#with your hastily spun together lore

[morningstargirl666]

Those reading TBBW...

I just figured out some future lore with @stars-and-darkness and it fucking SLAPS I'm so proud

S4 TVD I AM COMING FOR YOU

[mycupoffanfiction]

Lullaby of Woe

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Set in the Witcher universe, Bucky finds a trail leading to his lost love who had been taken from him and he races to get to you before monsters find you.

Warnings: Violence, lots of fighting and violence and Witcher horror.

Word Count: Approx 1570

A/N: Hellooo! Happy Halloween/Samhain/Spooky Day/Thursday. I ADORE The Witcher, so here is a fic in the universe based off one of the amazing Witcher 3 trailers. This one is based off the trailer ‘A Night to Remember’ where he hunts a Bruxa (a type of vampire).

THIS IS PURELY BASED OFF THE TRAILER, IT’S NOT EVEN SET IN TOUSSAINT

If you’re not familiar with the Witcher lore, all you really need to know about this fic are what the words Ignis and Aard mean in relation to the action. Both words are powers the Witcher has, Ignis being the use of fire and Aard is a telekinetic force. Enjoy!

Wolves asleep amidst the trees.

Bats all a swaying in the breeze

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

 “James, come back!” Natasha screamed for him, voice ripping through the darkness. “She’s gone, she’s dead!” She shouted into the trees as he rode away on his horse. Bucky knew you were alive; he could feel it.

 For your dolly Polly sleep has flown

Don't dare let her tremble alone

 Trembling, both from cold and fear, you shuffled back on the freezing flagstones beneath you, hands wet with blood as you whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks. It was supposed to be safe further North, you had been told at least. That was before you’d been forced away from Bucky, thrust into the arms of the unknown with men you didn’t trust nor like.

But now you had been used and left out, chained up and petrified, a loose end ready to be taken. If the monsters didn’t get to you, the cold would. There was no way you’d make it long enough to consider dying of hunger an option.

 For the Witcher, heartless, cold

Paid in coin of gold

 Galloping through the dirt tracks between the fields on the ascent to Novigrad, Bucky spared not even a second for anything else. You’d been missing for too long and the astral message he’d received from the sorceress, Wanda had lead him to Redania. Natasha had not been so willing to believe that you were still alive, though Bucky was sure part of her resistance was due to her bond with him.

But he didn’t love her the way he loved you.

 He comes he'll go leave naught behind

But heartache and woe

Deep, deep woe

 Bucky reached an old dock warehouse just outside of Novigrad city, his Witcher senses making the scene easier to pick apart. Signs of a struggle, spilt wine, blood. Taking his time, he looked around and studied each item of interest until his eyes landed on something.

The necklace he had gifted you all those years ago.

 Birds are silent for the night

Cows turned in as daylight dies

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

 Bucky followed your scent, a winding path that he could almost visualise in his mind as he followed it. The sweet smell of your perfume from Toussaint mixed with you soft musk. He’d missed that smell, the way his sheets clung to scent after a night together and his heart clenched. He wasn’t supposed to feel, but he did. He felt something for you more than he thought he ever could about anyone.

Bucky stopped short, his wolf medallion jingling as it trembled, eyes trailing over the old barn. A ragged laugh pierced through the silence and he knew. Reaching down to his belt, Bucky pulled off a bottle from its leather strap, popping the cork off with his thumb. The acidic tang of the Black Blood potion stung his nostrils as he tipped back the bottle, veins broadening as he drank, darkness creeping through his blood, the black so opaque it showed through his skin.

Reaching up, Bucky took out his silver sword, leaving the Steel blade in its sheath. Taking a deep breath as he let the poison take effect, he walked towards the barn doors.

 My dear dolly Polly shut your eyes

Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries

 A low growl, feral almost as she approached you, aging before your eyes from a young woman to an old, shrewd hag. Her rasping cackle made you shudder as she approached, fingers slowly growing into long, spiked claws.

Everything ached and hurt as you tried to desperately shuffle away from her, her hair growing thin and scraggly, face becoming sour as she grinned maliciously at you, bearing her overcrowded sharp teeth. The smell of rotten flesh hit your senses and you gagged, stomach flipping and tossing about as your heartrate quickened.

Your back pressed against the wall and you took in a sharp, short breath, struggling to keep yourself calm. Squeezing your eyes shut, you dampened the whimper from your throat when you felt her breath against your exposed skin. A tear rolled down your cheek, chilling against your skin when it cooled in the cold night time air. Your blood temperature felt like it plummeted as she reached out, spindly fingers trailing, scratching across your arm, making you flinch as she dug in, piercing the skin.

 As the Witcher, brave and bold

Paid in coin of gold

 Your scream erupted Bucky’s skin into goose bumps as he approached the door. Pulling the rickety wooden door open, moonlight seeped into the barn, revealing her standing over you. Bloody and weeping, you trembled in pain and fear, wordlessly begging her to stop the torment.

It took a moment for her to notice his presence. Slowly rising from her crouched position on the floor, she peered over her shoulder at him. A youthful, peaceful smile stretched across her lips as she slowly turned to face him. “Witcher.” Her voice was soft, almost sickeningly sweet as she looked into his eyes. Bucky grimaced at her, not uttering a word as she slowly reached up, fingers gently pushing at the edges of her thin, cream cotton gown.

 Her dress dropped and her form almost disappeared like it had been swept away by the wind. Bucky stood as still as stone, his gaze stayed pinned to the wall, not even taking a second to look down at your bloodied state.

 Bucky sensed her behind him and he spun, raising his sword in an arc to strike down on her as he turned, a glimmering dust raining down on her invisible form when he launched a vial of it at the rafters above.

It was a fast, quick paced dance between claws and metal as she dodged each strike. Bucky slashed at her, ripping at her skin with his silver blade and she stumbled back, though it wasn’t enough to stop her. She launched at him, a guttural shriek ripped from her throat as she jumped at him, claws tearing at his cheek, the force of her attack sending him tumbling back.

Ignis.

A force of fire erupted towards her and she screeched out as she kept her distance, circling the Witcher before her next attack.

Taking a running leap at him, she overwhelmed Bucky, making him drop his sword. The silver blade clattered to the ground as he deflected her attacks with his forearm, the armour holding up just enough under her attacks.

Bucky was struck across the middle and he fell to the floor, clutching his side, pain in his eyes as he stayed still. She stalked him, circled him and you watched with bated breath as he stayed still.

With a blood curdling shriek, she leapt at him, hand forcing his head to the side before her jagged teeth sunk down into his flesh, ripping, sucking, blood trickling into his clothing. Bucky groaned out, grabbing at her hair and yanking her off, throwing her away from him.

She let out a hoarse shriek as she got to her feet, riled up, angry, possessive. She paused, looking down at herself as darkness coursed through her veins, Black Blood seeped into her system, clawing up her veins and she looked back up at Bucky as he got to his feet.

  He'll chop and slice you

Cut and dice you

Eat you up whole

Eat you whole

 Aard.

A telekinetic force threw her back and she cried out when she hit the floor. Bucky ran and slid across the dusty flagstones, hand reaching down and gripping the hilt of his silver sword before running at her, hastily slicing upwards, her leg parting from her body but it wasn’t enough to stop her as she tumbled, crawling quickly across the floor towards him.

Bucky’s silver blade slashed at her middle and she spun onto her back, quickly recovering and pulling herself away and out of the barn with a pained, shrill shriek.

Bucky fired a crossbow bolt into her back and then a second and a third before she collapsed to the ground, slowly reverting back to her human, maiden form.

 Birds are silent for the night

Cows turned in as daylight dies

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

For the Witcher brave and bold

Paid in coin of gold

He’ll chop and slice you

Cut and dice you

Eat you up whole.

 “Sweetheart?” Bucky rushed towards you, sword clattering to the ground as he ran across the barn, eyes finally focussed on you now that the fight was over. “I’ve got you.” He cooed, kneeling down and taking your freezing body into his arms, cradling you against him.

You were barely alive, but it was enough. Reaching to his belt, he pulled a vial of Swallow from it’s leather fastening and popped the cork open, carefully pouring some into your mouth, knowing that your body could handle the potent healing potion. “I’ve got you.” He repeated, quietly brushing your hair back and holding you against him, pressing kisses against your frigid skin.

“You came for me.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, tiredness creeping in as you felt the potion working. “I’ll always come for you, my love.” He rasped, bright, yet soft cat eyes looking down into yours. “Always.” He whispered.

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[shachathabrah]

“Starfetched. I get it. Like starcrossed and farfetched. Which I guess is kinda what most people hooking up are.”

The angel stood in a small clearing, naked and half-naked trees reaching into a yawning canopy above him. A warm sunlight trickled through what leaves remained, interrupted intermittently by a cool, wispy breeze. He’d never heard of this part of the Nevernever before, nor the reigning high Sidhe - though upon looking around for more than a minute, it became abundantly clear that Edea was the queen of the short-lived, often chilly, midseason court. The ruling fae of Autumn. Wild.

“Both destined to be, and unlikely so. To be Starfetched is entirely an act of fate. To imagine that anyone could find someone they are truly meant to be with, crossing hundreds of miles or oceans or traversing the many realms to do so… It is truly something.” She was taller than Cath - then again, most were - and, like most in this realm, possessed an unnatural, almost feline-like grace. Her hair spun in spirals down to the small of her back, bits of leaves and other natural debris arranged in it more artfully than one might expect.

Cath nodded slowly in reply. “Yeah, it really is. Something. But it’s why I’m here. I’m requesting a… what should I call it. A reading? I couldn’t translate some of the writings on the process. I wanna get the deets on my relationship with him. We’re ready to take it to the next level.”

“It would appear as though you have already taken to the idea without our influence,” she mused, lips the colour of dead Autumn leaves curling ever so slightly at their corners, gesturing at his left hand. Cath knew at once she was motioning towards the ring Kay had given him. Well, the troll certainly had gotten his wish of wanting anyone that saw it to think ‘Wow, that fellow sure is engaged.’ Hastily, the angel clenched his fist, slicing the air in a ‘cut the shit’ motion with his other hand.

“You know as well as I do what it means.” Anger swelled, a sour taste on his tongue. “Like I’d be able to set foot inside a house of worship without being smited where I stood.” The determination in his expression faltered. “...Smited? Smote? Is ‘smote’ a word?” His bitterness melted into momentary confusion, his penchant for getting sidetracked brought out in full force by the general hazy and confuddling atmosphere of the Nevernever. Edea only giggled, shoulders bouncing, curled locks of fire engine red hair spilling over her shoulders as she did so.

“But your mind has been made up,” she offered, gliding closer to him. “The pair of you are set to be wed by any means, what ever would a reading tell you that you don’t already know?”

To this, Cath’s stance dropped; his shoulders lowering as he thought about it. Really, not much. He’d had his fears worked over by Kay often enough to be sure about this, assured beyond all shadow of a doubt that this was what they wanted. But… Beyond… all shadow of a doubt…? He chewed his lip gently, eyes never leaving the shifting pools of weathered copper the fae watched him through. “If I’m right. We’re - if we’re right. For each other, I guess.” Showing any kind of weakness before a fae was generally a really stupid idea, but he couldn’t - Cath had to be sure. If the powers in his life that ruled over most everything he knew and believed could give him some firm insight, he was hoping the last of the dying embers of doubt would grow cold, and just let him enjoy what had been gifted to him. This life, this love. He had to be sure.

“I’ve read it can do that. Prove that what we have is… Is worthy of being joined as one. It isn’t the same as being married, but it’s the closest thing something like me is gonna be able to get.” He did his best to recall up the notes he’d taken, not wanting to deface Daud’s book. (Even though he deserved to have a few dicks drawn in it. The motherfucker.) “And if I pass the test, we’re allowed the ceremony.”

In his heart, he knew Kay deserved more. Always the wedding planner, never the star. But the fae could put on one hell of a shindig, and maybe, lost in the beauty that the fae (despite being treacherous, nasty, vile, nasty, evil creatures) could produce, he might forgive Cath for being unable to give him what he truly deserved. “And,” he began again, lifting his chin once more, sticking out his chest just a little bit, “it’s the one thing you’re not allowed to bargain for. This is a freebie to those that seek it.” Knowledge was something powerful to the fae, something they had in spades, and they were never ones to give it freely. The Starfetched reading, however, was different. It was something the fae themselves had personal interest in, and it was how lore of married fae couples came to be. Humans, most of the time, had a very basic understanding of the bond magical beings shared - simply put, Titania and Oberon were married. No convoluted reading or ceremony required. It was beyond what patience they had to look beyond the label to find out what was really going on there.

He almost expected Edea to give him lip over it, but instead those lips stretched into a leonine grin. “You are correct,” she acquiesced with a bow of her head. “We are not required nor encouraged to seek payment for this service.” Though her eyes glittered as her head lifted again. “It is taxing enough on those who experience it.”

The angel swallowed. He hadn’t taken into consideration the reading might be dangerous in some way. Hell, it might kill him. The book hadn’t talked about the risks involved, it had only outlined the basic practice. Fae were nigh indestructible, save a severe allergy to cold iron. Reflexively, he touched the heart-shaped ring of his collar. Pseudo outsiders, however… Well. Shit. Kay couldn’t get hitched to a quivering pile of ectoplasmic goo, or a lump of smouldering feathers. But Cath was determined to see it through. “This will be the first time anyone of your ilk has attempted this reading.” There was almost something savage in her tone, though he could not place it. “Should you survive it, I daresay having witnessed it would be payment enough.”

Scared of fae as he was, Cath was not one to give into intimidation tactics. “Then you’ll have witnessed something no other fae has seen, yeah. So, let’s get to it. Enough chat. I hate being here and I gotta say I’m not too keen on you either.” The fae’s look took on a bit more ice, but the smile didn’t fade. “And for some reason you’re the only one in this dump that can do it.” He tilted his head a little. “Why?” Generally, fae didn’t give knowledge without something in return, but they sure did love talking about themselves.

“As seasons change, the summer and winter courts are at a mutual weakness. For a very brief period of time, I am in power. That power also happens to coincide with Samhain. The spirit world and the mortal world brush closest, and the barriers wear thin. Who better to deal with matters of the spirit, soul, and heart than someone in my position?” Said with no small amount of smugness, Cath noted. She certainly seemed to be more than willing to toot her own horn. But he had to give her some credit, no one else would ever really consider the fact of a smaller court in the fae realm. Hell, this was all news to him. But her logic was frustratingly sound. Not like he was jumping out of his skin to talk to the other ladies or queens about this, or anything, either. He liked them right where they were. None the wiser. Though he was sure that once this was completed, word would travel fast. There was nothing he could do about that.

“...Have you ever been in love, Edea?” The angel asked suddenly, his own voice taking on a tone much softer than he’d had initially, losing much of the edge and normal vitriol reserved for this place. “I mean like. The real thing.”

That seemed to strike some kind of chord, and the fae queen glanced away momentarily. “While it is not irregular for us here in the Nevernever to find ourselves in such a situation, It has never happened to myself.” She sounded… Sad, almost. Far be it from Cath to actually feel sympathy or pity for things that existed here, but he found his brows knitting gently.

“It’s because no one can do this for you, isn’t it.” He shifted his weight uneasily as the realization came to him. “No one can perform this rite, this.. seance, this ceremony for you. So you can’t even know if what you feel, if you’ve ever felt anything, can be considered true.” A little ‘huh’ sound left him. “That sucks a big fat one for you.”

Whatever he was expecting from her, it was not a laugh - one neither filled with anger nor malice, or anything negative directed towards him. It was still sharp and all edges, but it was a genuine laugh. “You’ve picked up quite the colourful tongue from living amongst humans, dear Shachath. It is no wonder that love has ailed you so.”

His face screwed up a little at that. Ailed him, huh. There may have been a reason it was called ‘lovesick’. He hadn’t considered it until now. He’d done a lot of things for this love. Faced some of his greatest fears, even, without even thinking of being repaid for his actions. He’d just done them, just like that, because doing it would help someone he loved. Very dearly, at that. Someone he’d do anything for.

Very, very briefly, he wondered if Edea - or the Sidhe in general, had people they knew like that. Their very state of being operated on a different level entirely, but Titania and Oberon were together. He was at least reasonably certain other creatures of the Nevernever could court and find love, too. But how far did their affections stretch? He found he could just as easily imagine Titania waxing poetic about her husband as he could imagine her ripping his throat out over a something as tame as what to have for dinner. But then again, as he’d learned, even the faerie queens were mortal once.

“Maybe it has ailed me. I dunno. But… I do know that I want it to work out. And your little ritual thingy will tell me if it can.”

“Child, no matter what the reading tells you, you’re going to keep doing what you’re doing anyway.” Her tone chided him slightly, though she made no further presses to dissuade him.

“You’re fucking right I am.” Reading tea leaves or tossing sand in a circle could tell him no more than what he felt in his heart. Even if it told him they weren’t… Starfetched, they weren’t soulmates, they weren’t some other form of word that essentially meant they belonged together, right now, they did. They were together right now, and however long it lasted was all that mattered to him. Even if it did scare him a little. He’d spent so long feeling temporary, just a placeholder for the next iteration of him to come along. Many, many versions of himself had come and gone. 26 - almost 27, now - years strong in this form had him… Antsy. He knew it was highly unlikely he’d go anywhere this time, but that ever-present fear lingered. Had he changed enough to be good for this? Had he changed at all?

And then there was still the whole fact that he might not survive the reading. Knowledge was a powerful thing, especially to the fae. It was probably their most valuable asset, and their strongest bargaining chip. Knowledge could make or break someone. Topple cities. End civilizations. Maybe, just maybe, his pathetic little human slash bird brain just wasn’t equipped to handle what vast knowledge Edea was going to forcefully shove into it. Maybe he’d survive. Maybe it’d drive him mad. Maybe that danger was the real reason the service was “free”. Nothing was free. He knew better than that.

Yet here he was.

For a long few minutes Edea regarded him with little more than amused boredom, watching the angel process things. His choice was obvious, even to him - though he didn’t want to seem all too eager to jump into bed with her. Metaphorically speaking. Eventually he nodded, sighing, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

Almost instantly, complete and total darkness engulfed him, and he let out a startled cry - stumbling on nothing and falling flat on his ass with a hard thud. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that he hated complete darkness, though through his scrambled thoughts he couldn’t think of any reason why she’d be doing this to him. It set his heart racing, and it was only moments after that he felt an icy vice grip on his arm. Another sound left him as four pinpricks of pain blossomed from his bicep, sending a numbing chill through him. An instant later he was dizzy, struggling to free himself as the dimness around him faded - like a lone fluorescent bulb slowly bathing a room as it warmed up.

“The fuck,” he managed, free arm coming to support himself on the ground, eyes adjusting. The forest was exactly as it had been moments ago, and Edea herself was standing a few feet away. Her look suggested that of watching a child tucker itself out through a tantrum, and to fit the bill Cath scowled at her. “What the fuck was that for?” Eyes raked around again for some sort of answer, and he realized that it was perhaps an enchantment to blind him momentarily, rather than bathe everything in darkness. Which, of course, scared him more than anything: Edea hadn’t said a word, or made any move to do so. She’d simply willed him blind and it had happened. He quietly filed her under yet another ‘Fae to not fuck with’.

“It is very foolish of you to think that just because you are here to partake in this that you can handle it as you are,” she upbraided, removing a number of things he couldn’t quite focus on from somewhere behind a tree stump. “To put it simply, I’ve drugged you. An altered consciousness is required to… partake in this. I know you don’t use your brain quite so often, Shachath, but unlocking some extra rooms among those grey matter folds is necessary.” She tutted then, shaking her head. “Humans are so unfortunate.”

He really couldn’t argue, all things considered. Humans were unfortunate, and he had read something at some point about brain functionality being limited in a completely sober state. But this wasn’t like any drug he’d ever been on before. He mostly just felt dizzy, awake and sleepy all at the same time, like he was straining to focus on something that may or may not have been there. “So you had to scare the shit out of me first?”

“Blood flow quickens with the pulse, does it not? At least that is what I’m led to believe.” She sounded uncertain for a moment, and Cath had to wonder, briefly, what exactly made up the biology of a fae. But even still, he rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance.

“Couldn’t you just have dropped a porn mag in my lap or something?”

At that, he actually got a scowl from Edea. “Ezra Shachath,” she began in a tone meant to deride children, “and you’re here to prove your love, too.”

Unable to help his uneasy grin, it faded quickly with a sigh. So, she’d made him blind to drug him, and scared the shit out of him to make it quick. He really didn’t like where this was heading, but it was probably a decent testament to her character that she hadn’t done anything else to him. For now. That could change in an instant.

Edea continued gathering her things, Cath watching in dazed silence as the forest spun gently around him. He counted his lucky stars that the drug he’d been given wasn’t doing much more than making him acutely aware of everything around him… It could have been a lot worse. And he’d bet dollars to donuts it wasn’t just some piddly human drug, either. Fae shit was dangerous. Strong. The stuff he made was comparable but at least it wasn’t ever considered deadly.

A figurative age passed by before Edea had settled in front of him, kneeling at a shallow table she’d set up between them. A large, completely smooth stone about the size of a post card but oval shaped sat on a what looked to be something like a dinner plate. The notion made him giggle, suddenly and uncontrollably, rocking back on his hands as the sound turned into a belly laugh. “It’s like. It’s like. You’re serving it up to me. Where’s the knife and fork? Lemme just cut a slice.” He didn’t see Edea roll her eyes, but he could practically hear it, and it only made him laugh harder.

When his laughter finally subsided, he sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. Hoo. Okay. He was calm. He could focus. Which he did. To the best of his abilities. Several stones had been placed around the plate (teehee), varying colours and sizes, all seeming important while appearing innocuous at the same time. She held her hands, palm up, an inch or so above the table, looking at him almost expectantly. “Your hands, Shachath.”

He hesitated, but eventually laid his own hands on hers with his palms down. It made him twitch, feeling the connection between them link suddenly. Some part of him knew that was just the drugs, but another part swore up and down it was fae magic bullshit. “Okay. Not what?” Impatient. High on fae drugs. He wanted to get this done and go.

“Close your eyes and focus on the stone before you in your mind. Take in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and count to ten.”

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to being assaulted on every front and every sense with… everything. He could see so much, almost too much - he understood what Edea meant about needing to unlock more of his brain very suddenly. It was as if he was watching a hundred, thousand, impossibly more than that movies at once. All of them showing him Kay, and himself.

But things were… different. In one of the visions, they were meeting by chance, one of them having missed a train. The vision culminated to them in a coffee shop some time later, confessing their feelings. In another, Cath was a private investigator trying to prove Kay innocent of a crime. Unsurprisingly, they fell in love. In another still, the angel, merely a human here, was the lone cause of a zombie apocalypse, and Kay was the only person immune to his deadly influence.

There were too many to keep track of, but somehow he managed to watch them all, all at once, from start to finish. Cath sang karaoke. Kay was a prince, and Cath his knight. In one they were both angels. In most, they ended up hooking up in one way or another, happy and in love. For every one time they didn’t, a dozen other scenarios came up to soothe the heartbreak Cath felt in their instances. It was surreal. It was bizarre. It was almost too much to handle and the meek part of his bird brain that had squawked ‘It must be the drugs!!’ was saying the same thing again here. Unbeknownst to him, his nose had started to bleed, and he was breathing fairly heavily. Though his brain dutifully ignored the peasantry that was his semi-mortal body, plodding on with the task it had been given by the fae. He couldn’t stop watching. He wasn’t even sure he’d blinked in the past however long it had been. Every vision he saw was simultaneously over in an instant and took an eternity to complete.

It was a nightmare. It was hell.

It was so, so beautiful.

He didn’t remember collapsing, or how long it had been since the reading had started. His recollections were choppy at best, of Edea picking him up and sliding the stone into his hoodie pocket, now an almost impossibly deep shade of black. The forest around them seemed to melt as his consciousness slipped, mumbling incongruously to no one as darkness aggressively swamped his vision.

The home Edea found herself in was exactly that - a home. She felt a significant portion of her power dissolve as she crossed through the Way just to deliver the fallen angel back peacefully, though it bothered her little. She’d traced his origin point rather simply, and felt it maybe necessary to chide him at a later date for making himself so easy to find. At the bedside, she noted the sleeping figure already occupying the large bed. That… must be the one this had all been for. Fascinating. He seemed quite normal from this vantage, far more normal than someone she’d peg Shachath to be interested in. He always seemed so… Flighty, for lack of a better term. Not the kind to settle down in any sense of the word. Hum.

Silently, she placed the KO’d fallen onto the bed, moving to lower herself to a sit next to the other sleeping figure. He seemed strange, from this angle; like nothing she’d seen before. Maybe he wasn’t as normal as she’d initially thought. Though her curiosity got the better of her - a hand gently reached out, placing itself on his forehead (between horns, no less) and closing her eyes.

In an instant, she was standing no more than four feet from him, looking around and taking inventory of the sight.

“Well,” she said, tone loud enough to hear but not loud enough to disrupt, “this certainly isn’t what I’d been expecting.”

[mysunfreckle]

An Unusual Hoard

Baby dragon Enjolras for @courfox, featuring Enj’s adoptive parents.

For Love of Lore fantasy AU, ~2.2k

George and Marianne Enjolras were three things: very happily married, very fond of adventure and, at the moment, running as fast as they possibly could.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” George panted, looking over his shoulder.

“No,” Marianne agreed breathlessly, hugging the large egg closer to her chest. “Are they following us?”

“Not yet,” he replied.

Their footsteps thumped as they hurried back towards the blinking lights of the town. Nobody seems to have seen what they did and it really seems like no one is following them, but they don’t slow down. Because they just stole a real life dragon egg and there is no way they are giving it back.

The travelling sideshow that had set up a little way outside of town was mostly a colourful sham. It promised to give visitors a rare glimpse at ‘the wonders of the magical world’, but all it had was parlour tricks. Rabbits with wooden antlers tied behind their ears, horses with their manes dyed and braided and their hooves stained with gold, magicians that pretended to be true users of magic. All amusing enough, but not real. The large, red and gold egg lying in a basket among a pile of fake glass gemstones had been real though.

Both Marianne and George thought it looked suspiciously realistic right from the start. It was warm to the touch and the rough, scaly texture of the shell felt so strange and wonderful that they had stroked it. Neither of them had really meant to, it just felt like the right thing to do. So they did. Just one stroke. Just because it seemed like the proper thing to do.

That was when the egg purred at them.

By now that was about fifteen minutes ago. Because it had taken exactly eleven and a half minutes for George and Marianne to decide that this egg was not only alive, it was also extremely rare and extremely badly cared for. An egg, after all, was a baby, and babies should not be exhibited like cheap props. It wasn’t right. There wasn’t even a blanket in the basket the egg was lying in. And it had purred at them. Not even a blanket.

So now they were running, George looking over his shoulder at every turn and Marianne cradling the egg in her arms, trying not the jostle it too much.

“Manou,” George panted, looking back once more. “Manou, slow down.”

Marianne slowed to a trot, breathing hard.

“I think,” George said, gulping down air. “I think they really haven’t noticed.” He could hardly believe it, but there really was no one chasing him. No cries of theft or outrage behind them. And they were nearly out of earshot of the fairground already.

“Well,” Marianne huffed. “So much the better.” She stood still for a moment, trying to breathe thought the stabbing in her sides.

“Is he heavy?” George asked concernedly. “Shall I carry him – it – the rest of the way?” What was he supposed to call the egg?

“Please,” Marianne nodded, but she still felt oddly unwilling to let go of the egg. Still, she was only putting it into George’s arms, so that was alright. “Have you got him – it?�� she asked.

“Yeah,” George muttered, an involuntary smile dawning on his face. The egg was so warm… “Do you think he’s cold?” he asked, looking up at Marianne.

“I have no idea,” she said. “But let’s not take any chances. Come on.”

They hurried home, as fast as they could go without running or looking too suspicious. When they reached the town, Marianne took off her jacket and draped it across the egg just in case. More to hide it from prying eyes than for warmth, but it couldn’t hurt.

When they finally closed the door to their home behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment they just stood there in the dark hallway, huddled close together, the egg in between them. Then, slowly, Marianne said:

“George…we stole a dragon.” She felt a bit lightheaded.

“We stole an egg,” George corrected her weakly.

Marianne nodded. “Yes,” she said. “A badly cared for egg.”

“Very badly,” he agreed hastily. “Very badly indeed.”

“They probably didn’t even know what it was,” Marianne added, putting her hand on the warm shell. It seemed to hum under her fingertips.

“Very possible,” he nodded, rocking the egg slightly in his arms. “And it looked cold.” Not even a blanket, how dare they.

“Yes, very cold,” Marianne said firmly.

There was a short silence.

“He’s ours now,” Marianne said, just to be perfectly clear.

“Yes,” George said, addressing the world in general rather than anyone in particular. “Yes, he is.”

Another silence followed, a slightly more tense one this time.

“So…what do we do now?”

.

As it turned out, it mattered very little what they did. Both of them tried very hard to remember if they had ever read anything that might be of help and George very much lamented the fact that it was too late to go to the library. In the end they settled for wrapping the egg in a woollen shawl and placing it in front of the fireplace, in which they lit as big a fire as they deemed safe.

All these preparations, as good as they were, were largely useless. Because just as they had begun to discuss whether making hot steam might be better for the egg than the dry heat of the fire, there was a decided cracking noise.

It is doubtful if any parent is ever fully ready to be a parent, but it is safe to say that Marianne and George, having had exactly three hours to prepare, were certainly not ready. Within seconds they were both on their knees beside the egg, their eyes wide with affectionate panic.

“It can’t be hatching,” Marianne said. “Not already!” This was a rather nonsensical statement and she knew it, because they had no way of telling how old this egg was. They didn’t even know how long dragon eggs took to hatch.

“Maybe it’s because it is safe now?” George stammered. “I’m sure I read somewhere that-”

There was another loud crack and Marianne and George winced in the universal shared pain that all humans are capable of, but that is particularly prevalent in parents. They both reached out to the egg without realizing it and under their hands, as if it truly knew it would at last be well cared for, the dragon hatched.

The egg had been big, but it was still a surprise to see a whole creature crawl out of it. There were red scales, and little claws and a tail and a warm body that curved into their hands like a cat would do.

“Oh Manou,” George breathed. “Look at him…”

“I am,” Marianne said hoarsely.

The little dragon had blue eyes. Blue, brilliant eyes that looked from one parent to the other with such a human expression that they were both nearly speechless.

“Hello little one,” George breathed, stroking the dragons back.

The creature purred and looked up at him.

Marianne held out her hand and the baby dragon turned his slender neck to look at her instead. Then he looked at her hand and put out his paw. His tiny claw spread against her palm and Marianne felt a lump in her throat.

The dragon bent his head and it seemed to George that he was studying how his own paw looked on Marianne’s hand. Almost like he was-

Marianne let out a cry of surprise and a second later George saw it too.

Right in front of their eyes, the little dragon, red and scaly, with a twisty tail and little, folded wings of creased leather, started to change form. Bewildered, George and Marianne watched claws turn to fingers and scales turn to soft skin until what they held in between them in front of the fire was no longer a creature, but a child. A small boy with big, blue eyes, soft hair reminiscent of spun gold and a skin with a slight warm tan to it. They stared at him, in dumbfounded admiration, until he smiled and they both broke down.

“It’s a boy,” Marianne cried, wrapping him up in her arms. “Look at you, you’re a- George we have a son. A dragon and a son.”

“Hello,” George just managed to say, one of the toddlers tiny hands in his. “That’s a neat trick you just did, I didn’t know you could do that.”

The toddler looked rather pleased with himself and was certainly quite content to be cuddled and have his hair stroked. Both parents inspected him carefully and they found that he really looked completely human, with the exception of rather long and slightly pointed ears and a dusting of red scales lining his round cheeks.

Marianne thought she was going to spill over, so full up with happiness she felt. “You-” she muttered against the side of the boy's head. “-are the most wonderful thing we ever stole.”

“You make it sound like we steal things all the time,” George protested, an immovable smile on his face.

“Well,” Marianne said thoughtfully. “We-”

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly yet and you’re already making a bad first impression,” he interrupted her chidingly.

Marianne grinned at him and George wondered vaguely if it was his imagination or if his wife and the boy in her arms really did have the same sort of light in their eyes.

“Am I a bad influence?” Marianne cooed, touching her nose to the toddler’s. “I don’t think I am. Remember, your mother only steals things if they need to be liberated from where they currently are.”

The boy blinked his blue eyes and suddenly he laughed. Not a gurgle, a real laugh, it rang out like gold pieces clattering on a marble floor and both Marianne and George felt a tugging at their heart.

“You are definitely a bad influence,” George informed her. “And we still haven’t introduced ourselves.”

“Should we give him a name?” Marianne asked, gazing down at the golden-haired child in her lap.

“Maybe he has a name,” George said. “Do you have a name?”

The question made the boy look up. He fixed his blue eye son George with a seriousness that should not exist in a child so small and because he could think of nothing else to do, George made an exaggerated movement with his hand and bowed his head. “Welcome, your dragon-ness,” he said. “I am George Enjolras.”

The boy gazed at him questioningly.

“That’s right,” Marianne said, smiling warmly at her husband. She gave a wave of her hand herself. “And I’m Marianne Enjolras.” She gave the boy a gentle look. “We’d like to be your parents if we may.”

The child made a sound that was almost a hum and suddenly he smiled, raised a chubby little hand, made a vague attempt at a wave and said, with a voice that was very young, but surprisingly articulate: “Enjolras!”

The sounds that escaped from both George and Marianne’s mouths were far too emotional to be any sort of coherent.

“Alright,” George said, voice trembling. “What a pleasure to meet you, Enjolras.”

“Our own little Enjolras.”

Neither of the new parents (and more inexperienced and overwhelmed parents there had never been) had any attention left over for anything besides their son. Enjolras seemed to light up the room and warm the air around him with no more effort than simply existing.

It was not until later that his parents found out this was indeed a thing he did. Enjolras might look human, he had dragon fire in his soul and it radiated all around him like the rays of the sun.

They still had a great deal to learn about baby dragons and were at that moment still completely unaware of quite how steep a learning curve this was going to be. They would learn soon enough however, that bewildering as it was to raise a child, raising a dragon came with special challenges. Like the time Enjolras pushed a freshly made pie out of the heated oven to climb into it himself. Or the first time his parents tried to give him a bath and he boiled the water, steaming up the entire bathroom and drenching both his parents. Or the time he was lost for an hour because he had dragged all the blankets off his bed and gone to sleep in a nest in his closet instead. Not to mention the countless objects, big and small, that fell victim to the dragonish hoarding tendencies of a child that, while extremely intelligent and well-spoken for his age, was certainly not less impulsive because of it.

No, at this point in time Marianne and George were blissfully unaware of all these trials to come. All they knew was how happy they were and how hard they were going to work to make this boy, their son, Enjolras, as happy as they possibly could. Of course such feelings were too overwhelming to leave room for anything else, which is why they must be forgiven for thinking that on this wonderful night they had stolen a baby. Because of course this was not at all what had happened. On this wonderful night, a young dragon had started his first treasured hoard. It was a hoard of two. Two parents.

[lunaelumens]

“Starfetched. I get it. Like starcrossed and farfetched. Which I guess is kinda what most people hooking up are.”

The angel stood in a small clearing, naked and half-naked trees reaching into a yawning canopy above him. A warm sunlight trickled through what leaves remained, interrupted intermittently by a cool, wispy breeze. He’d never heard of this part of the Nevernever before, nor the reigning high Sidhe - though upon looking around for more than a minute, it became abundantly clear that Edea was the queen of the short-lived, often chilly, midseason court. The ruling fae of Autumn. Wild.

“Both destined to be, and unlikely so. To be Starfetched is entirely an act of fate. To imagine that anyone could find someone they are truly meant to be with, crossing hundreds of miles or oceans or traversing the many realms to do so… It is truly something.” She was taller than Cath - then again, most were - and, like most in this realm, possessed an unnatural, almost feline-like grace. Her hair spun in spirals down to the small of her back, bits of leaves and other natural debris arranged in it more artfully than one might expect.

Cath nodded slowly in reply. “Yeah, it really is. Something. But it’s why I’m here. I’m requesting a… what should I call it. A reading? I couldn’t translate some of the writings on the process. I wanna get the deets on my relationship with him. We’re ready to take it to the next level.”

“It would appear as though you have already taken to the idea without our influence,” she mused, lips the colour of dead Autumn leaves curling ever so slightly at their corners, gesturing at his left hand. Cath knew at once she was motioning towards the ring Kay had given him. Well, the troll certainly had gotten his wish of wanting anyone that saw it to think ‘Wow, that fellow sure is engaged.’ Hastily, the angel clenched his fist, slicing the air in a ‘cut the shit’ motion with his other hand.

“You know as well as I do what it means.” Anger swelled, a sour taste on his tongue. “Like I’d be able to set foot inside a house of worship without being smited where I stood.” The determination in his expression faltered. “...Smited? Smote? Is ‘smote’ a word?” His bitterness melted into momentary confusion, his penchant for getting sidetracked brought out in full force by the general hazy and confuddling atmosphere of the Nevernever. Edea only giggled, shoulders bouncing, curled locks of fire engine red hair spilling over her shoulders as she did so.

“But your mind has been made up,” she offered, gliding closer to him. “The pair of you are set to be wed by any means, what ever would a reading tell you that you don’t already know?”

To this, Cath’s stance dropped; his shoulders lowering as he thought about it. Really, not much. He’d had his fears worked over by Kay often enough to be sure about this, assured beyond all shadow of a doubt that this was what they wanted. But… Beyond… all shadow of a doubt…? He chewed his lip gently, eyes never leaving the shifting pools of weathered copper the fae watched him through. “If I’m right. We’re - if we’re right. For each other, I guess.” Showing any kind of weakness before a fae was generally a really stupid idea, but he couldn’t - Cath had to be sure. If the powers in his life that ruled over most everything he knew and believed could give him some firm insight, he was hoping the last of the dying embers of doubt would grow cold, and just let him enjoy what had been gifted to him. This life, this love. He had to be sure.

“I’ve read it can do that. Prove that what we have is… Is worthy of being joined as one. It isn’t the same as being married, but it’s the closest thing something like me is gonna be able to get.” He did his best to recall up the notes he’d taken, not wanting to deface Daud’s book. (Even though he deserved to have a few dicks drawn in it. The motherfucker.) “And if I pass the test, we’re allowed the ceremony.”

In his heart, he knew Kay deserved more. Always the wedding planner, never the star. But the fae could put on one hell of a shindig, and maybe, lost in the beauty that the fae (despite being treacherous, nasty, vile, nasty, evil creatures) could produce, he might forgive Cath for being unable to give him what he truly deserved. “And,” he began again, lifting his chin once more, sticking out his chest just a little bit, “it’s the one thing you’re not allowed to bargain for. This is a freebie to those that seek it.” Knowledge was something powerful to the fae, something they had in spades, and they were never ones to give it freely. The Starfetched reading, however, was different. It was something the fae themselves had personal interest in, and it was how lore of married fae couples came to be. Humans, most of the time, had a very basic understanding of the bond magical beings shared - simply put, Titania and Oberon were married. No convoluted reading or ceremony required. It was beyond what patience they had to look beyond the label to find out what was really going on there.

He almost expected Edea to give him lip over it, but instead those lips stretched into a leonine grin. “You are correct,” she acquiesced with a bow of her head. “We are not required nor encouraged to seek payment for this service.” Though her eyes glittered as her head lifted again. “It is taxing enough on those who experience it.”

The angel swallowed. He hadn’t taken into consideration the reading might be dangerous in some way. Hell, it might kill him. The book hadn’t talked about the risks involved, it had only outlined the basic practice. Fae were nigh indestructible, save a severe allergy to cold iron. Reflexively, he touched the heart-shaped ring of his collar. Pseudo outsiders, however… Well. Shit. Kay couldn’t get hitched to a quivering pile of ectoplasmic goo, or a lump of smouldering feathers. But Cath was determined to see it through. “This will be the first time anyone of your ilk has attempted this reading.” There was almost something savage in her tone, though he could not place it. “Should you survive it, I daresay having witnessed it would be payment enough.”

Scared of fae as he was, Cath was not one to give into intimidation tactics. “Then you’ll have witnessed something no other fae has seen, yeah. So, let’s get to it. Enough chat. I hate being here and I gotta say I’m not too keen on you either.” The fae’s look took on a bit more ice, but the smile didn’t fade. “And for some reason you’re the only one in this dump that can do it.” He tilted his head a little. “Why?” Generally, fae didn’t give knowledge without something in return, but they sure did love talking about themselves.

“As seasons change, the summer and winter courts are at a mutual weakness. For a very brief period of time, I am in power. That power also happens to coincide with Samhain. The spirit world and the mortal world brush closest, and the barriers wear thin. Who better to deal with matters of the spirit, soul, and heart than someone in my position?” Said with no small amount of smugness, Cath noted. She certainly seemed to be more than willing to toot her own horn. But he had to give her some credit, no one else would ever really consider the fact of a smaller court in the fae realm. Hell, this was all news to him. But her logic was frustratingly sound. Not like he was jumping out of his skin to talk to the other ladies or queens about this, or anything, either. He liked them right where they were. None the wiser. Though he was sure that once this was completed, word would travel fast. There was nothing he could do about that.

“...Have you ever been in love, Edea?” The angel asked suddenly, his own voice taking on a tone much softer than he’d had initially, losing much of the edge and normal vitriol reserved for this place. “I mean like. The real thing.”

That seemed to strike some kind of chord, and the fae queen glanced away momentarily. “While it is not irregular for us here in the Nevernever to find ourselves in such a situation, It has never happened to myself.” She sounded… Sad, almost. Far be it from Cath to actually feel sympathy or pity for things that existed here, but he found his brows knitting gently.

“It’s because no one can do this for you, isn’t it.” He shifted his weight uneasily as the realization came to him. “No one can perform this rite, this.. seance, this ceremony for you. So you can’t even know if what you feel, if you’ve ever felt anything, can be considered true.” A little ‘huh’ sound left him. “That sucks a big fat one for you.”

Whatever he was expecting from her, it was not a laugh - one neither filled with anger nor malice, or anything negative directed towards him. It was still sharp and all edges, but it was a genuine laugh. “You’ve picked up quite the colourful tongue from living amongst humans, dear Shachath. It is no wonder that love has ailed you so.”

His face screwed up a little at that. Ailed him, huh. There may have been a reason it was called ‘lovesick’. He hadn’t considered it until now. He’d done a lot of things for this love. Faced some of his greatest fears, even, without even thinking of being repaid for his actions. He’d just done them, just like that, because doing it would help someone he loved. Very dearly, at that. Someone he’d do anything for.

Very, very briefly, he wondered if Edea - or the Sidhe in general, had people they knew like that. Their very state of being operated on a different level entirely, but Titania and Oberon were together. He was at least reasonably certain other creatures of the Nevernever could court and find love, too. But how far did their affections stretch? He found he could just as easily imagine Titania waxing poetic about her husband as he could imagine her ripping his throat out over a something as tame as what to have for dinner. But then again, as he’d learned, even the faerie queens were mortal once.

“Maybe it has ailed me. I dunno. But… I do know that I want it to work out. And your little ritual thingy will tell me if it can.”

“Child, no matter what the reading tells you, you’re going to keep doing what you’re doing anyway.” Her tone chided him slightly, though she made no further presses to dissuade him.

“You’re fucking right I am.” Reading tea leaves or tossing sand in a circle could tell him no more than what he felt in his heart. Even if it told him they weren’t… Starfetched, they weren’t soulmates, they weren’t some other form of word that essentially meant they belonged together, right now, they did. They were together right now, and however long it lasted was all that mattered to him. Even if it did scare him a little. He’d spent so long feeling temporary, just a placeholder for the next iteration of him to come along. Many, many versions of himself had come and gone. 26 - almost 27, now - years strong in this form had him… Antsy. He knew it was highly unlikely he’d go anywhere this time, but that ever-present fear lingered. Had he changed enough to be good for this? Had he changed at all?

And then there was still the whole fact that he might not survive the reading. Knowledge was a powerful thing, especially to the fae. It was probably their most valuable asset, and their strongest bargaining chip. Knowledge could make or break someone. Topple cities. End civilizations. Maybe, just maybe, his pathetic little human slash bird brain just wasn’t equipped to handle what vast knowledge Edea was going to forcefully shove into it. Maybe he’d survive. Maybe it’d drive him mad. Maybe that danger was the real reason the service was “free”. Nothing was free. He knew better than that.

Yet here he was.

For a long few minutes Edea regarded him with little more than amused boredom, watching the angel process things. His choice was obvious, even to him - though he didn’t want to seem all too eager to jump into bed with her. Metaphorically speaking. Eventually he nodded, sighing, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

Almost instantly, complete and total darkness engulfed him, and he let out a startled cry - stumbling on nothing and falling flat on his ass with a hard thud. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that he hated complete darkness, though through his scrambled thoughts he couldn’t think of any reason why she’d be doing this to him. It set his heart racing, and it was only moments after that he felt an icy vice grip on his arm. Another sound left him as four pinpricks of pain blossomed from his bicep, sending a numbing chill through him. An instant later he was dizzy, struggling to free himself as the dimness around him faded - like a lone fluorescent bulb slowly bathing a room as it warmed up.

“The fuck,” he managed, free arm coming to support himself on the ground, eyes adjusting. The forest was exactly as it had been moments ago, and Edea herself was standing a few feet away. Her look suggested that of watching a child tucker itself out through a tantrum, and to fit the bill Cath scowled at her. “What the fuck was that for?” Eyes raked around again for some sort of answer, and he realized that it was perhaps an enchantment to blind him momentarily, rather than bathe everything in darkness. Which, of course, scared him more than anything: Edea hadn’t said a word, or made any move to do so. She’d simply willed him blind and it had happened. He quietly filed her under yet another ‘Fae to not fuck with’.

“It is very foolish of you to think that just because you are here to partake in this that you can handle it as you are,” she upbraided, removing a number of things he couldn’t quite focus on from somewhere behind a tree stump. “To put it simply, I’ve drugged you. An altered consciousness is required to… partake in this. I know you don’t use your brain quite so often, Shachath, but unlocking some extra rooms among those grey matter folds is necessary.” She tutted then, shaking her head. “Humans are so unfortunate.”

He really couldn’t argue, all things considered. Humans were unfortunate, and he had read something at some point about brain functionality being limited in a completely sober state. But this wasn’t like any drug he’d ever been on before. He mostly just felt dizzy, awake and sleepy all at the same time, like he was straining to focus on something that may or may not have been there. “So you had to scare the shit out of me first?”

“Blood flow quickens with the pulse, does it not? At least that is what I’m led to believe.” She sounded uncertain for a moment, and Cath had to wonder, briefly, what exactly made up the biology of a fae. But even still, he rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance.

“Couldn’t you just have dropped a porn mag in my lap or something?”

At that, he actually got a scowl from Edea. “Ezra Shachath,” she began in a tone meant to deride children, “and you’re here to prove your love, too.”

Unable to help his uneasy grin, it faded quickly with a sigh. So, she’d made him blind to drug him, and scared the shit out of him to make it quick. He really didn’t like where this was heading, but it was probably a decent testament to her character that she hadn’t done anything else to him. For now. That could change in an instant.

Edea continued gathering her things, Cath watching in dazed silence as the forest spun gently around him. He counted his lucky stars that the drug he’d been given wasn’t doing much more than making him acutely aware of everything around him… It could have been a lot worse. And he’d bet dollars to donuts it wasn’t just some piddly human drug, either. Fae shit was dangerous. Strong. The stuff he made was comparable but at least it wasn’t ever considered deadly.

A figurative age passed by before Edea had settled in front of him, kneeling at a shallow table she’d set up between them. A large, completely smooth stone about the size of a post card but oval shaped sat on a what looked to be something like a dinner plate. The notion made him giggle, suddenly and uncontrollably, rocking back on his hands as the sound turned into a belly laugh. “It’s like. It’s like. You’re serving it up to me. Where’s the knife and fork? Lemme just cut a slice.” He didn’t see Edea roll her eyes, but he could practically hear it, and it only made him laugh harder.

When his laughter finally subsided, he sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. Hoo. Okay. He was calm. He could focus. Which he did. To the best of his abilities. Several stones had been placed around the plate (teehee), varying colours and sizes, all seeming important while appearing innocuous at the same time. She held her hands, palm up, an inch or so above the table, looking at him almost expectantly. “Your hands, Shachath.”

He hesitated, but eventually laid his own hands on hers with his palms down. It made him twitch, feeling the connection between them link suddenly. Some part of him knew that was just the drugs, but another part swore up and down it was fae magic bullshit. “Okay. Not what?” Impatient. High on fae drugs. He wanted to get this done and go.

“Close your eyes and focus on the stone before you in your mind. Take in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and count to ten.”

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to being assaulted on every front and every sense with… everything. He could see so much, almost too much - he understood what Edea meant about needing to unlock more of his brain very suddenly. It was as if he was watching a hundred, thousand, impossibly more than that movies at once. All of them showing him Kay, and himself.

But things were… different. In one of the visions, they were meeting by chance, one of them having missed a train. The vision culminated to them in a coffee shop some time later, confessing their feelings. In another, Cath was a private investigator trying to prove Kay innocent of a crime. Unsurprisingly, they fell in love. In another still, the angel, merely a human here, was the lone cause of a zombie apocalypse, and Kay was the only person immune to his deadly influence.

There were too many to keep track of, but somehow he managed to watch them all, all at once, from start to finish. Cath sang karaoke. Kay was a prince, and Cath his knight. In one they were both angels. In most, they ended up hooking up in one way or another, happy and in love. For every one time they didn’t, a dozen other scenarios came up to soothe the heartbreak Cath felt in their instances. It was surreal. It was bizarre. It was almost too much to handle and the meek part of his bird brain that had squawked ‘It must be the drugs!!’ was saying the same thing again here. Unbeknownst to him, his nose had started to bleed, and he was breathing fairly heavily. Though his brain dutifully ignored the peasantry that was his semi-mortal body, plodding on with the task it had been given by the fae. He couldn’t stop watching. He wasn’t even sure he’d blinked in the past however long it had been. Every vision he saw was simultaneously over in an instant and took an eternity to complete.

It was a nightmare. It was hell.

It was so, so beautiful.

He didn’t remember collapsing, or how long it had been since the reading had started. His recollections were choppy at best, of Edea picking him up and sliding the stone into his hoodie pocket, now an almost impossibly deep shade of black. The forest around them seemed to melt as his consciousness slipped, mumbling incongruently to no one as darkness aggressively swamped his vision.

The home Edea found herself in was exactly that - a home. She felt a significant portion of her power dissolve as she crossed through the Way just to deliver the fallen angel back peacefully, though it bothered her little. She’d traced his origin point rather simply, and felt it maybe necessary to chide him at a later date for making himself so easy to find. At the bedside, she noted the sleeping figure already occupying the large bed. That… must be the one this had all been for. Fascinating. He seemed quite normal from this vantage, far more normal than someone she’d peg Shachath to be interested in. He always seemed so… Flighty, for lack of a better term. Not the kind to settle down in any sense of the word. Hum.

Silently, she placed the KO’d fallen onto the bed, moving to lower herself to a sit next to the other sleeping figure. He seemed strange, from this angle; like nothing she’d seen before. Maybe he wasn’t as normal as she’d initially thought. Though her curiosity got the better of her - a hand gently reached out, placing itself on his forehead (between horns, no less) and closing her eyes.

In an instant, she was standing no more than four feet from him, looking around and taking inventory of the sight.

“Well,” she said, tone loud enough to hear but not loud enough to disrupt, “this certainly isn’t what I’d been expecting.”