#hiiiiiiiiii i finally finished this please clap

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Returning from camp after dealing with the gnolls and the fire at Waukeen’s Rest, Majexatli dropped their pack and staff at their tent and immediately went off into the trees without looking back.

Their muscles ached, not just from exertion, not just from the flames that had licked their skin, but from something unnamed, a painful restlessness, a hunger to have their bones snap and reshape into something else, anything else.

Ash and blood still stuck to their skin, their hair, their horns. They needed to clean themselves off, as they were certain their companions were also doing, likely at the water's edge closer to their camp. 

While Majexatli walked, they pulled the tie and ribbon from their hair, combing their fingers through and undoing their braid, wincing as they pulled at knots and strands matted with blood. 

As they began stripping off their leather armor, laying it out on a rock near the river’s edge, they heard a twig snap behind them. Majexatli froze, the warm, electric feel of imminent wildshape enveloping them, the tension radiating off them as time nearly stood still. Their ears twitched as they analyzed the sounds of the forest around them, holding themselves on the precipice there, as they listened for information, warning signs.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,”

And suddenly Majexatli was pulled back from the edge, a chill washing over their body even as they stood in the sunlight, an emptiness settling inside them even though they could still taste—

Majexatli looked over their shoulder to see Wyll, standing on the path a little ways away, hands half raised as if to show he meant no threat. Part of them hated how they believed that.

They couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen them with their hair down.

“It’s alright,” Majexatli said, even as the tension didn’t leave them, “My reflex would be to wildshape, not attack,”

Not a lie, but Majexatli didn’t know what the truth would be. Would they have run? Would they have tacked Wyll to the ground, snarling and pressing bloodied teeth to his throat? Would he fight back? If it came down to it, would he drive a rapier through their heart? Could he bring himself to? Did he already know? Did he plan on this, has he been waiting to get them alone like this so he could—

“Majexatli?”

They blinked, coming back to themselves, seeing Wyll’s face look at them with concern that cut them more deeply than a knife.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day, I’m a little… out of it,” They smiled politely, forcing their shoulders to relax as much as they could.

Sitting down on the rock, they began unlacing their boots, mimicking nonchalance, all the while watching Wyll out of the corner of their eye, every nerve in their body focused on the weight of the dagger on their hip. Wyll took a few cautious steps forward.

Is he afraid of me, or is he afraid that I am? In his eyes am I wounded prey or a predator?

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, as soon as we got to camp, I turned around and you were already gone.”

“Apologies, I just…needed to get away,” Majexatli said, leaning back on their hands with a sigh, now stripped down to their breeches and laced tunic, rumpled and stained with blood, “I’m not used to… this. People. Before the Nautiloid I would go weeks without seeing other people, now there’s countless every day.”

Part of them wondered if he would take the bait, if his face would twist in confusion, finally piece together the lies. Don’t ask me a question where I can lie, I can’t speak the truth aloud, don’t fall for the mask, please.

“You’ve been doing quite well, if you ask me,” Wyll smiled, stepping a bit closer, “Genuinely, you’ve gone out of your way time and time again just to help people with no promise of reward. Today was no exception.”

Majexatli nodded. They could still taste gnoll blood in their mouth, the adrenaline buzzing in their veins. 

Did you see? Did you watch me snap the neck of that hyena? You were horrified by the sight of the gnoll transformation, by the mindless consuming hunger. Did you condemn that hunger and politely look away from mine? Did you avert your eyes so you didn’t have to watch me tear out throats with my teeth? Rip open flesh and stain my maw red? Does it scare you? When I lifted that burning beam off that man in Waukeen’s Rest, did you know I still had raw flesh between my teeth? In my stomach?

“It hardly seemed a choice, it was the right thing to do,”

“Not everyone would see it that way,” Wyll smiled, “But I didn’t mean to intrude, I can let you be,” 

Wyll bowed slightly, stepping back. It shouldn’t bother them, like they said, they were used to being alone, they didn’t like being around people, they had come this far from camp to get away from everyone. So why did their stomach drop, blood run cold as Wyll moved away? 

“It’s alright, I was just going to clean myself up in the river, I’m sure you could use a dip as well, and I’m hardly standoffish about something as trivial as nudity,” 

It wasn’t quite a lie.

They hoped they didn’t seem too quick in turning away, beginning to unlace their shirt and breeches. Their own heartbeat was loud in their ears, the warmth of the sun paling in comparison to the shame and anxiety curling in their belly uninvited. While they avoided looking back—not wanting to meet his eyes, not wanting to let him see the scars, not wanting to let him see the fear in their eyes—they tried their best to listen, hear if Wyll was walking away or not. 

I am unarmored, I can show you which ribs you should drive your sword through. You win, show your true colors and I’ll show you mine. Please. I am the monster you are supposed to slay, don’t look at me like you are the selfless knight and I am the prince who needs saving.

Folding their clothes and placing them neatly next to their armor on the rocks, Majexatli tried to force a relaxed posture, tried to force the knot in their stomach to release. 

The river's water was refreshingly cool as they stepped into it, it might have even felt nice

“You make it look easy, not catching your shirt on your horns. I suppose you have far more experience with them, though,”

They heard movement, a rustle of fabric, a disturbance in the water behind them. If they were someone else, they might not have been able to tell how far away Wyll was, a respectable distance, as though he was trying to respect their privacy, their space. Majexatli didn’t look back at him, but they glanced at the riverbank out of the corner of their eye. Wyll’s rapier lay next to his armor and clothes. 

The metal of the dagger in Majexatli’s hand burned.

“It happens to everyone. They weren’t always like this, they betray my age. When I was 20 I think they were barely even starting to curve,”

You would have liked me back then, when I would giggle and blush like a schoolboy and braid flowers into my hair and sing songs of Silvanus and peace. You want them, not me.

“Really? It seems hard to picture you without the beautiful horns you have today,” There was a fondness in his voice that felt misplaced, Majexatli could hear Wyll’s smile and they hated that they wanted to turn and see it.

“You’re not alone, that was a lifetime ago,”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it, do horns continue to grow over time?”

“Somewhat. They start to come in when you’re quite young, and usually by the time you’re an adult they’ve grown into their full shape. But they still grow a bit,”

“Yours weren’t grown in when you were 20?”

Shit. A slip, careless.

“It—it can depend. Growth can be stunted in plenty of ways,”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to pry, you needn’t tell me anything you don’t want to share,”

Oh, he sounded so genuine, an alien feeling welled up inside Majexatli at his voice. A feeling so tender that Majexatli felt their nails digging into their palm hard enough to draw blood, their grip on their dagger turning their knuckles white as they fought an urge to rip and cut and tear into their own chest and strangle whatever was budding in their chest before it could take root.

“I don’t suppose you have any tips for caring for horns, or tails for that matter?”

“I— someone else probably has better advice than I could give. I didn’t grow up around tieflings, don’t think I even met another tiefling until I was already an adult. I’m sure I’m doing something wrong with them,” Majexatli said, another slip, a careless truth falling from their lips.

“You must be doing something right, you’re quite handsome,”

He probably even meant it.

“For the horns, a little soap and water works well, doesn’t have to be anything special. If I want to do something special, I have a balm of sorts, easy to make. You only need a bit on them, sometimes I use something to sand off the driest outer layer beforehand,”

They shrugged.

“I might have to ask you for the recipe then, sometime,” Wyll paused for a moment, Majexatli could feel him considering something, “I—as I said before, I don’t mean to pry, and you needn’t answer if you don’t want to—”

Here it comes, Majexatli thought, here’s where you drop the kind facade.

“Yes?”

“You said earlier you didn’t grow up with tieflings, I can’t imagine that was easy…”

There was a beat of silence before Majexatli responded.

“It wasn’t. For a while, I considered cutting my horns off. Same with my tail. Not that it would have changed anything, but I couldn’t stand looking in the mirror or seeing the way people looked at me like I was a monster,”

They should have lied, they knew, but the exhaustion that seeped through them was from more than just the physical.

“How did you make it through?”

I didn’t survive. Not in any way that’s meaningful. I let it consume me. If I didn’t look like this I would have been married, had a home, maybe had children. I didn’t find any meaningful lesson from my suffering. All I found was that the world is cruel and so many gods are indifferent. I spent years cutting my teeth on the bones of animals that still squirmed and cried out as I ate them raw. I’m no different than that hyena in the road, infected by hunger and reshaping my bones into something feral and monstrous.

He wouldn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want the truth, Majexatli knew. He wasn’t asking advice from them, he was asking for advice from the the gentle sage druid that they wore the skin of. He didn’t want a tragedy, he wanted a happy ending. Wyll wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel, wanted to know things ease with time, that bodies and worries eventually settle like houses and dust. He wanted advice from the other side, not realizing Majexatli was in the dark, miles behind him.

“I realized how rare and beautiful existence can be, that I am the fruit of a tree planted centuries ago. And though it’s never easy, I remember that the hatred in my heart when I look in the mirror was not my own, is not a truth or some innate part of me, it is an echo of words spoken by others, and I should not offer those people a hoe to sow their seeds of hatred in my mind,”

There was a beat of silence, the only sounds were the water of the river, the distant chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves in the wind.

“Do you believe that?”

A soft question.

“...Sometimes,”

A half-truth.

They finished bathing in silence, Wyll returning to camp soon after.

Under the moon, hunched over an elk carcass, maw dripping red, bones crunching beneath their teeth as they split open ribs to feast on its heart, Majexatli’s eyes fell on a patch of wild lavender growing nearby, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze. They weren’t sure what gripped them when they dropped wildshape and carefully picked the flowers, trying their best to keep from staining them with the blood and bits of viscera that stuck to their hand. Nor were they sure what motivated them when they returned to camp to clear off a space on their makeshift table with their herbalism and alchemical supplies.

Majexatli had told the truth to Wyll earlier; it was a simple recipe. Even simpler mixing it with the lavender and a touch of cedar oil, carving a small wooden jar to place it in.

The moon was still high in the sky when Majexatli placed it outside Wyll’s tent as he slept inside. He would find it in the morning, knowing Majexatli left it for him. The thought was discomforting. It would be easier to slip into his tent, get him to draw his blade, bury it in their chest, let him kill the monster in self-defense. The kindness, the vulnerability felt too much, too raw, but they swallowed it down, at least that was familiar. Majexatli was used to eating things raw.