dylassu

[dylassu]

Drabble: ‘You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me.’

Dylas would never admit his true feelings for anything. He lived his life guarded, hurt from past experiences. He lived his life for him, hiding everything underneath his anger, his frustrations. Hiding away from his anxieties. Hiding his kindness from a world that hurt him hundreds of years ago under a cold, angry demeanor to keep people away.

At least, that was before he met Rosalind.

Something about her just left a spark inside him. Was it his because he felt bad for the first time they met? When he lashed out on her crying in Arthur’s office? From watching her break down in tears one early Spring day after her father announced she would be getting married soon, and to a stranger nonetheless. Was it because months of passing notes back and forth left him feeling- and later realizing- that he had a friend. 

His first friend.

His first….

Yeah….

The first person that made him admit all his insecurities in his journal late at night, with only the light from a single candle guiding his poorly written thoughts onto the paper. 

Dylas cared for her in ways he couldn’t admit. He would stop the world for her if he could- if he even admitted it to himself. Rosalind’s softness made him soft, turned him away from thinking others were still out to hurt him. To harm him. To force him to commit sacrifice to please them.

Did she care for him? He didn’t know and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care if she did or not. He should never care. Not anymore.

Will you take me there?

The question came one rainy afternoon. It had just finished pouring, as the rain droplets hit the roof of the restaurant slower than during the storm just an hour earlier. Rosalind had came to Selphia to visit her uncle in tow of her older (and just fucking stupid) brother. The former guardian can’t remember what brought on the question, why he mentioned the Water Ruins, but Rosalind’s question was raw. It stung, it stung in deep.  Dylas never told her about his time as a guardian, about his past. Why did she care so much?

(He noticed the blush on her face as she spoke to him time and time again, but honestly, he wasn’t even sure why she would blush at him. Why else would she? What did someone of her status want to do in some awful ruins filled with goblins? Or spend an afternoon fishing for a few different types of fish, laughing as Rosalind tried to cast her reel by herself. Chatting about Rosalind’s newest book or what experiment she tried recently under a tree as the waves crashed by.)

Dylas’ feet step on leaves, dead and brown from the recent cold front. He stares at the ruins in front of him- in front of them. He can’t forget that Rosalind is here with him, standing by him. Holding her guard. Being strong. Maybe even pretending to be strong.

He takes another step and leaves loudly crunching under his black, combat boots.The weather isn’t even below the cold point, yet Rosalind is beside him a large winter shawl over her dress. He would joke with her, with a small smile, that a dress wasn’t the right dressing for a ‘trip’ to the Water Ruins, but he can’t today.

Dylas can’t even smile as he stares at his former prison.

Getting past the monsters isn’t hard- not one bit. He’s become better at fighting in this form than he was when he first woke up. Constant fights with Doug has taught him how to fight with his fists, not hooves. He’s learned better magic- his long ranged attacks have become more powerful thanks to Arthur and Leon’s (despite being a bit useless) pretty decent job at upgrading them.

But the hard part was feeling Rosalind grab him, not in fear from the monsters.

“You can’t tell me someone like you is scared of a little goblin?”

“I am not, Dylas!” She pouted up at him, her arms still holding onto the fur on his light overcoat. It’s c-cute. Kind of. A little bit. “I have not been around many monsters, as you know Father and Max don’t-”

Rosalind continues, but all Dylas can hear is the sounds of rustling from behind the lavender haired duchess. He looks up and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust, to spot a Sky Fish coming out at them. It’s ready to fight, and it’s fucking pissed.

“Move!” Dylas roars. Pushing himself in front of Rosalind, he takes the hit from the Sky Fish in his chest, and then one to his forearm. It hurts for a second, just a split second. He’s had worse injuries. He’s been hit with stronger power. The former guardian rushes to the Sky Fish and digs his dagger to its side. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Three times. The ugly monster goes down without a hard fight. Returning back to where it belongs.

They’re safe, they’re safe. He repeats in his head.

Rosalind is safe.

Dylas catches his breath- was he really out of breath from such a simple fight? He can’t hear anything- He doesn’t look behind him, he doesn’t hear Rosalind’s screams of worry. He doesn’t, or more like couldn’t,  hear Rosalind’s pleas to ask him to be careful. 

He doesn’t notice the duchess come beside him, checking on him, asking for him.

He doesn’t notice the blood pouring from the side of his arm. 

What he does notice is the sting in his arm as something presses against it. His head pops up to look around the ruined surroundings in fear. The pressure wasn’t intense, but it was still painful. He couldn’t see the attacker from where he was looking. COuld it be in the corners? Hiding from them and planning it’s awful attack. How in danger were they? How in danger was Rosalind?

Rosalind.

“You are okay, Dylas. You are okay, Dylas.”

He hears that. He hears cooing. Sweet cooing.

“It looks to be just a flesh wound. I pray there is no damage, but we should get you looked when we arrive back to the kingdom.”

The voice is so sweet; reminds him of the voice of someone from hundreds of years ago. Before any of the pain. Before Dylas was… Dylas.

“I’m glad you are safe, Dylas.”

He feels his hair being petted now- the feeling slowly edging up to his fluffy ears and rubbing them. 

Dylas comes down. He comes back. He doesn’t need to fight to survive, just fight to keep her…

Alive.

Keep Rosalind-

Rosalind.

His eyes finally trace back to his side, where he finds a white cloth around his forearm. There’s barely any blood coming out from the white cloth, but it stings. It stings just a bit.

His eyes finally trace back to worried, light green eyes looking back into his amber eyes like they could see everything. His pain, his trauma. What these ruins mean to him.

Why he would go berserk like that suddenly and not come down.

“Dylas…” Rosalind begins. Her voice is so soft, she’s so close to him. Her face is just inches from his now… When did she move that close? Had she been this close the whole time? He’s sure she’s gonna yell at him, call him reckless and stupid. That’s what he would do. That’s what he would do to someone else.

But… she doesn’t. Rosalind whispers something softly, that at first Dylas can’t hear. But it doesn’t take too long for her to repeat it again, louder. Yet still in such a silent whisper.

“I love you,” she whispers ever so gently. Her hand hovers over his like a ghost- not like a ghost of his past though. She was there, she was real.

Rosalind was a real person. There, in front of him, confessing her love to someone who didn’t know how to love back. Didn’t know if he should. And Dylas didn’t know how to respond to that- how does one even respond to a confession? By thanking them? Denying them? Lying? Admitting his own true feelings that he had hidden back for so long. “Don’t.

Rosalind’s face droops, but Dylas continues. “You shouldn’t love me.” Her face droops more, her heart must be broken. But it’s better to save everything now than to make her live a life of pain from being around him.

“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me. I’m a monster- I’m an awful person. I’m angry, I’ve hurt people. I’m a man who shouldn’t have anything fucking good, Rosalind. And you- look at you. A duchess, engaged to some guy you barely know. How can you love me?”

The words come out so fast, yet it feels like Dylas spends a year mouthing off to the duchess. Even that, can’t break a duchess’ heart who’s lived for others her whole life. “But I do.” Rosalind furrowed her brow. “But I do love you. I do not love William- I cannot love a man I don’t know, Dylas.” Her eyes start to water. “But I know you, and for that, I love you. I am so in love with you, Dylas.”

That’s what pains him to know. That she loves him now. That she’s seen the worst of him, maybe not even the worst, but she loves him.

She’s engaged. She could have a safe life with this William guy- whoever he is. Whatever he does, he’s probably safe. He doesn’t have problems. He probably wasn’t also turned into a monster to protect a town like… Dylas.

Dylas ignores those tears coming out of Rosalind's eyes. He ignores the sounds of her voice breaking. He ignores his own feelings that have been laying dormant for months now. “You shouldn’t.”

Rosalind doesn’t say anything, but the tears don’t let up. She stares at him with that pitiful (in a cute way too) look, heart hurt but also… What point of ‘don’t love me’ does she not get? 

Rosalind moves her hand from his hair, his ears, back to his shoulder. “Dylas…” She whispers. Her voice is so hurt, yet she knows. “I love you.”

His heart hurts.

Her heart hurts.

Can he even… can he ever be truthful about how he feels.

About how on nights he can’t sleep well or days where customers (or fucking Doug) piss him off, he goes and reads her letters. How he feels like he’s important when he’s with her. How she tries to learn about his passions and in turn, Dylas is trying to learn more about her. How he’s been reading the book she sent off to him months ago but he won’t tell her yet. He wanted to surprise her. 

He paused. Could she- could Rosalind be the one who taught him how to live in the presence, live for someone else who wasn’t him? 

To be the one person he could end up telling everything too- instead of pretending to be secretive?

His uninjured arm moves to where Rosalind’s hand is placed on his shoulder as he steadies himself with the arm that’s bandaged. He looks at her in the eyes back, straight faced. His face feels wet, but he doesn’t care right now. There’s only one thing he cares about.

“I may love you too.”

~~~

“Even though the young boy wasn’t sure where he was from, he knew one thing. The flower town was where he belonged. Monster or human- or both- he knew he was home wherever the flowers were.”

It’s a sight Dylas never thought he would see; something he didn’t think, all those hundreds of years ago, that he would see. His wife and child, cuddled up in a bed together, reading the ninth picture book of the night. Their hair, lavender and dark blue, beaming against the child’s night light on the white and pastel green nightstand.

He watches from the doorway, a smile on his face as the boy- his four year old son- looks back up to his mother with a small frown on his pale face. “Can we read another story, mama?” He asks, almost pleading to his mother, with a high pitched voice. 

The woman laughs as she closes the book gently and places it on the nightstand beside her. Her hand goes to her stomach where a bump peaks up through her pink nightgown. “We read so many tonight, Victor.” She answers to the boy- Victor- pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “We can read more books tomorrow when you awake if you would like, my little dove.”

“Your mom needs her rest, kiddo.” Dylas speaks out, finally. Two pairs of light green eyes stare 

One he never dreamed of, to have a love, to have a son, and to be awaiting the arrival of the second child of theirs.

“May I please sleep with you and dad?” Victor pouted from his bed, his face resembling Rosalind’s side. The little boy was too much like his mother. Sweet, polite, already calling people by their last names and learning how to be a proper young man (unlike the two unruly, royal children that were his perfect son’s age…). Victor looked at him with big eyes; big sweet eyes that Dylas was slowly learning to say no to.

Dylas barely opened his mouth when Rosalind gently responded instead. “No, sweetheart. Not tonight. We need you to sleep in your bed tonight like a big boy.” Her hand patted through their son’s dark blue hair, only for it to rest on his cheek. “We need you to learn how to sleep on your own for your little sister’s sake.”

Victor’s pout stayed on his face. “Okay, mama.” The little boy mumbled before getting up from his spot on the bed. “Good night mama-” he said, ever so sweetly, kissing his mother on the cheek. Victor moved down to his pregnant mother’s stomach, giving it a gentle kiss as well. “Good night baby sister.”

Dylas really can’t help but chuckle at the sweetness of his son . His son- his precious, pretty adorable son if he had to say so- was becoming the young man that would make Rosalind proud. His anger passed over a generation, his anxieties skipped over Victor. 

There were days when Victor was a newborn, crying softly in his makeshift crib in their cabin by Selphia lake, where Dylas felt like he couldn’t take it. When Dylas felt like fatherhood was a curse- no wonder his own parents had left him behind so young. He remembered the moment where he realized everything needed to change, when he screamed at a two month old Victor to shut up from the overwhelming frustrations of not being able to get his son to sleep peacefully. The look on Rosalind’s face- absolute horror. Dylas never wanted to see his wife look at him in such horror again, like he was a monster.

Parenting was an adventure. Not one he wanted to sign up for so quickly, but Victor was perfect.

He was normal too- no features from Dylas’ former guardian years. No horse ears. No fluffy tail that became matted in water. 

Dylas just hoped every morning that the new baby would be just as perfect as her older brother. He knew she would- but there were still nights where he stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep, what if’s plaguing his mind.

“I think someone needs to tell Victor good night too. Do you not think so, Dylas?”

Dylas looked at his wife, then back to his son. Sauntering over, he gave the boy a kiss on the top of his dark blue hair. “Good night, Victor.” Dylas whispered to his son. He helped the boy into his bed, covering him with blankets as Rosalind handed him his favorite plush- a worned out Blue that Porcoline had given as a present for the boy when he was just a small newborn. Back then, the boy was so small that he could fit in one of Dylas’ hands. Now, he was so big, yet still so tiny that he was still dwarfed by the Blue stuffed plush.

“Good night, mon ange.” Rosalind copies Dylas, pressing yet another kiss onto the same spot that Dylas has. She gets out of the child’s bed by herself (“Dylas, darling, we are fine. I’m not even that far along, my Dylas”) and walks to beside her husband, looking at her son as he slowly closes his eyes. “Dream of something lovely tonight for me, dear.”

“Dream of beating up Doug for me.”

“Dylas.”

Rosalind stifles her laughter as she grabs her husband’s hand into her own hand and walks him out of the child’s bedroom. Victor doesn’t even react to his parents leaving or to Dylas comment about beating up his “uncle” Doug, as the child is slowly drifting off to dreamland. The door gently shuts behind them and Rosalind smiles at her husband.

It’s the same smile she gave him when they admitted they loved each other. The same one she gave him when he proposed, when they were married, when she told him she was pregnant (twice!), and when Victor was born. The smile she gave him when he burst the door of their bedroom, breaking it off the hidge ever so slightly, while she held the small bundle close to her chest. The words he can still recall that gave him a smile every time he thought about it- “he is okay, my love.”

A warm, sweet, smile that made him think of nothing but her. Everything else in the world stopped when Rosalind gave him that smile.

Suddenly, her smile changed into a wince. And that changes everything. The world can stop for another reason.

“Are you doing alright, baby?” Dylas worrisomely asks. Rosalind shakes her own head as a ‘no’, but there’s a part of Dylas that doesn’t believe it. “Baby giving you difficulties again?”

“Are you asking to be my overprotective husband and worry for hours over me and your daughter or are you asking to check?”

Clever girl. Always had one up on him. Always knew how to get over his head.

“Checking, baby.”

Rosalind lets out a sigh as she moves into a hug to her husband. Arms wrapped around his neck as she whispers, “it’s just a difficult day for us, that is all, Dylas. But we are fine. We are fine.”

The confirmation doesn’t help his overprotectiveness, but it makes his heart feel softer. 

Dylas curls up into her neck, pressing a kiss onto his wife’s neck. “I thought it was something else. I thought the baby was making you sick or hurting you.” 

The pregnancy with Victor had been so easy, but with this one, he worried every time Rosalind mentioned the baby wasn’t kicking as much or that the baby kicked too much. There was no inbetween with the child. Already causing her parents worry.

Dylas fucking loved her so much and he hadn’t even met her.

Rosalind returns the affection to him by brushing his long periwinkle hair out with her fingers. Her fingers move up to his ears, petting them ever so delicately. “This is what I love about you, my love.” She whispers to him. Still just standing outside their young son’s bedroom as he falls asleep. “Your true caring nature is what made me fall in love with you.”

“You weren’t supposed to fall for me,” he says to her, a blush and large smile on his face.

Rosalind laughed, ever so gently, ever so sweetly. He could feel his heart doing backflips in his chest, just from her gentle and kind laugh that he heard every morning when Victor curled up in bed with his parents. That he got to hear when he kissed her one too many times before he left for work at the restaurant before Rosalind pushed him out of the house herself. 

“But I did.” She smiled as they walked down the short hallway to their own bedroom. “I fell for you, I fell in love with you.” Dylas opens the door for them once they get to their creaky (but it wasn’t a problem) bedroom door. Rosalind walks in front of him, pulling him by his hands with her. “I was- I was just so lucky to meet you when I did.”

Dylas closed the door behind them, knowing that in just a few hours it would be cracked open when little emerald eyes will peer in with silent pleads to sleep with his parents. “You did.” He repeated with a grin on his face. “You did, and I fell for you as well.” He sat his hand on top of the bump, smiling down at it. “And we have a beautiful family, we’re going to have a really beautiful family.”

“Such as in one of those romance novels I would read when I was younger,” Rosalind jokes as she curls up to Dylas’ chest. She places her hand, perfect and soft, on top of his hand, rough from a past he can’t forget and a current present where he’s content. The child kicks in place softly, to remind their parents that they are there. They are real. “We lived happily ever after, my love.”

Dylas doesn’t need to say anything after. He doesn’t need to confirm her words, because it’s true. His love for Rosalind would never die, never leave, and he would never regret the past. Those hundred years ago were moments that wouldn’t leave his mind. They would be stuck with him forever until the day he passed on.

But all that pain did something good. It brought him to Rosalind. It brought him letters that he’s kept, hidden in a box that maybe one day, he’ll show Victor and their unborn, unnamed, little baby. Maybe that one day, he’d tell his children about the day Rosalind told him she loved him at a place that caused him trauma and anger for hundreds of years. 

Her falling for him brought him true love. True, undying, love that he would be ever grateful for.

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Dear Dragon Gods was the man … intriguing. Was that the phrase for it?

She really couldn’t come up with another word for it. Perhaps this came from the fact that she truly has never met a man like him before. And that’s not pointing out the monster like features he displayed— while equally fascinating, it was more so his sheer unbridled personality. 

It was truly exhausting to always be around people; friends, family, strangers, anyone, that simply wanted to agree to anything in which you spoke. There was never a differing opinion, there was never even sense of a debate. If the duchess had an opinion, every other person in the room seemed to have that same exacted mirrored image. But Dylas was different. Nothing he said went through a filter, he spoke openly on what he was feeling and he spoke it with immense amount of emotions and passion. Everything what he spoke came from his personal feelings or beliefs, he never swayed because of someone else’s views.

How refreshing. Whether he was chiding her or not.

Though for a man so shrouded in solidarity, he wore his heart on his sleeve. There was a part of the young duchess that always considered herself a bit of an empath, this especially came in handy when trying to feel out if someone was attempting to be dishonest and deceitful. But everything related to that man before her seemed to be nothing but genuine raw emotion. 

“The fish for me?” Rosalind finally replied, still smiling despite the fumes that were essentially blowing from the man. There was no intimidation, there was no sense of fear or doing the wrong thing, for she now understood a part of who he was. Much more so than that first meeting they had. He was gentle, with analytical thoughts and deep feelings of understanding that paralleled much to her own. From the letters they had written back and forth to each other, she understood. “Well you know you don’t have to do anything for me. Certainly, especially to such an extent.” Her eyes gleamed with sincerity despite his rage, and her smile curled up on her petite lips. “But I most certainly appreciate your effort.”

Again with the critical rebuttal, explaining in his own hot headed kind of manner how she should have simply stayed put. And sure she felt that her (attempt) at offered assistance was just, but a part of the girl realized the viewpoint he saw from. He’s his boss’ niece, surely if she was to get hurt in anyway— well she could see where his worry was coming from. And it was that realization that let guilt settle into her heart. She definitely shouldn’t have been so careless.

As his words were beginning to get to her, the man’s tone changed after a bit of an abrupt stop. And when he stopped, Rosalind’s eyes looked up back at him from their position in the water. Her brow furrowed, confused by such a change in his voice. His apology came forthright, and really she hadn’t been expecting it. The change, the softness, caused her smile to soon return.

He hadn’t the words to finish his thought, and frankly he didn’t need to. The girl understood exactly what he was trying to convey. 

“Of course,” She spoke simply, showing how his embarrassment was nothing to linger upon. “Well that was certainly one of the most riveting fights I’ve ever seen! You definitely make fishing seem much more of a thrill than any that I’ve seen before!” Rosalind hoped her words would adequately help lighten the mood. “I was a delight to see you truly in your element Dylas, whether fight was won or lost.”

“Oh goodness!” Her words escaped her as his words caused her eyes to light up. “Yes please! I’m definitely feeling a bit of a chill, nothing terrible, but perhaps getting out of this water is a great idea!”

When the man offered his hand to assist her out of the water, Rosalind took it graciously, but of course not without a roll to her eyes. “Ah— so I you can offer your hand to help me out, but when I do it for you I get a lecture!” She teased as her nose crinkled with her smile as her laughter escaped her once again. “Thank you Dylas ♪.” She spoke as her feet were now happily returned to dry land. 

With a bit of a cough, the girl rung out her dripping hair as she looked back to her companion. “Well, I surely hate to run this meeting short due to a mere slip up, but I’m afraid I should be probably be returning home to get changed into some dry clothes.” She brushed her hair back, as she did the same action to her shirt. “Would you mind terribly walking me back to the airship? It’s on your way back to the restaurant, non? Though I really don’t wish to inconvenience you anymore than I already have.”

Rosalind truly wasn’t like most of the people in this new era he had the displeasure of knowing.

Most people were childish, idiotic, impulsive. Most people didn’t care about anything but themselves, they didn’t hold anything over them other than whatever superficial problem stressed them out that week. 

Yet Rosalind, she was different. She wasn’t prone to yelling back at him, instead, she laughed in the face of anger. She giggled at something that Dylas turned into a monster at. In the middle of the water, she looked like a chipsqueak that found itself in a downpour, tiny and vulnerable.

Yet, she stood in front of him with the strength and power of a boss itself.

Rosalind, truly, was different.

A smile came onto his face as she brought up his element, seeing him fight the fight of fishing. It may have gone wrong with them both now soaking wet in the cold river, but..... she was happy. She.... laughed and smiled and looked up at him with the softest eyes that weren’t jaded from years of hurt like his.

What could she think of a man like him now.

“Good.” He grunted out, a smile staying on his face. The smile may not have reached his mustard eyes, but it was close. He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the water with no effort. Not only was the duchess tiny, but she weighed hardly anything to the former guardian. She was light, like the air. Like the water under their feet. Like her laugh-

But, light was what he needed. Lightness was better than heavy feelings. Heavy hearts. Heavy minds.

Water dripped onto the ground once the pair was back onto dry land. The previous dry ground became muddy under their feet, but it wasn’t on either of their minds. His tail, shaking in cold and dripping water, wasn’t on his mind. “Not a problem,” he mumbled again. Grabbing his jacket from the dirty ground, he held it in his hands. Not wanting to wet another article of clothing that he would have to 

But as he stared at the periwinkle haired woman in front of him, her shaking in the air with a high pitched cough (how could her coughs even sound light?! They weren’t loud and obnoxious like Doug’s stupid coughs where just hearing the dwarf cough made him want to fight him for not covering his damn mouth, but Rosalind was, her’s was.... worrisome?). A feeling came over him, one that he hadn’t felt in so long. One that he couldn’t describe with anything but how heavy it made his body feel as. 

“Here.” He pushed his jacket towards her, not looking in those bright, bright big eyes. “You look cold. It’d be better to just, wear this until we get you back home so you can dry off and not get sick.” Why was this so hard and awkward for him to do? He was just handing his jacket to her; she needed it. She needed to be warm. She needed to be protected-

What was wrong with him thinking shit like this? Was he sick? Did he accidentally hit his head when he flew into the water?

But,  he watched almost out of his own body, as instead of just letting it hang in his arms while he waited for Rosalind to grab it from him, he put it on the lady’s shoulder. It hung on her massive, long, but it didn’t matter.

She was could now be warm.

Dylas didn’t feel the need to make an excuse, to yell, to berate her anymore.

He felt light.

“Now,” he announced lightly. Gone was the anger yet again, back was the smile. “Let’s get you home so you don’t catch a cold and experiment on yourself.”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Sadly, the conversation that they had been caught up in before they were so quickly interrupted by possibly one of the strongest beings that lived in these waters, had to be put on pause. Pause because now, instead of dry on land and basking in the fresh morning sun, the pair was now soaked. Soaked to the absolute bone. Although there was a part of Rosalind that felt as though it would be a lie to say that the dip in the water wasn’t at least a little refreshing; that part of her died rather quickly as the chill soon began to settle in.

Though despite the cold, the chill, the fact that she was more than sure she looked like an absolute mess in this moment, she still couldn’t help the laughter that escaped from her. At him, at herself, at the situation as a whole.

When the man held her wrist, pulling her to stand up amidst the actively flowing river around them, Rosalind rose to her feet with ease. Though when he looked at her with a new type of fiery passion in his eyes, heated with frustration, giggling ensued from the young girl as she held her other hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it the best she could. She wasn’t bothered by his directed anger, nor did she even pay much mind to it, finding their predicament much too humorous to pay his tantrum much mind. “Ah—Mais, Yes why of course.” Rosalind teased in an over dramatic manner, attempting to be callous in the best way she could, but obviously failing as a smile display itself wide on her lips. “Of course, my way of getting into the water would to be to fall face first into it.”

“It was an accident!” The duchess soon spoke simply, justifying her fall before raising her own brow as the grin still remained present. “Besides, more like I should be inquiring what were you doing, hm?” Her words came out sharp yet still teasing, flipping the coin back on him as she poked her index finger lightly against the man’s chest. “If that fish was much too strong for you to handle, you should have let it go! If you hadn’t fallen in first, I wouldn’t have tried to help you, then I wouldn’t have fallen in right after you!” The girl shrugged her shoulders in, yet again, an over dramatic manner to prove her point. “Seems as though I should be the one chiding you to be more careful, non?”

His anger continued and Rosalind, for once, was having too much fun in the moment to take it seriously. He seemed so upset, upset to the level that perhaps the duchess should be as well, and in actuality he had every right to be. However there was something that clicked, something that told Rosalind that if she was to get upset over a situation like this; ruined hair, ruined clothes, (ruined ego if anyone saw her like this), she would once again be stuck. She would be stuck obsessing over aspects of herself that she was always told should be perfect. And how ‘unperfect’ she was in this very moment, made her not have a care to the world.

“What’s so funny?” She repeated in between her bouts of giggling, soon motioning to the man and then to herself. “Look at you! Look at me!” When her eyes looked up to meet the man’s, his anger didn’t bother her, instead she merely looked to him with the utmost sincerity. “What about this situation isn’t absolutely hilarious, hm ♪?”

“I mean really, you poor thing.” The woman had taken notice of the man’s hold still on her wrist, and she used the same hand to rise up slightly, despite their height difference, and touch the end of his horse-like ear in the gentlest manner. “You look similar to that of a cat thrown in the wash.”

“Meanwhile, as for myself …” Rosalind now motioned once again to herself, and for the first time she looked down at herself. Her hair laying wet over her shoulders, her once quite nicely fitting clothes were now dripping and clung to her form in really a terribly unflattering way, and the palms of her hands were scratched up from bracing herself against the river rocks as she fell. That being said, she was quite the sight. Noticing such, it finally hit her that the man across from her was seeing her in such a way, and a light pink blush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks.

She waved her hands back and forth in front of her, brushing off her statement as she giggled once again but in a much more shy sort of way. “Well goodness, let’s not even bother mentioning myself. Seeing as I look much worse than you do at this point in time.”

There were millions of thoughts racing through Dylas’ head. Nothing in fear, but thoughts that were angry. Mad. Possibly even embarrass hidden underneath that anger energy. Embarrassment for failing at something he had prided himself in in, how she talked him up as something... something that wasn’t the monster that was growing inside.

Someone who was good at anything other than using his fists.

And yet here he was, standing in front of Rosalind in the cold water, his hand gripping hard onto her delicate and small wrist. He had never noticed how small it was, how tiny she really was. She looked like a soaked wooly, widen eyes and slick hair pulled around. Both of their clothes hugged tightly to their bodies, both of them were soaked. Wonderful. 

Her laughter, while soft and gentle, only made Dylas harden against it. How could she think this was funny? Any of this? A lady of her class, higher than he would ever be, thought that getting wet in a cold, dirty pond was... funny? The Saint de Coquille’s were a strange family, a strange family that had blessed him... 

Forget the laughter, forget the gentleness. Forget just how she found something like this funny- the horse man was pissed.

Dylas gritted his yellow teeth against one another. “I was trying to catch the fish for you,” he retorted. How could she be careless? How could he be so careless? His pride had bested him once again, his shameful pride, as if it was a sin for him to be confident in anything, something, that didn’t require fighting. Something that didn’t require hurting another, monster or human. His tail curled up underneath his body.

He couldn’t understand how she could find this so funny, and how she could berate him over something that was her fault. He didn’t force her into the water- she found herself in the same position of her. “You shouldn’t have tried to do whatever in the hell you were trying to do.” The former guardian’s hard grip weakened, his hand slowly moving away from her petite wrist. “You fell in for- what reason again? I was trying to catch a fish, you were trying to do whatever the hell you thought was helpful. You should have stayed put, waited for me to get out of the water or whatever before you helped. You should have stayed-”

Dylas stopped himself mid-sentence, his voice trailing off as he quickly turned his head to the side. His wet ears pressed against his head in shame. He remembered how Rosalind told him about her family, how she was not allowed to travel with her brother, how she was meant to be a perfect lady of the house. Duchesses don’t get wet. Duchesses don’t get their hands dirty. Yet she.... she wanted to do things?  “Sorry. You, uh.... I just don’t want...” His voice flatten. Embarrassment rose up in his throat like bile about to spill out.

“Forget it. I don’t care if it was too much for me to handle, that’s the point of fishing.” His eyes flashed back to the lavender lady in front of him. “The fight is the point of it. I don’t fish to just fish like some people. I fish for the fight. For the thrill of the game.” Dylas huffed. “And you uh. Well....” Damn it, how could he say anything to her now. After he exploded at her, throwing words around harshly. With a clear head, he was finally able to notice just how soaked they were. How wet, how cold, they were. How this was such a bad position for the two- not because a duchess and a former guardian were in the water together, but because Porcoline’s niece was wet and knowing Porcoline, he would be so overtop over something like this. 

There was no need to continue talking about this, to listen to her giggles explode from her mouth. “Let’s just- let’s just get you out of this water.” He scolded, his voice wavered between the two. He began walking, back to the shore, holding his hand out for the lady. This wasn’t funny, but whatever made her laugh that gentle, sweet giggle could be okay. “Come on. Let’s just get out of this water.”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Rosalind couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her lips while the man beside her talked about her uncle, in a way that she could describe as admiration. She mused a hum in agreement as he spoke, not wishing to interrupt his words. Though when he mentioned that it was the only way he could pay him back, with his cast to the sky above them. The duchess, in response, scoffed in that of a playful manner. “Truly you know there is no need in that.” She spoke honestly, while her hands remained gripped to the fishing pole and her eyes fixated on the water.

“Uncle, as you can well guess, has no children of his own nor wife to keep him company. Thus he is quite generous with what he has; his home, his time, his business. He needs nothing more from you then for you to share in what he has, to be a friend to him. Though I’m much more confident he considers you much more like family.” Her eyes broke from the water to the man next to her, smiling sweetly when he met hers to convey the genuine tone on her words. “So there’s no such need to bother yourself with any guilt of finding a way to repay him.”

When the man spoke to her, with confusion in his voice at her situation, she released a gentle, yet worn, laugh. “Sadly, that’s pretty accurate to the description of the life I live. I’ve become accustomed to it. Ever since my mother passed when I was younger, my father’s been incredibly over protective of me, and while his intentions are good …” A shrug of her shoulders. “His expectation for me to be, essentially someone I’m not, is exhausting.” Thinking back to her father, caused a bit of a pang of sadness in her heart. She loved him dearly, more than anyone, and she supposed dedicating herself so feverently to the duty she was born into, was at the sacrifice for a part of herself. 

Though at notice of her melancholy demeanor, Rosalind perked herself up at the reassurance that the man just might come and visit her. “Yes! That would be lovely! We have a dock in Alvarna that’s incredibly popular for fishing— Oh! Or perhaps we could try a lake that’s in the heart of a dungeon that is influenced by the season of Spring!” She nodded excitedly, before reflecting inwardly on the feeling. Though she was here with the man, someone whom she’d merely talked to in person a handful of times, she felt this feeling of wanting to get to know him better. That she really wanted, by any means, to see him again. Noting the eagerness in her voice, she cleared her throat, and spoke with a bit of uncertainty as her words were seeming more and more like she was trying to convince him to visit her. “A lot … of fairies and sprites spend their time around the lake too .. Making it quite the scenic sight.”

She simply felt that he, though his outwardly aggressive demeanor, saw her for whom not many people did. For some reason he was easy to confess things to, he saw the world much differently then the world she’d been trapped in her whole life. She wondered, for a long moment, if he would ever perhaps see her as a friend. “Have you ever had much experience with the dungeons around Selphia?” The girl asked in curiosity, attempting to keep the conversation light before the fish began to aggressively pull at her line.

As the dramatics began, the girl handed over the fishing pole without much of fight, a bit of guilt eating away at her at the luck she had. She moved off to the side as he motioned her to do so, and watched intently on the battle that happened before her. A battle, that she was afraid he lost. 

“Dylas—!” Rosalind alerted sharply, noticing his lost in footing while shielding her face for the splash into the water that ensued.

The duchess blinked, did that really just happen? She uncovered her gaze to find, the poor man, most definitely soaked to the bone in the river in front of them. “D-Dylas are you okay?” She spoke quickly as she moved to ledge of the water, where the man had been moments before. In a bit of a frantic motion, she knelt to the ground and expressed her concerns over the man. “You’re not hurt are you? I-I’m so sorry! I should have been able to control that fish myself, I shouldn’t have needed your assistance.”

Pushing aside her worries about not being able to handle the fish herself, she place her hand on the edge of the river bank and extended her other hand to help the man get out of the water. “Here—” She spoke sincerely, while her smile still shone with an apologetic tone. “Let me help you out and we’ll get you dried off.”

As the Duchess leaned forward to take the man’s hand in her own, the earth that made up the riverbank beneath her other hand, began to crumble. Her eyes went wide as she looked down in surprise, shrieking (yet again) as this time she tumbled into the water along with him.

When her head rose from beneath the water, she gasped for breath in surprise. Though she took notice how the river bank wasn’t that deep at all, freezing, but not deep. Then it soon hit her at just how soaked she was. Her hair, soaked. Her clothes, soaked. Her entire self, you guessed it, soaked. It took a moment of her analyzing how the situation had changed from one to another at such a rapid pace, before she settled back into the sudden realization that there was a man next to her. A man who was just as soaked to the bone as she was.

Through everything she’s been through in her life, the teachings, lessons, scoldings, Rosalind knew in this moment she should feel nothing but shame and embarrassment. She was a nobel, for the Gods sake, in a river. When her eyes met his, her’s shot away and avoided his, though when she took a moment to truly bask in the situation … it was well, hilarious. And when her eyes met his again, she couldn’t help her fit of laughter that came flooding forth. She should be feeling much more embarrassed, much more humiliated, anything but the feelings she was feeling. But she couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t hold the facade any more, and she went into a fit of laughter that was one she didn’t think she had ever experienced. 

Dylas’ blew air from his nose, letting out almost a sound of snort yet not too loud for her to hear. His ears wiggled towards the lavender haired woman next to him, listening to every word she had to say about her uncle. The man who took him in when he didn’t need to; the eccentric man who opened his doors to anyone. The generous man who opened his house to a lost cause like him.

“Porcoline’s a great guy.” He agreed with a nod. “He’s taken Meg, Arthur, and I under his wing like a real parent should; a true confident and friend. Although, I’m still not sure why me. It’s not like there was much I could do when we met.” His tail swayed back and forth behind him. “All I was good for was fighting and fishing- he taught me everything I needed to know about cooking, helping with the restaurant, hell even cleaning. And even if I can’t find a way to repay him, I’d like to somehow. Even if it’s just allowing him to act like a dad to us all and be himself, even if it’s not a good time for it.” There was little he didn’t know about Porcoline, yet, he knew why he took so many people in, why he took the trio of misfits under his stout wing. 

To live a life of generosity because of the lost of a lover... What an awful event for someone like Porcoline.

“Your mother passed away? Sorry about that.” Dylas asked, quickly changing the conversation from himself and his parental figure, leaving the past and his honest feelings in the past. How had he become so used to Rosalind already that just one meetings and tens of letters shared between the two made him share all that with her, and left her sharing the same hardships with him. Nobody would say in their second time meeting someone my mom died a long time ago, that’s just, not how people worked. How was he to respond to this- well, awkwardly of course. He licked his lips, before awkwardly advising, “maybe it’s time to stop living for him, make your own rules and live. You’re smarter than most people I know. You could figure anything out. What’s he trying to make you into anyway? Some type of princess who needs to be watched every day?” Ouch, that was very, very, very awkward. Good job Dylas.

At the sudden change of her personality going from woe to wow, Dylas couldn’t help but let out another quiet snort as his ears moved back and forth. “The way you’re speaking about your lakes- it feels like you want me to visit instead of just having you sneak out here to learn how to fish.” Her excitement was almost like a child’s, naive to the real dangers that was involved within a dungeon. The true monsters that called the dungeons their homes. “Not every dungeon is filled with fairies who aren’t aiming to hurt you.” The former guardian coldly whispered. “Not every dungeon is safe either....”

The question she asked, rather innocent, sent a shiver down his spin. Dylas’ quickly turned his glance back to the water, staring ahead at it as he quickly replied. “A bit. Sure. I try to avoid some though.” There was a truth he couldn’t say to her, that he was once locked in a dungeon, his anger as his only escape. It’s for the best, it’s what was meant to happen, he would think to himself as he allowed his anger and hatred consume him. Rosalind didn’t need to know, no one needed to know. Nor did they need to care. “Bad memories, that’s all. So do you venture out of your home into any dungeons, Rosalind? Max won’t let you leave town but he’ll let you go out and beat up some monsters, hm?” A soft, gentle, smile came on his face as he joked, poorly. 

Who was he right now? Leon- the guy who ‘teased’ everyone even if it was highly inappropriate?

But anything he wanted to say after that, anything he wanted to do, was forgotten the second his body hit the water. Despite it not being as deep as dragon lake just outside of town or one of the many lakes in the dungeons, he was soaked.

Everything was soaked. His boots, his clothing, even his tail was soaked to the bone and freezing. As if a day that had such high hopes on being okay turned out awfully, all because of one damn fish that had overpowered him. One damn fish, one messily fish took him out and pulled him straight into ice cold water, like it didn’t care. Anger couldn’t help bur rise through his body, finding it’s way back to his throat like the venom he once spat at any passing person. Venom and spite that he spat at anyone who tried to become close to him, tried to talk to him, look at him in “some funny way”. 

While his mind was so furious, spent cursing out the fish, that had ran away with the bait, he hadn’t noticed nor heard Rosalind’s sincere words of worry. He didn’t hear her ask if he was okay (he was fine, just, maybe, his pride was injured in the process. The periwinkle haired man only remembered she was there when he heard another large splash, his eyes darting back to the edge of the lake. She wasn’t there- Rosalind wasn’t there, but was beside him now in the water, soaked to hell. “What the fuck, Rosalind?!” He cursed, gritting his teeth together. He grabbed her by the wrist not too hard, pulling her up to help her stand (maybe not so much stand) in the water. “Why the fuck did you get in the water? What the fuck did you just do? You’re gonna- for hell’s sake Rosalind! Be careful!” His eyes glared at her, with the same anger he had glared at the water just minutes ago with. Cursing the water, cursing the girl in front of him. Even though it was hardly her fault she had fallen in besides her. 

But then, she laughed. Genuine laughter, soft laugher. Laughter that patrons of the restaurant had when they had too much to drinks, when someone did something ridiculous or stupid. Laughter that meant... something had happened. Yet, Dylas couldn’t understand why she stood there (well, kind  of standing as Dylas had a grip on her), laughing like this was the funniest shit that’s ever happened to her. His brows cocked up, as his grip on her loosen a bit. “What?” He spat out. “What’s so funny?”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

“Oh well I’m sure my uncle is very appreciative of your continued assistance! Even doing things like catching fish for him sometimes in your free time,” Rosalind looked to the man with a smile, her uncle was an eccentric one just like the rest of her family. However, her uncle Porcoline had never been one to take a wife and that worried her. He wondered if he got lonely, if he was taking care of himself and his business properly, but with someone like Dylas always there for him helping him where he could, well Rosalind felt her heart warm at the thought. “I thank you again, for your kindness towards my uncle.”

As the bopper jumped in the water, so did the young Duchess in surprise. She watched each of the man’s movements, her gaze batting back and forth between him and the splashing in the water below. Once the short lived battle had been won and the man sat down on the grass beside her, Rosalind moved closer to him to admire the catch he had gotten. “Sensationnel! Absolutely amazing!” The girl cheered with laughter in her voice. “You made that look so simple! With such ease! I must say I’m most impressed!”

When Dylas continued to speak, the girl couldn’t help but repeat his words back to him. “Fly the nest …” She spoke in deep thought, muttering them with the same uncertainty she felt in her heart. “What a beautiful thought,” Rosalind hummed with a new found dream like tone. “I wish for that type of freedom every second of almost every moment. But alas,” Her gaze now followed his, staring at the fish as it struggled. Hm, oh how she could relate to it’s struggles. “I’m just not at a good point in time where that’s possible … But perhaps you’re right! I can ask Max if I can start traveling with him more often, and before I know it,” She spoke now, almost excitedly, gazing back up to the man this time once more. “I will be ready to, as you say, fly the nest!”

Though as the man turned to her, handing her the fishing rod, her bright demeanor fell. “Mais, I’m certainly not going to be as skilled as you were.” Her tone was weary, but after a moment of collecting herself she gave him a determined nod and took the fishing rod in her grasp. “I’ll give it my best shot though!”

While they sat and waited for any fish to bite, the girl continued on with their idle chatter. As the man assured her that he wouldn’t tell anyone, the smile flashed upon Rosalind’s lips. “Good!” She spoke in a matter o fact tone, eyes still focused on the bopper floating in the water. “I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to slip out of town, and I know if I get caught this time it’ll make it even hard for me to get away in the future.” A giggle escaped her as her entire, determined attitude seemed to fall to the wayside. “Then you’ll be stuck to just visiting me in Alvarna instead!”

At the comment, her eyes widened, as the idea hit her. “You know .. you actually should come visit me sometime!” She spoke brightly. “A friend of mine does a lot of fishing at a dock near my place of residence, I’m sure you would enjoy it! Who knows what different kind of fish you could catch there!”

Though just as she spoke her idea, the bopper in the water tugged, rather aggressively at the line. Rosalind, surprised by the motion, squeaked in surprise. And although she tried her best to pull in the fish just as he had, it was quite obviously giving her a lot more struggle than it had him.

“Well it keeps Porcoline from having to rely just on merchants or Frey and Lest if he needs some fish. Besides, it’s not like he’s asking me to get him fish. I just bring him whatever leftovers I have after the day.” Dylas shrugged his shoulders. Taking care of Porcoline wasn’t a big deal- Meg mostly had to do that. That was her job; and Porcoline took more care of Dylas than he did of him. The rotund man gave him a home, a job, and a new life. Porcoline was the first person who gave Dylas a reason to stay. “He’s been kind to me. It’s the only way I can pay him back.” His eyes traced the sky above them, watching as airships and clouds passed by. It was a different life he lived now. No longer did he feel his life was in threat. He had a purpose. 

“It’s really nothing.” Dylas blinked. The praise wasn’t something he was used to receiving. It felt awkward being praised for a simple fight against a weak fish, something that wasn’t that big of a deal. But Rosalind’s kinds words left a small blush on his face. He tossed the fish into a bucket of ice that had been put beside him. 

The former guardian listened, his ears twitching at every word she spoke. “Why can’t you fly the nest?” Dylas bluntly asked. He stood back up, his knees popping once he stood at his full height. Rosalind, she was short. Now that he was getting a better look at her, she was short, almost seemed doll-like at his height. He had never seen her in this manner before- but why? “They can’t keep you locked up in the mansion all day and wait for some guy to come by and marry you.” He mumbled under his breathe. There wasn’t any advice he could give her, and Rosalind surely didn’t need any. She was a smart young woman, smarter than him. He didn’t know her family, he hardly knew her... But, the way her tone changed to hopeful... It gave him hope for her. Hope she would be able to live a life for herself; not for her family, not because her name as a de Sainte-Coquille. But a life that could be lived by Rosalind.

“Maybe I will visit you.” Dylas gave Rosalind a soft smile, the end of his smile barely reaching his eyes. His eyes looked at her softly, kindly. “Maybe we can go fishing if I ever visit you in Alvarna.” Alvarna, the word sounded so foreign on his tongue. In the centuries he was a monster, cities and towns changed names. Places were destroyed and built up again. Dylas didn’t know where Alvarna was; east, south? Maybe it was north? But looking at Rosalind’s bright face, Dylas didn’t care where the town was. “Well, it can’t be the worst place to be stuck in. I can think of one place I never want to go back to again-” Dylas stopped as he watched the light blue haired maiden squeak and her face turn.

!!!

Dylas’ rough hands grabbed tightly around the pool, attempting to help Rosalind pull the fish in. But even with his added strength, they couldn’t pull the fish out. “Move,” the former guardian grunted at the aristocrat. He pushed her out of the way, gently enough to not harm her, and tried to pull the fish out of its aquatic sanctuary. He would reel this fish in, he would show Rosalind how to fish and this day would be nice! No one would get angry- and certainly not him! When he pulled his fish out, he would watch Rosalind as she would beam and try again; maybe a smaller fish would come out and 

But that wasn’t the plan the fish had. Instead, the fish yanked and yanked. It’s strength overwhelmed Dylas. It took just one strong yank for Dylas to lose his footing and fall face first into the clear lake water. His black shirt hugged his chest tightly. Water found its way into his boots, soaking his socks and feet with the cold water. His tail, ears, and hair soaked around 

“Fuck-!” He cursed at his own reflection, rippling in the water underneath him. “FUCK!” 

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

When the man smiled at her, small, discreet, and just all out charming, the girl’s eyes widened in a bit of surprise. Her green eyes glimmered for a moment, before flickering away to avoid any accusation of staring. Suddenly it came to her realization that such a large part of the friendly interaction they had, the stories, the jokes, the entire conversations they had hadn’t been in person. She supposes that part was obvious, but now, standing here next to him, that fact became a more solidified reality. 

The duchess’ cheeks turned a light shade of pink as even though her eyes were off him, the smile still remained in her mind. “Yes—!” She piped up maybe a bit too excitedly, faltering and calming down the moment after. “I mean—Yes, of course.” The girl spoke with a bit of laughter, looking back at him while supplying her own smile in return. “That would be horrible if we were interrupted over and over again, so maybe this early morning timing ended up better anyway.”

When the man questioned her motives, she laughed openly this time, her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. “Oh non, non! I’m ready to try. I’m simply not used to attempting tasks so far outside my comfort zone that I’ve never done before.” She explained as her giggling cooled down, her hands clasping behind her back as she rocked ever so slightly on her heels. “I suppose the nervousness comes from not wishing to make a fool of myself. But if I let that feeling hold me back, I’d never try anything new!”

As the man began explaining his actions, this time the young duchess’ eyes widened in a bit of wonder, watching and analyzing his movements carefully. She then focused as well on the line in the water, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to focus more intently. “Ohhh,” She spoke softly, again, not wanting to disturb any fish that might be interesting in the new bobber in the water. “So then you just wait? Well that’s more understandable why this is known as a relaxing activity … then what do you do with fish once you catch it?” Her gaze flickered back to him, fixated on his own focus expression. “Do you enjoy eating fish? Or do you sell them maybe?”

“Hm?” As he inquired about her trip, Rosalind perked up and spoke in a hushed voice. “Oh it was lovely! I’ve never ridden on an airship by myself before, and by the Gods what an amazing experience! The views from being up so high were so … invigorating!” She laughed lightly. “Every person I spoke to was so kind, always willing to give me directions if I was feeling a little lost. Honestly, I’m not sure why my brother and father made traveling such a scary sounding thing.” She pondered for a moment, wondering just what was the reason behind that, before shrugging gently. “I suppose all situations are different, but it was much easier than I was lead to believe.”

When Dylas himself mentioned her brother, the girl held a finger to her lips, as if to motion a secret must be kept. “Nobody knows a thing, so don’t you go telling anyone.” She teased with a wink.

A cocky smile overcame Dylas’ face at the excitement Rosalind was showing him over fishing. “Perfect.” He said softly. It felt easier to smile around her than, say, someone like Frey or Lest. They were annoying royalty, but Rosalind. Oh Rosalind was regal, upper class, yet so down to earth. Intelligent, excited over fishing. A working man’s hobby. 

“You just wait.” He confirmed with a nod. “I guess, well, it depends sometimes. Usually, I’ll just take it home with me. Give the fish I don’t really want to Porcoline so he can cook some up for customers or keep them in storage or I’ll cook them myself.” The pair stood there, quietly for a moment as they watched fish swim by the wait, not attracted enough to actually take the bait. 

As if on command, the bopper jumped. Dylas took a step back as he pulled up with all his might. “And then-” As he continued. “When a fish finally takes the bait, just pull as hard as you can to reel the sucker in.” He pulled up, but it wasn’t a tough struggle to reel in this fish. He pulled the line up and out popped out just a chub. It was small, proving why it didn’t bother with a fight. Dylas pulled the fish out, setting the pool beside him, and dropped to the grass below him.

And he smiled. He smiled at his prize of the day, and at Rosalind’s own words. “I’m glad. The people who live here are all nice, too nice if I gotta admit. Maybe it’s time to fly the nest.” Dylas said without thinking. He stopped himself as he examined the fish, staring down at it. How tiny, how helpless it was outside of the water. Dying without its source. But, Rosalind wasn’t like the fish. Even though Dylas barely knew her, he knew she wouldn’t die without her comfortable home. In her letters addressed to him, Rosalind seemed like she wanted an adventure. Rosalind wasn’t this small, helpless fish that had to be tossed back home. “Maybe you should try to get your brother to take you on his trips. Just so you can see the world, not have to spend all day inside your mansion.” Dylas mumbled under his breathe. 

The former guardian looked up at the girl, the morning sunlight hitting against her blue hair perfectly. Streams of yellow strained against the her light, blue hair. “No worries.” He said with a slight grin. “I won’t tell a soul.” It didn’t take him too long to carefully fish the hook out of the fish’s mouth, tossing it back to the clear river. “And that was a practice one so-” He picked the fishing pole up, handing it to Rosalind. “It’s your turn.”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Despite her greatest attempts not to scare the man too badly with her sudden presence, he still seemed rather startled. A light laugh escaped her rose colored lips, her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle it in no hopes of embarrassing him. Her gaze softened upon him, before speaking sweetly with a wave of the same hand as he breathed her name. “Hi Dylas ♪.”

Peridot eyes moved from the man face, down to the water below. She held her knees a little tighter, afraid that if she didn’t she might fall in. The water was crystal clear, and beautiful enough to show the teaming life beneath it. Just as the fish had on her walk here, they shone like glittering stones underneath the water. “Pesky little guys!” The duchess spoke with a laugh, more so to simply lighten the mood between them. And with that she rose from her knelt position to look back to the man she had been meeting, hands clasped behind her back as her eyes met his once more.

“It’s good to see you,” She spoke sincerely. “It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been taking care. Sorry I’m a bit too early,” The apology came out as she glanced at her watch once more. “I simply got into town sooner than I had expected and was a little unsure of what to do with myself, so I decided to take a stroll when I saw you.” Once looking back to him she motioned with a shy shrug. “And, well … here I am! I hope you don’t mind.”

As the man inquired on whether or not she was ready for the task at hand, Rosalind’s response faltered. “Uhm, well I,” She’d read several different types of study manuals for fishing once they had decided upon the activity, yet for some reason the instructions simply didn’t make any sense. “I’m … not really sure what to do what so ever. So to say I’m ready … might be a little bit of an overstatement.” Yet she couldn’t help but feel determined, simply excited to spend a day with the man and get to know him a little better.

“But I’m certainly ready to try! M-Maybe I should watch you first?” She spoke with a bit of uncertainty.

Talking to her was different than writing letters back and forth. With a letter, he could think about what he was going to write. He could erase or mark out any misuse word that wasn’t good enough. He could hide his real emotions through the quill. But face to face.... He couldn’t hide behind anything. Yet Rosalind’s voice was so sweet- so genuine. She wasn’t hiding behind the letters to show herself- at least, Dylas believed she wasn’t. The man let out a low, short chuckle at the young madam. Maybe he could be himself with her.

Maybe Dylas never needed to hide behind a piece of paper.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dylas gave the young lady a kind, small smile. A smile that hadn’t been on his face in what felt like forever- genuine. “It may be easier to teach you now since everyone annoying is either in bed or being lazy.” Early morning fishing was more peaceful than noon. At least by noon, if there were too many people bustling around, they could run to the lake or one of the lakes outside of town.

Dylas raised an eyebrow at Rosalind. Her voice seemed nervous, scared perhaps? He pulled the line back in to him quickly. “If you aren’t ready, that’s fine.” He admitted. It was fishing- not monster hunting. It was meant to be relaxing or a fight between two forces of nature. He turned his eyes back to Rosalind, brown eyes seeming so kind even with the frown on his face. “If you don’t want to try fishing yet, it’s fine. Just be honest with me, Rosalind. But if you want to watch me try...” Dylas trailed off as he got in the stance to throw the line back in.

“First, you need to toss the line. Like this-” And as he explained, the former Guardian did the same exact movements. “And now, wait until a fish comes. Keep your eyes on the line to see if it goes down. If it does, it means you caught a fish. Now you just wait for however long it takes.” He didn’t move his eyes from the spot, but he still spoke to the young lady. “How was your trip here? Did your brother catch you leave this morning?”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Rosalind had slipped out of the house this morning without much of a fuss, surprisingly to say the least. She hadn’t told Max, Cecilia, nor her father where she had been going, and honestly it felt incredibly refreshing. There was no need for the constant bother and judging eye of any of them, sure Cecilia was only looking out for her best interest, but sometimes she was just as bad as her brother or her father. There was no asking where she was going, who she would be with, the time she would be back, nothing. Nor was there any pressure to take an escort, or take the family carriage driver. And this new sense of secrecy definitely excited her.

Arriving into Selphia was simpler than the woman had anticipated, much easier than she had previously been lead to believe. She had gotten a ticket for the airship easily, and enjoyed her ride looking over all the sights and mountains they had passed by in the process. The air was crisp and refreshing, and a smile had been wide on her face the entire ride there.

Once stepping off the airship, the young lady took a moment to take a look at the watch she had been wearing. She arrived earlier that anticipated. She blinked, what was she going to do until then? The girl was wearing a much simpler white dress than that of the garb that she usually wore. She definitely got away with wearing it simply because no one in her home had seen her. And her long, softly colored blue hair was pulled back with a white ribbon to match, hopefully keeping most of it out of her way throughout her day. The outfit she wore felt incredibly liberating, more so because it was something that she had decided herself to wear.

The girl mentally debated on her next move, she could go to the restaurant a bit early and say hello to her uncle and to Margaret, but if he was there and she would be so early, well that would just be embarrassing. She recalled the man that she had come to Selphia to see, the letters they had sent back and forth, and she figured she would simply meet there at the time they had previously decided upon.

As the girl walked throughout town, she felt at peace. The river that ran through town catching her attention as she walked. Her eyes wondered down into the water, glittering small fish that shone from the sun overhead causing the river to look teaming with life. The way the danced and swam beneath the surface cause a smile to turn up on her lips as she watched.

Her attention was finally pulled away when she heard someone in the distance, someone sitting along the edge of the river bank with a fishing pole cast in the water. Their back was turned to her, and the long lavender hair caused the memories to come flooding back to her immediately. She approached the man, deciding that waiting for their meeting time when he himself seemed so caught up in the task they had discussed seemed like a fruitless effort to her. He didn’t seem to notice her as she approached.

Instead of startling him, and the fish he was trying to catch, by calling out to him, instead she decided to crouch down a couple feet along side him. For the first time in a long while she caught a glimpse of his facial features, and in that instance she questioned if the man she had been writing to for the past several weeks could really be the person beside her. It felt as though those letters were just a figment to her now.

In her new crouched position, her warms wrapped around her knees. A strand of her soft pastel hair fell in front of her face, once again that she pushed back behind her ear. She smiled, before speaking in a gentle tone.

“Having any luck today so far?”

Today was the day. The day that Dylas had found himself anxious over for the past few weeks. The letters, smelling like roses with elegant cursive writing, were strewed over the desk in his bedroom. For weeks, he had been sending letters back and forth to the young de Sainte-Coquille lady.

Letters where he felt he could be himself. Letters where he didn’t have to hide under a mask of anger and anxiety. He couldn’t hide his awkwardness behind the mask. Writing a letter to someone like Rosalind was comfortable. They could take their time, no need for a response right away. 

Even though they had agreed on a specific time and meeting place to finally meet up, there was anxious energy rilling up his body. Was it excitement or was it actual anxiety? His mind couldn’t help but flash back to that night they first met. The mind made him think back to seeing her there, on the velvet armchair crying after he yelled at her. Even though those tears were from something else, could it have been his fault? Could it truly have been tears spilled from his angry yelling?

Whatever his mind was telling him, it wasn’t true.

Plus, today wouldn’t be like Porcoline’s event. There would be no fancy people, no wine. Just fishing. Just relaxation. Just.... them.

In order to keep himself sane, Dylas decided to leave early and get a start with fishing. It was still early in the morning that he could meet her back at high noon by the restaurant. The sun was barely in the middle of the sky. Early enough. He grabbed his rod, a bucket in case he caught a fish good enough for him, and.... okay, that’s all he grabbed.

The lavendar hair man stood beside the river, listening to the quietness of the town. The town wasn’t bustling with life just yet. Perfect, like how he liked it. He cast his line out, waiting for a fish to grab it and fight against his strength. The black shirt he wore had several of the top buttons unbuttoned and his boots were caked in dry mud from weeks of fishing. It didn’t take long for the line to dip down; the sign a fish had taken the bait.

“Shit!” Dylas cursed as he came out of his day dream. He pulled with all his strength to fight against the strength of the fish. A power struggle: his favorite part of fishing. He pulled, the fish yanked, and they fought. Water flew up as the fish tossed and pulled out of Dylas’ grip. It took a lot of his strength, but the fish won as it broke a piece of the line. “Damn it.” He cursed again. He began to fix the fishing line, stringing the line and making sure it was perfect for fishing. Tossing it back into the clear water, he took a deep breathe in. Relaxing, sure. Now he was kind of annoyed he couldn’t catch a simple fish. It was so quiet for a handful of minutes, until he heard a soft, female voice beside him. Soft, high, and sweet voice that was just....

“Frey, for the last time, I know how to fish-” He turned his attention to her, before he realized who it was. The soft speaking voice- yeah, Frey would never speak to him so gentle, so kind. Frey would scream that question. “Rosalind.” He exclaimed. His mouth went dry and he nearly dropped the fishing rod into the clear river. “Uh- no. I haven’t had much luck. But, um, are you ready to fish?”

What a Catch || Dylas & Rosalind

[dylassu]

what if i just wrote all my drabble responses while waiting for kass to reply to me

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

… … …

… … …

“—!”

Rosalind woke with a start, eyes wide in surprise as she looked around where she was. Oh, just her vanity … That was now all covered in the ink! She squeaked in surprise, setting the quill pot upward to prevent any more from spilling and quickly grabbing a rag of her’s nearby in order to soak up what had soaked the wood. She looked in disappointment at the soaked the letter she had been working on.

After the mess had been cleaned, Rosalind looked to herself in the mirror. Groggy, yet alert from the sudden fright. She looked down at her ink stained, half finished letter with a bit of a sigh. She supposed she had fallen asleep while she was caught up working on her response. For some reason she was putting in so much effort to these letters, more so than she had realized previously. 

The man was so much different than her first experience with him; he had interests, hobbies, liked coffee better than tea, and she kept learning new things about him with each letter. And she liked it. She was really enjoying herself getting to know him, and it surprised her that she hadn’t had to opportunity to do so until this point in her life. He seemed so genuine, she secretly hopped he had the same anticipation for her letters as she had grown to have for his.

And on that note, she really needed to get this reply written and in the mail! After tossing the ruined one in the nearby bin, the woman sat and took in a deep breath. Prepared to write it once again despite the time of night it was.

Dylas,

Even when she wrote his name, she couldn’t help the smile that cracked on her lips. Even as she sat alone, deep into the night in her bedroom.

Incredibly quirky. And as far as myself goes, I’m not too sure. And cross my heart that simply isn’t me trying to hide my own secret quirk from you. I honestly can’t put a finger on it. Though, I have come to associate my own sense of ‘quirkiness’ with the feeling of being a bit of an odd duck in my family. All of them enjoy the life of leisure and luxury supplied to us, and at the cost of trying not to sound too ungrateful, I find the life I live to be dull. If I could live my life according to what I wanted, well I’d most certainly be different. If I could trade the name of de Sainte-Coquille to be different, I would.

Correction. You would hate for me to make the same mistake three times. I’ll surely have to follow your advice, perhaps I’ll take the time tomorrow to label the all the items in my kitchen. If I hope to get any better, I have to start somewhere. And that sounds like a magnificent place to start!

Coffee? Really now? I can’t say I’m surprised, but that gives me a better idea on a couple types of tea you would prefer. Do you like coffee for the taste or for the caffeine? Your choice will affect my own for the type of tea you’ll have to try.

Strange hobby isn’t it? Definitely not a common one. I suppose it simply started as a dream of mine long ago, though with my restrictions the best I can do is fiddling with simpler medicines here and there within the confines of my own home. Though I swear it, I’ll create a half decent sure for the common cold and then you’ll be begging me for it any time you’re feeling ill!

I would certainly love to! I’m actually a bit excited to do so, perhaps I’ll even go out of my way to schedule a few days in town for just the purpose. I’ll have to look into a few things before that, but assure I’ll try and schedule it as soon as I am able.

Until the next letter,

Rosalind de Sainte-Coquille

Slowly, this was becoming a routine.

Dylas would wake up, have some coffee, find the letter Rosalind wrote him and read it. Sometimes it would be in between breaks, others it would be while he had downtime during fishing. 

He kept them all in a small part of his drawer. Not because he wanted to, but because she spent time writing it, he had

Although, a piece of him liked to keep them. At least it was something to hold onto.

Yet this letter, the one that had arrived two days ago stumped him on how to respond. He had become used to his routine. He became used to being able to respond in a timely manner as the day was still lit, yet now night had fallen and the only light he had was the candle. His brain just couldn’t come up with the words after he read it over and over agin. He had asked- not asked, offered- to teach her how to fish. A stranger- yet he felt comfortable enough with her to fish? It took Lest weeks to even get a word out about fishing from the former guardian, yet Rosalind felt....

What did he even feel?

Were they even friends?

The candle in his bedroom flickered as he stared at the blank canvas. What could he even write back to her? In what way does he even convey his responses? How could he write about things that to someone’s face he just pushes them away?

Dylas didn’t know how- but the pen might have as he wrote. Furiously. Quickly. Taking no time to think as he wrote as if the pen and the paper were finally writing for him. 

Rosalind,

I can’t say I understand that, but I’m glad you’re honest with yourself on that matter. There’s a lot of people who do not really take that kind of stuff into consideration; feelings and the like. But, what would you do if you could live the life you wanted? How would you live? 

Three times? Now, maybe you do need some cooking classes. That’s a pretty bad mistake to make three times. Label everything, but after three times maybe double check what you’re putting in there. Hate to hear you accidentally put some ghost pepper sauce in something instead and give your maid the run for her money. 

More or less the taste of it- as I said before, I’m not the biggest fan of sweet and fruity flavors. Bitter stuff isn’t something I’m the biggest fan of, but it’s much better than that ultra caramel, vanilla, fruity stuff Margaret enjoys. I assume you know her...?

Anyway, what about you? What kind of tea drinker are you?

Not the strangest hobby, but I did not take you as someone who would have medicine as their hobby. What restrictions are you talking about? With the family you come from, I assumed that you would have nothing truly restricting you other than just the cold being, well, the cold. 

I’m sure Porcoline would be happy to see you if you do come. I can tell you what days he usually gives me off so I can take you down to Dragon Lake. The fish are biting a lot this season so you’ll surely catch some with some practice. Just let me know when, I’ll tell you when I’m off. Who knows. Fish may be something to help you cure the common cold.

Hear from you soon,

Dylas C. A.

Why the fuck was he so awkward?

A Letter of Thanks {Dylas & Rosalind}

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

Rosalind had received her letter earlier that day, quicker than most she had received it seemed, and currently it was tucked neatly in her purse to be saved for later. The duchess sat in the bedroom upstairs of the bath house, sitting around with her two best friends talking about the average things girls talk about. “Non, I think it’s quite cute her crush on him ♪.”

Her friend Julia sat with one leg over the other, twirling one of her long curls in between her painted lavender fingertips. “I dunno … Every time Mana even glances Kyle’s way she goes completely gaga.” She mused with a disinterested look on her face and a click of her tongue. “Kinda desperate if you ask me, what do you think Dorothy?” The aimless chatter continued, before Julia piped up once again a couple minutes later. “Heya Rosie, do you have that really nice hand moisturizer Max got you from his last trip? My hands are chapped and that cream works magic.”

The woman in question was sipping a cup of tea, nodding while she sipped before replying after a moment. “Sure sure, it’s in my purse right behind you if you simply want to grab it from there.” Rosalind found herself caught up continuing her conversation with Dorothy, not even paying notice to the third girl in the room. Until she heard, 

“Who’s Dylas?”

Rosalind coughed on her drink, shaking it off before looking back to Julia, who waved the familiar envelope in her hand with a wide toothy grin. “W-Woah wait a second!” The girl stuttered in response, realizing her method of answering might cause some sort of suspicion.  “I said you could use my hand cream dear Julia, not pry through my things.” Her tone attempted to be teasing, but really she was just preparing herself for the endless slough of pestering that was sure to follow.

“Who is Dylas, Rosie?” Dorothy asked beside her, clutching Fern close to her as she looked toward Julia in curiosity.

“He’s a friend you meddlesome duo. Actually not even a friend, he probably doesn’t even see me as a half decent acquaintance. And that’s probably too generous of a title. That is all! Now Julia give it back—” Rosalind huffed, standing before Julia now with her hand out held expectantly. Though the other girl only gave her that same up to no good grin, before tapping the blue haired girl’s nose and running around her, Julia hopping up on her bed as she ripped the letter open. Dorothy joined her on the bed, looking over her shoulder to see the contents of the letter as well.

———

Rosalind closed the bedroom of her door and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh through her nose. The night continued on with relentless teasing, picking apart and demanding to know every detail about how the party had went when she met the man. And of course how Rosalind had proceeded to make a complete fool out of herself. It was frustrating enough to explain that no, he wasn’t some secret lover she had been keeping from them and also that he was just a nice man she was sending letters to. And it had only been a couple of them!

Finally feeling comfortable after slipping into her sleepwear, Rosalind took a seat at her vanity for a prolonged moment. She thought about what they said afterwards, wondering how in the world she was going to write this with their comments handing over her head. Though, she took her several minutes to herself, tucking her long strands of hair behind her ears before finally taking a moment to read the letter she had been sent without being interrupted. 

It made her smile. It was nice. It really made her wonder if maybe they could be friends? She released a wistful sigh, wondering if perhaps it was possible.

Dylas,

My entire family is most definitely quirky. Max, Porcoline, my father— I even have a cousin that speaks in complete opposites. I truly am not joking with you. I love them dearly, but sometimes they are quite a handful. What is your familial situation like? Are they just as eccentric?

Oh I assure you these stories are nothing but embarrassing! I’m sure I am just as bad, if not worse, than the poor castle butler Vishnal. It was on my maid Cecilia’s birthday last summer and I was determined to make her a nice breakfast. She was always doing it for me, so surely I could make one half decent meal for her. I wasn’t paying close enough attention and used salt instead of sugar in her pancakes … poor Cecilia ate it in order to not hurt my feelings, but alas she went home early that day with an upset stomach. 

Needless to say, even though I know you’re well aware, I can be somewhat clumsy! So your cooking prowess is most definitely something to be proud of.

Hmmm … I enjoy trying the more risque flavors, but I believe my favorite is chamomile with lemon. Simple and boring, nothing too exciting. 

Julia’s words rang in her head. ‘If you want to get to know him better, why don’t you try being a little bolder?’ Bolder. How on earth was she suppose to do that? She went back and forth in her mind about proposing the idea that they have tea together sometime, and without much of a second thought she simply wrote it down. He probably even wouldn’t assume the proposal strange, she’s just overthinking this! Why did she have to let those two girls get to her like this?

Perhaps we could chat over tea sometime at Uncle’s restaurant. Do you have a favorite? Maybe I could bring one of the interesting foreign ones I have for us to try.

A doctor? Oh goodness no! I much prefer the research side of medicine then any sort of distribution and dealing with the ill. I have long wished to find a way to eradicate the common cold, unfortunately the medicine prototype I have running isn’t anywhere near where I need it to be to make that aim a reality. But none the less, it can get rid of a cough in a snap of your fingers!

Fishing! What a noble sport! That requires so much patience and skill, I must say I’m impressed. I personally never have even attempted it before … I’m not sure I’d be very good at it, but if you are offering your mentor ship how could I possibly decline!

Until the next letter,

Rosalind de Sainte-Coquille

The last few days had been pleasantly quiet in Selphia.

Between Frey and Lest doing something (so at least they were out of Dylas’ hair) and Meg talking about some strange man she met recently and being too focused on him, nothing was really getting in his way. Sure, Dylas had work. He had customers to feed, cook for, and clean up after. But nothing had been bothering him.

So when the mail arrived on its usual day, at its usual time, Dylas rummaged through it with some gleam. But... why was that? He couldn’t put a finger on it, he hadn’t been excited for anything in so long. Not since his childhood, and even his excitement back then was because of fishing. But that was hundreds of years ago. That was a lifetime ago, and the hurt and pain that were inflicted on him was gone like the people.

Yet, seeing the letter in that day’s mail pile made him smile.

Even though no one really ever bugged him when he was off work, he needed to find some solace to write this letter. So, he took the letter, some bait, paper and a pen for himself, a rod, and went down to a lake just a bit outside of Selphia Plains. And as he sat there, taking in the gentle breeze that served as a cooling agent, he read the letter. Did he smile the entire time he read it? No.

But did he smile? Let out a laugh or two? Yes. Yes he did. But he would never admit it.

He completely forgot the fishing line as he wrote the next letter to the young woman. And even though by the end, the letter had a few splashes of lake water on it (thanks to the few fish that he missed by being to engrossed with his response) it seemed okay. Hopefully she wouldn’t be annoyed with that.

Rosalind, 

A cousin that speaks in complete opposites? You were not joking when you said they are quirky. So, pray tell (Why did he write tha, Dylas internally beat himself up for the worst words he had ever wrote. Maybe he had been spending too much time around Arthur) what’s your “Quirk”. What makes you so strange as a de Sainte-Coquille?

Well, I will tell you now: you are definitely a much better cook than Visnal. The ,man cannot even cook simple toast without turning it into a disastrous meal. It’s really sad, actually. However, that’s a common mistake. Don’t feel bad you made your maid sick- just label everything correctly for next time. Or even try and make sure it’s salt. I’d hate for you to make pancakes again and make the same mistake twice.

Okay.... that was not helpful advice but really, Dylas could not help but laugh out loud about the story she wrote to him. He could just imagine the maid’s face (despite not knowing what it really looked like) and her reaction. Someone who appeared as regal as she was made such a grave mistake- and that just made him laugh. 

I’m more of a coffee drinker. I don’t like sweets or anything very “fruity”. Wouldn’t say I have a palette for tea, but we’ll see I can try. 

Research medicine, huh? That’s an interesting hobby to have- but that’s good. At least you found out how to get rid of a cough- good job. No one will get sick with you around now, or at least won’t have an awful cough. What’s wrong with the cold one though? Does it just create a super cold? I jest, if that was not clear through my letter.

Well, if you are ever in Selphia for a day or two and have some time, I wouldn’t mind showing you how to fish. It takes patience, and a lot of determination to win the fight between you and the fish. Let me know. I’ll let you borrow one of my fishing rods whenever you want would like to learn.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Dylas C. A

Dylas sat down the pen, staring at the letter he wrote in front of him. Hope to hear from you soon.... Hope... Did he really hope for her to respond as quickly as she had been? Was this really the highlights of his days? Simple letters from a young woman who he barely knew?

Oh well, he didn’t think about it much until he already put the letter into a mail slot. Hours later, he realized the consequences that “hope to you hear from you soon” may make.

Maybe, he should have thought about the sentence that was before the closing of his letter....

A Letter of Thanks {Dylas & Rosalind}

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

“Rosie dear, why on earth is Uncle Porcoline sending you a letter?” 

The duchess in question was laid out on the velvet couch in the parlor, catching up on one of her lighter novels before she planned to meet Dorothy and Julia at the bathhouse in an hour or two. “Uncle Porcoline?” The young woman said simply, not looking up from her book as her brother stood beside her with a hand on his hip. A second lingered by before it hit her.

“Oh—! Why of course, yes Uncle Porcoline!” Sometime’s she thanked the great dragon gods that Max was daft enough to not read the name of the sender of the letter, but instead simply recognizing the address. This would be more than awkward if Max found out she was sending a letter or two back and forth with an employee of their uncle’s. He’d get all nosy, and Rosalind simply wasn’t up for dealing with his questions about it today.

“Well I was just being a great niece of course! Thanking him for inviting us to his party a few weeks ago.” She spoke with a cheeky smile, setting her book down on the coffee table before rising from her seated position. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready.” With a quick snatch of the letter from his grasp, Rosalind made her way up the staircase, opening the envelope while she went.

The girl paused at the top of the stairs as she finished reading the words he had written. She … was surprised? Her gaze drifted off as she thought and she held the letter closer to her, as if to make sense of her surprise. First off she didn’t really expect him to reply back to her, sure she had tried to make a little bit of conversation in the letter, but for some reason she was more than convinced there was no letter that was going to come back. He had written her a thank you letter like any polite person would when receiving a gift, and she assumed that was the end of that.

But maybe not. 

She pulled the letter away from her chest, reading it over again with a more keen eye, as if the contents of it had changed, before nodding and making her way to her room to grab her pen.

Dylas,

I’m glad my last letter found you well. It seems we both agree that there’s nothing to apologize for, so we can leave it just at that. Since, like you said — the past is in the past.

Yes indeed! Max is my brother, and it truly is quite a hilarity; he is absolutely mortified at the idea of growing as large as the rest of the men in our family. He keeps himself on quite a strict diet, but besides that I’ve always believed the two of them to look similar as well. Long blond locks and everything!

Wow, it almost seems as if fate had brought the two of you together. I hope my uncle doesn’t give you too much trouble, I know how he is and I hope he shows you nothing but his kindness. He’s a bit … melodramatic, but his heart is pure and if he’s given you a place to stay I’m sure he cares about you dearly.

Since you’ve learned from uncle you must have some amazing skills up your sleeve! I must admit I’m a bit jealous! What do you find yourself cooking most often?

Rosalind paused, almost blushing in embarrassment on how to respond to the inquiry he left at the end of the letter. What was she suppose to say? ‘No, I’ve actually got a maid that does all that for me!’ She rolled her eyes at herself, she can’t make her seem that pathetic and that much like the hopeless rich girl. She drummed her fingers against her cheek in thought, she figured being honest would be the best bet.

Actually, as embarrassing as it to say, I don’t really cook. I could tell you a very interesting story or two about how I’ve caused several … disastrous mishaps in the kitchen. Though I can make on mean cup of tea! I keep a collection of teas from a variety of different places around the world, I’ll have to make one for your some time. Max does most of the traveling, so he always grabs a new one for me when he’s out gallivanting. 

Are you an imbecile Rosalind? She almost aggressively scratches out the one statement, assuring it was illegible to read. The man probably already thinks your daft enough, don’t go pushing it too far.

My hobbies lean more toward reading novels or fiddling with creating medicines. If you don’t mind me asking, besides work, how do you preoccupy your free time?

I hope this letter finds you as well as the last,

Rosalind de Sainte-Coquille

The girl released a happy sigh of relief, making a mental note to drop the letter off on her way to the bath house— Oh shoot! She was already running late!

Dylas was so lucky that no one had asked about the letters.

Okay it had been two letters so far, but when there was Meg and Porcoline (both who were constantly overlooking his shoulder), he worried someone would find out. It wasn’t even like he was doing anything awful or illegal. He really was just writing to his boss’ niece. Originally, it started off as him just apologizing but after his second letter, he was kind of looking forward to the next one.

So when it arrived early this morning, he hid it in his-

“What’s that in your back pocket?”

Dylas turned around, looking at the young prince who stood at the doorway of the kitchen. Fuck. He quickly turned around  so that his front was facing Lest who just stared at him confused. 

“It’s nothing, now get out of the kitchen Lest.” Dylas growled. If he had to drag the boy out himself, he was going to. This was ridiculous, how did Lest even get into here? Why did Lest even need to be in HERE? Yet, even with the growling and his movements, the young prince slowly walked up to him, trying to eye whatever was behind him.

“Nu-uh! It’s something!” He gleamed. “I saw it, it’s some nice fancy paper! I know what that looks like, granted I’ve never used it because Volkanon said I wasn’t allowed to send letters after I sent a letter to-” Gods, did this kid ever shut up? No, because even though DYlas was trying his hardest to block him out, he kept talking and talking.... and talking. However he became a prince was a mystery to Dylas. 

“You know.” He began, as he hid the letter from Lest with his hand. “I heard Arthur mentioning something about you this morning. You didn’t skip out on your work, did you?”

Well, that worked because Les’s smile turned into a shocked frown. He didn’t even say anything before he raced out of the kitchen. 

And that turned Dylas’ frown into a smile. He quickly turned around, ripping open the letter and reading the contents of it. It made him laugh- he found himself chuckling at times with her writing and smiling even larger. It was a nice break to just read it. He didn’t have to talk to her and have it be awkward. He didn’t have to have a face to face chat. It was all through a letter and somehow that just made it easier, more relaxing, and personal.

Late that night, after he finished his work for the day, he wrote back:

Rosalind,

Your brother really is a de Sainte Coquille then, true to the skin.I’m not sure what your blood line is like, but let’s hope he doesn’t if he’s trying his hardest not to. 

Porcoline is more than a little melodramatic. Do not tell him I told you this, but yesterday, he created a several pitfalls just “for fun”. I hope your brother isn’t like him, even though he looks like Porcoline. How extra is your family in general?

I’ll be honest with you, I chuckled a bit at that. I assumed you knew how since your uncle is, But tell me those stories. Now you have me intrigued on what could have happened. You can’t be worse of a cook than one of the butlers at the castle, Vishnal. Everything he attempts to cook, he burns. 

What tea do you make? What’s your favorite? If you ever come back to Selphia, I will make sure we Porcoline has it. 

Dylas blinked reading the last line of the letter. Create.... medicine... What the fuck-

Okay, explain what you mean by creating medicine. Please. Are you trying to say your a doctor or something?

I fish. 

Was that too simple? It looked like it. Just a simple, “I fish”, like with no pretense? Really Dylas? Really?

I enjoy the sport of it. It’s exciting. The fight between the fish and me... Have you ever fished before? If not, next time you come, I’ll teach help you.

Sincerely,

Dylas C. A.

A Letter of Thanks {Dylas & Rosalind}

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

“Miss Rosalind …” The voice of the elvish maid came from the other side of the door, her gentle knock following. As the door creaked open, the young duchess turned from facing her vanity mirror, grinning ear to ear at the entrance of her companion. 

“Cecilia!” The girl spoke happily, finishing up her task of brushing her hair out, before rising off of the stool and standing to greet the maid. She was already dressed in her night gown, just getting ready to retire for the evening, but she couldn’t help her excitement at the sight of her friend. “I did not know you were still here! Goodness isn’t it late? I was just getting ready for bed myself, what can I do for you this evening?”

Her maid explained that she was simply working late to finish her tasks for the day, but she handed her a letter while saying it had come for her earlier that morning but that she hadn’t gotten to chance to get it to her. Rosalind blinked in surprise. Sure her and her cousins often sent letters to each other, once in a while, and while the address looked familiar on the envelope the name was a new one. One she’d never seen written. The duchess thanked Cecilia for her work and urged her to go home to get some well needed rest.

While ripping open the side of the envelope, Rosalind collapsed onto her plush bed, her feathered comforter cushioning her fall. She unfolded the letter with curiosity, peridot eyes skimming the writing written inside. She blinked, sitting up as she finished reading it while running a hand through her long loose hair to push it back and out of her face. A giggle couldn’t help but escape her lips at the contents of the letter; it was .. humorous. Something she wasn’t expecting of the man she had met that day a few weeks back. 

She was about to set the letter on her nightstand, leaving it till tomorrow, but she knew she wouldn’t stop thinking about it until she replied back. Rosalind hopped up off her bed, her silk robe following behind her as she found herself seated back at her vanity. She grabbed a few pieces of paper and took an ink pen from a close by drawer, thinking briefly as she came up with just how to reply.

Dylas,

I’m surprised to hear from you, I didn’t think you liked me very much —

It seems my plan to keep the sender of the shirt a secret has failed  —

How did you even get my address —

Crumpled up pieces of paper once after another got tossed to the trash. The duchess huffed. Why was this so difficult? It’s only a letter. She’s written them before. What’s the big deal? She brushed her hair out of her face once more and attempted again.

Dylas,

How nice it is to hear from you. I certainly am happy to hear that our plan worked flawlessly, thank you for your cooperation in that endeavor, otherwise I’m sure we both would have hear about it from Arthur by now.

I’m most pleased to hear that you enjoy the shirt, my apology still remains true, but I hope it can be taken as a token of my solidarity. 

I also have to apologize to the abrupt ending to our conversation, the man who interrupted us was my brother Max and I ended up leaving the party not too soon after we had gotten the chance to speak. Much to my relief I must say, (don’t tell anyone I told you that!).

How did the rest of the evening progress? Did any other women proceed to ruin any other pieces of Arthur’s furniture with their clumsiness? I sure hope not.

You’re a hard worker, I’m glad my uncle has someone like you looking after him and his restaurant, I know he needs it.

What started you working there in the first place?

Until the next encounter,

Rosalind de Sainte-Coquille

She smiled proudly at the letter she had written, nodding in a proud manner while making a note she’d have to get this sent out tomorrow morning.

“Dylas?”

Hearing his name, the blue haired man turned his face away from the lake to look at a young woman, holding out a letter. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t say a word before running off. That was... weird? How in the hell did she even find him? It didn’t matter- he didn’t care. He stuffed the letter in his pants pocket before turning his attention back to fishing.

For at least five more hours.

Yep, for five more hours, he fished. It was his day off of work, so it didn’t matter how long he stayed out and doing no work whatsoever. And in that span of time, between the various fish he caught and the bait he lost to one clever fish, he forgot all about the letter. That was, until he got home and he noticed it in his pants pocket.

“Shit.”

He ripped the letter opened, reading it and his eyes widen. This letter was.... well, it wasn’t what he expected. What he expected was nothing, or at least a letter that said something around the lines of “I’m glad, you’re welcome bye”. But this was a full fledge letter... One that Rosalind had to spend time writing (that, or she just was so good at writing letters compared to him).

He sat at his desk, reading the letter over and over. Something about it felt... warming? He couldn’t put a finger on what he felt while reading the letter, but it was nice... Dylas knew what he had to do. Picking up a pen, and using the same stationary from before, he quickly wrote his own response;

Rosalind,

Don’t worry about the shirt still. You have nothing to be worried over; it was a shirt. I should have apologized for yelling. But, it’s in the past now I guess...

I assumed he was your brother or at least related to you in some way- he looks like Porcoline if your uncle was, well, slimmer. And younger. Strange how alike they look compared to you- and that’s not an insult. Don’t take it as such,

The rest of the evening went fine well. It was not too long until most of the guests started leaving and making their way back to the inn or wherever else they were staying. The time you left must have been perfect then, cause if you stayed even just a half hour longer, than you would have had to started saying goodbye to basically everyone as they filled out.

What started you working there? Now, that made Dylas pause. It wasn’t a secret, okay, it kind of was to people who didn’t reside in Selphia. How do you explain to someone you barely know that you were trapped as a guardian for hundreds of years? How do you explain everything you knew and everyone you cared about are gone- and everything in the outside world has changed?

It’s simple; Porcoline needed a waiter and I needed a place to stay and money. The rest is history. But, he’s taught me a lot like cooking.

Do you like know how to cook?

Dylas C. A.

PS. I haven’t wrote a letter in a long time. I’m surprised how fast your letter deliver.

Maybe he blacked out in the middle of writing, because when he looked it over that daunting and stupid question hung over there. “Do you like cooking?” What was he? A fucking five year old asking some adult what hobbies they enjoyed?He quickly marked it out, changing “like” to “know how to” because he wasn’t a fucking five year old. Or a dumbass like Lest and Doug. 

He sent the letter off again. Maybe it would be nice to have just someone to mail letters to... Maybe...

A Letter of Thanks {Dylas & Rosalind}

[dylassu]

A Letter of Thanks {Dylas & Rosalind}

Dylas really needed to thank the girl for the shirt. It had been a good week since he entered his room and found the present from the young de Sainte-Coquille woman, and he still had yet to thank her. In Dylas’ mind, he needed to thank her. Even though the night wasn’t the best, even though he yelled at her, she was kind... 

Okay, now the hard part was even finding her address. He couldn’t just go and ask Porcoline what his niece’s address was, that would leave the man suspicious to how Dylas knew his niece and why he was sending her a letter. And he couldn’t just ask Arthur or Meg directly. He promised (okay, maybe not promised, but still) that no one would learn what exactly happened, how she cried and how he lost his temper for a moment. So, in the dead of night when Arthur was actually asleep for more than four hours, Dylas found himself in the office and rummaging through client address in books before landing on one de Sainte-Coquille family in Alvarna. The name may not have been Rosalind, but it was one he heard that night. Max. That was the man who came for Rosalind by the end of their first meeting. Max. A member of her family, someone who had to live with her or at least know of her. If she didn’t live at that address in Alvarna, he could possibly mail it towards her as long as Dylas wrote her name on the front.

It was another day or so before Dylas even began to write. It had been a good, what, hundreds or so, years since he last sent a letter. A lot in the world had changed since he became a guardian; not limiting to the mail service. It wasn’t like he was also anxious about writing a letter, he was fine with it. Maybe. But, this was to someone so upper class, regal almost (not royalty like Frey and Lest but those two were.... not like her.) Dylas sucked in a deep breathe as he started his letter to the young, blue haired woman.

Rosalind,

This is Dylas, which I guess you already know if you read the mailing address. Do not ask how I got your address, I did not ask your uncle. To my knowledge, Porcoline still does not know about that night. Arthur hasn’t said a word about wine stains, so he is as clueless as well. Your trick worked like a charm magic.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for the shirt. I tried it on, and it fit. I don’t understand how you found out my siz-  It is a nice shirt. Too nice for work, but nice. I’ll wear it to the

Hope all is fine,

Hope you are we,

Thanks,

Dylas C. A.

Even with his probably nearly illegible handwriting and the scribble, making out the words he wanted to write but didn’t feel confident enough, and Dylas sent the letter off; he didn’t imagine her to respond to such a poor letter, but it was fine.

[dylassu]

A box sat a top Dylas’ bed comforter; a box neatly wrapped with a satin bow. Inside there laid a crisp white, button down dress shirt. There was also a card rested on top. The card was small with pretty writing and patterns of floral. There was also a light fragrance of rose. The writing was elegant and written with an ink pen, and the card read simply. “Sorry again about your stained shirt ♥” with no name written.

Everything was over, thank gods. Honestly, Dylas was just exhausted, ready to pass out and sleep for a good few hours before being woken up to start work again. As he entered his room, his bed caught his eye but for a new reason- a box. A neat, perfect, elegant box laid on top of his fresh sheets, ready to be opened. Dylas walked up to it, opening it (because why not, couldn’t be from Doug because Doug would just rather throw a cardboard box at him than give it to him). He honestly forgot about the red wine stained on his previous button up, opting to borrow an old black one that he had been given months ago. Yet this new one was nice, softer even, and smelled off roses like the rest of the box (well, now his whole room smelled like roses so...)

As he read the card, a small smile came onto his face. “Hm~” he hummed, as he moved the card to his desk for safe keeping.

Maybe he should repay Rosalind for her kindness sometime....

[dylassu]

delicate-duchess‌:

“—But for what reason was that?” Rosalind spoke with a now exhausted sigh, hanging her legs over the side of the chair while she stared off lost in thought. “I understand you were trying to keep me out of trouble, but I assure you I truly am not usually this clumsy.” No matter how many times a different form of those words escaped her mouth, it simply felt like she was preaching to the choir. She made herself look like a fool, how was she going to convince him she was anything but. Another breath escaped her.

Her gaze snapped back to him once he rose from his chair, her eyes following him as he move to clean the stain on the floor. Honestly she couldn’t tell if the man just wanted her to stay still in fear of her messing something else up, or if it was because of this whole story he had concocted in his head about him being the waiter and her being a guest. To tell the truth it was probably both. “Guest or not,” She spoke with a gentle shake of her head, swinging her legs from the side of the chair and flattening her skirt. “I made the mess. Not you. Whether you work here or not, I do not enjoy leaving my mistakes for other people to clean up.” 

She approached him, collecting the cleaning supplies that had been used to clean the stain on the rug, including the rag he had been using, before putting them all in the bucket she had used. “I’m unsure of how many times I’m going to have to say that before you understand.” She laughed gently, lingering her gaze on the bucket for a minute, before turning and facing the man fully. Her dress skirt whirled with her as she turned, her hands clasped behind her back as she gave him a soft, yet genuine smile. “Well Dylas,” his named rolled off her tongue. “I think it would be better for us both, perhaps if we simply pretended this situation never happened.”

Her words help a new found sense of confidence. Not that she had been scared of him this whole time, not at all, he seemed gentle enough with only perhaps a bit of a hot temper. She wanted to convey she was sure of what she was saying, no more swaying uncertainty, she meant her words. “That way, I don’t have to tell my uncle anything, good nor bad. And you don’t have to speak a word to anyone on how perhaps I got a little too over melodramatic earlier.”

The duchess moved, heels clicking against the floor, to lean against the double doors leading back into the main hall of the building. “Dylas, it’s been truly a pleasure to meet you. A bit of an adventure, but still a pleasure.”  She closed her eyes for a moment and releasing a soft sigh (she’d been doing that a lot today hadn’t she?) “But perhaps it’s time for me to return to my job, just as you’re trying to get back to yours.” A slight laugh escaped her lips, lifting her head and looking to the man with a grin. “It is truly difficult to converse with people who don’t have a care in the world what you’re saying, isn’t it? I apologize, I suppose this has just been the most real conversation I’ve had all day, despite how weird the whole situations been. I truly have enjoyed it.”

Dylas just shrugged his shoulders, too tired to continue fighting. Nothing he said was going to make her agree anyway, she was too strong to just simply agree. “Like I said, you’re a guest. You can make a mess. Not a mess like red wine in this whatever angoria carpet, but you can make a mess. You’re meant to relax.” Okay, that didn’t help. “Guest or not,” Dylas just continued. “You did help me out. Arthur would have had my hide if he saw the mess. But still, you can’t just clean a mess by yourself. It’s not leaving your mess for someone to clean up here, it’s leaving your mess to be taken care of properly. And well, you did that while I was gone. I guess. So. Okay?” Now, Dylas really just felt like he was going in circles and circles.

You’re a guest wasn’t a proper excuse for her not to clean. Leave it for him, an actual worker of Porcoline’s, to clean up wasn’t an excuse either for her. And those were really the only two excuses Dylas could find in a situation like this... A situation that caused a massive issue, that was gone now. The stain was gone, the issue was gone, and....

Pretend the situation never happened... Dylas stopped his work for a moment, glancing up to the young woman with yellow eyes in their natural state. “Sure.” He breathed out. Sure. It wasn’t an angry sure, or one full of anxiety. It was clear. A sure, that’s fine. “If Porcoline asks-” Dylas began, going back to cleaning the last traces of the wine. “I’ll just tell him you heard the glasses break and gave me advice on how to fix it. Or something like that.” He wasn’t much of a speaker anyway, so he wasn’t assuming Porcoline would think he yelled at his niece or that she may have been frustrated. “It’s half true anyway.” He moved his body a little way away from the former mess, where the rug now laid spotless, as he wadded the rug up in his hand. Arthur would probably never even notice that there was red wine on this fancy rug (that had a name Dylas really didn’t care to remember but he felt like he should). “And thank you, for the advice... on how to clean it.” 

Dylas stood up, his back turned to the woman as he heard her speak up. Turning his head, he saw the grin on her face- it was... warming. “Well, it was nice to meet you too, Rosalind.” Which, even with the rough start, it was... kind of true. She seemed like a sweet enough woman, maybe a little head strong with how she wasn’t willing to listen (but that’s fine). 

He gave her a smile, the first smile he gave someone that night, and spoke softly and calmly: “Maybe I’ll see you again in a better situation.”

Wonderstruck || Dylas/Rosalind

[dylassu]

selphian-princess‌:

Amber needs to be a functioning member of society! It wasn’t her fault she didn’t grow up with the knowledge of knowing the alphabet! If she can’t spell, then how by the dragons is she going to fill out order forms at the florist shop?

[Taps her temple, with a smug smile spread across her face.]

Dear Dylas, it’s all about thinking about how to better the town! That’s why my orders are the way that they are ya’ silly pony. Once you think it through, my orders make complete sense!

More so than Lest’s anyway.

She does need to know the alphabet and how to spell- but you couldn’t get Doug in that either? Have you seen that asshole’s spelling? He can’t spell for shit.

......

Okay, did Volkanon take away Lest’s orders again and you’re trying to damage control after the “Give Dolce Dual Swords” or whatever it was order.