middaeg | Deceuer Catch-All

Who: Soren & OTA
When: All of Deceuer
Where: Various
What: Event prompts & general monthly catch-all
Warnings: Will be updated when applicable.

☆~*It's Snowing Dragons*~☆

The light snow doesn't bother him when he's donned in clothes enchanted to keep him warm. His wings still take the brunt of the chill, so to help keep his blood circulating, he decides now is as good a time as any to get some flight practice in. Besides, if he does nothing at all, the pain wedged deep inside his ribcage but quelled by the aid of magical painkillers begins to throb more noticeably.

He tries to stay out of locales bustling with people. Always he finds that he cannot seem to gain any leverage from the ground-up; starting from a high place yields better results. There's a certain... "high" in being able to scale the distance from one ledge to the next.

However, he's still woefully incapable of mastering full flight. As such, there are plenty of crashes to contest against the highs. Quite literally. Most of the time, he manages to plop down somewhere of no consequence, but even Soren blunders every now and then.

And who knows where you are when an unshifted dragon boy comes tumbling gracelessly out of the air to land... on your head? in your footpath? on an icy pond? in a nearby snowdrift? or maybe he ruined the snowmonster some neighborhood kids were putting their finishing touches on...

☆~*Snow Way Out*~☆

Dragons aren't the only things falling from the sky... The snow remains unrelenting in its advance, and the murmurs of the locals inform Soren that precipitation like this is unprecedented. Flimsier roofs groan beneath the sheer weight of their frosty cloaks. Men, women, and children hunch their shoulders and chatter their teeth. And as for Soren?

I. Well, he's glad he invested in those clothes last Jeuril. His breath plumes in the air like smoke, and his slight frame rattles against the chill, but if he were to be left without a magical source of heat, he would surely slip into sluggishness.

But as it turns out, the wind whips in whimsical ways. A gale going against the grain breaks past him, stripping his garments of his magic... and the only heat available to him.

"...!" He stops. Not because he wants to, but because he can scarcely command his muscles to move. Literal shock tints his bright ruby eyes, rendering him a shivering statue of himself. If he cannot mobilize somewhere warm, and fast, he might just freeze half to death out here.

"Th-this is b-b-bad..." He sucks in a painful gulp of air through his teeth. "I must...!"

II. And it's even worse if this happens while he's anywhere near the breaks in the Bright Wall.

The distorted form of a creature tormented by a gluttonous impulse to destroy slithers into his vision. A Shade. His heart stops there. If his clothes malfunction, then none of his charms against the Cwyld will save him, either. He takes a shuddering, trudging step back. His wings feel ten times as heavy to move. There's no way he could ever hope to escape nor defend himself.

Not by himself. Movement catches the other side of his field of vision. He cranes his neck and finds another Mirrorbound like him. In his overwhelming panic and desperation, he calls for help.

"Shade! I... I c-can't move!"

☆~*All Snowed In*~☆

Unable to reach his dwelling in the barracks easily from the Coven, Soren elects to stay warm in one of the dormitories. There's no way he wants to risk it out in the tundra, not when his body is so vulnerable to chill.

Of course, it also means he can't venture out to grab whatever supplies he needs, nor can he check up on the security of his storehouse... and worse, his hoard. But it also means he can't acquire any more of those heartache-helping potions to dull the pain. He draws the blanket around himself and contents watches the flames in the hearth dance. Maybe he could even pretend that they're capable of licking the frozen wasteland that permeates his aching chest. He feels numb, even without the cold to assist.

His roommate for the night walks in right then. At the very least, a distraction might be welcome. Slowly, he turns his head to look them over.

☆~*Can't Miss the Mistletoe*~☆

No matter how much he avoids those festive little sprigs or times his passage just right so he can slip by them unpaired with anyone, it still manages to happen. After a certain point, you learn how to ford past all the embarrassment of it and escape from the situation as gracefully as possible.

I. Soren sighs as he's invisibly snared next to his new partner and looks them in the eye, resigned to his fate but determined to resume his life. Most likely, he looks a little tired thanks to the frigid weather.

"Let's get this over with. Give me your hand, please."

II. ...or maybe he's oddly compelled, and the partner he's stuck with is given rosy cheeks and skirted eye contact as he loses against an uphill battle with his urge to share in a token of affection. C'mon, Soren... You know you wanna kiss!

[[ If you would like a custom prompt, I would be happy to deliver. Use whatever tagging style (action, prose, etc.) you are comfortable with. ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"...That's fine. I can bear the pain. I'm growing accustomed to being in some level of discomfort these days. From a Monster to a Monster, I'm sure you understand."

The sympathy, so clear and stricken by the glow of the firelight, shine like embers for him. It makes him tense, a little more on guard and like something is squirming inside of him. It's not something he's used to getting from many people, mostly because he usually kept his trials and vulnerabilities locked up tight from others. You can never be absolutely sure who is ready and willing to exploit those weaknesses. Besides, his feelings are a heavy burden that are his own to bear, and forcing Waver to hear it, especially when he barely has anything to do with him, really only amounts to causing trouble for him. In a way, he's glad that he's selling the herbs to him and not forcing him to accept some kind of charity. Waver's inconvenienced himself enough over him as it is. It's his own problem and he should deal with it.

He draws his eyes shut and breathes the steam in from his nose. "I will try not to be too much of a nuisance... Mostly, I will just sleep and conserve my energy. I won't eat much, either."

It's because Waver understands that he feels so sympathetic. Waver sighs softly, nodding in silence as Soren assures him he won't be in the way. It's a little painful, somehow, that Soren feels the need to do that.

"It's fine. There's not much either of us can do until the storm lets up, right? So who cares..."

It sounds a bit rough around the edges, but it's an offer: stay, rest, don't worry.

"Eat if you're hungry though. We've got food."

"...Fine." He sips at the hot and fragrantly robust brew. "You went through all of that fuss to save me. I might as well make it worth it by leaving healthier than I came."

Hopefully that will assuage his concern a little more, since it's pretty clear that his previous assurance that he wouldn't be a thorn in his side seemed to have disturbed him. As much as makes Soren uneasy to be put in a position where he owes someone his life, such an act touches him somewhere deep. Whatever motivated his rescuer to salvage him from the snow, even if it was to avoid losing support for his fledgling business (or perhaps to be able to use this as leverage to ask him for future favors), he still finds himself grateful for his hospitality.

The heat from these various sources should ideally renew vitality within him, but fatigue still settles over Soren, and he's growing increasingly comfortable here. The wariness dissipates gradually, too. He can't sense any ill intent whatsoever, especially not in light of that genuine display of empathy. Someone whose interest merely lied in taking advantage of him later probably wouldn't be so concerned for his well-being. Reflecting over this, he relaxes further into his cloak-and- blanket heap, subconsciously leans closer to the beguiling warmth of his host.

"...Who do you live with, by the way?"

"My Bonded."

He's far more than that, but that's the easiest answer for Waver to give. People tend to side-eye if he says my King.

Considering the conversation though, he does feel a bit guilty.

If Soren wants to lean in, Waver won't stop him. He understands from being close to another dragon how enticing his warmth is when it's cold out, and how difficult it is to stay alert as a cold-blooded creature in weather like this.

"He's out right now. Helping at the poorer districts by the wall, I think."

"How benevolent." No hint of admiration leaks into his weary tone. Yako probably would have been doing the same. Why, if Ike were here, he would be doing the same, too. He may come across as nonchalant, but the truth of how he feels about people like that rests in his patterns. Not that Waver is privy to any of this. "Who is he?"

That question is, surprisingly, much more difficult for Waver to answer than he might have expected.

My King, he might say, and then have to explain (no, it's not some weird roleplay thing, why would you think that??). My former Servant? Same problem. Heroic Spirit of Alexander the Great in his prime as two thousand years of legend and history blended have made people think of him now? Yeah, no.

He could say Iskandar is his... boyfriend??

Waver's cheeks seem to grow redder as he mulls this over, taking a couple seconds longer than he should before finally settling on, "Someone I knew before I was brought here. A... a partner. And friend."

He ended up saying too much anyway, didn't he?

He didn't need to say much of anything for Soren to have garnered the vast scope of his feelings. It's cradled in his hesitance, strung on his voice, on the shine of his eyes, glowing in the heat in his cheeks. This isn't just a partner or a friend. It could be his world. Jealousy coils its thorny length around his heart as he reaches for Ike in the prison of his mind only to have the man vanish like a wispy cloud into the ink of the night sky. He closes his eyes and endures the same pain of a hollowed existence he has learned to deal with for months.

"That's nice." No venom leaks into his weary tone. "What is his name?"

"Ri--" Waver starts to answer automatically, then corrects himself. That's not his name, after all.

"It's Iskandar."

That's not a forgettable name, and the appearance that goes with it isn't exactly forgettable, either. "Oh... I've met him before. Yes, I can definitely see him out in the storm helping others." But what was Waver about to say? Was it a simple stutter? He decides not to pry about it.

"Oh, you have?"

Waver smiles, faint but with a glimmer of pride.

"Yeah... that's the kind of person he is. How did you meet him?"

"It was in the dream with the wildfire, before he arrived through his mirror," explains Soren after a sip of tea. "I guided him to where I knew it was safe. In those dreams, I can fly. ...He did not want me to carry him, stubbornly insisting that he could walk it even with his injury. Who was I to trample upon his pride? If he wanted to take the harder way even when an easier choice is presented to him, that's his decision. He could be afraid of heights for all I know."

Or suspicious of his small frame's capacity to carry him. Not like he can really blame him for that sort of wariness...

Deceuer Catch-All

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sorry for the lateass lackluster tag...... :'(

you really thought i'd forgive you??

:'(((

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