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thewayofthetrashcompactor · 6 years ago

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For the end of @reylomonsters week, I present: 8k of Mothlo <3

(read the whole thing on ao3)

Rating: E Words: 8397

A/N: (For any insect phobics or sensitives out there, we're going with the "moth-like fae" kind of aesthetic here)

Rey steps through the dark forest, antennae twitching. Normally, she wouldn't dare venture so close to the First Order's territory, but their grasp expands year by year. Food is hard enough to find nowadays, with how the winters only get longer and the summers cooler, but where the dark reach of the First Order touches, trees shrivel and blacken, grass withers, and plants fail to bloom. Rey has watched as the life faded from her home and she's been forced to travel farther all the time to find something to eat. Not many travel through this part of the forest to start, but those that do move quickly, heads down and packs held tight. She hears the whispers, that the forest is possessed, that dark figures haunt the nights. No one stays after full dark, even in the short days of winter.

But she's also heard that all the growth that the Order steals from the land, they hoard for themselves. And she intends to take some of that back.

(continued under cut)

Nothing else stirs in the forest as she passes through. She prides herself on her lightness of foot, but never has she relied on it so much. The complete stillness around her feels unnatural. No birds flit through the branches above or small rodents through the stiff grass below. Her every step dodges dry leaves and fallen branches, with the trees above remaining bare. Their gnarled hands twine overhead, so overgrown and twisted that only a hint of the evening light peeks through, faded orange against the black.

Even that faint light slips away as she continues her journey, though it hardly matters when the trees grow so densely they the sky vanishes from sight. No stars to light her way. She feels the absence of the moon like a piece carved out of her chest. The woods remain as still as if carved from stone, and the only sound is the slight flutter of her wings behind her. The absence of anything but darkness and her own heartbeat makes the forest feel like it's closing in around her. The night becomes a tangible thing, creeping in, thick and heavy, like any moment it might seal closed, pinning her into its grasp.

She forces herself to keep her pace steady and not lost her footing under mindless panic. The night belongs to her as much as it does any of the fae moths, more so than does who don't dare to take what it has to offer. She knows her path even without a goodnight light. Her attanae flick back and forth, tasting the air. Every one of her senses screams with the wrongness all around her, but she can't be deterred. All she has to do is follow that feeling to its source and take back what's been stolen from her.

Time fades to nothingness in the endless black reaches of the cursed forest. She could have fallen into a trap and wandered for years for all she knows. Everything centers on the simple repetition of one step after another.

From somewhere in the distance, the dull glow of muted lamps winds its way through the trees, barely strong enough to cast a shadow. She thinks at first that her eyes are finally failing her, taunting her with what she can't reach, but slowly the lights from clearer. Her heart begins to race as she approaches. The lights aren't the warm glow she's used to, globes of contained flame that do their best to bring sunlight into the night. These shine cold and sickly, spreading a grayish-purple night across the dark ground. She pauses just outside of its reach, shivering as she imagines it sliding over her and taking hold.

She strains her eyes to look beyond the line of haunted lights and into what must be the heart of the Order. Her attanae still detect nothing beyond the slithering wrongness that infects this place, but her instincts tell her that something waits on the other side of the lights. In the distance, she can barely make out the shapes of structures, and farther away something that might be firelight. A tribe like the First Order would certainly patrol their borders, and she keeps a careful look for the glint of eyes in the dark.

She stays in place for another small eternity, waiting for any hint of life she can latch on to in order to guide her way. If it weren't for the lights, she'd think this area as deserted as the rest of the forest. Sliding slowly, hardly even daring to breathe, she steps behind a tree on the edge of the light, intending to follow the line around to see where it leads.

As soon as she moves, a flutter of wings comes from behind her. She whirls around, ready to run, but she's too late. Another creature stands behind her, waiting.

From his wings, antennae, and the thick fur at his collar, hips, and ends of his legs and arms, it's clear he's a moth like her. But from his build, he could be an entirely separate species. She's always been long and lean, built for quick movement, and hunger has driven her smaller that usual. He, on the other hand, manages to be both broader and taller than her. With his size, it's a miracle his wings can get him off the ground. She wouldn't believe they could if he wasn't hovering in front of her, ready to pounce.

The differences don't end with their sizes. She's stayed sunkissed, a remnant of the time when she could bask in the late afternoon and watch it fade gently to night, before darkness took over the forest. Her fur reflects that too, golden oranges and yellows once bleached and now dirty. His colors have none of her gentle warmth. His chest shines like a beacon against the dark forest, reflecting the witch light behind her. From its deathly pallor, it couldn't be clearer that he's never ventured from under the protective hold of the woods. It stands out even more starkly against the inky black of his fur. The thick pelt jostles as he hovers, much richer than hers. She almost wants to reach out and touch it, see what it feels like to run her fingers through it. How soft would it be against her callused hands? Would the skin below be just as silken? The pale expanse stretches over thick muscle, showcasing the strength of a warrior. Her hands twitch but she clenches them at her sides.

She swallows as her gaze reaches his face. Dark eyes scowl at her from underneath his feathery black antennae, also reflecting the lamplight in unearthly ways. His strong features are fixed in suspicion, and her eyes flick down to his plush lips. She waits for him to do something, speak or attack or leave, anything, but he simply watches. His eyes make the same path over her as she did to him, and she tenses. The longer he stays still, the more ready she is to move. Keeping her chest steady, her eyes dart to either side of him.

He notices the flicker and growls, wings propelling him closer. He'd been within grabbing distance when he'd appeared; now she could flick her tongue out and lick him.

“What are you doing here?” he growls, leaning even closer. She nearly flinches back, but refuses to give him the satisfaction.

“I got lost,” she says, thrusting her face up to his. She takes a touch of pleasure in the way his head darts back for an instant.

“You got lost,” he repeats, tone incredulous.

“Yes,” she insists, still not giving him an inch.

“Through the entire length and breadth of these woods. You found your way to the very center. Because you were lost.” He draws back just enough so she sees the way his eyebrows quirk into a clear picture of disbelief.

“Yes,” she says again.

He snorts, landing on the ground. “You are a liar,” he says plainly. She opens her mouth to protest but he continues. “A bold one, but a liar nonetheless. I ask you again: why did you come here?”

She juts her chin at him. “I've told you.”

He shakes his head. “You have not. You've lied to me, which only tells me you have something to hide. What is it?” His tone turns curious, and he cocks his head as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Then just as quickly his scowl overtakes his features. “Is it the Resistance?”

She blinks. “The what?”

He leans in and breathes deeply, antennae twitching towards her, and she jumps back. “No. You don't smell like them.”

She snarls. She may be a loner without a tribe, but she has boundaries. No one scents a stranger like that.

“No tribe,” he muses, eyes bright in the face of her anger. “So what are you doing here, Sunshine? Come to join us?”

“I'd rather let the spirits take me,” she spits. He glares.

“That can be arranged,” he growls.

She grins savagely. “You'll have to catch me first, dark sider.” She spins around, slapping her wings access his face as she takes off.

(continue reading on ao3!)

#reylo #reylo monster week #rffa writers #mothlo #reylo writing den #crylo update #benrey #reylo fic #my fic #my monster week

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