#narrator's voice: hibiscus was in fact not fine

[mmmatchasims]

Hibiscus: I'm fine, Midna. I'm sorry that I haven't been as good about texting or calling lately, but you're the ones that left town; not me.

Midnight: People leave, Hib. That's not an excuse to freeze us all out like this.

[thegoldendemon-blog]

ANNIVERSARY.

@masteredshadows kissu

The path that led to Zed’s domain flitted and flexed underneath the pallor of Jhin’s boots, a cloud of ashen-colored dust kicking back as he dismounted from his horse. He crossed fingers with a blackened splotch on the colt’s canvas-creamy fur, but did not let it trot with him any closer. The horse was stalwart, Jixi was, but save for the animals that lived and breathed the dark dearth that hung over the grounds, scaring it was inevitable the longer it waded inside. Averse to having his main means of transportation running wild into the northern bush, Jhin tied the reins up to an unusually hopeful-looking oak tree whose leaves were nothing now but buds and set off to the rest with his own two feet.

“Don’t wish for me when I’m away,” Jhin said behind him.

He imagined it to huff.

A tip of his golden claw struck the trim of a quaint but sizable box that he carried with him. He hoped that the sight of him carrying it meant that he wouldn’t be hassled to enter. Ever since the incident with the rubber-headed disciple and now Jhin had to worry about receiving shurikens into his shoulders from the treetops above– worse, that disciple hadn’t even perished in the altercation! (Even if Jhin was the reason why he remembered that disciple as “rubber-headed.” Truly, they should’ve expected what they got for getting between the Demon and his all too-prized sugary confectionery.)

His brows furrowed and he glanced at the box to re-examine its contents, not that he hadn’t done so twice before. The same shimmer and swim of iridescence hit his eyes and reflected the sheen of the dying sun beyond him. Zed would adore it, Jhin knew. He would be a madman not to. Satisfied with his tertiary inspection, Jhin closed the box and settled on his way.

His stroll went undisturbed.

Well– not completely. There was a disturbance here and then; a cropping of the trees, a brush of water from a faraway stream. But Jhin welcomed those disturbances. They did their part of breaking up the monotony involved with approaching the brick-cast shadow that grew larger and larger the more Jhin walked. A time ago and there was novelty in the endeavor, what with the Golden Demon approaching the Order of Shadows and to have such a thing welcomed, or in the least tolerated. But novelty never lasted past the first year and they were heading into their fourth, hence the gift– a jewel for their anniversary. Jhin smiled pleasantly and pursed his lips at the thought. A twinge of satisfaction lopped up inside him.

It promptly drained out when the gates were closed.

Don’t tell me he wants to play this little game again.

His teeth bore in a grimace before Jhin straightened himself out and drifted into feigned neutrality. He stood at the very foot of the gates: steel alike ebony with precocious spikes, those things. He was holding the box in both his hands, looking up to where he imagined the projected eyes of Zed might be. The Master didn’t waste time to gloat that he could see all in his temple, and surely he wouldn’t make the mistake of ignoring Jhin.

So he hoped.

A bristle of shadows wisped past him in his peripherals, tailing down behind him. The dirt path broke to stone here, all laid with precision and care. Jhin’s muscles tensed as if to expect the fated kunai or shuriken, but it never came. The silence was impenetrable save for what he could only assume was the whistles of a soft wind and maybe the distant chitter of whispers.

He was just about ready to voice a personal request to the gate when it finally roared and then split open.

Now tense with relief, Jhin began to walk again. The gate collapsed with a hiss once he was past, as it always did. Figments of shadow were more frequent now– the whole enclave was twist with them. One movement outside and a shudder would come past his eyes, never in front. He likened them to floaters, darting from his view whenever he looked at where they were. The shadows coupled with the fine mist that tickled on his nose and the atmosphere was so unbelievably Zed that Jhin was not the least surprised when a ring of black wrote with crimson runes bubbled up from ahead of him.

In fact, he only smiled.

Zed said nothing and neither did Jhin– they had worn of their greetings since year two. Jhin caught up with Zed, still hoist with his box and strode with him as they headed towards the temple. Bonsai trees poignant with rock fields flanked them in line with blossoming cherry trees just ahead. It never ceased to intrigue Jhin that Zed insisted on such scenery yet Jhin also knew what Zed did to the trees and flora of the ones whose feathers his gift might have once belonged to. Zed struck him as inconsistent to his core– yet without that inconsistency and their partnership, misbegotten and rancid as Zed claimed it to be, would not exist.

At the mouth of the temple, Zed was the first one to break the ice.

“You’ve come again just after a mission, Jhin.”

“Hm?” Jhin noticed that Zed’s arms were crossed. “A mission? And not under the cover of night? How unusual.”

His eyes leapt up to Zed’s own. “You don’t look any worse for wear.”

Zed chuffed. “If I was, those gates would have stayed closed. What have you brought?”

“Ah-ah-ah, Zed, don’t be impatient,” Jhin chastised. “Inside first. What about tea?”

“You think I haven’t sent for that already?”

Jhin chuckled. “It would be dubious if you hadn’t.”

The doors pushed open and they both stepped inside, up from the granite stairs that led them there. The first room of the temple that any visitor would see was not spurious as much as it was predictable in Jhin’s opinion. The full suite of intimidation tactics were in display, down from the red and black color schemes to the dim lanterns that hung from the high ceiling, and that was with only passing mention to the blades and stuffed heads that came up in every conceivable corner on the walls.

It was Zed’s place, alright.

The two parted to the right and into a much tighter corridor, then at the left at the initial room. Disciples came and went in orderly droves, none of them despondent enough to look once in Jhin’s direction. Not that he minded– he wasn’t bored enough to look in theirs.

It wasn’t until he and Zed sat down that Jhin put the box beside him and did away with his mask. Zed followed after him, never the one to be the first. A few moments ahead and Jhin’s hair was all rifled out from his cowl and collar, reaching to scrape at where his legs gave to kneel at his seat. Another few and he was pleased to hear the clunk clunk clunking of tea being served.

“Something different, this evening,” Zed said as he reached for his cup. “From Galrin. Hibiscus.”

“Heart problems already, Zed?”

Something about the way Zed glared told Jhin all he needed to know on that front. He shined Zed his typical half-smile half-smirk before he set upon his own teacup, finding the translucent red of the tea water fitting, and if not fitting then at least consistent. They both were quiet as they sampled the taste. It wasn’t long before Jhin was reaching for sugarcubes.

He was dropping them in one after the other as Zed talked again.

“The box. What is it for?”

“I’ll answer when you tell me what you were doing for your mission, Zed. I’m deeply curious.” Drop drop drop drop. A cursory mixing with his teaspoon and Jhin raised the porcelain to his lips. “It is unusual, after all.”

Zed sighed, apparently forgetting that without his helm Jhin could tell exactly when he was rolling his eyes.

“We attacked in daylight as they wouldn’t expect it,” he said. “Surprising them was the keystone to our success.”

“They?” Jhin was enjoying the flavor now.

“Another order that sought fit to lie to me and pledge allegiance when all they really wanted was their skins intact.”

Jhin chuffed at that. “Did you leave any alive?” It was quality gossip. He needed the details.

“Let me say that their wish for their skins went unanswered.”

Ha. Of course not.

“I’m sure they scattered like mice,” Jhin mused. “It would have been entertaining to watch.” It was his way of saying that I should have participated. If not to see the fire emblazoned on Zed’s flaming eyes– that never ceased to amuse him.

Zed ignored it and focused back onto Jhin. “And what of you? Any spoils from the Demon?”

“Oh, come now Zed. Don’t you pry me like a child would. If I’ve acted it, you’ve heard of it.”

The glare on Zed’s face was absolutely sensational. So much so that Jhin swallowed down the desire to laugh. He would, later; now, and it would be impolite.

Armed with his sugarcubes, Jhin went back to the kettle. “To answer your question,” he said, looking at the lip as the steam cast from it, “I have been busy, yes. Busy enough that to tear myself away from my plans means that today is special enough to warrant it.”

Zed’s glare bottomed out. He was curious now and Jhin knew he had him hooked. He gestured down to the box, Zed reaching for it in an instant. Jhin narrated as Zed popped open the gold-leafed clasp and looked inside.

“A gift from the hands of yours truly to celebrate our partnership. All four years of it.”

He sipped at his second helping as Zed took out the cloak. Even in the sconed light of the tea room, the feathers glistened with hues of purples and sorry blues. The darkness of the black only served to heighten the intensity of the red that followed after, tapering down to a cloak of prodigious size… or just right, should you be Zed.

“Vastayan feathers,” he murmured.

Jhin clicked his tongue. “At the market and you’d be seeing merchants falling over their pouch riddled tables to look at the thing. It took quite the while to find the right subjects for it. The avian types are terribly loud and just as slippery.” The rest I transmuted. Not that there would be any discernible difference.

Zed pondered on it and let it down back into the box, putting it aside. “Thank you, Jhin. It’s a–” He put on his best smile. “–a gift I won’t soon forget. Is there anything you want in return?”

This time Jhin allowed himself to laugh. “Oh, I have but a few ideas.”

There they were: Jhin with his mane askew, lumbered down in front of a suite of plush-pin pillows as Zed neared up on top of him with hands idly running themselves through whatever thick lock they could get a hold of. Zed’s armor was exchanged for robes; Jhin let his stay. There was a quiet musing that pushed on his lips, one that went a little like ah ah ah ah but settled on the oh oh oh oh.

For a duo that promised to one day have the other’s head mounted at their foyer, they were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The memories came in misty heaps and black and white reels in the back of Jhin’s mind as he set a hand somewhere in front of him on Zed’s waist. The fear that gripped him as he lay surrounded and helpless at the feet of Master Kusho and his sons. How Zed, hatred like fire, strode forward with blade in tow. Master Kusho saying nothing as his hand reached out to stop him. Shen to the side watching it all unfold.

“Oh. Get me another glass of champagne, Zed, would you?” Jhin asked.

He muttered a thank you as the glass was offered and he, without pause, poured it down his throat.

White, bubbling champagne straight from the fields of Demacia. Zed regrettably kept a cache in his hoard just for Jhin. He smiled even as it all disappeared from his glass.

Zed had only one for himself. Even in the throes of celebration, Jhin had not yet seen him tipsy let alone drunk.

Oh. But Jhin– Jhin was getting there.

“Ze-e-e-d,” Jhin called, his voice like honeydew and just as jarringly sing-song. “You’re a cushion, you know that? Why are you on top of me?”

“You asked me to pet your hair,” Zed reminded him. “It would be tiresome to do it with you on top.”

“Tsss!” Jhin hissed. “You liar. A pretty, petulant understudy of a liar. Come here and be my cushion. I’m tired.”

Zed sighed and brought Jhin up to lie aside on Zed’s stomach. Jhin, giddy with glee, clapped his hands.

A second later and he was fast asleep.