. It’s coming from this sacred plant called nakor,” Bra’aka explained, lifting the plant in his hand. “We use its juice for celebration because, without any of your blood, it is just like any of your simple alcohol as well. Probably more delicious, I might add.”

Cronyl took a deep breath.

“You’ve put it over my wound.”

“Yes I did,” agreed the warrior. “It keeps it clean.”

Reddish light danced on Bra’aka’s face as he calmly waited for him, perhaps to ask more questions. To pour out all and everything that was going on his mind right now. The fire’s and the auroras’ red and orange light blended, but its touch on the warrior’s white fur didn’t make Cronyl tense anymore. He knew he could say no without explanation.

“Is there anything I need to do to start the process?”

Bra’aka smiled softly, putting the crystal on his bed so he could squeeze the liquid out of the plant into the bowl. Cronyl’s leg faintly throbbed with a tiny crumb of pain, he almost didn’t feel it anymore. He was wondering if The Twins ever felt this way.

He turned to the window, clenching his teeth as Bra’aka carefully placed the crystal into his open wound and handed him the bowl.

Clouds seemed to gather in the sky, slowly reaching the light.

As if another storm was on its way.

[tryingtimi]

“ come to me, okay? whenever you need someone. “

@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨

Painful Endings, Reluctant Beginnings

@bloodlessheirbyjacques and I had this lovely sprint session back in the last decade (kidding obv, I'm just slow with writing and could only finish it now) and we used Brave Enough to Love You by Lindsely Stirling and Christina Perri's beautiful song as a prompt. Listening on repeat, we've both created a scene for it, and so a little angsty, little hurt-comfort Cronlyn had been born from it on my side and an amazing, angsty Elistrea on Jaq's. I also mixed the vibe with this prompt to clear my drafts out as well hehe. Context: The team find out that the driadlin society's religion was a lie that the villain's side planted out back in the days, so they could lure the clueless driadlin into their traps without anyone finding out the truth. Avelyn was one of the loyal Pristess apprentices of their religion.

CRONYL AND AVELYN | ANGST | HURT/COMFORT | SLIGHT SELF-LOATHING | WC: 1,736

Veilnieve’s Priestesses could never take off their veils. The truth was so hidden in the world, they needed the purest sight to find even the tiniest pieces of it. It helped them. Their oats chained the veils to them.

Was the whole thing just a lie?

Avelyn felt the tiny bruise she made as her nails scratched across the soft skin of her thumb. A little blood appeared there as she glanced at it. She couldn’t bring herself to care about it, though. Not now, when she didn’t even know what to believe anymore.

“Here.”

A cloth was pushed into her vision, followed by his usual, even voice. Avelyn didn’t need to look at him to know, he didn't even turn to her while handing her the piece. He knew what she did without sparing her a glance, probably. Oh, Veilne…

Avelyn reached for the cloth so hurriedly, she ended up snapping the thing out of Cronyl’s hand. Great. She wasn’t even capable of controlling herself now.

Was this a punishment? Her punishment? She found and studied forbidden knowledge, after all. She may even have been responsible for dooming their world, wasn’t she? How could she care about a little blood on her fingers after all that?

She squeezed her eyes together for a moment, leaving the cloth to rest in her lap without using it. She breathed in deeply and allowed the air to slowly find its way out of her lungs. Her concentration sharpened with this, so she could focus on her surroundings for a short time.

The small room they were in, the wooden chair she was sitting on, the table beside her… Cronyl, leaning against it. His presence was ruling the place as always. He couldn’t hide there, even if he tried to. Even when she didn’t see him.

Strictness, seriousness, loneliness… tenderness, care, trust. She felt it all, as he soundlessly half-stood beside her. Her mind was full of grave thoughts and with every new one that found its place there, her heart only sank deeper.

And yet, she didn’t feel lonely.

She was lost; more than she had ever been in her entire life. But with a quiet companion, she didn’t feel lonely.

Avelyn opened her eyes, her thick, pearl-white veil blocking her view to be completely clear. She saw the world through the net of lies.

And how tiring it felt to do that now.

She wanted to reach for the string of her veil, but her hand wasn’t taking orders from her, not now, not anymore. It was something too deeply nested in her core to just get rid of it this easily.

So instead, she looked at Cronyl.

The man, who didn’t let her alone, when everyone else shared the thought of leaving her be. She didn’t want that, and Cronyl somehow knew this. How, she couldn’t tell.

He was watching the other side of the room, maybe inspecting something or he was as lost in his thoughts as Avelyn. He leaned at the table, so he didn’t need to support his whole body with his legs, hands beside him. He wasn’t staring at her. Avelyn saw all this, but only through a muted layer, so she couldn’t be sure about anything.

Only that, Cronyl still wore his half-broken glass on his forehead, one, still unharmed side pulled down at his red eye to keep it at bay.

Avelyn could have dragged her gaze off him, but she didn’t want to. Instead, she recalled their first meeting and all the things that happened since then. How much things have changed. How the hero to monster slowly grew in her eyes and turned into something beyond a hero. She realized Cronyl wasn’t a monster even if he bore one inside himself. He was closer to being a legend by not letting all that power rule him.

Admiration and something else stirred inside Avelyn’s chest. It was a feeling that made her blush, but she was also moderately aware of what it was exactly. She wasn’t enough for it, though.

She couldn't even deal with the weight of the recent events. She wasn’t brave enough to face her shadows, let alone love someone like Cronyl.

Her hands finally let her lift them and reach toward her ears. It wasn’t something she could rush, but something she forced herself to do anyway. When her fingers softly brushed her ears, she almost shivered. She knew if she took her veils off then, she wouldn't take them back. Ever.

The strings were in her hands.

How heavy some silk-like strings could have felt. She closed her eyes. Those ones that everyone said to be treacherous, but legendary. Those ones that made her lose her faith long before she knew the truth. A tiny, bitter smile found her lips.

Has she truly believed anyway?

With a deep breath, she let her fingers pull the strings off of her ears. If they had a grand weight when they were on her, without them, she felt even heavier. Heavy and weak…

Her heart skipped a beat.

A small, delicately decorated mirror caught her sight when she opened her eyes. It was so light, she didn’t even notice when it was placed on her lap.

Avelyn’s mind let all thoughts run free, her feelings exploding as strabugs would burst out their stars on a busy night. She carefully picked up the trinket, letting the veil hanging from one of her hands only. She felt her throat dry out and turn into a desert where all the water evaporated into the air. She gulped then and with a deep breath, she lifted the mirror to look into it.

Veilnieve’s devotees were not allowed to use mirrors. She hasn't seen herself for years now. The only reason she knew her eye color was the wrong one was that her apprentice friend and Priestess Rheata told her.

A mountain grew on her shoulder as she glanced at the reflection. A reflection of someone who had no round, but a delicately narrow nose. Of someone who had no rosy, puffy cheeks, only the soft lines of the face and jaws. There were no longer, curvy, smiling lips on the bottom, but more strict and strongly outlined ones. The hair was fine, long and so cared for as it framed this face. The face that bore those eyes; those golden eyes which about bards have sung songs of tales old as time itself.

Avelyn’s breath was shaking, when she realized who she faced wasn’t the innocent child that lived in her memories.

Who she faced was a woman with possession of something that shouldn’t have existed anymore.

A woman and a face she did not recognize.

The mountain only grew and buried her heart under a terrible weight as those foreign golden eyes became glossy from tears grieving a life lived through lies. A life that wasn’t even one in the first place. If nothing is real, then how could one call that a life anyway?

Avelyn wanted to close her eyes to stop her woe from running free on her cheeks; she couldn’t take off her gaze from the mirror, however. These trinkets showed the reflection of real things, they said.

They never told her it also revealed what is real at all.

She caressed the thick, beautifully carved frame of the mirror as one teardrop started its journey across her face. No more, only one. Finding out the truth finally meant her facing something she had no chance to, what she couldn’t.

Her weakness lasting so long deserved only one drop of sadness.

Heart sinking deep enough to never be found again, she placed the mirror down on the table beside her before she decided to look at Cronyl again. At him, who still faced the door, yet, she knew he was listening and watching. Waiting. Waiting for her to calm down, to begin processing what happened. For her to speak if she feels the need. A gentle smile crept upon her lips, as she somehow just knew, if she wouldn’t say a thing, Cronyl would still stand there until she would decide to silently leave the room.

Avelyn slowly rose from her seat, cloth slipping from her lap whilst she walked before him. She kept her distance to not disturb his privacy, yet she was close enough. His piercing metal-like gaze carefully wandered at her then, that one eye he was forced to leave free. Something he couldn’t hide, no matter how much he wanted to.

Carefully, with certain hands, she reached for his spectacles on his forehead. Not directly, but steadily to give him time to see what she’s going to do.

Cronyl visibly tensed up as he leaned back slightly, the same way a stray cat would draw back from a stranger who was trying to caress them. One of his hands seemed ready to stop her even. He didn’t raise them, however. The only thing he did was look into Avelyn’s eyes as intensely as ever and as if he found what he was looking for; he closed his eyes eventually.

A tiny, soothing wave washed over Avelyn’s deeply rooted loss when she finally touched the glass. She noticed his ears sharpen ever so slightly and heard the faint scratching sound of the table as his sharpened nails dug into it. He let her take off his glass nevertheless.

Revealing the scar on his eye made her sigh soundlessly, but it didn’t stop her from replacing the glass by binding her veil to his forehead.

A surprised expression spread out on Cronyl’s face, as Avelyn stepped back when she finished. He immediately raised his hand to touch the fabric, which she folded into a bandana. It was thicker now, so it could protect his eyes.

“Come to me, okay? Whenever you need someone,” she added quietly.

After a moment of standing in their content silence frozen in time, he pulled one side down at his scarred eye, then opened them up. There was no confusion, nor question in his stare. He only nodded.

“I will.”

[tryingtimi]

Chained to Him

Another Metalsea AU, because apparently, I can’t think about anything else than gang AU’s recently. The inspiration came from Popular Monster by Falling in Reverse, but it slowly turned into IN THREES by AS IT IS, Set It Off,JordyPurp. And a lot other, as I started listening to more and more songs like these. Anyway. Enjoy!

METALSEA AU | KINGPIN AU | BLOOD | GRAPHIC VIOLANCE | DEATH | TORTURE | WC: 1,282

Ice cubes clinked together as Caldan slowly put his bloodied knuckles into the bowl full of water, stepping away from the chained-up Cronyl.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” Urien offered calmly from his chair that was placed in front of him. His dripping blood already soaked the carpet.

Urien put down his cigar from one of his hands, its rich sent filling his office’s entirety. In the other, he held up a purple-bluish crystal-meth piece pinched between his fingers.

“Where did you get this from?”

He leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees and drinking in the view of how Cronyl hung from his wrists. His lungs seemed to be on the edge of shallow breaths, and the crystal chandelier’s light glinted on the streaming blood rivers that painted most of his upper body crimson. Dark, foggy clouds gathered around in his half-lidded, bruised eyes.

He blinked but didn’t look at Urien.

Well.

“Water,” he said, motioning with his hand. Caldan nodded silently and grabbed the bowl.

The muted thud of ice on the skin accompanied the loud splash as he spilled everything at Cronyl. He jerked up, arching and trashing as chains and crystals rattled when iron met the chandelier. A hoarse scream escaped his throat.

Now, he panted, bloodshot eyes maniacally trembling, looking at Urien, then at the ground again.

“Where, Cronyl?” Urien twirled the crystal in his fingers.

Visible quivering shook his body, legs still weakly dragged back, supporting none of his figures anymore. His widened eyes stared at the ruby carpet.

But his bloodied, purple lips began to move.

“What was that?” Urien asked, turning his head as if listening while glancing at Caldan. The man went closer but then Cronyl’s lips stopped.

So be it.

The red leather’s crips sound followed Urien as he rose from his armchair. He adjusted his white-gold handcuffs on his emerald jacket until he walked up to Cronyl. He stopped some two steps away from him, then slid his hands into his pocket.

Red threads as the cuts on his body embraced the white of Cronyl’s eyes. His face twisted into an agonized grimace as he forcefully threw his head back. Two flaming eyes looking right into Urien’s.

“…Fuck…you,” he uttered quietly through gritted teeth, before spitting blood on one of his shoes.

A hard tug of a smile twitched the corner of Urien’s lips.

He dropped his head, scratching his eyebrow with the back of his thumb, his red ponytail slipping from his shoulder. He closed the gap between himself and Cronyl with two easy steps, the carpet squelching under his feet.

Cronyl jerked as his finger began to trace up on his body, starting from the crotch of his once elegant trousers, through his neck, right at his jaw. Then he snatched Cronyl’s chin, earning a painful growl from him, his finger smearing the blood it took up as he trailed over the wounds.

He pulled Cronyl’s face closer, claw ring on his thumb slipping into his mouth to sink into his tongue, making him hiss.

“You’ve come in on the wrong door for that, treat.” Urien slowly cocked his head, taking his time to thoroughly look at his face, ending with his watered eyes.

Urien’s lips twitched again, this time, however, a little tail of the smirk won over.

He let his tongue go, tossing his head away.

“New approach then,” he started, turning around to go back to his chair. “You’ll like it.”

The settled chains seemed to rattle again quietly. Urien picked up his cigar and turned towards Cronyl again.

“Bring her in.”

Violent rattling filled the air, shattering sounds adding to the symphony of rampage. Rainfall of crystal crumbs showered Avelyn Dione’s delicate figure as Eldnar dragged her in by her arm. She stumbled beside him, fine dress rustling and a whimper slipping from her lips as tears gathered in her eyes the moment she laid her eyes upon Cronyl.

“Hey, buddy,” Eldnar greeted, his other hand hiding in his pocket.

Something flickered in Cronyl’s eyes. Something dark. Something animal.

“You bastard!” He shouted hoarsely at Eldnar, trashing in his shackles. Almost seeming as if he was trying to rip it out of the ceiling, plaster bits falling onto his head. “You rotted fucking piece of shit!”

Now his tongue had gone loose.

Urien deeply inhaled the smoke of his cigar, soothing his disappointment.

“Selling my product in my area to catch my attention, coming into my home to make me an offer, trying to play me fool.” His voice dropped so low at every “me” and “my”, even Caldan knew it was better to keep his stare on everything but him. “You’ve made many mistakes, but none of it would have been irreparable. Unforgivable. None, except one thing.”

Urien took the last drag of his cigar, putting the flame out so hard, the decorative ashtray cracked. He took the crystal-meth piece out of his pocket again and raised it, broken dim light gleaming on it.

“You’ve modified my formula,” he stated, voice even. “You sold it as my product, but you’ve modified my formula. You’ve made profit using my name.” He pulled out his gold-inlaid, pearl-colored gun from the back of his pants. He pointed right at Avelyn. “You disrespected my authority, my identity, and took what’s mine.”

“Not to be the killer of the fun, but the clock is ticking, Urien,” Eldnar cut into his word. “We need to….”

Cronyl shouted with the gunshot, while Avelyn dropped to her knees, squeaking, cramped fingers trembling over her ears. Eldnar’s body fell to the ground as a sack of rock; useless, disappointing, pathetic.

Urien rested his gun on his forehead for a second.

“Filthy little bunch, these Rats. They never fail to make me nauseous.” He settled his weapon on Avelyn again and looked at Cronyl. “Now, speak.”

All of his body shuddered, with fury or terror, Urien didn’t try to guess. His lips quivered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I… I can show you,” whispered a weak voice.

Urien turned to Avelyn, but he could see the flash of terror in Cronyl’s eyes as he did.

“Don’t make me ask, little bird.”

She visibly tried to stop her hands to shake, struggling to look up. But she did rose her pleading, tearful gaze at him, eventually.

“I can show you how we… changed the formula. You… your customers liked our product better, that’s why you’re doing this, right? It’s purer. More addictive. They want to buy the same from you, but you can’t provide it.” Avelyn stopped to take a shaky breath and think before she continued. “I assisted Darmon in the lab, I know the method. I can show you,” she emphasized, putting her hands on the carpet, her fitted dress tightening over her pressed-together knees. She looked Urien in the eye, begging glimmering in her stare.

He turned to Cronyl and the resigned look on his face was enough confirmation. She told the truth.

“Excellent.”

Urien shot Cronyl in the forehead without hesitation, right in the middle. He then walked up to Avelyn, who stared at the lifeless body hanging from the chains, her body completely paralyzed. She didn’t even blink when Urien pulled on his trousers so he could more comfortably squat down on her level.

He, however, put the flat side of his decorative gun on her cheek and forced her to face him.

“Now, sing to me, little bird.”