Swirling his cup lazily in his fingers, a lone brow arches as he watches her greedily sip at the coffee he offered her. If he had to guess, he would argue that she barely even heard anything he said. Apparently the coffee was more enticing than he was. If he were in a better mood, he would have chuckled at the thought, but the ghosts of yesterday still nip at his heels, and he can’t rid himself of the dreadful sensation bubbling up within the pit of his stomach when he tries to consider Orpheus’s reason for ordering him to keep an eye on her. Or, even, Alice’s intentions for that matter. He resists the urge to rub at his temples as the steam licks at his palm. For a vampire, he feels awfully tired this morning despite the fact that the realm this area of the bathhouse exists in always harbors a night sky for the sake of making their lives both easier and more comfortable. 

     He chases down his growing unease with a long sip from his cup, allowing the piping hot coffee to burn the back of his throat on the way down. But that meager sting wasn’t enough to soothe the turmoil of his mind. It wasn’t like him to be so rattled–to care so much. He had spent the last few hundred years comfortably obeying orders, and toying with the hearts of those he seduced. It had never bothered him in the slightest, but that was largely because he thought she was dead. Long gone by now. Whatever had been left her after the fire had turned to dust by now. He thought her nothing more than a nightmare or a bad memory. But, here she was, with a face so similar to the one he had loved, and the personality to match–not to mention the birthmark. He couldn’t deny who she was, even if he was desperate to convince himself this was some elaborate prank just to rid himself of the guilt creeping in that he hadn’t felt in centuries. 

      His eyes darken at her comment, and he feels himself grip his mug harder, but eases the tension in his hand when he can feel the meek porcelain begin to give out against his grasp. And that, too, bothers him. He’s always been fully in control of his emotions, as well as his abilities. Where other newly turned vampires struggled to resist their hunger or didn’t understand the depths of their own strength, he had always harbored an impressive amount of self-control. Even when he had murdered the villagers who had killed her, he hadn’t done so in a fit of rage or hysteria–he had been fully in control of his actions that day. He had done it for the sake of revenge. For the sake of making them suffer as she had.   

      He leans his arm over the back of his chair, and crosses his ankle over his knee. His expression isn’t as warm as it had been before, despite his efforts to maintain an air of openness. “Oh, is that so?” He forces out. His voice is an octave deeper than intended, and he grimaces slightly as a result. He knows it’s better to keep up this act than to reveal himself, but it feels impossible when it’s been centuries since he believed her dead, and his frigid, un-beating heart still somehow remembers the warmth of her love all these years later. But Orpheus will surely take her life if he displays even an ounce of hesitation or weakness. “Truly, that would be shame. I found it rather attractive. I would love to know if there’s a story behind it,” he says instead of what’s actually on his mind. If Orpheus wants to play games with him, he’s perfectly capable of doing just that back.      

        But the tension in his voice dissipates when she speaks up once more, and he feels his muscles relax as he lets out a faint chuckle. Ah, that really does sound like something she would ask. He can only imagine what kind of scenario her mind has conjured up when he thinks back to all of the tales she had told him when they had both been human, and all of the wild stories she managed to come up with. “Of course not. I was the one who invited you, after all. I’m afraid I’m not in the business of swindling beautiful women. Especially a beautiful woman who’s managed to capture my heart.” His still, very much not alive heart, but well, when has he ever been one for specifics. “Perhaps you would be willing to humor this unworthy soul with a proper date?”   

@thorn-kissed​​

   The acidic aroma of coffee fills his nostrils as he stands in the largely empty kitchen on the first floor of the inn. His dull eyes lifelessly watch the piping hot liquid pour quietly into the pair of cups he has set out in front of him. The plip-plop of the liquid sounds dreadfully loud to his keen ears, and tired mind. There’s barely a thought that crosses through his head as he sets about the mundane routine. Not once does he glance out one of the windows or spare a look towards the spotless sink or untouched refrigerator. He pays no heed to Ingram, the only other one lingering in the area, as he chugs the third cup of coffee Uriel’s spotted him drink out of the corner of his eyes since he came downstairs. Even when the coffee overflows from the cup and spills out onto his deathly pale hand, he offers it little reaction beyond a frown as he sets it down upright, and grabs a towel hanging over the edge of the marble countertop to quickly wipe it away. The lingering pain of the burn that heals too quickly on his skin feels like nothing more than a pinprick to him. 

     With both cups in hand, he slowly makes his way to a table near the back of the dinning area, and flops down in quite possibly the most unceremonious manner he can. His loose, button-up shirt is still undone, and it sways softly against his bare chest with the motion. “Alice…” he hisses from the depths of his throat as he glares into the dark liquid. It’s the first sign of life he’s had since last night. Not that it means much for a vampire, nor has Uriel ever been terribly expressive. Miserably, he comes a hand through his hair and buries his forehead into his palm. The sight of that damn birthmark is still fresh in mind. After all, he could never possibly forget it.       

     The sound of footsteps removes him, temporarily, from his agonized state of being, and his eyes lift to spot a bed of dark hair emerging from the stairs atop an all too familiar face that sends a pang of remorse, regret, and an array of other emotions he can’t quite handle right now so he shoves them down as he lowers his hand, and forces a smile onto his face. The same tired act he’s given since day one as if he hadn’t walked out on her last night in the middle of a massage to get approximately zero information from Alice when he had confronted the other about what was happening. “Good morning, my lady, won’t you join me for a cup of coffee?” With a belated sigh, he takes a sip from one of the cups, and leans back casually in his chair. “Do forgive me for last night, I was so stricken by your beauty that I must have gotten cold feet.” He hates every word that drips from his lips, but he doesn’t quite know what to do. Why is she here? How is she here? What does Alice know? Why did Orpheus order him to keep an eye on her? And, oh, he suspects he knows the answer to the last part, and it makes him sick. It’s been over a century–he couldn’t keep her safe then, and he can’t keep her safe now. Why did he play along with this game for so long when it was all so pointless?  

    Gloved fingers trace along the hull of the Grandcypher as she walks about the ship, heels tapping lightly upon the wooden dock where it was firmly tethered. The hustle and bustle of the town reached the port with ease, and she could make out a few voices from the crew here and there if she listened long enough. She had been with them briefly to pick up a gift for Katalina while the knight had decided to remain behind for the time being, using this rare chance to pick something up for her without her notice. But the errand had only taken her a moment - she did have a talent for negotiation after all. So, she had swiftly made her way back to the ship to be reunited with Katalina once more. It would be a terrible waste to pass up this rare opportunity she had been given to spend a bit of time alone with the other. The thought just on its own was almost enough to make her shudder with excitement. And, ah, the weather was quite lovely as well. She could feel the glare of the sun upon her back as she walked. It wasn’t unlike the times they would sit and eat together at the academy. 

        Perhaps she should ask Katalina to accompany her into town to pick up supplies so she might be able to make lunch for her once again. A thought that she holds onto as she begins to head up the ramp, a smile falling onto rosy lips when she hears the telltale click of the knight’s boots upon the ramp, and looks up to meet her gaze. “Only for a moment, I would never you leave you alone for long, Katalina,” she answers, fingers worn from years of swordplay and training lifting to settle against her cheek. Rough skin brushing against the more tender touch of her visage. Her expression remains to remain in place, even if her head tilts ever so slightly at the other’s words. Oh she adored Katalina, but even she had to admit that the knight was wholly incapable of cooking. She’s witnessed her…quaint creations a handful of times now, and, well, they were rather impressive all things considered, they weren’t actually edible. Ah, but that was beside the point. Someone like Katalina shouldn’t be wasting her talent and time on cooking anyway. 

        “I would love to.” Her resolve in the face of what would strike fear into the hearts of even the most ruthless members of the crew was truly striking. Though it came from a place of confidence - or rather, she knew could dissuade Katalina from attempting to cook if she went about this carefully. She hardly had the heart to deal her dear one that her cooking wasn’t nearly as delightful as she seemed to believe. Shopping with her; however, was something she could look forward to. That little trinket she had purchased still tucked away safely within the pockets of her skirt for another time. Perhaps for later tonight when the remainder of the crew was tucked away in their beds. Both of them did have a habit of staying up rather later, after all. She had gone to great lengths to obtain it, but oh she knew it would be worth it when she handed it over. 

         “To be honest, I had returned to ask if you might accompany me for the very same thing.” There it was - plan slowly being put into place. Voice sweet as honey as she peered at the other through a veil of long lashes. “I was hoping to pick up ingredients so I could make lunch for the two of us. I found myself reminiscing about our days at the academy, and now I want nothing more to prepare a meal for you as I used to.” A fond sigh full of years of longing brushes past her lips. And if all goes according to plan that should be all it takes to gently push Katalina away from the idea of cooking something herself for the time being.    

     With a huff, Mouse wiggles his way out of the hole he had made in the thick layer of snow without either one of them still on the ground for him to flop around on. His tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth as his fluffy tail wagged cluelessly where he stood between them, nipping at the clumps of snow that fall off Djeeta’s brightly colored hat as she tries to shift her jacket back into its proper place, but she looks almost as lopsided as the canine standing between them with his head tilted to the side and one of his ears flopping about in the bitter breeze. It’s all he can do to swallow a sigh and take a few steps forward to swiftly close the distance between them so he can reach out with a gloved hand to gently brush the snow from her shoulders - ignoring Mouse as he caught them in his oversized mouth. Before reaching up to tug her hat into its former position as he offers her a firm nod alongside a subdued grunt of agreement. He wasn’t unused to this weather, but he couldn’t claim the same for her so it would be better to take things slowly, and with caution to avoid the worst case scenario should something happen to them on the track.     

     There’s not even the faintest hint of surprise upon his features when she manages to ask that question. By now, he’s used to her plans being less actual plans and more random whims she pulls out of her hat, and decides to follow. He suspected her desire for him to accompany her had little to do with needing the dog that had decided to take it upon himself to befriend him, and more to do with the fact that she needed a backup plan for her not actual plan in case something went terribly wrong. Which is where, apparently, she decided he was coming in - to fix the holes in everything she hadn’t thought through. He can’t say it doesn’t remind him of handful of people he knows, and he shakes his head at the idea - silver hair damp where flakes of snow cling to it, and make it shimmer beneath the lukewarm glare of the sun where it strikes his dark skin. 

      “Come with me,” he sighs, waving his hand in a lackluster manner before he turns around - boots gliding easily through the snow. Mouse is quick to trail along beside him, and he can’t stop himself from glancing over at the massive animal. A frown forming upon his chapped lips when their eyes meet, and he tears his gaze away when the canine whines softly as if he were concerned about his well-being. And he still finds himself wondering why he’s been accepted by this animal when it’s evident the other dogs still shy away from him - their heads lowered as they slink off when he walks past them to lead Djeeta and, apparently Mouse, to where the elongated and open hut where the sleds are stored - many already plucked from the walls to be used by the other mushers that will be taking part in the race.    

      He knocks his boots against the door frame before walking into the shed, their worn soles not making a single sound as they cross from snow to wood. His gaze dancing around the equipment while taking Mouse’s size into consideration before he settles on a sled big enough to fit the both of them, and pulls it down from where it was hanging on nails bolted into the walls before grabbing the remainder of the equipment they needed. “That should be everything.” He nods in the direction they had come from, stepping outside once more so he can set the sled down and pile the equipment on top of it before turning to her - tuning out the sounds of Mouse’s excited whimpers once the animals seems to realize he’s going to take part in the race. “How much of this have you thought through?” He knows the answer, but he’s going to ask her anyway, easily and seamlessly slipping the harness onto the wiggling Mouse who can’t seem to contain his joy.    

    ‘If we get that far, and it happens, we’ll deal with it then.’ All right, so she had a point. A point he didn’t feel like addressing, but it was still better to get the big one out of the way, right? It was likely their leader and the most powerful of the bunch, So. theoretically, if they got it out of the way the remaining mushrooms would, hopefully, be easier to do away with. At least, that was his plan and he was sticking to it - not well, though, if his little stunt was anything to go by. Lips curling as he tries to maintain his balance in the vile water, and simply can’t get his footing to land on anything solid. But, on the bright side, his pitiful display did manage to get the creature’s attention, and Djeeta’s. A huff exhaling past his lips as he tried to gesture a bit more aggressively at her to get the point across, and while that doesn’t, actually work, the water he kicks up as a result does do the trick when it splashes against her.

       He sucked in a breath as she charged at it, taking all of the muck and god knows what else into his lungs along with the already highly questionable oxygen in the air, and he nearly chokes as a result. Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the rotten taste. A damp hand coming up to shove waterlogged bangs from his eyes just in time to see Djeeta’s sword cleave the monster in two, but not before getting a root slammed against her stomach. With as much force as he could muster, he yanked his leg out of the thick mud, and tried to trudge over in time to catch her, but things never go as planned for them, and he slips on a rock - bone - he doesn’t want to think too much about it, and ends up face-first back in the swamp water he had just crawled out of and right beside his sister.

       Yanking his head out from the depths of darkened muck, he casts a glance beside himself at Djeeta as she flops about in a similar and equally comical manner.  Spitting out a clump of mud, he rolled onto his thighs and sat down in the muck. Mud dripping down his features as he unburied his hands and rolled his eyes at her remark. ‘Look, it’s dead isn’t it. Surely they’ll retreat -’ before he can finished signing he’s cut off by a tiny mushroom hurling itself at his face and knocking him back into the water. With a startled gasp he yanks the thing from his hair and chucks it back at the snickering group of mushrooms where they’re still nestled safely on the shore. ‘Have I ever told you that I hate mushrooms,’ he signs with muddy hands and a giant, red mark covering most of his face from where he had been struck. Oh, that was it, they were totally getting rid of the entire mushroom population right here and right now.   

          A huff, and he’s pull off of his remaining shoe because, at this point, what else does he have to lose? And with all the force he can muster, he hurls that at the biggest mushroom left. ‘Ha, how do you like it?’ Can these things understand sign language, probably not, but he’s got a smirk on his face anyway. A smirk that was terribly misplaced and misguided - if the look he swears he can see on that mushroom’s face is anything to go by as it shakes its colorful head and begins to grow - rapidly all while coating the remaining mushrooms in bright spores and - oh no - now they’re all growing…and now they’re all as big as the one Djeeta had just cut in two.   

         ‘Oh you have got to be kidding me right now.’ Why did Djeeta always have to be right? For once would it kill the universe to let him be right so they could just go home and take a bath already. If this lady didn’t offer an arm and leg for this cat upon their return he was personally strangling her - to hell with the consequences.  

     Long lashes flutter upwards in surprise when he catches sight of the tears beginning to well up within her eyes at the sight of the food he had offered her. But it only lasts for long as it takes for him to blink once more - relief flooding his bright, but tired eyes as any guilt for the trouble this little act of kindness might cause Michael down the line when she was calculating their expenses completely vanishes. A few lost sales couldn’t possibly be compared to the joy offering warm food had so clearly brought her. Even if it doesn’t bode well for his already bad habit of giving things away for free - one that constantly earns him a lecture from his fiery vice-manager whenever she catches him in the act or stumbles upon it whenever she takes stock. Moments like these make his small acts of kindness at his own expense worth it. It allows him to feel a fleeting, but wonderful sense of having touched someone’s life. After all, he had opened up this cafe to do just that - to create a place where others might be able to feel safe from the world beyond these doors, and to give them the chance to enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee tailored to their liking. One that, he hopes, might bring a smile to their faces when they take that first sip and are struck by its brilliant flavor. 

        “I’m glad,” he admits, shifting in the booth - one leg coming to rest over the other as he listens to the gentle drum of the rain as it beats against the window and the whirl of the machines nestled behind the counter. A quiet hour at the cafe was always a welcomed one, even if he did enjoy making coffee, and being able to exchange a few words with customers. The downside of a rush; however, was that it didn’t give him a chance to get to know the people who came to his cafe - what might have drawn them to his humble business, why they had chosen it out of the dozen other options in the city, and what their favorite blends were. Though he could often seem distant or soft spoken, he truly did enjoy the company of others - even strangers, and this was a rare chance for him to sit down and speak to someone. To forge a bond that might last only a second, but could impact someone’s life for years to come - for the better, of course, he hopes. Ah, perhaps he thinks too wistfully most days - his dreams must seem strange to most, but they’ve become precious to him. Some days, these little wishes of his are all he has left. 

       He tucks his hands neatly beneath his chin as she begins to speak - a brow raising at the defeated sigh that leaves her. He doesn’t quite understand what she means by boy troubles - the statement is vague enough, to him, that it conjures up a thousand different meanings in his head. From a conflict with a friend or loved one to a stranger on the street who might have been rude to her to her boss or a coworker - anything. The subtleties and nuances of conversation are often lost on him, as if he has little experience with such things despite how eager he always is to strike up conversations with customers and strangers beyond these walls whenever the chance arises. 

       “I see, that does sound rather troublesome.” He mimics her wording, gentle smile never leaving his features, and his voice is a reflection of the warmth that remains present within his expression. Ah, a shame Gabriel isn’t here - she was always willing to offer advice, but he supposes there’s no harm in giving such a thing a shot himself. She had chosen to come here, after all, to seek shelter and to escape her burdens - it seems only natural that he, as the owner of the cafe, reaches out a hand to help pull her up if he’s able. “If you’re comfortable speaking to me about it, I would be more than willing to lend you an ear.” He’s learned, over the six months it’s been since he had opened this cafe, that sometimes all someone needs is a person who is willing to listen to their tale without judgement. Someone who will offer them compassion in return - someone who is simply willing to offer their time for little in return. “I wouldn’t want to see you leave here with a frown on your face, after all.” 

         His smile grows just a bit brighter when she takes a sip of the latte he had made for her, and sees how her eyes widen at the taste. While he’s only been in business for a month, he already knows the telltale signs of when someone sincerely enjoys one of his drinks. And those eyes are one of many. It brings him joy to see someone pleased with a drink he’s made them on nothing more than a whim - when he has the chance, he always tries to guess a person’s preferred blend or the blend he thinks might best suit them that day, simply based on the impression they give him and the mood they seem to be in. Oftentimes, he’s learned, when someone is having a difficult day or seems to be upset about something, sweeter drinks are the best options. A shame he’s not nearly as good at latte art as Sandalphon or he would surely be able to brighten someone’s day all the more - it’s something he very much hopes he can improve on with time. For now, at least, he’s able to manage the little wings that compose the cafe’s logo well enough. But he wishes he could craft something more pleasant into the foam - little animals, hearts, stars - things that tend to bring people joy when they their eyes upon them.  

         “There’s no need to thank me, hearing how much you like it is more than enough for me.” Truly, it is, and the tone of his voice makes it evident he’s being genuine. “Being able to make a coffee everyone can enjoy is a dream of mine, so, whenever the chance arises for me to make someone a blend, it’s difficult for me to resist,” he admits a bit wistfully. “So, knowing that I’ve managed to make something that you enjoy is all the thanks I need.” Well, Michael and Sandalphon might beg to differ - this little acts of kindness are half the reason why he and Vane are rarely allowed to work together as they’ve both much too kind of their own good, and that is, admittedly, part of the reason why he knows he can get away with giving her so many free things today. “If you end up finishing that cup before your story, I’ll be more than happy to make you another as well One I pray you’ll find equally as good.”       

     Small, and terribly comical wings flutter ever so slightly when she scooted closer to him, calm eyes shifting from the shimmering stars and the brilliant constellations he had been counting for the better half of the night to the rosy red of her skin where the chill had nipped at her soft features. His smile one of utter delight at the words uttered out in a tepid breath that filled the night air with more warmth than he could have ever imagined - one that far outweighed the heat that still lingered upon his palms from the cup he had passed off to her. One that he had only recently come to learn was described as happiness by the mortals he now shared his days with. Fingers that were exposed to the frost not nearly as frozen as they should have been given that his gloves cut off at the knuckles, thanks to that drink, but, truth be told, he couldn’t feel the bite much through his typical armor, and she radiated warmth where she touched him - a feeling he far preferred to the plush fabric of the blanket he had wrapped about her frame or the thick cotton of those winter coats and knit of the scarves he had seen a few of the crew members don when the season had begun to truly set in. It was a wonder seeing it all play out for himself.

      “I’m delighted to hear you say that. I’d happily make you as many cups of hot cocoa as your heart yearns for, Captain.” Both that she agreed with his sentiment, and that his skills hadn’t dulled since he had last put together a cup of hot cocoa for her. Though he still favored tea, the rich blend of hot cocoa was a pleasant one - especially in the colder months, and the chocolate it contained always tasted sweet upon his tongue. And he was thankful he had made one for himself as a test prior to the one he had brought out for her to enjoy. Ah, it seems all of his hard work had paid off (and all of the time he had spent snooping around the kitchen in order to figure out where all of the supplies were usually or most often tucked away). And his smile only grows wider with each compliment she pours on him, her little sips as they filter into the air more than enough for him. Even when she managed to get a spec of whipped cream upon her cheek as she indulged. 

     Without hesitation, he reaches out a gloved hand  to cup her chin within his palm, and wipes away the white foam that had clung to her skin before retracting his hand - opening up his palm between them so she could see the cream where he had smudged it off onto his thumb. “You got some on your cheek. Be careful drinking it, or you might end up burning your tongue,” He only points out after he’s already cleaned it off for her, and just slightly before he licks the remains from his thumb, and his hand comes back down to rest in his lap. Despite his warning, he sounds nothing short of joyous about the situation, and his wings mirror that - fluttering every chance they’re given despite the fact that, though cold. the wind isn’t as intense as it could have been. 

      For a moment, he simply watches her enjoy the warm drink. The way the marshmallows and whipped cream bounced in the cup somehow reminding him of her in a way - with that endless sense of wonder she harbored despite the constant danger that hung over her head. Expression softening at the offer when it comes to his attention, and his now, slightly, frigid hands knead together in his lap for a moment. He can’t say he’s terribly cold, but he’s also not going to deny sharing a blanket with her either. At the very least it would stop the growing collection of snow that had begun to pile upon his wings from growing until it engulfed them entirely.      

        “While I don’t mind the cold, I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing the blanket either.” Fingers remove themselves from where they had been resting as he moves closer to her so he can reach out and gingerly pull the blanket out to drape a bit of it over his own shoulders - body leaning against her shamelessly to replace the warmth she would have otherwise lost from him borrowing just a bit of it. And it looks ridiculous when his wings are still perked up behind him - their shape clearly visible in the folds of the fabric, and it shifts slightly every time they flap, no matter how mild. “I believe, this too, will one day become a beautiful memory for both of us,” he beams, body leaning into hers just a bit more as bits of snow melt against his wings or flop upon the deck from where they had collected upon his back and shoulders. “Tell me, Captain, what do you know of the stars?”   

     He watches her scoot ever closer, likely beginning to feel the bite from the frigid winds and the snow beneath their feet. Though it’s difficult to keep track of anything she’s doing when he has a good ton-worth of dog sprawled out on his lap wiggling around and demanding attention from both of them. Not that he minds or would complain, but he does question if Mouse is simply incapable of feeling fear, or something had drawn the animal to him. No, that’s an absurd thought, and he could only blame the villager who had recited the rules to him for getting into his head about how dogs were capable of sensing good-natured people. If that were the cause, Mouse’s sensors were clearly defective. The other canines were right to steer clear of him. Yet, despite his thoughts, he still continues to run his hands along the massive animal’s back all while relying the basic ideas of mushing to Djeeta without fault. Orders, at the very least, were easy for him to remember, even if that knowledge brings a sour taste to the tip of his tongue. 

       His gaze meets hers once he’s finished explaining, and he has the dreadful feeling that his earlier suspicions had been correct when he’s greeted by a mischievous smile spreading out over her features. He almost starts sighing before she can even convey the plan to him, but he manages to hold it until she gives voice to exactly what had crossed his mind when she had spotted him with Mouse and trotted over to join him. He could simply turn her down, but it wasn’t even an option in his mind. She reminded him of a certain someone. A certain someone who seemed to adore getting herself into endless amounts of trouble. And he knew if he didn’t go with her he would only come to regret it - or she would stir up something in those mountains in the middle of the race. Either way, he glances downwards at Mouse, the canine giving him a lopsided grin as his tail beat even faster, as if he understood what their conversation had been about. 

       “Very well,” he sighs in defeat, watching as she plunges her chilled cheeks into Mouse’s said, earning a delighted bark from the dog that Eustace could feel vibrate through his entire body, all while the animal made an effort to twist in order to lick at her face. All of the animals here were well trained according to the villagers here, yet he had to wonder how reliable that information was, and if Mouse had received the same treatment as the others when he had already been informed he was the runt of the group - despite his massive stature that was constantly threatening to squeeze the air from his lungs with every flop of the canine’s body against his own. 

         “However, if you insist on doing this, we should practice before the race tomorrow. The more information we have, the better.” He moves his hands upwards, ruffling the fur upon Mouse’s cheeks before he pulls himself out from beneath the dog with a surprising amount of grace before dusting off the snow that’s clinging to his person. Forcing himself to meet the pitiful and heartbroken gaze Mouse gives him for the action before he relents and pats the dog’s head once more to appease him. Somehow, he had a feeling Djeeta wasn’t the only one he was going to end up watching over.        

    A low rumble vibrated within his chest as a pained, but hushed laugh rippled through his lungs. For a noblewoman, her way of thinking could have been consider a tad bit unorthodox, but he found that part of her endearing, even if it did make him worry. The fact that she was even resting on him like this would have been considered nothing short of obscene by most of her family’s former friends. But, though he had protested the idea, he was grateful for it now - her dress might have been tattered and soaked through, but she still felt rather warm against his mostly chilled body. The ache of his wounds soothing just a bit from the additional heat pouring against them, but he was still in no shape to move any time soon. And, thankfully, the storm raging just beyond the cavern walls didn’t appear as if it would let up - the army had likely moved on by now. Though the Empire desired their heads, it wasn’t as if they were priority targets to them, they had better things to do than wait them out. So, for now, at least, they would be safe. And that brings him some relief given his current condition, but not much. Not when she…well…she’s basically wearing nothing, and he doesn’t expect her little plan to get discounted clothing is going to go over well. 

     “As much as I’d like to agree with you, I somehow doubt that’ll be the case. We’ll be lucky if they don’t kick us out. We look like a couple of washed-up rats.” His voice is strained, and he struggles to form words here or there, but he’s alive. He’s also not confident they’ll be able to salvage even that much fabric from the pathetic heap that’s been tossed away from them. His boot might have more fabric than what’s left of her dress. Not to mention how damp it is, if it doesn’t dry out before they reach town than it will serve never to no purpose anyway. Even thinking about it now is almost enough to bring on a headache, and he hardly needs that in addition to the pain still flickering through his body. “But I was a thief, and I probably still have a way with words, my lady.” 

       Slowly, he lifts his hand to rest it upon the small of her back, bringing her a bit closer to him as a chill rushed down his spine when the wind picks up outside. If anything, the storm has only gotten worse since they had found shelter. “We always do, despite our rotten luck.” And rotten luck doesn’t even begin to cover half of what their lives have been up until now - constantly dodging around soldiers and worming their way in and out of towns. And with the knowledge they have hanging over their heads, the urge to actually try to do something about it increases by the day. But they’re two people, they can barely survive with the empire chasing after them let alone if they tried to fight back. 

         “I don’t think the storm is going to let up soon, you should rest while you’re able.” He doesn’t outright say it, but the implication of his words make it clear he doesn’t plan to sleep himself. One of them needs to keep watch, and he would much rather wear himself thin than force her to do so for his sake. And, perhaps its habit, he is her bodyguard. He had sworn to her family that he would keep her safe, and he intended to do so, even if it might one day cost him his life. But, for the most part, he tries not to think too hard about it. After all, she’s the reason he has his sorry life to begin with - as willing as he is to throw it away for her, he knows better than to think too long or hard about it. If he did, she would personally drag him out of the depths of Hell to beat him senseless. 

@caeruleis

 "I always find myself unable to come up with a tangible gift that seems suitable for you when Valentine's Day comes each year, Djeeta." He had spent the better part of the month pondering over it, yet he never come up with an answer that could properly convey the depths of his feelings to her. Chocolates were too simple. Hot coca too fleeting. Flowers too delicate. Jewelry too fussy. "So, once more, I have decided upon something else."

"It's hard to understand the ways of this world." He offers her a gentle smile before he extends an open palm to her. The small wings upon his back stretching and extending until they've morphed into six, massive white wings that glitter gold beneath the starry sky that looms above. "So, instead, I will take you to see the stars from a place even the Grancypher can't sail. Come take my hand, and I will show you a most breathtaking sight."

"So, it seems it's Valentine's Day once again," comes his deep voice when he spots Djeeta approach him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and promptly cuts her off before she can say whatever she had planned to. A smirk rising to his lips as he looks up at her from where he's seated on the deck. By now he knows her routine, and, this year, he's decided to catch her by surprise instead. No hesitant, he reaches out towards her.

Her hand in his, he tugs her downwards into his lap, breaking her fall with ease. That smirk never leaving his face as he sets a box of milk chocolates upon her lap before lowering his hand to cup her jaw within his palm in order to tilt her head upwards towards his own. "Happy Valentine's Day, Djeeta. Come on, open your mouth now. I'll feed you." He's close enough that his tepid breath flickers against her rosy cheek.

    “Of course you are.” Tepid breath is forced into the chilled air at her comment in the form of an elongated sigh that was made visible by the unfavorable weather, his own hands still resting on Mouse’s massive frame where the dog seems perfectly content to remain snuggled up in his lap - massive nose poking at his chest and equally oversized tail flopping back and forth against his legs. And if his legs had gone numb from being pinned beneath the massive creature and the snowy earth, he didn’t give voice to it. Much as he acted mildly disinterested in the creature and the Captain’s ways, he hardly minded. In fact, he was in a rather good mood for a change of pace. Though, it would have been difficult to tell at a glance when his expression remained nearly the same as it always was - lips pulling into a somewhat thin line, and he still harbored that threatening air about him, no matter what Djeeta’s playful attitude and Mouse’s steadfast resolve to befriend him might imply. 

     There’s some relief that lingers when her attention had been redirected from his own ears to the canine’s, but he still has to swallow the second sigh that nearly escapes his lungs at her claim. At this point, he’s ceased trying to predict what she might say or do. He’s long since learned she’s a difficult one to grasp, and he’ll admit that a part of him finds that aspect of her personality exciting - the rest of him, though, finds it worrisome. “I have my doubts, but if you enjoy playing with them so much I’m not opposed it.” And he suspects he might come to regret those words, and it shows in the gruff manner in which he speaks, but it’d further proof his mood has been lifted from when he had been idly watching the others play with a handful of the canines from the sidelines - knowing, or rather believing, the animals would shrink away from him should he even try to reach out to stroke their soft fur. He never imagines one would trot up to him on its own.    

        He offers a grunt in agreement, fingers still ruffling the animal’s fluff despite the fact that his mind is elsewhere as he thinks back to what the handler had mentioned him earlier. This race was a tradition in this town - done to honor a group of dogs and their musher who had made the long trek decades ago between the two villagers to deliver medicine. Under normal circumstances they wouldn’t have needed the door, but the recent influx of monsters in the area put normal citizens at risk, and they were worried the mushers would be attacked on their way. The reason for the increased numbers was unknown - a problem all its own, but the crew had only been hired to protect the mushers as they made the trip. Somehow; however, he had the feeling she was going to tackle both issues.

         “From what I was informed, you can compete in the race on your own or with a partner. One dog per team.” Not surprising given their size. Hitching two of them to a single sled would be difficult when they were so massive. One dog could easily carry two people and their supplies. “First to reach the neighboring town wins. You command the dogs with words. They should know basic terms. Right, left, stop, go.” His explanation is so dry that Mouse’s oversized maw parts to let out a high-pitched yawn that makes both of their ears twitch. The ghost of a smile forms on Eustace’s lips, and he gives the dog a pat on the head. “He gets the idea.” If the whine that follows means anything, Mouse seems eager to take part in the race. Perhaps he’s more prideful than he had originally thought. “Are you planning to do this alone or did you have someone in mind?”      

   Because of course they have to destroy the body. Would it kill the skies, fate, God - whatever, to give them a break every once in a while? At this point in their lives, he’s very much convinced it might with the amount of complete nonsense they’ve encountered on their adventure. Man-eating mushrooms, though far from pleasant, didn’t even make it onto the list of unusual and mildly terrifying monsters he’s been forced to fight. There should be limit on the number of unsightly beasts one could encounter in their lifetime. But, no, here they were, ankle deep in swamp water that was currently seeping into his ruined socks and staining the bottoms of his feet brown with mud and muck, all while having a combination of enraged roots and angry spored hurled at them. Oh, when he saw that old woman again he was goin to give her a piece of his mind, assuming she didn’t turn out to be some sort of wicked monster herself. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out if she were. A thought for another time, after they saved that ungrateful cat and defeated these damn mushrooms.   

     He only groans in response to her statement, the sound slightly muffled by the mask he wears as he tries to find his footing on the damp and uneven ground of the marsh. They’ve fought in worse conditions, but losing his shoe to a bubbling mass of mud didn’t exactly bode well for them. Or, well, him. This place was disgusting. Still, he clutches his weapon a bit tighter, and inhales against stiff fabric, focusing, instead, on doing something about the spores the creature is releasing while Djeeta attacks - he doesn’t currently, nor does he want to know, what that thing is capable of, or about the long-term impacts from inhaling too much of the pollutants its spitting out. And if they don’t have to take a risk, there’s no need for them to, even if he’s the one that tends to recklessly charge into battles he’s sorely underprepared for. Fingers busy themselves working with the supplies he had on hand, mixing them together until a gentle, green glow filters into the air, and effectively rids the misty skies of the flaxen spores pouring out around them for the time being, and has the added bonus of healing that cut Djeeta had just earned - for now, whatever they happened to do, would be removed from their systems. 

     He lifts a brow at her question. One hand coming up to sign quickly and clumsily with little regard to whether or not the motions would be understand - she was his sister, she would be able to figure out even if he was doing this haphazardly. ‘Well, the big one’s not too happy with us at the moment, so let’s just deal with it first. If we’re lucky the smaller ones will retreat when their leader falls.’ Are they never lucky? No. But can he be blamed for holding onto hope? Probably, with everything they’ve been through. Gritting his teeth, he backed up a bit, trying to get a decent view of their lackluster battlefield. Thankfully, the cat appeared to be safe where it sat - the mushroom it was currently using for its throne remaining still and mindful of its precious cargo. Wasn’t it strange that the feline seemed unbothered by the spores? He shakes his head. Nevermind. Everything about this situation is strange to begin with.   

       ‘I’ll distract, so just slice it up as quickly as you can. Those spores won’t be an issue for now, but the immunity I granted us won’t last forever.’ It’s a mushroom. How hard could it be to beat? Moving to her side, he plunged his hand into the swamp water with a grimace, and hurled a heap of mud at the beast to draw its attention to him. Its roots straining beneath the murky waters to lash out at him, and he just barely manages to dodge them, though he slips, and falls onto his back in the water in the process. Another groan vibrating in his throat, as he sits up - mud dripping from his hair and clinging to his clothes, and fires another round at the beast all while trying to climb back onto his feet and utterly failing to find his footing. He looks like a fish out of water. Except…he’s in water. Filthy water. Skies, he wants a shower right now. A clean one. Not one from the water the mushroom’s roots are kicking up all over him.    

    He shifts against the oversized canine’s weight, gaze watching the steady wag of his tail and the bob of the beast’s tongue as it hung from the animal’s mouth - drool threatening to stain his clothes if he wasn’t careful. Though, he couldn’t claim he minded. Fingers, instead, reaching up the hesitantly brush the dog’s thick, woolen fur - feeling the slick texture as it brushes against his roughened palms. It feels like what he might have imagined the finest of silks or the crispest of velvets to if he had ever been able to hold either - like the downy on birds who have just regrown their feathers or the warmest blanket on a cold, winter night. And he tries not to let the joy it brings him show, fingers wiggling where they’ve come to rest, much to the canine’s delight. The ghost of a smile pricking the corners of his lips. 

    Though he often doesn’t outright admit his fondness for the animals, he has always adored dogs. This; however, is the first time he’s ever been able to touch one. Typically animals shy away from him - duck their heads and cower in his presence until he removes himself to avoid stressing them out. It was why he had chosen to watch the others play with them instead of making an effort to join them. Mouse, for whatever reason, appeared entirely unaffected by him. He’s beginning to think the massive animal is more beast than he is loyal companion. 

      Gaze flickers up from the bed of gray and white fur, his own ears twitching slightly, when he ears the Captain begin to inch her way towards them. He can’t say he’s surprised to hear her plan. He had suspected as much from the beginning. She never changes. A part of him worries for her sake, but another part of him finds her unyielding nature striking. “I had a feeling you would,” he admits. His tone of voice gives away the good mood having Mouse flop over him had put him in. Try as he might to seem bothered by having a massive animal rolling all over him, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. Perhaps Mouse might be the only dog he will ever be able to pet; the only one that might let him near, but, if that turns out to be the case, he’s content knowing he could even have this much. “You two would make quite the pair.” They’re both hot-headed. 

      ‘Not entering to win’ somehow, he doubted that. In fact, he’s almost certain he had heard her confess those very words when entering a certain race. One of a different variety that he can still clearly recall the events of. A huff slips past his lips at the thought - a husky laugh mixed into it. “I know a bit about it.” The same worker who had so eagerly told him about Mouse had also ranted his ear off about the sport. At the time he had assumed the other a fool, but now he’s beginning to realize why they had been so quick to share so much information with him. They must have suspected this would happen. He supposes a trainer knows their dogs better than most. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”    

      Or, he had intended to do so until he watched that shameless hand of hers reach up to poke his ear before running her fingers along the tufts of fur at the bottom of it. It twitches slightly in response, but his expression remains largely the same, though instead it being aimed at the canine, Djeeta becomes his new target. “Captain, my ears might look like theirs, but I’m not a dog.” There’s no bite to his words. If anything they seem somewhat fond, humor just barely seeping into his deep voice as Mouse cranes his head to lick at Djeeta’s fingers. “If you must pet any set of ears, pet his. I’m certain they’re much more fun to play with than mine.” He reaches out to gingerly grasp her wrist, slowly moving it down away from his own ears to press her gloved fingers against Mouse’s ears - his hand lingering upon hers longer than truly needed before he pulls away.