October 4th, 2014
Before the first grey light of a murky, October dawn, the birds began their ritual chorus.
Mesteno considered peeling himself up off the twisted sheets, conceding defeat for a third night in a row, but ten minutes later he?d made no progress whatsoever. Sleep?s absence was a strain, and more than ever he pitied Vadriel, who often went for far longer without.
The birds doubled their efforts, and the light trickled slow as syrup amidst fog and cloud.
The necromancer shot an exceedingly petulant look at the window, and instead of rising, twisted over onto his side and grasped clumsily for a handful of dark, curling hair on the pillow beside his. A cruel tug served its purpose, and he only waited for the first glimpse of teeth (smile or snarl would suffice) before he bent low to make his intentions clear. Perfectly clear.
It helped a little, though not enough, and as the water drained later in the shower, tinged the colour of rust as it washed him clean, he let his brow thump against slick tile. Eyes closed, lashes clumped to dark, saturated spikes, he tried in vain to recall how long it had taken the previous year for the effects of autumn?s arrival to fade, or any year for that matter, but his memories were exhaustion dulled, and he gave up when the shower became abruptly crowded. Once was rarely enough.
Of course, his lover wasn?t oblivious to the difficulties the season presented, and Mesteno had taken pains not to guard his secrets in the way he had in past (and very failed) relationships. Evander had been made aware of developments; the work below the Temple District, his renewed attempts to locate the trio who?d marked him years ago, the mercenary who?d tracked him to the inn one evening and his grim admissions that he?d still not found a way to interact with Ygranne.
?I?m thinking about trying my luck asking Vadriel again,? he confessed as he fastened his boots, ready to leave for the settlement. ?He?s improving; it doesn?t seem so far-fetched an idea that he might cave if I harass him enough. I?m just? I have friends there I don?t want to lose, and I will, if I fuck this up. If I caused some kind of damage to their bonding, it?s not just a minor error, it?s lives at risk. Bjorn and Ivanya too.?
Friends, he?d come to realise, were in short supply these days, and those whom he did see from time to time didn?t seem to stick around for long. Even Gem had been evasive in answering the simplest questions when they?d last spoken, where once he?d have sworn she?d trust him with anything. The occasional visits to the inn had seen him more often in the company of new faces, or none at all (he never had been the social butterfly) and the close-knit little groups lately formed teemed with an intimacy he recognised and wanted no part of.
Worse yet? ?Rei?s father is back in the city. I thought you should know that. Doubt you?ll ever run into him, but since Rei comes over sometimes, s?better you know. We don?t like each other, Kakabel ?n I. He?s the one we called?? Old names, from the days where boots had been fitted with spurs rather than steel toe caps. He wondered whether Gem knew that the wretch was lurking about their son, whether Rei would even mention the awkward meeting on the inn?s porch to her - it seemed an issue he ought not involve himself in.
There were plenty of those lately.
?Oh and? did Bjorn ever mention a Sinjin to you?? Strap threaded through buckle, he chanced a look up at lazuline eyes, then found his feet with a grunt. ?Old friend of ours, lotta history. I?m sure I?ve at least mentioned him. He?s kindred, Evander.?
And to Evander, and the rest of the clan, that was an immediate red flag, he knew. Truly he wanted no trouble between them, but he?d not keep it a secret. Even admitting to such a friendship was liable to cause unease amidst the ranks, but Sinjin was his brother?s, and even if the half-fae and Evander thought little of one another, there were boundaries to be recognised and respected.
He left not long after, though not without being tempted by once more, just once, out on the front porch of the cabin. Perhaps if he spent all day at Faendal?s forge he?d finally tire himself enough to get some damned sleep.
Before the first grey light of a murky, October dawn, the birds began their ritual chorus.
Mesteno considered peeling himself up off the twisted sheets, conceding defeat for a third night in a row, but ten minutes later he?d made no progress whatsoever. Sleep?s absence was a strain, and more than ever he pitied Vadriel, who often went for far longer without.
The birds doubled their efforts, and the light trickled slow as syrup amidst fog and cloud.
The necromancer shot an exceedingly petulant look at the window, and instead of rising, twisted over onto his side and grasped clumsily for a handful of dark, curling hair on the pillow beside his. A cruel tug served its purpose, and he only waited for the first glimpse of teeth (smile or snarl would suffice) before he bent low to make his intentions clear. Perfectly clear.
It helped a little, though not enough, and as the water drained later in the shower, tinged the colour of rust as it washed him clean, he let his brow thump against slick tile. Eyes closed, lashes clumped to dark, saturated spikes, he tried in vain to recall how long it had taken the previous year for the effects of autumn?s arrival to fade, or any year for that matter, but his memories were exhaustion dulled, and he gave up when the shower became abruptly crowded. Once was rarely enough.
Of course, his lover wasn?t oblivious to the difficulties the season presented, and Mesteno had taken pains not to guard his secrets in the way he had in past (and very failed) relationships. Evander had been made aware of developments; the work below the Temple District, his renewed attempts to locate the trio who?d marked him years ago, the mercenary who?d tracked him to the inn one evening and his grim admissions that he?d still not found a way to interact with Ygranne.
?I?m thinking about trying my luck asking Vadriel again,? he confessed as he fastened his boots, ready to leave for the settlement. ?He?s improving; it doesn?t seem so far-fetched an idea that he might cave if I harass him enough. I?m just? I have friends there I don?t want to lose, and I will, if I fuck this up. If I caused some kind of damage to their bonding, it?s not just a minor error, it?s lives at risk. Bjorn and Ivanya too.?
Friends, he?d come to realise, were in short supply these days, and those whom he did see from time to time didn?t seem to stick around for long. Even Gem had been evasive in answering the simplest questions when they?d last spoken, where once he?d have sworn she?d trust him with anything. The occasional visits to the inn had seen him more often in the company of new faces, or none at all (he never had been the social butterfly) and the close-knit little groups lately formed teemed with an intimacy he recognised and wanted no part of.
Worse yet? ?Rei?s father is back in the city. I thought you should know that. Doubt you?ll ever run into him, but since Rei comes over sometimes, s?better you know. We don?t like each other, Kakabel ?n I. He?s the one we called?? Old names, from the days where boots had been fitted with spurs rather than steel toe caps. He wondered whether Gem knew that the wretch was lurking about their son, whether Rei would even mention the awkward meeting on the inn?s porch to her - it seemed an issue he ought not involve himself in.
There were plenty of those lately.
?Oh and? did Bjorn ever mention a Sinjin to you?? Strap threaded through buckle, he chanced a look up at lazuline eyes, then found his feet with a grunt. ?Old friend of ours, lotta history. I?m sure I?ve at least mentioned him. He?s kindred, Evander.?
And to Evander, and the rest of the clan, that was an immediate red flag, he knew. Truly he wanted no trouble between them, but he?d not keep it a secret. Even admitting to such a friendship was liable to cause unease amidst the ranks, but Sinjin was his brother?s, and even if the half-fae and Evander thought little of one another, there were boundaries to be recognised and respected.
He left not long after, though not without being tempted by once more, just once, out on the front porch of the cabin. Perhaps if he spent all day at Faendal?s forge he?d finally tire himself enough to get some damned sleep.