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isleofancients · 2 years

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their soul sinks, suddenly certain that this had been the wrong answer to give. but- 'you're so gentle with your patients, and with us. please, be gentle with yourself too.'

'good night, doc.'

but as much as they want him to know that they won't lie to spare his feelings, when he asks for the truth, maybe that was too much truth at once.

Blue puts the phone away, closes their eyes, and rests their head against their mate's shoulder. they need sleep. they all need sleep.

loving people was never meant to always be easy, but sometimes it's hard to remember that. still, as sleep comes, they hope something in their words, at least, offered balm...

and so both sleep, and try their best to rest, while they wait for day...

Finally.

Umbra sneaks out once his family is asleep.

Slipping out as chunks of shadow, magic too weak still to fully liquify, he slinks from his mate’s arms, under the door down the stairs and out into the cool night.

The sea air is heavy on his lungs and he breathes deep, searching through the dark. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to observe, with his face pressed into Huitzi’s chest.

He has to give it to the ink, his home is certainly beautiful.

There’s a shadow on the beach, facing the sea. Umbra sighs and makes his way down to shore.

“Hey, you.” He says brusquely as he thumps onto the bench, scraping some scattered sand from his tentacles, a grumpy bat of one sending the cane previously resting in his seat clattering to the ground. “What’s got you out so late?”

“I had an, ah, inkling you might want to talk.” Rasse says, wincing only slightly from the man now pressed uncomfortably close to his side despite the expanse of bench available. There’s something on his lap, clutched protectively in his grip.

“That’s a stupid fucking pun.” Umbra remarks with an arm now thrown around his shoulders, a pleased tendril wagging maliciously as it snakes around his other side.

Rasse shudders and Umbra grins, slight. He might not be able to feed off the weirdly blank bastard, but he can still have some negativity anyway. As a treat.

“Th’ fuck is this?” The thickly bound book is harshly snatched from the ink’s lap, prompting a full-bodied flinch.

Something precious then? It does seem delicate, possibly old?

The pages are snapped open, covers tugged at with just enough strain to slightly tear, the nightmare delighting at the bastard’s brief look of dismay.

“Evidence.” Rasse says, still infuriatingly smooth despite how his hands clench in his lap.

“Of what? You tricking my family?” The front page is turned harsh enough to slightly pull from its bindings, Umbra scowling at the daintily written dedication, making sure to brush one of his wandering tentacles over it. Aww, all gooped! So clumsy.

“Of my life in this world.” If the treatment of his presumed treasure bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

Umbra snorts and rolls his eyes.

Next page is an old watercolor. Island landscape, a pirate ship in the distance. Boring. Another slight page tear, easy mistake with the warped paper. Whoopsy daisy. A few more landscapes, barren black soil slowly growing with greenery and trees. There are notes at the bottom, antiquated Spanish, some shapes he faintly remembers Huitzi tracing against his skin once. Different handwriting.

Umbra growls under his breath. So, splatterface made this place, huh? Lured them all onto his turf. Where he’s strongest. A plotting strategist, just like Glaze.

He hisses.

Typical.

The tendril at Rasse’s side lifts up to coil punishingly tight around his waist. The ink whimpers under his breath but when Umbra glances over his face is as blank as ever.

Fucking inks. Probably deadened his emotions just for this.

Another page turned. A portrait of another man, a skeleton, smiling at him soft with Huitzi’s face.

That must be Huitzi’s brother. Alright, so they knew each other, so what?

…but the opposite page has the same man, his arm around Rasse, a shy smile on the humans lips compared to the bitty’s boisterous grin, their cheeks nuzzled affectionately together.

The skeleton’s illustrated face seems to hold his gaze judgingly.

He doesn’t want to look at it.

Another splap of a tendril and its gone.

Umbra sneers as Rasse looks away. Paintings? Is that it? That’s his ‘proof’?

“I put a bookmark where the photographs start.” Rasse says, quiet, a waver in his voice. “There are some videos too but, ah, that’s a bit farther.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Umbra mutters, roughly squeezing his shoulder, still skipping to the page.

Well, yep. Photos. Similar, Rasse and a bigger bitty, face the same but bones mottled with corruption. He seems relaxed in his presence…

Stars, that is definitely judgement.

More pages, the corruption progresses further. There are still paintings, sure. Writings. Building on the island looks to be progressing well. A burgeoning civilization, a new home for both of them. For all of bittykind.

He comes across a video. A flat panel in the page, surprisingly sophisticated despite the yellow paper surrounding it. The image on it isn’t the best either. Grainy, black and white. No sound. Before talkies, presumably.

It’s the same man and the same skeleton, shoving each other as they have a snowball fight, the ink silently shrieking as his companion shoves half melted slush down his shirt. He gets him back for it fairly quickly thought, tackling him into a snowdrift, both laughing as a female skeleton watches them fondly in the background, faint glitches buzzing along her bones.

“That’s his wife.” Rasse says, quiet.

Oh. He was married? Did Huitzi know? Had he met her?

“Name?” Umbra asks.

“Olalla Doss.”

“Where she from?”

“Spain, I believe. Born in the 1450’s.”

Umbra just grunts and continues, arm tightening around the ink’s shoulders. Just to see him squirm.

Which he still, infuriatingly, does not.

Umbra flicks through the pages, photos and videos in better and better quality and eventually in color, the skeleton corrupting further and further. Growing too. Proud and bold, a grin that lights up the room and bones wired with muscle, his body always summoned for some reason, rarely covered by a shirt.

He lets a faint smile flicker on his face.

Definitely Huitzi’s brother.

He continues to look, and as he progresses, it fades.

They seem… close. Too close.

“What was he to you?” He asks, startling the human out of his thoughts.

“My closest friend.” Rasse answers after a moment, quiet. “My only confidante. He knew me better than I knew myself.”

“You guys ever fuck?”

That gets a reaction.

“W-What?!” Rasse sputters, face flushed black. “W- No! We never- Why would you-?”

“It’s a reasonable question.” Umbra sniggers with obnoxious delight. He knew he’d get to him eventually. “You said you were close.”

“Huitzi-”

Umbra growls lowly as the name slips from his lips. How dare he. How dare he speak of him. How dare he even look at him. He shouldn’t be allowed in even the same omniverse as his beloved mate. Not after what he’s done.

Rasse pauses and continues on, softer, soothing like to a beaten animal. A concept Umbra thoroughly resents, even more so when he feels himself start to relax.

“He clocked it fairly accurately, when he declared we were brothers.”

Umbra rolls his eyes.

“Although I never confirmed it when he was alive.”

“Sounds like you’d make a pretty shitty sibling then.” Umbra grins internally. This should hurt. “Especially since he died on your hands.”

To his delight, Rasse simply hangs his head. With his long ears drooped like that, big eyes turned downward, he looks kind of like a kicked puppy.

The wagging of Umbra’s tentacles still.

That… that didn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

Fuck this.

He stands and grunts, tossing the book back to Rasse’s lap.

“We’re done here.” He growls as the ink clutches the tome to his chest.

His eye twitches as he purrs into the book, nuzzling it with loving care, like its, its his actual ‘brother’ and not just evidence of his loss and his miserable failure to keep him alive.

His tentacles spasm. The fucker is smiling-

A tendril reaches down and snaps the fallen cane in two, dangling the pieces in Rasse’s face before violently chucking it into the ocean.

“I don’t see why you’d even fucking need that thing.” He hisses, looking to him only to watch in silent shock as the man delicately places the book to the side and leans down, rolling up the legs of his pants.

Metal.

“I am an amputee.” Rasse says, his shoulders slumped, the shimmering metal on his fingers offered to his sight as well, exhaustion leaking into his voice. “It hurts to walk sometimes, and the cane is- was, a great relief.”

Umbra doesn’t feel bad. No, he doesn’t.

But he still can’t stop himself from asking…

“What… happened, to you?”

“After Tecocoa’s death, my magic was taken from me.” The ink says quiet, pained. “An… acquaintance, took advantage. Spent the next eight years using me as he pleased.”

He pulls the jacket down his shoulder, just a tank top underneath.

Umbra pales.

So many scars- that must’ve been a huge bitemark- oh. Oh no, oh no, fuck, was that why he kept flinching-?

A heavy weight settles in his chest.

“W-Why?” He finds himself asking, throat clenching at the unwitting stutter.

“In my grief, I lost control of my magic. Severely.” Rasse leaves the sleeve where it lay. He forces himself to meet Umbra’s eyes.

His eyes are dark, deep and endlessly old. He’s tired. So, so tired.

“I accidentally took total control of this world.” There is regret in his gaze. Self-loathing, guilt, pained resignation.

Uncertainty.

That’s the most emotion he’s seen from him yet…

“All the minds in it.”

Much, much quieter, even with his superior hearing Umbra has to strain to hear it.

“I am… likely the reason the askers left.”

His blood goes absolutely cold. But…

“Did you mean to?” Slips from his lips.

Rasse looks up, faintly surprised.

“No.” He answers back, hesitant. “I didn’t even know I could do it. Any of it.”

“Then- then I don’t see how you were to blame.” He finds himself saying to both of their shock.

They lock eyes for a moment before Umbra growls, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I won’t tell them.” He says after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just. Just watch yourself. I still don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Rasse says, his voice back to that grating smoothness. Once soothing over the phone, a balm to his fretful soul, like he had the solution to every problem, knew exactly how to calm him as he agonized over his mate. Would offer gentle counsel as he described his problems and purring into the phone as he gave him tips on how to get his cooking just right, to get his garden to bloom the brightest. Recommended him a book. Patiently listened to him complain about his father. Was there, in the depths of night while his mate snored away, just to chat.

He almost wishes he had that ignorance back. He could really use it now.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks, breath hitching, a little bit of true pain seeping into his voice.

Rasse’s expression is pinched.

“When I was sure you'd still be stable after I’d gone.”

Umbra’s lips are pursed, fists clenched full of fabric.

“Go the fuck to bed.” Umbra grunts finally, making his way back up the beach.

Rasse sits silently for a long moment, watching the waves crash. Pity about his cane, his legs truly had been bothering him recently, his prosthetics uncomfortable ever since his legs started healing. And even worse was the phantom pain once they stopped after his-

He sighs, hand massaging his temples.

…reckless exertion from earlier. Stars, he really was an idiot.

Rasse shrieks in surprise as something nails him in the back of his head, quickly reaching back to grab it before it can fall down the back of his seat.

It’s… a branch? Reasonably long, fairly thick, a faint curve near the top to lean on.

About the same size as his cane.

Rasse allows himself a glance back up to the town, Umbra’s silhouette quickly retreating, tentacles waving in annoyance.

Rasse smiles, standing with a grunt, the branch easily able to handle his weight.

Well, he thinks to himself, making the trek back up to his home. That certainly could’ve gone worse.

Umbra slips back under the doors, emotions roiling.

He… doesn’t really know what to think.

This man… Who he is? Is he telling the truth? What happened to him? Who did that? Why didn’t he fight back? He knew how strong they were, even with his magic gone he still should’ve been able to-

He approaches the bed, freezing when that warm golden glow meets his eyes. His mate, his lovely, wonderful, forgiving, selfless, gullible, beautiful mate just smiles, holding out his arms and purring as Umbra gratefully slinks over, nestling back into him.

“I hope you weren’t too hard on him.” He murmurs, nuzzling into his hair, sleepily nipping at an elvish ear and chuckling as it twitches away from him.

“Nothing more than he deserved.” Umbra huffs into his chest.

“Moonbeam…” Huizti sighs.

“Shush, sleep time.” Umbra mumbles, his face hidden. No, that’s not guilt, no, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was just protecting his family. That’s all, nothing more, he definitely, definitely isn’t ashamed of himself or anything.

Even if… if he doesn’t like letting giving the corruption that much control. Letting loose his crueler side.

“Alright.” Huitzi rumbles, hugging him close, feathered warmth swept all around him. Safe.

Home.

“I love you.” The dream murmurs into his scalp, warm touch chasing away his anxiety, their burgeoning bond settling the buzzing of his soul.

“I love you too.” His nightmare responds, yawning sleepily, slipping easily into restless sleep as sunset wings blanket them both.

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