#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]

“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]

Lmao they're hilarious 😂 Elijah is the best.

This is so much fun tho! Thank yoi @bloodlessheirbyjacques ! Here goes a little scene then lol <3 (can't write without exposition sorry lmao)

Everyone stayed up late at Bra’aka’s house, chilling around the fire, when Eldnar leaned back on his hands behind him, completely bored and told the group they should play a game.

Avelyn and Nareethi got excited about it. The rest didn’t really pay attention. Bra’aka listened the conversation from the kitchen, while he focused mostly on the snacks he was making with his wife.

Eldnar smirked, when the girls asked what kind of game, then explained them what’s it about. Avelyn got flustered hearing it, while Nareethi looked more confused.

“Isn’t screwing someone is a bad thing too? It sounds like a bad thing.”

Language differences was always a fun one for Eldnar, but the Shar-Dlin wasn’t asking him specifically and it was a delight to listen Avelyn to do the explanation. The growing redness on her face was almost invisible by the playful light of the fire. Almost.

“It’s late and she’s practically a kid. No game.” Cronyl butted in, sitting on a chair, eyes closed, arms crossed, head resting at the wall.

“Hah! You’re all kids here.” Bra’aka noted from the kitchen.

“Oh, come on,” exclaimed Eldnar. “You should loosen up, buddy. We all should.”

Only the crackling fire and the sweet-scented efforts of the draar couple filled the air for some minutes. The girls sitting with Eldnar on ground was either confused or shy, Cronyl, Bra’aka and his wife seemed totally unaffected by the idea, while Syon and Darmon still curled over a map, studying it.

“I’d screw Darmon.” Every person turned to Syon, when she suddenly spoke up, still looking at the map with a straight face. “Marriage is not my thing, but it wouldn’t be so terrible with him either, I guess. And I’d kill Cronyl.”

Darmon glanced at her with an amused but very pleased look on his face. Eldnar felt victorious and smiled wildly, then began to tease Cronyl. This made the others laugh or chuckle, so Cronyl opened up his eyes and gave them a flat look, even though he seemed calm.

“Screw all of you.”

“What?” Nareethi’s eyes widened. “But… from what she said that’s…”

“He didn’t mean that way, Nare. Mr.Grumpy is just in a bad mood as always. That’s why we should have some fun bothering him.” Eldnar was basically grinning when Cronyl shot him a death glare. “That was one. Now the rest. Who would you kill and marry?”

With Avelyn, Nareethi and Eldnar’s very curious stares and Syon and Darmon’s waiting side glances, Cronyl just gave up eventually. After a sigh, of course.

“I would gladly kill you, right now. And marry Avel.”

Avelyn looked like someone who fell asleep under the sun at this point, but she was also smiling, even though she wouldn’t dare to take a look at Cronyl. Eldnar couldn’t blame her, this man’s blatant attitude would probably make even him pause for a hot second. However, her reaction also urged him to raise a curious and encouraging brow at her. She couldn’t hold his eyes.

“Well, I would, I mean… It’s obvious, isn’t it? You all know it, so I don’t have to… I would of course... marry Cronyl... ugh, screw him, and… I definitely would kill you, Eldnar!”

Eldnar let out a laugh, as Syon turned to them, chuckling. Darmon nodded a little, probably to reassure her that indeed everyone was aware of that, while Nareethi wouldn’t stop asking her about details.

He could swear he even saw Cronyl peeking out under his eyes and what? Was that a very faint smile on his lips? How fun, these two.

“I’m getting popular in that one, I see! Now, I would marry Nare, because if you guys just forgot, she is older than us – which I’m kinda into – and is a very caring person. I loved that weird looking fruit you gave me when I got sick too. You’re even more of a wife material than Bra’aka with his meals. But, I would screw Darmon and/or Cronyl for sure. For who would I kill, well, I probably need to say Cronyl for this one too, beacuse from the look on his face, I don’t have much time left.”

it’s blorbo blursday!!

it’s just a fun phrase to say

ok, for your blorbo blursday:

For the blorbo giving you brainrot right now: have them play screw/marry/kill with 3 other characters from that wip. (bonus points if you respond in their tone)

[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]

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]

67 for the spotify ask game!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques <3

Not Yours To Have

A very impactful song I was meaning to write something for for a while now (as for many songs lmfao). This one again is a vibe piece and a pretty emotional one at that. Besides Cronyl's darkest moment, this one became a kinda fav for now. Tho, I did not proof read so it might suck. Also, I haven't explained the magic in this world yet, so don't expect it to make too much sense I guess. Sorry, y'all.

Tiny Context: Metalsea's ending (not a canon or a possible one), where Avelyn tries to save Cronyl.

NON-CANON | EXPLORATION | TW: DEATH | TW: GORE | WC: 2,340

The battle marched on full force, seeking to bring Avelyn to her knees. Her concentration was strained to the point where she could barely distinguish the voices, noises, screams, and clashes from friends to enemies. She kept her will straight, however. The precise movements had eaten themselves into her muscles, but she needed to use her intent to slide her feet in the right direction, her arms into the perfect angle. She felt her exhaustion around, guiding the used golden energy back into their bodies. 

Darmon danced the same warpath, in a perfect synchronicity with her. Avelyn trained her eyes to not flinch when the blackened figures clearly aimed to march towards them. Drehana flung her whip at two attackers, Syon slashing them down in a well-managed teamwork. On the other side, Bra’aka roared as he fought back a handful of Zheva’s army, side by side with his draar unit. They circled Avelyn and Darmon like a protecting ward, never stopping, never faltering. 

Sweat drenched Avelyn���s forehead, the constantly coming, and going, taken and given energy cramping her limbs into a neverending motion, leaving behind aches and a drain that made her grit her teeth. She focused on the used-up golden energy, glowing brightly in the air, twirling from every single magic-touched individual. Feet forwards, slow spin, hands up, then slowly down, fingers stiff then softly drawn back. She stepped as she was taught, a cacophony of chaos devouring her. 

Her eyes followed the trail as she poured as much energy into the sagging Bra’aka, the armoured lot trying to close around them. Avelyn blinked away a feverishly hot drop of sweat and aimed at the next person. 

A raw yell cut through her concentration. It resonated in her chest, unlike the rumble of battlecries, the clashing of swords, or the slashing of flesh. Her blood ran ice cold, as her feet missed the next step, eyes searching frantically on the battleground. 

No.

Through the ring of defence, Cronyl lay in the dirt, a spear bursting from his chest and the golden life energy escaping him in an alarmingly rapid manner. He did not move. 

No.

Avelyn’s fingers began to shake. 

No. 

Her gaze roamed through her friends, exhausted but still going. Darmon stepped before her, guiding a big chunk of energy into the girls, then into Bra’aka. 

“Go,” he said over his shoulder, eyes forward and red from the building fever from overuse of power. 

Avelyn took off. Small stones like needles under her feet cut into flesh, but she ran. She ran, and ran through the armoured fighting, shoving an already stumbling enemy into the centre of the fight. With it, she slipped, falling on her knees and seeing a blade tower over her. Eldnar stopped and pushed back the enemy in the next moment, going for its neck with his spikes. Avelyn swallowed back her terror as she began to crawl to Cronyl not far from her anymore. The ground was an opened bleeding heart underneath. She ignored the thick pool under him as she crawled into the blood and pulled herself into a kneeling position. Around her, the slaughter did not stop for a moment. 

No. Avelyn tugged Cronyl into her lap, coughing out a sob, and dirt. Her skin was red-hot compared to his. He had his jaw broken, eyes staring upward, chest punctured through, then dragged open by the weapon in it. No.

Avelyn guided every golden trail into his chest, pushing her hand to his wound as if the proximity would make a difference. She grabbed them all, the movements clumsy but enough. Yet, it did not last. However much she channelled into him, it evaporated back into the open air. His body did not hold the life essence. 

No.

Avelyn’s chest tightened into a knot. Her breath quickened into a rhythm not even the driadlin masters’s movements would match. She gritted her teeth, hot, angry, desperate tears streaking through her burning cheeks, and she moved her hands up with the crystal-solid intention of draining everything she could. The golden energy wiggled, and twirled, thrashing like a wild animal as it ran — was snatched away from their enemies. She couldn’t take away something they did not use up, she could not take away a life; but she could grab the energy the moment it left their body.

Avelyn pushed her hand deeper into Cronyl’s open wound, blood bubbling between her stained fingers. She shuddered and trembled from the hollow film that settled on his once intense gaze. No. Her face contorted with the deep cracks that kept shattering her heart. She leaned down to touch her forehead to Cronyl’s, screaming as she pulled everything she could from around herself into his form. 

The world warped and blurred. Her skin felt like it would burn off her bones any minute. She heard every noise as one, her sore voice coming from outside herself. Avelyn kept her flaming fingers on his chest, crumbling under the pressure of so much life energy. She kept channelling, and screaming until the air was too thick to inhale. 

And then it stopped. 

The terrible noises of the battlefield, the maddeningly spinning world, the feeling of others’s essence eating at her insides just to burst out into another bout. Something snapped, and Avelyn was deaf, breathing raggedly, while her tears kept drenching her face and Cronyl’s cold forehead. No more energy ran through her body — there was no more to find. As if all life had disappeared, she was alone. 

It took a long time to lift her head. 

She was in a room, a blinding white nothingness that had no depth, no sound, no direction. She found no weight within herself, or on her knees where Cronyl’s head still lay. The blood that was oozing, and drying on him vanished as well. 

And his eyes were closed. 

Avelyn put Cronyl on the ground softly, standing on two shaking feet. Even though weightless, the vastness — the endlessness of her surroundings tried to bury her under. She wasn’t going to let it, however. She straightened, taking a step forward. 

With that, she felt the morphing within, and the depthlessness decreased. The sensation of having walls around, as if standing in a room rushed at her. She looked around, not seeing anything, but the feeling did not disappear. 

She stepped forward again, and she could make out a barely perceptible slit on one of the walls. With caution, Avelyn walked to it. The closer she got, the sharper; the more real it got. Nearly up close, she found it wasn’t a slit — it was a crack on the wall, that had an uneven piece missing.

And through that missing piece, Avelyn saw Cronyl. 

He was a little boy, playing with other draar kids in a flower field. The scene played out before her eyes like a moving painting. The way they smiled and laughed, and then as Cronyl later found himself surrounded by other driadlin kids, beating him up because of his draar friends. He didn’t cower, nor give up. He clawed and fought, but he was smaller than the others. When he pulled himself into a groaning, sobbing ball on the ground, the scene re-started. 

Avelyn staggered back a little. She dragged over her gaze and found another crack, with a different scene. Then another, and another. As she turned around, the room materialised before her eyes, reaching into the white nothingness, revealing its cracks running through its surface. Avelyn turned, and turned around, slowly spinning until her head began to buzz. She breathed heavily, a stray tear still running over her cheek once or twice. 

And every crack had a missing piece, displaying a moment of Cronyl’s life. As Avelyn looked through them, she recognised many of the cracks’ shapes. With a thick swallow, she walked closer to one and looked over the edges that curled exactly like one of Cronyl’s scars. Avelyn knew his wounds like she knew her own palm, and she saw every one of them around herself, the memories marked into it like an infinite dream. 

She was standing in the gallery of his pain, and she found why she couldn’t heal him. The cracks let the energy seep out, some of them pulsing with it, some of them losing it. Avelyn’s stomach churned in agony. Most of it kept it and tried to absorb it. 

Except one, that reached under where Avelyn stood and was lost into the empty white sky. It seemed like it split the whole place in two, and the missing piece’s shape brought out a shuddering breath from her. 

It was the contour of Cronyl’s exile tattoo. 

Avelyn walked up to it with heavy limbs but with a determination in her bones. The crack that belonged to it refused to keep any of the golden life energy inside, almost even pushing it out, rejecting it as if poisonous. 

The scene it held was different from the rest. It did not start, or end. It was a simple, constant picture of a child — Cronyl, kneeling before two laying figures on the ground, frozen in blood, and fire blazing all around him. 

“Save them,” a weak voice whispered from somewhere. A child’s voice. 

Avelyn didn’t think twice before she placed her palm over the scene’s surface. There was no need to push, she could easily step into it, the heat of the burning house hot enough to melt, and the air suffocating from ash and death. Her eyes watered from the sting of burning skin. She put her sleeve before her nose and dived deeper. 

The two figures were rigid on the ground, throats slashed open by a clean cut. Over them, the child knelt, wailing hoarsely. Blood dripped from his lips, a fresh, raw cut tearing through his top lip through his cheek and left eye, up until his brow. 

“Save them,” he sputtered, eyes disappearing under the heels of palms that sunk into them. “You need to save them!” 

Avelyn crumpled to her knees beside the child. She choked on the scratching air and the sorrow that snaked upward her throat. However she looked at them, she knew she couldn’t do anything. 

“SAVE THEM,” the child screamed. Avelyn heard the crack widen. 

All the sorrow, all the pain — she could heal wounds, but she didn’t know how could she fix this. The only thing she could always do was to take upon others’s hurt, yet she didn’t know how to have his. How to… 

The child’s skin began to disintegrate into golden specks and absorb into her fingers when she tried to touch his shoulder. His wails softened only a little, and the cracking stopped. Avelyn couldn’t absorb the pain, but she could carry the memory. 

Without a moment of hesitation, she pulled herself closer and embraced the child. 

Her chest began to burn, hotter than anything she ever felt. She wanted to scream from the utter agony that touched her soul, and what kept coming and coming, drowning out everything. The shards of the memory, that cut so deep she felt herself bleeding without being wounded. The details, the parents, the…

A hand grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her off. 

She gasped, sobbing uncontrollably, disoriented. Her head spun, and buzzed, her chest trying to rip apart. She felt like her heart grew into a stone, weighing her down to never move. 

But her eyes cleared when she looked up. 

“You can’t do this,” Cronyl told her. He was fully grown as she knew him, without blood smearing him all around, squatting beside her as he used to. Both his eyes watched her, but they didn’t seem to struggle. His voice was firm, and her tears rolled forward from the touch that felt real on her wrist. 

“I must.” She smiled softly. “You can’t die on me just yet, so I must, and I will.” 

“No.” Cronyl kept her gaze as the house around them creaked and stumbled, burning. “He’s not yours to carry.” 

“But…”

“He’s not.” It was a whisper, a tender but unquestionable statement. Avelyn found herself almost giving up. Her lips trembled like the child before her, and she closed her eyes to take a heavy breath. He caressed her cheek and swiped away her tears. “Go, Avel. I’ll have him.” 

She opened her pleading eyes. 

“I will have him,” he repeated, firmer, “and I will come back to you.”  

Without another word, he pushed her hard, and Avelyn stumbled back on her knees, falling out from the scene. Before her, the wailing child kept his bloody palms in his eyes, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Much like Avelyn before, Cronyl embraced the boy who then began to dissolve. The crack shook, torn between opening further or closing in, and the child’s echoing screaming slowly quieted. As if finding a home between Cronyl’s arms, he relaxed and wrapped his small, fading arms around his torso. 

Avelyn scrambled to her feet, and she felt the whole place crumbling. The scars seemed to make it already fragile. But, her worry was in vain as the scene morphed and warped before her eyes —- the burning house collapsing down, the bodies disappearing and to their place, two gravestones growing on a meadow. The child faded into Cronyl, and he stayed kneeling in front of the graves, a solemn smile on his scarred lips. 

The scene stiffened, and slowly, it began to golden. It spread until it froze into a moment, a memory, a picture, and the gold filled the cracks up to the brim. And not only that. Avelyn turned around in relieved awe as one by one, every scar froze in gold, the cracks filling and filling and filling. Tears streaming down her cheeks and sniffing with a smile, she walked back to Cronyl’s body. She kneeled down and placed his head in her lap before she touched her forehead to his and started guiding life back into him — finally feeling it accepted.

[tryingtimi]

Hiii for the Spotify drabbles….38!

Far From Any Road by The Handsome Family. It was a song and a character I wanted to explore a long time ago. This one is only a warm-up for how he acts at all, lol. So it's short and maybe a bit confusing. Thank you for the song nevertheless <;3.

CHARACTER EXPLORATION | BOOK II EXPLORATION | WC: 366

The leather holster audibly rubbed to the gun’s tip as Izohr moved beside the table. He gently dragged his gloved fingers over the metal bit’s surface, blunt crystal-coated tips faintly glowing under the touch. The metal chunk moved like foaming water wherever he caressed it, and it followed his hand. Guiding its form, Izohr pulled back softly, the material moulding into a curve no fire could have bent it into if it could have affected this one metal at all.

“Here you are, brother,” his sister, Evoria greeted him, walking through the workshop’s entrance. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You could have asked anyone.”

Izohr joined his other hand, sliding to the behind of the slowly forming sphere. He pinched the tiny part that kept his creation and the rest of the metal piece together, separating them.

Her sister sat down. “They won’t tell me anything, you know that. I’m not the one they’re afraid of.”

A hum was his only answer. He rubbed the separated metal between his fingers like a mother pearl, forcing it to take its shape. Perfect, thick sphere turned in his hand, the crystals losing a bit of their glow. The surface did not wiggle anymore when Izohr dropped the bullet into the pile he already made.

“You could make me something nice next,” Evoria tried, watching him so intently, that her gaze scratched his skin, making him itch.

Izohr took out another metal bit with his hand without crystals. The familiar movements followed one another, shaping yet another bullet.

“Please, Izohr,” she said, but her voice did not beg. They carried the claws of reason that attempted to sink into the doors of his mind. “Please just listen to me. Why don’t you let people see the good in you? I know your intentions are coming from caution. I’m not comfortable with this state of revelation either. We don’t know this outside world at all. However, the elders are threatened by the amount of weapons you make, and that makes your efforts a problem. And frankly, I begin to grow concerned, too. What is happening to you, brother?"

[tryingtimi]

1

All Your Fault by YUGYEOM. Again, lmao. It was the first one last year too, what the hell. I've already written two versions of the snippet this song inspired, so I can't do more. So, here's a link for that Hitman AU with Cronyl, because I still like it, tho it could use some editing.

[tryingtimi]

You guys are so sweet, thanks for the recs 💕 (yes i'm very late)

How are you?

So-so. Autumn melancholy hitting me hard and this staying at home for a week because of sickness took a toll on me. Kinda detached from reality at the moment. But, also excited to start a new (but old project related) piece.

What wip are you working on?

Still trying to finish at least one on-going snippet for either Metalsea or IQRUS, but since it's literally two days and October's here, I also want to dive into that IQRUS side project I want to submit to a competition.

Do you recommend any writeblrs?

Everyone? Will tag some, but seriously, all of my mutuals and those who I follow/ they follow me. @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @writingonesdreams, @aninkwellofnectar, @the-void-writes, @blind-the-winds, @aschlindartroom, @jess-p-edits, @approximately20blorbos, @friendlyneighborhood-writer and so so much more!

Who is your favourite oc?

Uh-oh, at the moment I think it's Thaddeus from IQRUS, since his dad's gonna be in the novella and he's in my mind recently.

Who is your favourite fictional character from any franchise?

Kaladin or Adolin from Stormlight Archive? I have a lot of favs, so I just leave this here.

Who is your favourite author?

Brandon Sanderson. Probably half the planet knows this already now lol.

Can I come into your inbox and ask questions?

Always. 💕

Its been a while!

So I have some questiona

How are you

What wip are you working on?

Do you recommend any writeblrs?

Who is your favourite oc

Who is your favourite fictional character from any franchise

Who is your favourite author

Can I come into your inbox and ask questions

[tryingtimi]

It’s that time of the year again. Much like in the previous post last december, I’ll keep this lowkey too.

WHAT HAPPENED

105,140 words happened throughout the whole year and across various projects. This is an insane number that I did not expect but I'm moderately proud of.

84,220 words are for Sasin's first draft (and some random prompt snippets) from the prev number, and my god. Haven't had a project reach over 20k words so far so I'm really happy with this progress.

Staying on Sasin ground, the first ACT is finished, but it needs rework. Tho I almost reached the midpoint in the story.

Emptied out my drafts to leave only 4 in.

Painted 5 and a half full and finished paintings although I haven't gotten around anything WIP related.

Switched workplaces.

Had three free months fully for my writing.

Started painting classes.

Read 40+ books and found Sasin's core inspiration (Green Bone Saga).

Started swimming again.

PLANS FOR 2025

Submit one short story somewhere again. Gotta keep it very lowkey to be realistic for now.

Finish Sasin first draft.

Start Metalsea discovery draft.

Paint and finish two WIP related artpiece.

One sketch every month.

Join another active writing community. I really want to focus on finishing this damned book, so I need a strong push from outside. Found some very interesting possibilites that might hold me accountable enough.

2024's first half was one of the best times, and the end was the worst in my life so far. It was a year of growing and losing a lot. I need to re-adjust and rebuild many things in my life and myself, which will take a longer time for sure. I also need to regenerate the energy I spent on creative stuff as I’ve hollowed out completely through this last bit of 2024. This year gave The Lesson, but we've got through it and there's so much to come, so buckle up together and find out what's it gonna be next year.

[tryingtimi]

Hey! If you’d like to do the Spotify drabbles, then perhaps song 45? 💖

The Turning

Shape of Lies by Eternal Eclipse. It's a half finished snippet, and the final chapter before the epilogue in the first book, so yeah. The song was just to perfect for that.

Context: The Metalsea is turning, and therefore the world is changing in its core.

BOOK I EXPLORATION | ACTION | DEATH AND DESPAIR | WC: 576

The world began to rip apart around Cronyl.

He squinted with his metal eye, keeping his red one closed just so he could never lose focus. Buildings cracked and split, two half crumbling into dust. People scattered around the falling bits, running for their lives as metal columns rose from the ground.

Cronyl inhaled deeply, doing everything in his power to seal his mind, keeping out every scream, every destruction.

Then, he kicked off dust and dirt as he began to run.

His hand grabbed a nearby child’s shirt, along with her mother’s basket, yanking them away from the falling rock bit. With dagger-sharp wrist spikes, he slit through the skirts of the girl who was stuck by a brothel’s entrance, the heavy wooden door nearly crushing her. The building wobbled, and he pulled the girl closer, turning around and around, chased by collapsing, painted walls in their way. His tunic was torn to pieces as she held onto him with sharpened nails.

Cronyl let her go when the building lay in ruin, running forward with a speed he didn’t know was in him.

He ran, kicking and shoving into the open field as many people as he could reach.

His metal eye could catch glimpses of where the columns would break out from the earth, yet he was only mortal. People screamed as some stuck on the tops, sliding down and banging to the earth below. Someone hit the ground right before Cronyl’s feet, forcing him to stumble back.

Focus.

He did not let his gaze fall on there, staring only forward to regain momentum. Only to be knocked off of his feet entirely.

Head hitting the dirt hard, sharp nails sunken in flesh, Cronyl held onto the body that tried to mash him. Two arms clenched around his torso like a heavy lock’s crushing embrace. He didn’t let them stop, using the emerging metal platform to roll farther on the ground, grunting and yelling. The collapsing world spun before his eyes, someone’s deep and desperate voice echoing in his ears. He smashed his wrist spike into the other’s hand, slicing up the arm from wrist to elbow. Earning a release along with a shout, they fell in position, Cronyl laying on his attacker with his back, he hopped on his sore feet.

Not wasting a minute, he spared just a glance for the aggressor.

Crimson blood stained the sparkingly white uniform, the Ivory Guard’s emblem on the shoulder half-ruined. The hulking man’s face screamed of agony, yet a sneer let out its mouth as he tried to get up, looking right at Cronyl.

But he didn’t have time for this.

Cronyl took off, hearing the swears and the destruction that most definitely buried the Guard under itself behind him. He picked up an abandoned piece of shield-in-the-making from the corner of the blacksmith shop’s ruins.

Two columns from under.

He jumped over the cracking earth, arriving with a long roll in the dirt, cutting and hitting every part of his half-naked body. A group of men shepherded their family under a bridge, that was about to collapse. Cronyl shouted as he rolled to his knees just in time to put the shield over some of the group before they were crushed by falling rocks. They ran with all they had, crying in their shouting agony.

[tryingtimi]

2✨

Too Old For My Hometown

Air by BamBam. It's a bop, but I actually sneaked in another song for this snippet. Which is more fitting lol. It's HOLO by LeeHi. Also, lmao, this one is from last year. Anyway, it's a fun lil experiment for writing a tale that another person tells to others. Enjoy!

MODERN AU | METALSEA AU | FLUFF | ANGST, CUZ A BIT SAD | WC: 1513

Avelyn was that girl to Cronyl.

They met on a chilly spring day when the sun just touched the horizon to dive under. He’s been back in Anore for two weeks, yet he was still an outsider. His job didn’t change much, in fact, it lessened. In the city, he needed many sleepless nights to keep up with work. Here, however, he could have a sleeping break at lunch if he wanted to.

It should have been peaceful.

He should have enjoyed a little bit less after having such a busy life for years.

Still, he didn’t.

For Cronyl it wasn’t appealing how friendly the neighbours were. He didn’t like that everyone could know each other by name. He did not crave the peacefulness of a quiet and seemingly happy village.

Not after a bloody divorce anyway.

And so he remained the ridiculous lone wolf he always was, never chit-chatting, never blending. Helping out wherever he could nevertheless, despite his distaste of the place.

Because he liked the village as an environment.

The quietness and simplicity might not have been what he sought — considering how he would have drowned himself in work rather than thinking about Syonehlia — but the view, well, that was decent.

So, he walked home from work on the usual pathway — sunflower fields framing both sides, the lively people still far away. The wind cooled down the early spring’s heat, so Cronyl could stroll the way he preferred to do it; briefcase and jacket draped over his shoulder, hanging from his fingers, shirt’s sleeves rolled up leisurely. He was tired, though not the satisfying kind you feel after a busy day full of accomplishments. It was more what you would call numbness, if anything.

Cronyl closed one of his eyes when the sun decided to give them a proper showdown of sunshine as a slow goodbye.

He kept his stare at the sky, nevertheless.

It was a little thing he started when he moved back, and that still gave him some kind of comfort.

Sure, it was his hobby, if you will. And the very thing that almost cost his life. (Yes, baby. I’m overexaggerating for dramatic effect.)

Cronyl could faintly hear the rattling of the old bicycle which raced down from the nearby hill every day. Yet, he only noticed how loud it became, when a moderately high-pitched squeak squeezed out of the mess of blonde locks, as she collided with him.

Avelyn gifted a bouquet of bruises and two cracked ribs to Cronyl on their first meeting.

He always says he can still smell the frowzy dandelions that spread in the nursing room. You see, Anore was so small, that they had no proper hospital, only a rural nursing building. Which seemed to be enough most of the time, and this time wasn’t an exception either.

Cronyl still needed to stay in, which definitely dragged some grumbling out of him.

She visited from the first day.

Avelyn — as it turned out — was one of the neighbours’ daughters; a local since birth. She wore the gentle smile of the anorean, farmed so diligently as his father, and cooked so deliciously as her mother. Which she showed Cronyl as well when she brought him soup as an apology.

Avelyn didn’t leave without a scratch either. A scraped knee and some aching parts of her body weren’t as important in her eyes as Cronyl’s injuries.

She didn’t say a thing when she entered the room, only looked around and when she found a chair, she pulled beside Cronyl’s bed. Her eyes searched for his, serious and determined. Then, when her gaze met his cocked eyebrow, her features turned sheepish, a lovely shade of red dancing across her cheeks. (Mhm, I saw it, I was there.)

She came the next, the one after and every day again, until Cronyl was eventually released.

He didn’t know where to put her. Cronyl was not someone used to such care from strangers. It made no sense why she kept visiting him after he made clear it was nothing. She seemed shy, yet chatted with him as if he was a close friend. Amusement was what she brought to Cronyl, something he didn’t really think he would find in here. He quite literally awaited her arrival at the end.

She asked him out the day she walked him from the building.

Rejection isn’t something that usually follows this, right? Spring blossomed on the cherry trees around them, but the doom-and-gloom wasn’t over yet. The numbness I mentioned, remember? A divorce is a tricky thing to get over if you can at all. It’s a transition from being with someone every minute to coming back to your hometown, alone. It leaves you with the feeling as if something was missing, even though everything you had was with you. Makes you numb for a time, too.

This is why, Cronyl did not go out with Avelyn.

He’d always been a strong-headed nitwit, and it wasn’t Anore, his hometown that would make him change. Or so he thought. Standing beside the awkwardly smiling Avelyn, he only seemed to think that they weren’t teenagers anymore to start off like that. As if he was way too old for this little friendly town, where life was as simple as falling in love.

“Oh god, don’t look at me like that. I’d rather you just be angry than do the whole disappointed face,” was what he said to my reaction to the confession. As if being angry at him would have changed anything. Just like I said, strong-headed nitwit.

Life had so much more stored for them, though. Bumping to each other every corner even if they didn’t try to meet, living beside one another, never escaping the parents’ favours from Cronyl to come to them and help out. You’d think it was embarrassing for them.

And oh how wrong you would have been then.

Despite everything, Avelyn never treated Cronyl differently than before. She brought him lunch whenever he helped out on the fields, joked about their frequent accidental meetings, and kept being shy about how much she loved her kindergarten job. She asked and listened like no one in this little community. Cronyl, in return, grew a meadow of respect for her in his chest. Never too close, never too approachable, they became friends. His first friend, since he moved back.

The lengthening peach days of spring didn’t seem to go by as fast when they met. His walk home was accompanied by the quiet rattling of the bicycle as she joined to the daily routine. Cronyl still didn’t enjoy the lessened work and the all-time happy people. But, his numbness began to falter.

It took a year for him to realise that she must have been the cause of it.

A year, which after Avelyn seemed to leave work way too early. His routine turned to peeking inside the kindergarten after leaving his tiny, flat-roofed workplace, so he could notice it before everything. Smiling at his worry when he mentioned the change, Avelyn told him she’d tell him only when his numbness faded away completely. Because even then, Cronyl clearly lived a life among the greying clouds, sheltered from the bursting yellow fields.

Most moments come to us unnoticed. Good or bad, happy or sad, the most memorable parts of our lives can build up without us being aware of it. Inch by inch, it piles, until we stop and look at it. But we can only see the result.

That was exactly how Cronyl felt when after another half a year, he faced two things.

Firstly, Avelyn called in sick more times than she went to meet with the children. They met more and more along the way to the nursing building. She slowed, however much she smiled. Their time didn’t thin away, yet it was clear to him that she forced herself sometimes. He might have been dense, but he wasn’t stupid. His time was waning by the minute.

Secondly, Cronyl couldn’t remember how it felt to be numb anymore.

It surprised him so deeply, that he left work way, way too early. Even though I only heard about this from others, he actually went grocery shopping right after that. Some said he was more in a rush than a summer rain on a peaceful night.

Cronyl couldn’t hide his soft heaving when he just caught Avelyn leaving the nursing building. They almost bumped into each other, like they did so many times in the early morning market. Soup in his hand, a bicycle bell in the other, he stood before her, silent. The scent of dandelions danced them around, Avelyn’s bright face open with a question Cronyl answered the moment after.

And that, my darlings, is how your dad met your mother.

[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.