#collected the bomb and sharpened the knife and everything

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the portraits changing in act 3.

[tenspontaneite]

Beyond the Moon Gardens - Extracts (1)

For lack of anything else to post today, I’m releasing some extracts from one of my non-public fanfictions – Beyond the Moon Gardens – as my participation in the @raayllum valentine’s event.

Information on and context of the story itself is below the cut. The 10k of snippets are also below the cut.

(General overview of the content of the snippets: established rayllum, fluff, domesticity, horn care, silliness, cuddling.)

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Story information:

‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is a successor to ‘In the Moon Gardens’. The former was written in a month in late 2020, and has been worked on sporadically since. The latter was written in approximately three weeks between December 2019 and January 2020. Both are currently incomplete. I do not intend to publish either to the public in full, but may well post further extracts in time.

‘In the Moon Gardens’ is a story about Callum and Rayla getting married; however, the circumstances are deeply unpleasant and the experience is traumatic. ‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is considerably longer, and is focused on trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, relationship development, and fluff. The story is structured around a plotline involving rescue and disaster relief efforts in a Sunfire elf city called Lux Marea.

All snippets presented below take place on day 7 of the story’s timeline. They have been carefully curated for fluffiness for the purposes of Valentine’s day, and do not contain any of the hurt/comfort or post-traumatic scenes prevalent in the story at large. Some extracts have been edited to slot together and minimise empty space.

I may potentially post further snippets throughout the week if people are interested.

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The extracts:

(Snippet 1: domesticity, fluff, city descriptions. Context: Callum and Rayla are staying in fancy diplomatic quarters in the city, where they arrived somewhat earlier in the day.)

Rayla turned away from her reflection and went for the door.

She glanced around, and found Callum in his own robe sat at the sofa in front of the window. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drawing. He was just staring out across the city, looking pensive.

“Not drawing?” She asked, and he startled, looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He said sheepishly as she approached.

She snorted, and moved around the sofa’s edge to plant herself down beside him. “So I noticed.”

Callum smiled at her, looking for all the world like the best thing that had happened to him today was her sitting down next to him, eyes settling on her like he’d be perfectly happy to do nothing but look at her forever. She withstood that expression for only a single second before she had to lean in and kiss him. He made a pleased sound, reaching out to rest a hand on her back, fingers stroking reflexively over the thick wool of the robe. “You smell nice.” He said happily, turning his face sideways to tuck his nose behind her ear. He was undoubtedly getting a face full of wet hair that way, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Fruity, sort of.”

“They’ve got a lot of soaps in there.” She said, and her voice came out more soft than amused. Stars, but she loved him. “It’s nice. There’s all these soaps, and towels, and I think bath oils too.”

“You think?” He inquired, curious, still with his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to her damp skin.

“Didn’t check them out properly or anything, but there was a drawer full of some fancy stuff. Bottles and the like. Looked like it might be bath oils.”

With a final kiss to the edge of her jaw, he pulled back to resume staring at her contentedly. “We’ll have to have a look later.” He said, and paused to give her an appreciative once-over. “That dressing gown looks nice on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about literally everything I wear.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” He claimed staunchly, and honestly, he wasn’t looking half-bad in his dressing-gown either. The colour was familiar on him, but the casual comfortableness of it was weirdly pleasing to look at. Made him look cosy and cuddlable.

Rayla shook her head, then leaned in to kiss briefly along his jaw. It prickled a little. “You might want to see if they’ve got razors in there.” She said dryly. “You’re starting to prickle.”

He blinked, startled, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling along it. Mercifully, he grew facial hair extremely slowly, making it less of an issue on the move, but it did still grow. He’d last made an attempt at shaving some two weeks ago, and that had sufficed up to now. “Elves don’t grow beards, though.” He said, after a moment. “I’d probably better just stick with mine.”

Once or twice, they’d made an attempt at shaving his bristles with Rayla’s swords, which had been kind of nerve-wracking, and plenty memorable. For lack of proper razors to be found in Xadia, they’d eventually ended up getting him a small knife that he claimed was alike enough to a ‘straight razor’ to work, though it periodically needed to be sharpened to an absurd degree. It was all very strange to her, even after a good half year of living with him. “Maybe.” She agreed at last, and gave him a sniff. Fresh from bathing, his state of uncleanliness was far more obvious to her nose than it had been before. “You should be getting washed up first though. You’ll make your dressing gown stink.”

He snickered. “Bet I reek to you now that you’re clean.”

“Just a tad.” She prodded him in the side until he started moving. “Off with you. Wash up.”

Evading her hands, he leaned in and planted a final kiss on her forehead before leaving, disappearing into the bathroom while she shook her head at him. She heard the water start up quite soon after, and eventually ended up staring out of the window like he had.

The city was still bright, both with sunlight and with the ongoing glory of the temple’s radiance. Settling into a sort of quiet lassitude, she watched it with eyes half-lidded, following the patterns of steaming light as though the smoke from a fire.

It was a striking city. Unlike Lux Aurea, which was so much gold it hurt to look at, Lux Marea was a thing of contrasts. The buildings were all built from the same dark stone as the bathroom had been done in, a grey that cast deep black shadows behind the gaze of the sun. And yet – every building was lined with gold. Accents on the corners, or moulding between the bricks, or running in thick channels up the walls…it gleamed, rich and distinct against the stone. Some of the largest, richest buildings had elaborate golden murals on their sides, luridly metallic and shining in the sun. All of that gold was glowing with magic now.

Rayla wasn’t much for aesthetics. But even she could appreciate the beauty in that view. She watched it for a while longer, lulled a little by the twisting patterns of glowing haze rising from the buildings, then stood and went to find something to do.

 -

 (Snippet 2: Calum and Rayla investigate the supplies their fancy bathroom is stocked with, discover bath bombs and are confused, Rayla points out various horn-care items, and Callum makes her very flustered by offering to use said items)

  After that, they went through and classified each of the mysterious drawer goodies a little faster. They found more varieties of lotion, some weird nearly liquid soaps, and a pot of some mysterious mini chalky spheres whose purpose neither of them managed to guess until Callum’s hair dripped on one and it sizzled. “Is it supposed to go in water?” Rayla wondered, befuddled.

“No idea. Try it.” He suggested, and they took the rinsing pot, filled it with water, and dropped the thing in. It fizzed and foamed magnificently, releasing pleasant odours and bits of dried flower as it dissolved, and both of them stared at it with fascinated consternation.

“Is that for baths?” She asked him, befuddled. “What’s the point?”

“…Fun, maybe?” He offered, reaching out to swirl a finger in the foam. “It looked pretty cool, after all. Maybe you’re supposed to throw them in the bath for the fun of it?”

“Fun foam and nice smells?” With a huff, she put that pot aside as something to maybe experiment with if she felt like it. “Well, maybe.” She snorted, and in the last unexplored corner, found something highly important. “Oh thank god.” She said, in that way she’d absolutely picked up from Callum, and he looked over with interest.

“What did you find?”

She brandished it triumphantly. “Toothbrushes.”

“Oh thank god.” He echoed instantly, peering over. “My teeth feel disgusting.”

“You’re not the only one.” She withdrew both toothbrushes from the drawer and set them aside. “Well, at least we know what everything in there is now. Mystery solved.” She went to close it, but was stopped with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, but what about those?” he asked, indicating the small collection of things she’d already set to one side of the drawer with the horn-scrub.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten he wouldn’t know those on sight. “Right. Well, this thing here-“ She plucked up a narrow, vaguely curved implement with a soft-smooth coating. “-is a horn buffer. For making horns smoother once you’ve already scrubbed all the rough bits out with a proper scrub.” She planted it in his hands, since he seemed fascinated by it, and withdrew a sort of soft spongey thing with a texture like felt. “Horn polisher. Same thing, kind of.” He took that as well, and she pulled out a pot of thick paste that turned out to be exactly what she thought it was when she uncapped it. This one had obviously attempted to smell as pleasant as possible, but it still had a very strong and distinctive edge to it. She wrinkled her nose. “Horn polish.” She said, closing it up again. “To be applied and used with the polisher. And lastly-“ She picked up one of the remaining bottles, “horn oil.”

He looked weirdly interested. “What’s the oil for?” He asked, leaning in. “I mean, I guess the rest of it’s to make your horns smooth and shiny, right? So what about this?”

“It’s kind of fancy and unnecessary, and expensive, so not everyone uses it, but usually you put it on after scrubbing or polishing.” She explained, withdrawing the bottles one at a time. “They smell nice, which is good after the polish, and letting it sink into the horns is supposed to make them healthier and glossier-looking. You can technically put it on multiple times a day if you’re really into your horn presentation, but pretty much no one bothers.”

“Because it’s expensive?” Callum guessed, and she made a so-so noise.

“Well, there’s that.” She said dryly. “But it’s just kind of a lot of hassle, you know? If you’re already washing and doing your hair and keeping your horns not-gross, it’s just extra fuss you don’t really need.” She shook her head. “It’s less effort than full on polishing, I suppose, but I’ve never been bothered about polishing my horns except on special occasions anyway. It’s a lot of work.”

“Huh.” He said, in a sort of weird tone of voice. Rayla turned to him, and found his expression similarly strange. Thoughtful, interested, and a little bit furtive.

She eyed him suspiciously, picked up an armful of the supplies they’d set aside, and stood up with them. “What’s that look for?” She asked archly, setting things onto the broad side of the bath. He followed her lead, picking up the rest of it and standing, looking a little shifty.

“What’s what look for?” he asked innocently, putting it all out in neat rows.

“I know that face.” She told him, unimpressed. “I’ve told you so many times I know that face. That’s your dumb idea face. So out with it.”

For a moment, Callum looked sheepish. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at her, and she reflexively fell silent. “I…was wondering if you’d let me do your horns.” He said at last, and she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

  -

 (Snippet 3: tail end of the horn-care discussion, domesticity, Rayla bemused by the concept of room service, Callum pestering Rayla for details on how horn care works, and discussion of one of Rayla’s newer hobbies)

 “That’ll be nice, then.” He said, sounding very at peace with the idea. “I can wash and comb out your hair, maybe. Give you some hornrubs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Callum.” She complained. “That’s so sappy.”

He pressed his face close alongside hers, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Treat you real good.” He said, very contentedly. “I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

Rayla managed a strangled, deeply embarrassed sound in the back of her throat. A little indignant, she protested “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can, and I did.” Callum grinned against her skin, and leaned in further to kiss her near the corner of her lips. “Love you.” He lifted a hand from around her waist, fingers settling at her jaw with a gentle suggestion of movement. Feeling near to bursting with mortification and adoration, she grumbled wordlessly but followed his hand, allowing him to lead her face around so he could kiss her on the mouth.

“You,” she muttered, into his lips, “need to get dressed.”

He paused, then huffed a surprised breath over her skin. “That’s right, I’m still just wearing a towel.” He remembered, ruefully. “At least I’m drier now.”

“It’s been ages, of course you’re drier.” Rayla shook her head at him, then nudged at his arms until he let her go, extricating herself from his embrace. She had difficulty looking him in the eye when she turned, after all of that. “…Get dressed.” She repeated, softer, and shoved the dressing gown he’d hung nearby into his arms. She leaned in, kissed him once on the lips, and then turned away to leave the bathroom.

She settled on the sofa, ensconcing herself beneath the soft blanket she’d found, and stared out at the city while her heart recovered. Sometimes, she loved Callum enough that it was a little hard to cope with, like she was afraid that the emotion in her would rupture if it built too far. He was used to her retreating a little at times like that, just long enough to breathe and feel slightly less overwhelmed.

He took long enough in the bathroom that, eventually, she guessed that he was shaving. That disappointed her, a little. She liked to watch him when he shaved. It was always so strange to her, something quintessentially human; a bizarre banal grooming ritual that reminded her again and again that he wasn’t an elf, he really was a whole different kind of being to her, and his humanity was made of so many little things. He never failed to chuckle at her for how she watched him shaving, but had grown very used to her keeping him company for it.

She sighed, and looked out on the city under the sun, and regained her emotional footing. By the time he emerged, clad once again in the dark red dressing gown, she had her equilibrium back and looked up gladly at his return.

“Where’d this blanket come from?” He asked, bemused, coming over to join her. She held one end up so he could sit down under it with her.

“One of the drawers. There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” She informed, and once he was seated she didn’t waste any time in reaching out to run her fingers along his still-damp jaw. It was so smooth. She murmured, pleased, cupping his face between both hands.

He coloured a little, looking across at her with soft eyes. “You’re so weird.” He told her, sounding utterly besotted, and she leaned in to kiss him lightly along that jawline.

“Love you.” Rayla said contentedly, and drew back just enough to nestle firmly against his side. He wove an arm around her back and turned his head to kiss her at the brow.

“Love you too.”

After a good bit of cuddling and watching the city together, Callum admitted to wanting a drink and Rayla to not knowing whether their waterskins were still filled. They were, as it happened, but-

“You know, if you wanted fresher water, or moonberry juice, we could just ask for it.” He pointed out. “All we’d have to do is open the door and ring a bell and someone would come up, and we’d ask for a drink, and they’d have it up for us just like that.”

She shook her head, utterly exasperated at the idea. “That’s so weird.” She said, and then actually considered it. “…Let’s do it.”

He laughed, and obligingly got up and went to the receiving room to fetch the bell. He mostly-closed the intervening door for her sake, so that when a servant responded to the ring she didn’t feel particularly on edge about it. They couldn’t see her. It was fine.

After a short conversation with the servant, they were off, and Callum shut the outer door before returning. “Five minutes.” He said, and true to his words, there was a knock at the door not too much later. He went to answer it and brought back an actual platter, balancing an entire jug of moonberry juice, an entire jug of water, and two glasses.

“Did you ask for a whole jug?” She asked, disbelievingly, as he set it down on the low table ahead of the sofa. “Or the water?”

“Nope. Actually, they passed along their apologies for not leaving a jug of water in here in the first place. Apparently that’s their usual thing to do, but since they were hurrying for us it got forgot.” He poured her a glass of juice, and then some for himself, and sat back.

She snorted. “What a terrible standard of service.” She said, mockingly. “I mean really, forgetting to leave us wee little glasses and chilled water, what is this place coming to?”

He snickered at an inopportune moment, very nearly making a mess with the glass he’d been in the process of drinking from. “Don’t say that around Vervain, I think she’d actually explode.”

“Right there on the spot.” Rayla agreed. “It’d make a terrible mess.”

They traded a few light-hearted quips on the subject of the accommodations while they had a drink, then they set it all aside for later. Callum, who was clearly angling for it, managed to get her onto the topic of how exactly a proper horn care-and-polish was supposed to go, and she spent pretty much the entirety of that torn between being increasingly embarrassed and increasingly amused. He was so interested, like she was sharing arcane magical knowledge instead of stupid basic grooming tips.

“I mean, I’ve seen you using your horn-scrub on the road sometimes, to file away rough or flaky bits, right?” He was saying, while she leaned over to lay against his chest. He reflexively put an arm around her even while gesturing with the other one. “You kind of go…with the sort of curvy lines in your horns? Like one at a time?”

“They’re called ridges, Callum.” She informed him, incredibly amused. “And yes. You need to file along them all one by one, and be careful to keep the shape too. If you do it badly you’ll flatten out the tops of the ridges and it looks really stupid.”

He stared down at her horns with fascination, and lowered his gesturing hand to trace the shape of – she presumed – one of her horn-ridges in detail. She made a flustered sort of murmur at him, but he seemed too busy to notice. “Right, so, hm.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Yeah, if you just file it from the top it’d all flatten out. So you have to sort of work around each one? Following the curve?”

“That’s why Moonshadow horn-scrubs are so much more complicated.” She informed him. “We need the wee fiddly parts to get between all the ridges and file it right without losing the shapes. Takes forever. Our horns are more of a pain than almost any other kind of elf’s.” She grinned up at him. “Unlucky for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, incredulously. “This is great. Means I get so much longer to spend on you. You never let me spoil you enough.”

She processed that, and groaned, burrowing her face into the wool gown over his chest. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.” She muttered, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Callum really was an incredible sap when it came to doing things for her. “It takes so stupidly long.”

“I’m counting on it.” He declared happily, and she huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” She informed him, and after nearly ten more minutes of him trying to wrangle intricately detailed horn-polishing knowledge out of her, just rolled her eyes and said with exasperation “It’s like polishing armour, Callum. Or boots. You just buff it up, then go at it with polish on the polisher for ages. There’s not much of a trick to it.” She paused, but did add “Gets kind of messy though. The filing stage puts horn dust and bits everywhere, and once you start polishing you get like…murky polish liquid all over your hands. Better put a towel down.”

Eventually, after enough sitting around that the cuddling alone wasn’t engrossing enough anymore, Callum did go and get his sketchbook and immediately sat down to begin producing what Rayla was certain would be the first of many, many drawings of the city. He drew it as seen from above first, and Rayla settled in to watch with half-lidded eyes.

She’d grown very used to spending time watching Callum draw. In large part, this was because he tended to spend a lot of his free time doing it, and she was often around when that happened. It was quite satisfying, to sit there and observe as the shapes on the page took form. But even so…

There was only so much of watching him draw that she could do before she started getting bored. Throughout their journeying, it had rarely got to that point. What with the time constraints of camp-craft and travelling, there’d been little enough spare time that Rayla hadn’t felt compelled to find anything else to do. Now, though, she found with surprise that her fingers were itching for her knives.

“Huh.” She said to herself, with interest, and Callum turned his head to peer at her.

“Hm?”

“My knives.” She said, and then realised this wasn’t especially helpful. “My carving knives. Just realised I’m hankering for them a bit. That’s never really happened before.”

“Oh.” He thought, then looked pleased. “Looks like you’re starting to make a habit of it after all. That’s really nice.”

“Less nice when I don’t actually have the knives.” She snorted, and considered her empty hands.

Rayla, on the whole, tended towards active ways of passing the time. She liked to train, and she liked to exercise, and if Callum was free she always liked to go flying with him. But inevitably, after half a year spent together, there had been plenty of afternoons and evenings in their off-time when she was too tired to go out for training, or Callum was spending time drawing and she wanted to be around him, and she ended up with nothing to do.

He’d been the one to gently pester her into taking up some sort of hobby. At first she’d just grumpily sharpened her weapons over and over again, but with enough work he’d got her to try other things. He’d suggested either knitting or whittling, on the basis that both involved the use of stabby implements, and she was a fan of those. Knitting she hadn’t taken to. But whittling…

At first, she’d just done it because he’d prodded her into it, and she didn’t hate it, and there was nothing better to do, so she might as well. But now, considering her empty hands with consternation, Rayla realised for the first time that she actually kind of wanted to be doing it. When had that happened?

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pick up some things in the city tomorrow, maybe.” He suggested, and turned back to his drawing.

“Bit of a waste, when I’ve got a plenty good enough set of knives at home.”

“You don’t need to get a full set. But it could be nice to have a couple of the main ones around, for travelling with.” He shrugged. “You can practice on any random bits of wood, right? So it’s mainly the knives you need.”

She snorted. She’d learned enough to know that the type of wood one chose was, in fact, very important. But…yeah, for messing around like she did, random wood was usually fine. If splintery. “Maybe.” She said in the end, already thinking of the knife she used most. “It’s not a bad idea. Clothes and supplies are the priority, though. So maybe if there’s anything left after that.”

“We’ll need cold-weather gear, if we’re going through the Shiverthorns in winter.” He remarked, and huddled into the blanket like the mere thought was making him cold. “Thick cloaks and stuff.”

“Which are expensive.” She reminded. “And also heavy. It’ll slow you down.”

He shrugged. “I figure that’s okay. We won’t be in a huge hurry to get back, after all.”

  -

 (Snippet 4: Callum and Rayla discuss dinner options, watch the sunset, and investigate the light fixtures. Context: in this story, I worldbuild Sunfire elves as some weird blend of French and Roman.)

  He hummed by way of agreement, and pulled her tighter in to his side. “For now, let’s try not to worry about that.” He said, determinedly. “Today our job is to relax and rest up, and that’s it.”

Rayla sighed, and shifted around to lay part-way across his front, face half into the red wool at his chest. “I can probably do that.”

They cuddled for what actually didn’t end up being that long, because there was a knock at the door. It echoed sharply through the polished wood, even with the intervening door closed. Rayla, who’d heard no footsteps of any kind due to the ostensible soundproofing, stiffened immediately.

Callum blinked, then carefully extricated himself from her. “I’ll go get it.” He said, and she didn’t object. She didn’t relish the thought of being seen by strangers when she was in her bathrobe. That was private.

He unlocked and opened the receiving room door, closed it behind him, and then unlocked and opened the outer door. There was actually a decent degree of sound loss between there and Rayla’s current spot, so she couldn’t hear what was being said beyond stray words. After a while, Callum said something in a distinctly goodbye-ish sort of voice and the encounter ended. He considerately locked both doors for her on his way in.

Over his arm, he was holding a neat stack of clothing and armour. “Already?” She asked, startled, and watched as he set it all down on the bed.

“Already.” He agreed, seemingly pleased. “I guess their drying spells really are useful. Look, they’ve cleaned your armour. And our boots.”

Rayla lifted herself from beneath the blanket to go over and look. All of their things looked fresh and new, bereft of the dull beige hues imbued by travel and sleeping in dust and dirt. It half looked like they’d re-dyed some of it, honestly, to get the clean colours back. She lifted Callum’s scarf from the pile, sniffed it, and hummed at it.

“Laundry smell?” He asked, amused, and she shrugged.

“Unsurprisingly.” She considered putting it on him, but in the end decided she was enjoying the look of him in the bathrobe, all cosy and comfy-looking. “What else were you talking about?”

“Hm?”

“With the servant.”

“Oh.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Dinner stuff. He wanted to tell me the options they’ve got, so we can order ahead of time.”

Rayla made a thoughtful noise, and drew him by the wrist back over to the sofa again. “And?”

“You want me to list it all off?” She nodded, and obligingly he went off listing the various items on the menu, many of which were evidently examples of bizarre Sunfire ideas about cooking. Snails, really? Frog legs? Her nose wrinkled at that one, and Callum’s lips quirked. “They serve glow toad too.” He admitted ruefully. “I mean, I guess I heard they were delicious, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to have it on the menu, you know?”

She made a face. “Ez would never forgive us.”

“Bait would never forgive us.” He agreed, snickering.

“And besides – ew.” Rayla shook her head, and waved her hand. “What else?”

He went through all of the selections, drinks and desserts included, and then finished up by saying “He left a sort of booklet thing behind with it all written down, if you want to look over it.”

She stared at him with exasperation. “Callum. You really just stood there and said it all when you could have just handed me the bloody menu?”

“Well, you did ask.” He said, like this was reasonable, and she sighed fondly at him.

“You dumb prince.” She told him, affectionate, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before going to look for the menu.

By this point, it was around four in the afternoon, and the sun seemed to be making a very definite bid for descent. She retrieved the Booklet of Food Options and retreated to the sofa with it, where Callum had already planted himself to watch the city. There was a hint of yellow-green in the bright clear sky, and the angle of light from the sinking sun was casting some particularly dramatic shadows. The temple was still gleaming with light off to the side, and the golden circuitry through the city still exhaling. She stared at it for a moment, certain that tonight’s sunset really was going to be spectacular, and then opened the menu to start looking.

It had been long enough since lunch that the sight of so many food options was plenty enough to make her start considering the idea of an early dinner. In an hour or two, maybe. Some of it was too weird or too exotic to consider, but there was a lot that wasn’t.

She passed the booklet over when she was done making selections, but Callum seemed too occupied with the burgeoning sunset to want to look at it. She snorted, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then leaned comfortably into his side to watch the city.

The sun fell over a period of around half an hour, sinking lower and lower, until the sky filled with such intense yellows and deep reds that it seemed almost to have caught fire. The grey slate of the city turned bloody red in the light, every golden trace lit up and shining in the growing dark. The few wispy clouds left in the sky were shining too, until the sun began to pass beneath the lip of the sea on the horizon, and the blue-green edges of the dusk glittered with stars.

“That,” He said, very softly, when dusk was ebbing into twilight, “was a really incredible view.”

Rayla had little artistry in her heart, but she’d appreciated that sunset. She knew that by contrast it must have touched Callum deeply. She looked at him, taking in his expression, finding it every bit as amazed and awed and happy as she could have hoped for. Her heart fluttered, happy for that he was happy, and in the warmth of that contentment she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand.

He looked at her, leaning into the hand, and offered her a small and very soft smile. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek as he lifted his hand to settle atop hers. Wordless, she leaned in to kiss him, warm and brief, and lingered there close by his face for a long while after their lips parted. He sighed very quietly, entirely happy and entirely at ease. It was peaceful in a way she’d dearly missed.

Feeling utterly suffused with warmth, Rayla nestled in beside him, fingers hooking lightly in the soft red wool of his robe. His arm came around her, and both of them sighed, and both of them settled, and it was quiet.

Neither of them felt the inclination to move or speak for quite a while. The sky was dark and full of stars by the time she shifted, and the city’s golden circuitry shining boldly through the shadow. The Moon, ascendant in the sky, was very nearly full.

“Might not be so bad after all, staying here a while.” She said, finally, and pressed her lips to his neck. “Comfy, nice bathroom, nice views…and the food options look kind of incredible, honestly.”

He chuckled, soft and fond. “Bit of a weird honeymoon.” He murmured into her hair. “But I’ll take it.”

She huffed. “Honeymoon.” She repeated, shaking her head.

Well. She supposed if they’d had to go through that whole forced marriage ordeal, they did at least deserve to get a nice holiday out of it. Even if most of that holiday was going to be spent working, the not-working parts of the day looked to be a lot fancier and more luxurious than they were back home.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Was her conclusion, in the end. “Did you decide what you’ll be eating?”

“Pretty much.” He kissed her brow. “You ready to order? It’s still kind of early.”

“Eh. It’ll do.” She shrugged, and listed off her selections. He kissed her again, then gently untangled himself from her limbs to go off and summon a servant.

The room had gone darker while the sun set, and the soft yellow glow of the fireless light fixtures along the walls had grown more prominent. Now a little curious, Rayla took the opportunity to investigate one, and on closer inspection found it to be some sort of…weird bioluminescent plant. Or maybe animal? It had long rigid tube-like structures that had plainly been cultivated into ornamental shapes, that looked almost like some sort of stone, though it had obviously been painted or dyed the usual deep red. It exuded a number of softly glowing yellow-orange tendrils from the openings at the end of the tubes, short and blunt but weirdly pretty.

She reached out cautiously to touch one, and at once the tendrils retracted inside the tube, the light dimming. Startled, she drew back to watch it, but the tendrils didn’t start to tentatively reappear again for another minute, during which she heard the light murmurs of Callum conversing with whatever servant he’d summoned.

When Moonshadow elves wanted light after dark, they just used enchantments, or glowstone, like normal people. Fancy Sunfire elves, however, apparently favoured plants. Or animals. She honestly wasn’t sure which this one was. Some sort of land-coral?

“I ordered the food.” Callum said, when he returned. “They said it’ll be about half an hour. And they’ll bring it all up at the same time so we don’t get disturbed twice.”

“Perfect.” She pronounced, with satisfaction, and then dragged him over to meet the light fixtures. Predictably, he spent a good ten fascinated minutes investigating the weird glowing polyps, and then a while longer sketching one out, and was half-way through that when the food arrived.

 -

(Snippet 5: after dinner, Callum and Rayla engage in some silliness, then cuddle. Domesticity.)

 “I’m so full I’m not going to move for a week.” Rayla announced, after staggering her way back through to their sofa, followed by an amused Callum. “It’s going to take at least that long to digest all of that.”

“That might make it tricky to get supplies.” He said, pretend-thoughtful. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

She snorted, patted him on the shoulder, and then promptly pulled him into her side when he started looking at her in the imminent-cuddles sort of way. He hummed contentedly, turning his face into her shoulder, breath warming the wool over her collarbone.

“This bathrobe is so comfy.” He said happily, words muffled by wool. “It’s so nice.”

Having had very similar sentiments about his bathrobe earlier, she quite agreed. “Shame they didn’t include wool pyjamas, really.”

He didn’t offer any response for that, just snuggled, putting an arm around her waist. It was almost a little uncomfortable, really, what with how full she was, but she didn’t protest. She just held him close, smoothed her free hand over his hair, and looked out over the city. In the dark, watching the vaporous light rise felt very much like watching fire. It was very entrancing.

Some time later, Callum started to show signs of beginning to fall asleep on her. She looked down at him, snorted, and then nudged him until he stirred. “If you fall asleep now you’ll be up too late.” She informed him as he made plaintive noises at her. “I’m not having you exhausted and useless for your magic channelling nonsense tomorrow.”

“But you’re too comfy.” He complained, and she smirked.

“That sounds like an invitation to be less comfy.”

He opened an eye to peer at her suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘that sounds’ – hrk!” His words cut off as, unceremoniously, she swept him up with an arm under his back and another under his knees, on her feet with a quick shift of her weight and his. She grinned down at him, finding him instantly and distinctly awake. “….Honestly this is still pretty comfy.” He said, weakly, when he’d spent enough time staring wide-eyed at her to recover his words.

Rayla pretended at thoughtfulness. “That sounds like a challenge.” She said, and he looked alarmed.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t!” He protested, to no avail; she stepped around the sofa, judged her angle, and tossed Callum at the bed.

He wasn’t particularly aerodynamic, but her aim had been good enough anyway; he sailed neatly between the posts at the corners and impacted decadent Sunfire quilting with a muffled oof. She was laughing at him outright when he turned, staring at her with a sort of red-faced stupefaction that told her exactly what he thought of the whole experience. “Your face right now,” she managed, doubling over to snicker in his direction. Hilarious.

“You know, there’s a saying,” he began, a little dazed. “About trusting someone as far as you could throw them.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You could probably trust someone a lot, is what I’m getting at.”

“…I actually do sort of know how far I could throw you, now that I think about it.” Rayla said, thinking back. “It comes up in assassin training sometimes. Throwing teammates at walls and the like, to give them a leg up. I lobbed someone about your size around six, seven metres once.” She paused, and added “Lengthways, I mean. Throwing someone upwards is a lot harder.”

This did not make him any less wide-eyed. “That’s like, over twenty feet,” he marvelled, looking at her with plain admiration. “You’re amazing.”

She huffed, reflexively bashful at the praise, and shook her head. “Amazing at throwing people, at least.” She said dryly, and went over to stare down at him from the foot of the bed. “How’s the bed?”

“…Very nice, actually.” He said, after a pause for consideration. “You’re pretty bad at making things less comfy.”

“You’re definitely awake now though.” She pointed out smugly. “So my work here is done.”

He snorted, sitting up fully to beckon to her. Obligingly, she bent forwards to meet him with a brief kiss. “Hard not to wake up when someone throws you half-way across the room.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was not that far.” She said, and after a moment made the executive decision to fall forwards onto the bed, face impacting the plush duvet and sinking in. Her feet hung from the edge, and Callum giggled.

“Hehehe toes.” He said, and reached out to poke one. He found her four-toed feet amusingly charming every time he was reminded of them, which would have been funnier, except her feet were pretty ticklish and she twitched every time he prodded like this.

“I will kick you.” She warned, and he subsided with another snicker. Instead of messing with her any further, he shuffled over and started playing with her hair. “Mm. Better.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head forwards, face smooshing deeper into the bed. His fingers carded through her hair, nails trailing lightly at her scalp.

“You didn’t brush it.” He noted, carefully working out a couple of tangles, and she shrugged.

“Couldn’t be bothered. ‘Sides, it only tangles again when we cuddle, anyway.”

He hummed, and went through it again more purposefully, parting it carefully around her horns as he looked for and eliminated a few knots. He brushed around her hornbeds and she shivered. Apparently noticing the reaction, he did it again, more deliberately, chuckling at the way she murmured and pushed her head into his hand. “You look like a shadowpaw when you do that.” He said, affectionately, scritching gently around her horns. “Headbutting people’s hands when they pet you.”

“Anyone else and I’d be cutting off their hands, trust me.” She mumbled at him, already a little indistinct and fuzzy around the edges of her thoughts. Hornbed-scritches did that. “…Suppose the shadowpaw’d do that too. Except they’d bite the hand off instead, if they didn’t like you.”

“What I’m hearing is that if you were an animal you’d probably be a shadowpaw.” He sounded very fond.

“Mm. Guess so.” What would he be? Something doggish, probably. Friendly and playful and loyal, and then all teeth and fierceness when threatened. That sounded about right…

She drifted, a little. It was hard not to, when collapsed onto a comfy surface with one’s hornbeds being rubbed. He stopped after a while though, evidently noticing her drowsiness, and stroked a hand over her head between the horns as he chuckled. “Now who’s falling asleep?” He teased, and she made a half-hearted rude noise at him.

“’s your fault.” She muttered at him, indistinct around the duvet in her face.

“Uhuh.” He sounded amused, and stroked the back of her head again.

 -

(Snippet 6: very detailed depiction of horn care, which in-setting is considered intimate)

 She was suddenly very glad he’d interrogated her so persistently on the procedure earlier, because she wasn’t at all certain she’d have been able to tell him anything more sophisticated than ‘um’ when he was literally about to do her horns for her.

“You’re so cute.” He told her affectionately, obviously very aware of her current emotional state, and then finally set soapy hands onto her horns.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, cheeks flaming, feeling the weight of his hands, the subtle pull at the rest of her skull. She had never been quite so aware of her horns as when he started soaping them up and washing them, and it didn’t take long at all for the warmth of his skin to soak far enough through the keratin so that she could feel it in the living horn. A little while later, he applied the coarse-bristled-brush-side of the horn-scrub to her left horn, and she made a tiny embarrassed sound at the ceiling. “You should scrub them harder than that.” She managed after a moment, since he really was being too gentle about it. “Horns are tough, you know.”

He hummed with interest, and obliged, scrubbing hard enough that it pulled at her head a little. The towel-pillow had been a very good idea of his, really. “How much horn care do you normally do?” He asked, curious, getting the washcloth to rinse her horn before scrubbing again. “I’ve seen you file them, but…”

“…Usually just this. A good scrub to make sure they’re clean, and then filing down the rough bits.” Rayla offered a mortified noise. “But it’s been weeks and I’ve not even done that. They’re probably so dirty…”

“Shush, they’re fine.” He huffed at her, and kept on at her left horn until he was satisfied with it, moving over to the other one. Rayla regarded the ceiling with a persistently red face the whole while, cheeks feeling nearly as warm as the half of her body that was still in bathwater. “I wonder if your face is going to be this red the whole time.” He remarked, when he’d apparently finished with the washing.

“Probably.” She muttered, self-consciously, and felt her gut squirm when she felt the first experimental scrape of the fine filing parts on her horn.

Callum laughed softly, and started setting to work with the file. “If you say so.”

For all that he’d never done this before, the muted sensory feedback Rayla gleaned from her inner-horns and her ears suggested that he seemed to be doing fine with it. He readjusted the file enough that she could be relatively sure he was respecting the curve of the ridges, and worked slowly along the shape of each one, from the hornbed to the pointed tip, over and over again.

As she’d told him, it was a long process. It took a long time. Long enough that, contrary to her words, her embarrassment did start to burn out a bit, the red of her cheeks easing until she only felt a little flushed, a little flustered.

“I see why you thought the cloak would be a good idea.” Callum said ruefully, a while in. She could only imagine how much horn-dust and flaky bits of keratin must be littering it. “This does get kind of messy.”

“Told you.”

“For now this is just making your horns go sort of…pale, and scratched-looking.” He commented, working the file around one of the ridges on the underside. “I guess it goes dark again once you start buffing it?”

She made a small despairing noise, but agreed “Yeah, basically. Honestly all you really need to do is wipe it over with a wet cloth and it’ll stop looking like that. But…”

“But I’m not stopping there.” He said, with evident satisfaction, and a little more heat rose in her cheeks.

He was slow and meticulous about the filing, but got through it a lot more quickly than she could have if she’d done it herself. It was hard to work on your own horns – the angle was bad, you couldn’t see what you were doing, and adjusting to get the undersides was a huge pain in the arms. By contrast, doing it for someone else was just…a lot easier.

Finally, he set the scrub down and went for the washcloth again, soaping up and rubbing her horns clear of dust, poring over them for any spots he’d missed. When he was finally satisfied, he said “and now I buff them?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed, bringing her hands up to hide her face for a moment. So, at her confirmation, he started on that part next. He evidently hadn’t expected how vigorous the buffing and polishing stages of horns were, because she kept telling him to press the buffer harder, and he kept making worried noises about it, and she had to keep assuring him that no that’s how it’s supposed to be, and eventually she start started laughing helplessly at him.

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your neck,” he complained at her, when the strength of the requisite motions pulled at her head. “Or like, hurt your hornbeds, or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Callum.” She assured him, still laughing, mirth and embarrassment squirming in her chest. “This is just how it goes, you know.”

“At least I brought you a pillow.” He sighed, and obligingly kept on. A fair while later, when he was done with the buffing and had washed her horns again, he leaned back a bit to admire his work. “That really is looking a lot smoother and shinier.”

“And you’ve not even done the polishing yet.” Rayla felt very weird then, laying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She’d been through embarrassment, and then amusement, and now…now, there was something else. She felt almost calm. Almost settled, like she’d finally started to grow used to this. Like the novelty of his hands on her horns had worn through.

Now, she felt kind of comfortable. At ease, in a way. Her mind was drifting in the way it did when Ethari or Runaan had helped her with her horns before, like this was just a normal thing. A normal thing that took ages, and that one had to daydream through to pass the time.

“I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what they look like when I’m done.” He was saying, as he put the buffing things down and went to get the bottle of polish and the polishing tool. “I’ve never seen your horns all done up before.”

“Maybe now you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say my horns have gone gross.” She pondered, and he laughed. “Finally you’ll know what well-kept horns are supposed to look like.”

“I have seen other Moonshadow elves’ horns, you know.” He informed her, obviously amused, and she heard the cap of the polish opening. A moment later, she smelled it, because there was really no mistaking that smell. “Yours still look nice no matter how long it’s been since you scrubbed them.”

Rayla made a disagreeable noise at him, and he snickered back, and then finally set about the polishing.

She’d told him, earlier, that horn-polish was pretty potent stuff, and that’s why you applied it to a sort of spongy cloth attached to a handle, rather than scrubbing with it by hand. At full strength, it actually melted the outer surface of the horn – just a little, just enough to meld it all down into a smooth, gleaming, perfect surface. Diluted polish was fine if you did it regularly, but with how long it had been for her…she’d told him to keep it undiluted. And it stank.

Her nose wrinkled, even with all the pleasant soap smells competing, and held her neck lax as Callum worked on her horns vigorously enough to pull her head back with every other movement. That was just how it went, so she wasn’t bothered. The towel was enough padding that it didn’t hurt, so she just laid there and let him work.

“Think I might actually nearly be done.” He pronounced at last, sounding genuinely a little out of breath. She’d told him it was hard work, and evidently he’d found that out for himself. He sounded very pleased, though. Like he’d done a good job and knew it, and was plenty proud about it. “Just got to wash all this polish muck off, right? Soap your horns up again.”

“That is the last stage.” She agreed, trying to glance up at him, but all she could really see was the top of his head. “Aside from oiling, I suppose.”

 -

 (Snippet 7: aftermath of horn care, domesticity)

 It was then, by the sink, that Rayla finally removed the towel from her head, and Callum made a loud noise of pure joy at her. She stared at him, alarmed, and then noticed where he was actually looking. Oh.

“Shiny!” He exclaimed, gleeful, and reached out to stroke her horns. “Oh my god.”

“Callum!” She complained, but she was already laughing, because honestly she should have predicted this reaction. He practically groped at her horns, bright-faced and beaming, and she flushed all the while she stood still and let him. “Are you going to let me see them any time soon?” She asked him, dry. “Or are you just going to stand there groping them?” He subsided at that with a very high-pitched giggle.

“Hehehe,” he offered, and then “yes, go look! You need to tell me how well I did.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror, his face lingering by her shoulder in her reflection with the enormous grin still very much in residence there. He was such a dork, honestly.

Finally, Rayla tipped her head forwards and inspected her horns. They were…shiny. Very shiny. Every ridge had been filed and buffed and polished to a gleam, and when she turned her head, the light glimmered off of them like they’d been waxed. Her eyebrows went up, and she lifted her own hand to feel along one. It was smooth. Entirely dry, but as she ran her finger along one ridge, it felt so smooth. Their dark colour was actually glossy. “…Wow.” She said, a little admiringly, and tilted her head to watch the light move. “That is shiny.”

He looked absolutely delighted by that response, as if he’d needed her go-ahead to be certain that, yes, that was definitely impressively shiny. She smiled, helpless to stop it, and turned her head to kiss him on the cheek; her reflection mirrored her.

“You did a great job, Callum.” She told him fondly, her cheeks pink at having seen exactly how great a job he’d done. Stars, but the second anyone saw her they’d know exactly who was responsible for those horns. “My horns haven’t been this shiny in years.”

Callum looked at her like she’d hung the Moon, like this praise was enough to render him utterly overjoyed. He tugged her around enough to kiss her, deep and excited and full of energy, so much so that she made a muffled noise of surprise into his lips. It caught her off-guard, and she was feeling a little breathless and a little dazed when he drew away a few moments later. “You have to let me do this again.” He told her, beaming. “I’m going to keep your horns this shiny, just you wait.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head, suddenly flustered. “You can’t just say things like that.” She complained at him, and of course he looked utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved and kissed her on one cheek, and then on the other cheek, and his hands were already up and stroking along the wide bases of her horns again.

“Smooth,” he commented, gleefully, fingers warm around her horns. His face was very, very close to hers. “They’re so nice.”

The heat in her face decidedly didn’t abate. “Oh my god, Callum.” She mumbled, shaking her head, and he just kissed her again. Feeling increasingly dazed, she said into his lips “you know, it’s a lot faster if you’re doing it regularly. You can skip the filing and just buff and polish instead.”

He considered this excellent news, if the way he kissed her was any indication.

Finally, she summoned the force of will to reach up and peel his hands from her horns, stepping away. It was not easy, because – because when he looked like that, so elated and alive and full of delight, when he kissed her so enthusiastically, it was hard to think of pretty much anything. She looked across at him, incredibly flustered, and couldn’t see anything except how beautiful he was. “You, calm down.” She ordered him, gruffly, and led him by the shoulder to the basin. “We came in here to brush our teeth, you numpty. Not fondle Rayla’s horns.”

“But Rayla’s horns are really really pretty.” Callum pointed out cheerfully, and she made an involuntary noise half-way between embarrassment and pleasure.

“Be that as it may, Rayla and her horns want you to brush your teeth now so we can go to bed.” She said, and she shuffled over to the basin to make good on her words.

 -

 (Snippet 8: Callum and Rayla go to bed finally. Cuddling, fluff.)

 It proved as magnificently soft and comfy as she might have expected, when she peeled back the covers and climbed in. Callum meanwhile was perusing the canopy with consideration.

“Curtains or no curtains?” He asked her, and she considered it.

“Curtains.” She decided, and watched with satisfaction as he reached out and unhooked the bed’s attendant drapery. She reached to the one closest to her, and he got the rest; it all fell into place, a rich dark red that blocked out the light from the room around them and cast their bed into soothing shadow. Something settled in her then, that hadn’t quite been at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings, or the openness of the room. She sighed, and burrowed down under the duvet, laying her head back on the pillows.

He joined her, lifting the covers and slipping in, closing his eyes for a second in obvious profound enjoyment. “This is so much better than hard cold floor.” He murmured happily, and she smiled, tugging him to her with a hand at his shoulder. He went gladly, and within moments they were pressed close, legs tangling, the warmth of his skin comforting against her own.

“Been a long few weeks.” She sighed, resting her forehead against his, and he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Kind of an understatement.” He murmured back. “I’m glad we’ve got a chance to rest now.” A pause. “Sort of, anyway. Aside from the work.”

She understood his meaning, though. There was something strangely safe about the idea of the time they’d spend here, whether it would be a week or longer than that. This wasn’t home, where there’d be people to explain things to, or where they’d have to adapt their old life to fit around what had happened. This was a new place – unfamiliar, but easier to cope with for that unfamiliarity, in its own way.

Here, she thought, they’d be able to find their footing a little. Settle a little more into their new normal, before the vagaries of travel and normal life needed intrude again.

“Me too.” She agreed, at last, and reached a hand across to press lightly around the back of his neck. He made a soft, pleased sound, then shuffled to give her better access, face smooshed into the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, and he peered at her with one green eye, a smile fluttering on his lips.

“…Thanks for letting me do your horns.” He mumbled back, eventually. “I liked it.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll repay you sometime.” She promised, and moved her hand to smooth down along his upper back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Tomorrow, maybe. Give you a nice backrub or something.”

“Sounds great.” He shifted closer, tucking his face against her shoulder with a sigh. She kissed him at the top of his forehead, stroking him gently from the nape of his neck to his shoulders and back. He made quiet contented noises at her, drowsier and drowsier, and steadily began to drift off.

She lingered there, holding him, trailing fingertips over his neck as he settled into sleep. It really had been a long day for him, for all that they’d spent the latter half of it indoors and resting. Now, finally, he’d be able to sleep properly, in a bed comfortable enough to ease the ache of his overworn muscles. Now, finally, without the city’s doom hanging over them, they could rest a little.

Rayla smiled into his hair, nestled against him, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but it took her anyway; almost between one moment and the next, she was gone.

[nightsysdoesart]

yeah so

so i had a mental health crisis last night and didn’t go to bed until after 5:30 and i wrote this sort of as a coping thing. it was really cathartic, but as you might guess, it’s really depressing. tws in the tags

The first 1k words are some fluff and the last 1k are all depressing. I pulled most of this from my real life, with some changes (obviously. i mean, i am sitting here typing this) yes the people in this are based off people i know/knew irl

reader discretion advised, this is really sad and upsetting. i just wanted to post it to get it out of my saved writings that never see the light of day. plus i spent all night on this.

2241 words

She’s talking, hands flapping excitedly as she infodumps about butterflies and moths, lepidopterans, she calls them. She’s loud and expressive and bubbly, the opposite of me. Maybe that’s why I love her so much. Love. What a crazy thing, the chemicals in your brain firing in such a way when you meet the right person that you’re willing to do anything for them. People pass on the sidewalk in front of us, and kids play on the playground behind us. Leaves crunch under their feet, and our breaths are visible in the cool autumn air. Laughter and chatter echo through the park.

Her curly hair shines in the dying afternoon light. It seems to be getting dark earlier and earlier. Her eyes are bright, though. They shine with excitement as she tells me about the coloring patterns of poisonous butterflies, how they warn animals away, and how some non-poisonous species mimic the poisonous ones to survive. I feel my lips curve into a smile, her enthusiasm infectious. My eyes snag on her mouth, moving quickly as she speaks so fast I can barely keep up. Her lips, always so quick to tilt into a smile, make everything out to be the best it possibly can be. Always so quick to offer reassurance and a positive comment. The best part of this world I’ve been condemned to.

Police sirens startle both of us, her hand flaps turning nervous as she goes silent. They fade into the distance, and I quickly sign to her, trying my best to reassure her. It takes a few minutes, but her breathing goes back to normal. I sign and question, and she nods. I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her with touch. She turns to me, looking at my shoulder as I watch her chin. It starts to wobble after a second, and I gently pull her into my arms as she collapses into my chest. I play with the ends of her hair as she sobs, coming down from the adrenaline shock of fear.

I press my eyes closed as a breeze comes through, threatening to make my eyes water. She shivers, and I wrap my arms more fully around her, dipping my chin to lean my head on her. Her hair smells like her hair products. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s inexplicably her. Through both of us adjusting to get more comfortable, she ends up in my lap. Her shaking slows down, and she looks up at me. I offer her a small smile and cup her cheek with my hand. She leans into it and closes her eyes, being absolutely adorable. I clench my gut at the onslaught of emotion I feel when her lips curve into a small smile. She looks happy and content. With me. Because of me.

But I can’t keep this up. I can’t keep her safe. Not from everything that’s going on. Not from the world that will keep hurting her, for no fault of her own. I can’t protect her, keep her smile on her face. I will inevitably fail. This is a situation I can’t succeed in. I’m bound to disappoint her. I don’t want to fail her; she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If only I could do better, be better, then I could make sure she was never sad or in pain. If I could do more, I could make sure she didn’t have to deal with racists, misogynists, queerphobes… I could make her happy, always. I could make sure the smile never left her face and make sure she had everything she ever wanted.

Her eyes flutter open, catching on my ear. She asks a question I don’t fully process. She noticed me tensing up, drifting away in my mind. I shrug my shoulders, wanting to savor this moment with her rather than dive into it right now. She seems to understand, falling silent again. This time, it’s a comfortable, companionable silence. She leans her head against my shoulder, and I rub her cheek with my finger. Sometimes the world gets so fast I forget to stop and appreciate what I have. What I don’t deserve. What I won’t always have.

I press a kiss to the crown of her head and feel one of her arms disentangling from around me to happy stim. I suppress a smile and press another to her forehead, another to her nose. She lifts her head a bit, guessing my next question. I still ask, though. I tap the corner of her mouth with my pointer finger, and she nods, smiling and happy stimming a bit more. I grin, feeling my mouth go lopsided as I close my eyes and press my lips to her.

Every time feels like the first time.

Nevermind the facts that it’s only been a handful of times. I will treasure every kiss I get from her. They are gifts, and I can’t be more grateful. Kisses from her feel like how looking at outer space feels when you’re in an area with low light pollution. I feel simultaneously small and in awe and wonder of how something, someone, so amazing could exist. And I have the honor of being here, at this moment, to experience it.

It doesn’t feel like the fireworks and explosions I’ve read; it feels like a quiet night where you might see a shooting star, but even more importantly, you’re sitting on a blanket with the one you love as the sky blazes purple and blue with twinkly lights here and there. I learned all about the constellations when I was younger, but I can’t sign to her while she looks up. I wish I could infodump to her the same way she does to me. I wish I was verbal like her; I wish I could take the words in my brain and put them in other people’s ears.

Her phone goes off, buzzing against my thigh as we separate. Her face dims as she reads the text. She lets me know she has to go as she stands and collects her bag. I stand up too, opening my arms as an invitation for one last hug. She takes me up, wrapping her arms around my midsection. I lean down a little to rest my head on hers, closing my eyes as I savor the moment. She pulls back, and I mirror, expecting her to leave, but she surprises me with another kiss. I happy stim as well, thumbing the spinner ring on my finger as I kiss her back. I try to memorize the feel of her lips on mine, her hands on my back, her curly hair in my fingers, our bodies pressed together- nevermind the fact I won’t have the memories for too much longer.

I do my best to make her last memory of me a good one. We break apart and I sign to her how much I love her, no matter what. She smiles and signs back, still learning. She waves goodbye and heads down the street to her apartment. I picked this park for our last meeting place so I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting home safely. This city isn’t as bad as others, but there are always bad people. I watch as she strides confidently down the sidewalk, a look I’ve seen more and more on her as we’ve been together longer. She’s grown so much, gotten so much happier- which is why I need to do this before I ruin it. Before I hurt her like I always do with those I love. Once she’s out of sight, I head back towards my apartment. It’s several blocks away, and I use that time to run over my plan in my head, to ensure that there will be no hiccups. I switch my music to instrumental and try to relax.

It doesn’t work, though, as I fumble with my keys and nearly drop them trying to get my door open. My hands are shaking so badly it takes me four tries to get the key in the lock. What am I, scared? No, I’m ready for this. I’ve come close many times, but this is the time. I’m going to do it tonight.

I swallow a handful of ibuprofen and down another glass of water. I’ve been drinking a lot more water than I usually do the past few days. Sparkling water, of course, I have sensory issues with plain water. I turn on the spout in the bathtub, getting it warm but not too hot. I grab some candles, lighting them to help me feel more relaxed. I put a bath bomb in the slowly filling tub for the same reason. Switching my music to the speakers placed strategically around the small space, I wander into the kitchen for a knife and sharpener. I change into a swimsuit because fully clothed would feel weird, but my dysphoria is bad enough to unsettle me right now.

Moving to the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the bathtub with my feet in the water as it slowly rises. I work on sharpening the blade as my hands shake uncontrollably. I sigh, setting down the knife and sharpener to move to the kitchen. It takes a minute of digging, but I find the bottle of vodka I had put back there in case I needed it. I squirt a ton of water flavoring in; I’ve never loved the flavor of alcohol. I take a sip and put in some more flavoring.

Making my way back to the tub, I find that it’s mostly full. I set the blade on the ledge of the tub and slide in, sighing at the warmth. Picking up the vodka bottle that’s now filled with green liquid, I take a big gulp, the liquid burning as it goes down. I keep sipping as I think. I let my mind fill with thoughts of her as the tub finishes filling with water. I push the remains of the bath bomb around with my finger, watching the colors trail out of it. Rainbow colors, like the colors of all the dresses she wears. Rainbow colors, like all the colors she’s dyed her hair. Bright and wonderful, like her. 

She’ll be happier with me gone. She’ll be able to find someone new, someone who can say “I love you” out loud. Someone who can infodump verbally, someone who can do all the things I can’t. She deserves someone more, someone who is better. She’s better off without me; the whole world is. With that in mind, I pick up the knife and start cutting. Right arm first. I dig in, barely feeling the pain. It’s bleeding a lot, which is good. But I can’t really see if I’m cutting in the right place or not, so I just keep pressing the knife in deeper until it hurts too badly to continue. I don’t know if I hit the artery or not, but it’s bleeding pretty heavily, so I’ll leave it at that. I dunk my hand in the water, watching as blood swirls and dissipates in the water. More blood comes out of my wrist immediately, which is a good sign.

I switch my knife to the other hand and immediately drop it into the water, my hand wet and slippery. I fish it out and dry my hands off with the bath towel hanging on the wall. I sip some more alcohol, hoping to get deeper on my other wrist. I take a deep breath and check the time on my phone. Good, I have plenty of time before my roommate will be home. I pick up the blade again and start on the other wrist, the shaking worse than before. Now, I feel every little movement in my right wrist, and it’s not responding normally; I think I nicked the tendons in there. My usual coordination is gone, and I’m glad I did my non dominant hand first.

I’m getting kind of lightheaded, and I’m not entirely sure why, but I just keep going. I’m not going to let some dizziness stop me. I’m doing this, and I’m doing it now. 

Spots swim in front of my eyes as I start breathing faster, almost like I’m hyperventilating. I try to remember my breathing exercises, but I can’t remember what counts they were. Was it four in or seven in? Why can’t I remember? I’ve literally used this same exercise for most of my life. Am I? What am I… ? Something slips from my hand, there’s noise in the background. A splash and noise, radiating pain and- what’s going on? I just wanted to hit quit. Why do I have to put so much work into it?

My head drops, and I can’t keep my eyes open. Am I? Why am I in the bathtub with my swimsuit? There’s a noise that won’t stop. I know it from somewhere. Over the throbbing of my head and the sound of my breath, I hear the front door unlocking. Why is my roommate home so early?? Oh well, they’ll leave me alone for a little bit. I can’t see anything; the pain is gone, there’s nothing to sense. The sound bounces in my head. The video chat ringtone I set for her, echoing off into the void.

[unikornu]

Lucy Feit - headcannons and overall presentation,

Lucy Feit - current occupation: Overboss of Nuka World and Gage’s “business” partner.

Pre-war: court defender - then gang member and personal agent/tool under the firm hand of her past boss and criminal figure - Harrison. 

Appearance:  Fairly small gal (5'3'' - 160cm)  with slim/agile body type at her 27th’s - still quite young. Pale skin but after wandering through wasteland a bit more rosy. Medium length bright blond straight hair, longer in the back, choppy looking since the wastelands best hairdresser is a knife or an old pair of scissors. Tends to tie her hair into two braids as well. Dark amber eyes covered with thick layer of black carbon powder all around to sharpen the softness of her face. Scar under her right eye caused by the knife she carries and got after a hassle with commonwealth raider. Three tattoos - an ace skull on the right upper side of her forehead, white waster skull next to her left eye and a dagger on the left side of her neck. Small thin nose, downward turned lips, her face expression most of the time bored or doubtful but as she starts drinking or having some fun it turns into a grin. She has a burn marks on top of her hands and softer ones at the palms, hidden most of the time under her gloves as she is ashamed of them. 

Character: Pretty calm but inpatient, snarky, sarcastic and careless most of the time. Tends to be impulsive and acts first before thinking of consequences which annoys Gage quite often. She isn’t the brilliant smart mind but is very intelligent due to her pre-war occupation (being smart vs intelligent are two different things). Compulsive liar and charmer, embed in her mind from pre-war but she is aware of that and tries to control it, using it as a way to get around some situations instead as a habit. Not a leader type but when shit needs to be done she will step up. Got stirred into believing she is psychopathic and sometimes acts as. Likes to drink and stir some fun around as alone and with no occupation on job she gets too bored. Does stupid shit and gets in troubles if left alone for too long. Highly depends on Gage’s directives and advices or other leaders if he is gone. Prefers not to talk about feelings and fears openly, would rather go with “just do it” approach. 

Fighting/combat: Mostly melee weapons -  very skilled with her medium sized disciples styled knife. Knows some basic hand to hand fighting/night bar style with a lot of dirty tricks. Sneaky, fast, silent and agile unless she wants some noise and action. High stamina but for short encounters, cheetah style. Uses grenades for bigger trouble, either as a distraction or to cause more mayhem. Will use a pistol only if there is no other way. Occasionally will take the broadsider if shit gets really serious and dangerous as a special card. Surprisingly strong if put under stress and pumped with adrenaline. High pain threshold but easy to break on mental level. Mixes light base gear with some heavier pieces on top to still be on a move but not to get broken like a stick in direct confrontation.

Factions: Joined raiders and took a position of the Overboss as their nature and goals fit her own. Doesn’t want to be a hero nor a part of anything bigger than a pure survival and getting what she wants. She hates the military style of BoS and their “yes sir” soldiering style around. Before becoming Overboss she worked as a mercenary for the Institute along with Kellogg (Father is not her son in my story and she didn’t kill Kellogg). She doesn’t believe in pure goodness and justice and thinks that every faction will get eventually corrupted and egoistic. Later on strikes a deal with Institute in Nuka World to provide data and plant their devices on the top in exchange for technology and supplies for her gangs. Believes it is a good deal as they stay underground while she operates on the top and the Institute doesn’t care if they kill people or do other shit. Just keeps an eye to not replace any of her people with synths. 

Other informations:  

-  Addicted to calmex as she was dozed secretly with it before the bombs, would use it in stressful situations or when her traumas are flashing back, Gage tries to help her stop taking it. Also likes drinking especially at the end of the day.

-When under effects of calmex and in strong doubt or hesitation the Harrison, shady posture of her pre-war boss might show up and talk to her or haunt her, before disappearing shortly. This might be a result of constant high stress and long drug usage causing some kind of brain damage before. This problem gets resolved as her pre-war boss comes back to life later on.

- Because she worked often as an agent in a night luxury club in pre-war she likes everything associated with it, dancing (oh she loves to swing around), neon lights, drinks, fancy stuff etc. Likes to spend free time at Parlor or Cappy Cafe. 

- Doesn’t feel guilt when killing people during raids but would not kill a helpless animal unless attacked. People have choice and if they choose to be stupid its their problem but animals are driven by pure survival so she wouldn’t butcher them unless necessary. If there were dogs in the raided settlement she would order the pack to take care of them and train. 

 - Can drive a car, quite well actually since she was in some risky and dangerous situations before the war. Also constantly tries to get some vehicles working along with Chip Morse and Lizzie but to no success yet. Wants to have better means of transport other than walking and fast way out in case of serious danger.  

- As the time between pre-war and current time happened pretty fast and she was used to have a lot of money and expensive stuff in her apartment later on as she was finishing jobs for her boss. She would always try to “ beautify “ and make herself comfortable even in poor or rough conditions. A little spoiled bitch. Even built herself a dressing table at Fizztop straight from the pre-war night club changing room she worked before. She would collect/steal everything shiny and golden as they travel and store it there. Doesn’t like to sleep outside away from Fizztop or any other safe-house. 

- Has a leech/bloodworm phobia due to the trauma after being tortured before the war by the corrupted court mobs. Sometimes has a feeling of her wounds in throat still being there even if they are long healed. Hates everything associated with worms and highly dislikes slimey food texture.  

- She doesn’t see a problem in having a little hand to hand fight (literally) and getting punched by a man (hell would even join a bar fight at cappy cafe) but heavily dislikes abusive approach during arguing. If Gage or anyone by any chance would act so or grab her by the neck she would panic and smash his head with literally anything that is in her reach just to be released. Result of her boss, Harrison abusive actions towards her to break and confuse her mentally. 

- Depends on Gage company and his experience as alone she is not always sure of rightness of her actions towards the plans for Nuka World and after all she was always under someone's thumb and orders as a sharp tool for the job. And as he is around 8 years older than her (i would give him 35 years tbh) and spent his life becoming a raider on the top of the mountain she takes his approach seriously. Eventually slowly falls in love with him as she notices the care he provides towards her no matter the fuckuperies that happen on the way. And the confidence that man has in his actions and looking like he does..definitely turns her on as time passes. Gage doesn’t believe at start that someone like her would be interested in him more than on just a job level but doesn’t mind later on at all to have a gal like her by his side at the lone evening/nights at Fizztop.

- She is not that bad of a person and refuses to trash talk traders (well maybe except Aaron) and convinces the operators after powering the plant to improve their conditions as it would also bring more caps and scare the “tourists” less. And she would not want their only doctor to be gone or worse, refuse to treat them.

- She considers Lizzie a friend and would visit her often to check on new equipment or further improvements with grenades. Doesn’t mind testing her new inventions along with an extra drink in her lab. 

- She is bad at cooking, especially the post-war one and would most probably choose a food from a box rather than poison Gage with her attempts on making food.

- Almost always wears her black fingerless gloves, might fall asleep in them too sometimes. Gage notices it and learns later on about the burn marks.

- Has a weird, almost romantic like relationship with her pre-war boss Harrison after he makes a sudden come back, surviving the bombs and joining her in  Nuka World.

[bardicknowledgeblogger]

Inspiration: Metals

A collection of unique and beautiful metals (alloys and minerals) to inspire your item design, unique encounters, and more.

I’ve done a few of these so far, and you can check them out here: Gemstones, Plantlife, Fungi, Bugs

As usual - feel free to add any additions of your own, and definitely share anything you make based around this stuff!

Rhodium

A silvery white metal that is part of the platinum group, Rhodium is one of the rarest naturally occurring metals on earth. It is bright and flashy, but also stands up to wear and tear incredibly well, so is often used to coat more delicate materials to prevent them from being tarnished or damaged.

Rhodium plated Sterling Silver Cz stacker Ring on Etsy

Radiant Serum: A thin, silvery liquid that seems to shimmer as the light hits it. Can be applied to any metal and will coat it, giving the item a smooth silver finish that cleanly reflects the light. Items treated with this serum do not require any maintenance for the next couple of weeks (weapons do not need to be cleaned or sharpened to maintain their edge, jewelry will not tarnish or fade on the road, etc...)

Decoy Charm: A bright charm of brilliantly polished metal that hangs from your coin purse. It’s alluring appearance (but relative worthlessness) serves as a nice decoy for pickpockets. If you would be pickpocketed, there is a chance the thief takes the charm instead of your coin purse.

Rhoweave Robes: Soft and silvery flowing robes that are as light and breathable as traditional robes, but have the armor qualities of lighter metal armor sets by weaving thin strands of metal densely into the fibers of the cloth.

Gallium

Gallium is a very soft metal with a fairly low melting point that can be reached just by holding it in your hand, while it’s frozen state can be easily shattered like glass. When in contact with certain metals, it can begin to soften and degrade them with ease.

Corroding Ooze: An ooze that, while docile, appears as a solid item - sometimes as a crystal, sometimes as a statute. However, when it goes on the prowl, it becomes a quivering puddle that spreads and undulates along the floor. It’s method of attack is to quickly coat the body of its prey, slowly corroding and breaking down any and all metal until it can begin to digest them with ease.

Shard Bomb: A small orb that feels very brittle to the touch, filled with a highly reactive chemical compound. When thrown against a surface, it shatters like grass, sending shards and sliver of metal flying in a radius around it, shredding everything in its path.

Ruthenium

A rare metal used in a wide array of things, such as oil refinement and solar panels, as it is incredibly conductive and resilient. However it also allows flames to reach incredibly high temperatures and burn for indefinite amounts of time.

Ruthenium plated lotus necklace on etsy

Everburn Blade: A dark, glistening sword whose blade is always engulfed in flame, no longer how long it has been burning or surrounding environment - it’ll even continue to burn underwater. Its flames are quelled while sheathed, but roar back to life as soon as it is drawn.

Charge Pendant: A dark metal pendant that absorbs and stores energy while exposed to sunlight. This store of energy can be magically transferred to any items requiring a magic charge.

Lightning Construct: A metal construct of indeterminate design that seems to shamble to life within lightning storms, drawing the lightning to them and creating a shocking aura around them that is difficult to breach.

Bismuth

This striking metal naturally forms this geometric crystalline structure without outside influence. It is the heaviest non-radiocative metal and is used in an array of things such as makeup.It’s also one of the most naturally diamagnetic elements, and unlike most metals is not a very good conductor of heat.

Bismuth Knife by Kiwami Japan on youtube

Prismatic Makeup: A charming pallet of makeup of metallic iridescent tones can be applied for a significant bonus to your charm and seduction.

Repelling Knife: This strangely geometric knife buzzes with energy as you hold it. Whenever you strike an opponent wearing who wears metal, they are knocked back a significant distance as they are replled from the knife itself.

Insulating Armor: This flashy armor is favored by adventurer’s in colder climates, as it is has an incredibly ability to keep heat trapped against the body and does not transfer any of the cold to them. This allows them to still wear stronger, metal armor without freezing up in their travels, giving them an incredible edge.

Mercury

A well known material that is liquid not only at room temperature, but at most temperatures (both hot and cold) that we experience on a regular basis - it must reach -38 degrees F or lower to remain solid. This makes it difficult to use in most ways, but not impossible.

Mercury Blade: An impossibly shining sword only wielded by fiends in the most polar regions of the world, Mercury Blades are incredibly deadly. The soft metal blades degrade with each strike on their foe, leaving behind deposits of toxic material that quickly enter the bloodstream and steadily kill them.

Draught of Quicksilver: Originally created by a renowned alchemist, this draught was designed to give the consumer inhuman reflexes and heightened speed. While it does this, it also takes a hefty toll on their health, and overuse can lead to addiction and death.

Weather Charm: A small glass vial with a bead of this silver liquid in it can alert you to the weather conditions of the next day. A small blessing can be asked of the gods, using the charm as a channel, and has a chance to shift the next day’s weather to be more favorable.

That’s all for this round. I had a harder time finding many metals that looked unique and had interesting properties to work from, but hopefully this worked as an interesting jumping off point! Let me know if you create anything cool and interesting, or if you have your own unique metals to add to the list.