#also drals being like 'wtf i barely remember this' and azandar's just thinking 'babe u were dissociating' lol

[yansurnummu]

WIP Whursday

tagged by @pocket-vvardvark!

I've got a few things on the go currently, but here's a little piece of the main fic I've been working on, where Drals and Azandar have some super happy fun times in the Infinite Panopticon lol

warning for a flashback that contains some domestic violence type content? I've put that part under the cut just in case. (younger drals having an explosive argument with his ex-wife)

He and Azandar stood now amongst a crowd of people. The setting was colourful and lively, somewhere in the city of Necrom, as he remembered it all those centuries ago. 

All eyes were on a Dunmer man and woman at the head of the crowd. Drals’ stomach dropped as he laid his eyes on them.

“Oh,” Azandar said beside him. “Is this…”

“Our wedding day,” Drals hissed through his teeth.

Shelreni was smiling brightly, her hand in his as she waved to her parents in the crowd. Her regalia was beautifully embroidered, red and white with golden jewellery, her hair pinned up in a crown of ebony tresses and jewelled pieces Drals could never remember the name of.

“She looks very happy,” Azandar said carefully.

Drals swallowed as the memory of the couple walked towards them. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze to her partner. 

It wasn’t a man he recognised as himself anymore. He was so young. Slender, clean-shaven, his long black hair sleek and neat. His lips were turned in a mimicry of a smile as he looked vacantly out at the crowd. 

“I hate that Mora seems to have a clearer recollection of my life than I do,” Drals muttered as the couple passed by them. “I barely remember any of this.”

He could feel Azandar’s gaze on him, though the man said nothing as they watched the scene unfold.

The setting changed once more, the inhabitants of the scene liquifying to ink as Drals’ vision spun. 

He heaved a miserable sigh as he took in the new space, recognising the interior of his old fungal tower. As soon as he heard the shouting, he knew what they were about to see.

“What, so Mora keeps the greatest failures of my life close at hand? Am I nothing but a fucking court jester to him?” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. He winced as he heard his own voice shout back, too embarrassed to look at Azandar.

“It’s just one fucking thing after another with you, isn’t it? I don’t want to deal with this right now!”

“Oh, you don’t want to deal with it? I’m so fucking sorry! Maybe if that pretty little useless s’wit of a Mouth would actually do his job—”

“Don’t you bring him into this again!”

He and Azandar both flinched as glass crashed against the floor. The memory had not been their first argument of this nature, not by any means. But it certainly had been their last.

“Have you lost all sense?! That concoction took a fucking—”

“The concoction! That’s all you care about! Work, work, work, and oh, dear Vanoril, he’s so clever, he has so much potential—”

“Why must you always bring him up?! He has nothing to do with any of this!”

“Because if I’m not receiving your affections, clearly someone is!”

“How bloody dare you! He’s— that’s ridiculous!”

Drals could only stare at the floor, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood as he listened to the argument he’d played back in his head a thousand times since. It had been such a ridiculous thing that paved the way to his downfall.

“You self-centered, pig-headed idiot!” Her voice wavered, and Drals recalled the tears in her eyes as she shouted at him. “Are you happy, Dralvayn? Are you really, truly happy?!”

“No! Why the fuck would I be happy when I’ve got a paranoid harpy shrieking in my ear at all hours of the bloody day?! To think, I thought it would be a grand idea to marry you!”

Another crash. Drals’ jaw clenched as their argument continued, just wishing it would end. He felt distant from his body, knowing where it ended, what he drove her to do. He could feel, once again, the phantom heat of flames licking along his back and his face.