#kea spoke a lot less for one

[nhaneh]

before there can be a fire, there must first be a spark

[rezathevamp-blog]

Losing Soulmates || Reza&Noah

time and hearts will wear us thin, so which path will you take, cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

One final phone call

Clutching the phone between numb fingers, Reza half expected Noah to not pick up. Almost hoped it, too, because what the fuck could he even say at this point? Was there anything that could make this better? It probably wasn't begging Noah to talk to him on the phone while his throat still felt fucking raw. "Hey," he breathed out as soon as the dial tone was replaced with silence and quiet breathing. "Look, I wish I knew the right thing to say and maybe there isn't even a right thing to say here but... fuck, there's got to be something I can do, right? I don't..." he swallowed thickly to try and hide the voice crack, "I don't want to lose you."

Standing there looking at his phone as it vibrated softly on his bedspread Noah took a deep breath. Because while he put on a brave mask, and talked an angry game, he knew the second he heard Reza’s voice he was just going to fall apart. Piece by broken piece. Sliding the lock button Noah put the phone tentatively to his ear, steeling himself against Reza’s voice. The other boy was upset, and on the verge of tears. It was definitely obvious by the way he talked. But in the end Noah just listened vowing to give Reza his full ten minutes even though he already knew what the outcome of this phone call would be “I don’t” Noah started trying to gather the right words. Something that would be truthful but not too harsh or cause him to start crying… which he was loathe to admit but very liable to do right now “I don’t want to lose you either Reza. But healthy relationship can’t be one sided. And before you say, I’ll change for you, that’s not what a healthy relationship is either Rez and you know it. These things- they have to come from the heart. You have to want to share. And I get it. Trust me. It took me a long fucking time to even be comfortable saying the shit I do about myself, and my life. But I just. I know what I need” The last sentence was barely a whisper, the wetness already lurking at the corners of the older boy’s eyes.

The soft voice on the other end of the line was a surprise. Reza had expected the same stoic tone he'd been left with back at the apartment last night, something to match his curt and angry replies online, but there was just steely pain. Pain that easily transferred to Reza as well with the words spoken. And it was almost hilarious, Noah assuming that the vampire had any sort of knowledge about the workings of a 'healthy relationship', but he supposed he knew that Noah chugging down a beer in pain wasn't a sign of one. And maybe Reza worrying about him finding out about his past every other day wasn't the best, either. Noah making him happy was a selfish notion that Reza had clung onto for way too long now. "I do want to share," he choked out, despite the sensible part of his brain telling him that this conversation was useless. Noah's whisper was all the confirmation he needed but the desperate arguments just slipped out. It was like autopilot, clawing at anything that meant he wouldn't be alone. "I can be what you need, it's not a change just... I'll just be better and... Fuck..." he sighed angrily, wiping away the tears creeping up. "Sorry, this isn't..." Brain tugging in every direction, he found himself lost for words.

“Reza” Noah said gently into the phone, his need to comfort outweighing the rest of his emotions. He was still angry and upset and deep down, but he didn’t actually want to make Reza’s suffer, the younger boy’s voice already practically trembling with every syllable. “You know that saying these things, is just-just trying to put a bandaid on the inevitable at this point. Its.-” Noah paused trying to find the words, sniffing a bit to keep that dam wetness at the corner of his eyes at bay. And noah hated this with every fiber of his being right now, having to be logical and rational when he just wanted to say fuck it and let Reza have it. But purposefully hurting reza wouldn’t make his own pain lessen. No Noah knew from experience that only time would do that. Time and Distance “It’s not that we can’t come back together in the future or some shit. But. If we’re going to make this work, we both need some time.”

Noah's gentle tone guided Reza away from the gaping, dark hole of anxiety and self pity, allowing him to take a small step back and actually listen to what he was saying. The way he was practically manipulating Noah into staying, a few ill spoken words away from guilt tripping him into a relationship. It was less deliberate but just as shit as what had been done to Reza back in the day. "I... I know," he whispered back, hand gripping the phone like a lifeline, lest he slip back into begging Noah to stay somewhere he clearly didn't want to stay. He pushed past the brutal sting in his chest at the thought, hanging onto Noah's very weak promise of the future. A lot of things could happen over 'time'. His stomach clenched at the thought of all the people that could be or become the right person for Noah during this 'time.' But that didn't matter. Or it couldn't matter. "Okay. I... If that's what you need then it's... it's for the best." He knew his voice was dull, hardly believable, but it was the best he could do at this point. Just recycled lines from every break up scenario ever. Because that's what this was, no matter how badly his brain wanted to ignore that fact.

Listening to the shift in Reza’s tone Noah frowned slightly. He had expected more begging from the other boy, especially after how this whole thing had started. But it seemed like… maybe Reza also knew that they were broken? Not irreparable, but enough to hurt. Sitting down Noah just let the silence of the moment wash over not exactly knowing what to say next. Because endings were always the most difficult weren’t they. “Reza, even though we are going to be on a break what i said last night still stands.” Noah’s voice was barely more than a whisper at this point. Because he’d never said what came next to any other significant other before, let alone his first male one. ”I m-may not,” Shit. He was crying now, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.While he knew this was for the best Noah desperately didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want Reza to disappear from his life again even if this time it was Noah’s own making. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes though he soldiered on, knowing what he was going to say next needed to be said. For Reza’s sake. “I-I may not be able not be there for you f-for a good while, but If you get into some shit and really need me call alright. Because you are o-ohana. Whether you are my boyfriend, or just my friend, or e-even just someone who comes to pet the dogs when I am away. You’re still ohana, and that parts not changing ok.”

The silence was deafening, to a point where the noises far away outside his apartment sounded loud. Noah finally spoke and Reza wasn't sure how reassuring the 'break' part was, even though it provided hope that Noah wasn't just bailing on this relationship to find something better. Someone better. Wishing more than anything that this shit wasn't happening over the phone, that he at least had Noah's presence to make everything slightly better despite the situation, Reza's eyes closed. He could see him now, the way his breath caught with the tears and Reza's face was just as wet as he imagined Noah's to be. The way everything was slowly sinking in as Noah spoke, Reza's chest feeling tighter and tighter, was harrowing. "Okay," he just barely managed to choke out, shivers wracking his body. It took everything in him to let this happen, to not bite and claw his way forward in an attempt to keep Noah fully. God, did he want to. More than anything. "And same..." Reza sniffed, "same goes for you." Fuck, his chest felt ready to implode, whole body curling up in a protective attempt. "I think our ten minutes are almost up..." he breathed, eyes squeezed shut and praying that he could get the last words out without completely cracking. "Mein ap say muhabat karta hoon." And then he removed the phone from his ear, blindly hanging up to spare himself the hurt of Noah doing it. Body wracked with bittersweet sobs because a sensible part of his brain knew Noah was right, but the pain demanded to be felt for now.

And Noah knew he should have expected the click behind Reza’s words, the other boy still to fragile to do anything but run. But he was still mildly surprised when it happened, mind still trying to decipher the Urdu words Reza was whispering. Sitting there though Noah put down the phone silently a small wrecked sob pushing its way out of his chest. Fucking Noah Kalani had been kidnapped, he’d had a kidney transplant, he’d fucking lost his whole family. But somehow, this felt worse. This hurt so much worse. Probably because he had wanted it to work so fucking bad. He had wanted to love and be loved by reza so fucking bad. And the other probably barely even knew it. Slumping over Noah pulled his knees up to his chest trying to breathe through his tears, before a wet nose pressed its way onto his back. “Come here” he whispered patting a spot on his bed as Kea jumped up, nuzzling him affectionately before curling up next to him. And Noah didn’t know when he fell asleep, he just knew that eventually he did, his body fully clothed, the tears that streamed down his cheeks creating sticky patches on his cheeks when they finally dried.

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

The day was fine and calm. Overhead, fluffy white clouds scudded across a clear blue sky. Dreamweaver watched them until they melded with the mists ringing Weaver’s Crown; the peak was some distance from Feldspar Proper, but visible from most parts of the territory, and theirs was a particularly lovely view. Its sides had begun to blossom with fresh verdure, threatening to push the snow back from its ever-white cap.

Below, where they stood in the village square, life proceeded as it always had. Tau’s troubles with the Lightweaver had been seen to largely in private, and so the clan had little reason to feel ill at ease. Most were unaware of his loss; he told only those he felt needed to know. The primary market was flooded with visitors from across the Continent. With winter now creeping toward spring, the caravans were more active than ever.

“I think this is everything,” Banrai said as he stepped from the cool shade of their home and into the humid warmth of the square. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “Argus should be coming along with Mergo soon enough. I thought you lot were only staying in the Wasteland for a few days. You definitely over-packed.”

“It pays to be prepared,” Dreamweaver replied, and pressed a sweet kiss to their husband’s damp forehead. “I could have carried that.”

“You’ve a long journey ahead across hostile territory,” Banrai said, returning their kiss with one of his own. “You’ll need your strength. By the way, Phantasos is still pouting.”

“I know he wanted to see the Wyrmwound,” Dreamweaver said, “but I need him here helping you oversee the clan while I’m away.”

“He understands,” Banrai assured. “He’s just wheedling you.”

“There’s Plaquemine,” Dreamweaver said. They waved to the Plague Ambassador from across the square; he did not return the gesture. Even at a distance, they could see that he appeared anxious--more so than usual. “Oh dear,” they murmured, “I wonder what’s happened now.”

The clan’s Nature Representative, Keakaokalani, joined Plaquemine as he crossed to the founders. They spoke in harsh, hushed tones, Kea moving his hands rapidly in a series of complex gestures. Dreamweaver strained their ears to catch snippets of the conversation.

“--a-a-and I trust you’re f-f-fully aware of to whom the b-b-blame will fall,” Plaquemine concluded.

“Yes,” Kea said, the mouth beneath his mask of feathers turning sharply downward, “I am. I trust you are fully aware that this was an unforeseeable mishap.”

“I am,” Plaquemine agreed, “but my p-p-peers are less easily convinced.”

The pair met Dreamweaver at the door to their home. They had already opened it, and stood aside to allow their ambassadors entry. Neither stepped forward. “You aren’t coming in?” they said.

Plaquemine and Keakaokalani exchanged a glance. “The meeting hall might serve us better,” Kea replied. “We’ll need to summon all of the clan’s Flight Representatives.”

“For what purpose?”

“There’s been an incident,” Plaquemine said. “The Armistice has been b-b-broken.”

In stark contrast to the pleasant afternoon outside, the air in the meeting hall was thick with uncertainty. Dreamweaver sat at the head of the table, their face craned low over a set of letters in their hands. The letters were a courtesy, come to them from the Scarred Wasteland and the Viridian Labyrinth respectively, informing the Lightweaver’s most trusted acolytes that the Armistice had died the day before following a series of (as of yet) unexplained events.

Reading the account in plain draconic did nothing to aid their comprehension of the matter. They knew of the Armistice, but the thought of it having ended, after over four hundred cycles of unbroken enforcement, seemed utterly improbable, if not altogether impossible.

Yet, there it was, in plain draconic.

“What does this mean for our clan?” they asked, eyes never leaving the parchment.

“Hopefully nothing,” Plaquemine replied. “Our clan is far removed from this c-c-conflict. Keakaokalani and I are b-b-both in agreement that, regardless of the outcome, we hold no ill will toward one another, and will d-d-do what we must to ensure stability within Feldspar lands.”

“No leads on how Ambassador Liefa fell so ill?”

“None yet. Her quarters were zealously g-g-guarded.”

“Keakaokalani, have you heard anything out of the Labyrinth?”

Kea bowed his head. “Only whispers of rumors,” he mumbled in response. “In Liefa’s visions, she saw the Behemoth wither, and with it the Labyrinth. Some have taken it as an ill omen; perhaps her visions were not merely fever dreams. She is returning to the Labyrinth with the First Seed.”

“What of Ambassador Yugona?”

Plaquemine shifted uncomfortably. He was a deeply asocial individual on a good day, let alone when eleven other sets of eyes were gazing at him expectantly. “She has not b-b-been seen since her d-d-dismissal from the Labyrinth,” he confessed.

“Sabotage?”

“We w-won’t know until she’s found.”

“There’s more,” Volskaya said. As always, he sat more rigidly than any of his colleagues, his face set in a grim mask. He was plucking almost imperceptibly at a loose fiber in one of his sleeves. “Crucis and I have both received word from the Oculus--something has happened to the Shifting Expanse ley line.”

“Magister Beatrix is suspected of foul play,” Crucis went on, “but Volskaya and I feel otherwise, especially after what occurred at the Oculus before the ley line went dark. The Crystalspines are on the move; they nearly engulfed the Oculus entirely.”

“There have been rumblings in Dragonhome as well,” Rosegold informed. “I know through my contacts that strange discoveries have been made, marked by stranger disappearances. One such disappearance happened seemingly instantaneously, in the presence of several other dragons. None of the missing have been located.”

“The Twisting Crescendo reversed its direction recently,” Dahlia chimed in, “after many months of absence. We do not know if it is merely the playful whim of the Windsinger, or perhaps something more dire. I have spoken with witnesses who claim that the Windsinger was present under a mortal guise, but they are merely guesses.”

“There was an odd occurrence in the Wood,” Silhouette continued, in their wispy, wavering voice. “A voidling disappeared from the Thorndark Alter during a routine gathering. Three guesses where he reappeared.”

Dreamweaver clenched their jaw. “The Sunbeam Ruins.”

“Close,” Silhouette said, “the Hewn City. A cartographer witnessed his arrival.”

“I met with the cartographer in question,” Dawn added hastily, noting the paleness of their founder’s complexion. “She confirmed the event, and the, er, ‘voidling’ has been taken into custody for the time being, to be returned to his mother shortly. He appears unharmed.”

Dreamweaver opened their mouth to speak, but dropped their head into their hands before they could do so. They suddenly wished they had allowed Banrai to accompany them; they would have given anything for his hand on their shoulder. “Is there anything else?” they croaked.

Izalith cleared his throat. “Apparently a new landmass arose from the seas between the Ashfall Waste and the Southern Icefield.”

“Why did you all keep this from me?” Dreamweaver asked.

The group conferred with one another in hoarse whispers, their gazes darting sidelong to gauge their founder’s reactions. Finally, Rosegold spoke. “We did not feel there was cause for worry until today,” she said. “The incidents were unnatural, but seemingly unrelated. We believed they may have been the results of magical mishaps, or perhaps merely the Eleven toying with the shapes of their own lands.

“However, with the Armistice now at its end, it has become clear to us that something greater is afoot. That is why Plaquemine and Keakaokalani chose to request a formal Meeting of the Flights. All across Sornieth, peculiar things are happening, and they appear to be growing in intensity.”

“I’d imagine we’ll be hearing from the Sea soon enough,” Levi said, “or else the Southern Icefield.”

“Perhaps we already have,” said Juneau. “I didn’t mention it before, because, well, everyone else’s reports seemed so much more dire, but there have been some odd weather patterns recorded around the Crags.”

“Just the Sea then,” Levi amended.

“Tighten security along the Water border immediately,” Dreamweaver ordered, getting wearily to their feet. Although they appeared weak, they spoke with authority. “I will inform the Wardens and our allies in Aphaster of the incident in the Hewn City. Volskaya, return to the Shifting Expanse. Learn what you can of the troubles with its ley line. Crucis, put us in contact with the Magisters at the Oculus as soon as possible. Silhouette, council with the Shadowbinder. She may have some insight we lack. Rosegold, continue to gather intel from Dragonhome; have Caesar send word to Ambassador Akhtar at the Warren. The rest of you, make contact with your respective homelands. Plaquemine, you will accompany me to the Scarred Wasteland.”

“You’re still going?” Dawn asked incredulously. “Shouldn’t you remain at home? There’s no telling what may happen next.”

“I will be gone for only a few days,” Dreamweaver replied, “and I promised our allies abroad a meeting before the eon was out. They are expecting us within the week. At this juncture, the Sunbeam Ruins appear stable. If they were not, the Lightweaver would have sought me out. We cannot be crippled by uncertainty. We must move onward.”

“Friendly Plague clans will be all the h-h-happier for our presence during this time,” Plaquemine agreed. “It may help to f-f-further f-f-facilitate a smooth alliance.”

“You all have your tasks,” Dreamweaver said. “Go, and do not breathe a word of this to the people. I will make a formal announcement upon my return.” When their ambassadors remained seated, they shouted, “Go!” and the group rose as one, retreating out into the square.

Plaquemine was the only member of the assembly to remain. “A-are you certain you’re well enough for t-t-travel?” he inquired tentatively. “You look w-w-worn.”

Dreamweaver sighed, collecting the letters and various other documents they’d brought with them in their arms. “We need to strengthen ourselves and our allies now more than ever,” they replied. “This meeting is imperative. There is power in unity.”

“United we s-s-stand, divided we fall.” Plaquemine nodded. “I ag-g-gree that the meeting is imp-p-perative, but...” He dropped his gaze shyly, hiding his crimson eyes beneath long lashes and his many pelts. “...but what if you sent Prince Phantasos in your place?”

Dreamweaver staggered and fell against the table. “Beg pardon?”

“He’s p-proven himself m-m-more than enough,” Plaquemine pressed on, “and y-y-your power should remain here, in case of emergency. You’ve t-t-taught Prince Phantasos w-w-well. M-Mergo and I would g-g-guide him; it could be a t-t-test, on your terms.”

Again, Dreamweaver opened their mouth to speak, but found that they could not. They knew that, logically, their only arguments against sending Phantasos to represent the clan in their place were emotional; they feared for their child’s safety, and so they coddled him more than they ought to. The very thought of allowing him to leave the Sunbeam Ruins terrified them.

Plaquemine was right, though. Time and time again, Phantasos had proven himself capable; reckless, perhaps, but certainly capable, and becoming more so with each passing eon. He had saved them all from the pink celestine growth on Observatory Hill, he has enlisted the aid of Ozymandias using only his own smart mouth and quick wit, he had handled Thalassinus’ arrival with aplomb, and he had cultivated a strong relationship with their people, Feldspar’s allies, and the surrounding Beastclans.

He had much to learn about magic, but as an ambassador, no one was better suited. He would be open and honest in a way Dreamweaver often struggled to be; more importantly, he would be unflinchingly sympathetic to the needs of struggling clans.

“He’s so young,” Dreamweaver whispered, “he’s still so young.”

“Sometimes, y-y-youth is what is c-c-called for,” Plaquemine said.

Dreamweaver nodded. They did not trust themself to speak. With Plaquemine in tow, they exited the meeting hall, making at once for their home across the square. Banrai awaited them on the stoop, eyes shimmering with worry. “Well?” he prompted.

“Phantasos will accompany Plaquemine and Mergo to the Wasteland,” they said. “Fetch him. There is much I must discuss with him before his departure.”

[ Like my work? Here’s my ko-fi! ]