Since I've had this fetish since childhood and it doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon, I've decided to stop lurking and see if I can get a bit more involved in the community! But first thing's first, some general information:
‼ANY BLOG WITHOUT AN AGE IN THEIR PROFILE WILL BE BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS‼
💐My name is Deuce! I'm 28 and use she/they pronouns. I'm a snzfucker and monsterfucker so things may get anatomically loosey-goosey around here
💐Not currently open for rp, but other interactions more than welcome!
💐Please do not reblog to non-fetish blogs
Any original posts will be tagged with #deucetalk, art-specific posts with #snzart, and stories with #snzfic
🌸Written Works Under The Cut🌸
🌹Original Stories🌹
Monstrous Release: (M/F, M snz, gargoyle, SwH)
Miriam and her gargoyle lover Pitch hide their nighttime rendezvous as best they can through Pitch's sensitive nose
The Mage and the Maid: (Part One)(F snz, induced)
A mage experiments with the limits of magic in the form of a wooden nose. They test their theory on their live-in maid, who enjoys being an unwitting test subject probably more than she should
(Part Two)(F snz, NB snz, induced)
The mage finally admits that this experiment has passed the limits of academic
Hadley and the Giant: (F snz, giant, psychosomatic and photic)
Hadley refuses to let a spot of bad weather cancel her first village dance, and seeks help in the form of the local giantess
Stoking the Fire: (M snz, cold/induced, dragon)
Luise's job as Royal Stoker has less to do with keeping a boiler lit and more to do with managing the melodrama of a sneezy dragon
🌹Fanfiction🌹
Lego Monkie Kid - Rule of Threes: (M snz, Sun Wukong, cold)
Apparently Wukong cancelled MK's training session for a very good reason: he's got a cold and can't control the power of his sneezing
The horny is winning tonight.
I'm just picturing a dragon in a dandelion field with a breeze out, and all those fluffy little seeds and pollen are making a mess out of it's nose. But since this is a massive reptile every movement, every hitching breath, or every sneeze just... sends more soft dandelion seeds into the air.
Someone being restricted to a certain number of sneezes through magical means. After that, they can’t sneeze anymore, but they can still hitch, feel the tickle, etc
monster character with a cold and a destructive snz having their human find them a place they can safely let loose and then induce them to the point of exhaustion just so they can be absolutely sure their nose is as satisfied as possible before they return to civilization
and here's the completed fic for all of you who like sitting down with the whole thing at once. enjoy! 😊
Water From a Stone
summary: Ateya is just looking for something to wake up her boring life. Little does she know, her life will never be the same again...
15k words, Rated PG-13, No CWs. Gargoyle!sneeze, Trying not to sneeze, Making someone sneeze, Cold sneezes, Nose touching, Snout rubs, Helping someone stop a sneeze, Destructive!sneeze, NB sneezing
pt i
pt ii
pt iii
completed work
The city of Praglyn was beautiful, and older than the gods. Worn cobble streets still predominated, although some of the major thoroughfares had been traded for asphalt in recent years. Praglyn was alive with such juxtopositions.
Historic stone churches bedecked with enormous glass windows sat blocks away from shiny, metallic new centers for business. The heritage theater, all bricks and carved, ornate pilasters, shared a block with a chain hamburger joint, one of the ones with a claustrophobic plastic playplace in the back and somehow never enough people on staff to satisfy the ever-busy rush of people through its doors, in from the city's ever-lively streets.
Urban exploration was abundant here, but it wasn't any of the abandoned, moss-eaten parking garages or shuttered storefront-office-apartment buildings turned pigeon hotels that Ateya was most interested in exploring on this particular evening—or breaking into, as the case may be.
Dominating the end of a block in one of the city's more historic districts loomed an enormous library. It was privately owned, but it was known that for the right price, its curator would sometimes allow the lucky visitor in to peruse its stacks. Those visitors were often academics, researchers and the like, and the price of entry was often some addition to the library's massive collection, be it some intriguing new research publication or some rare ancient text.
Ateya had no such texts.
All the same, she desperately wanted to see inside, and had wanted to for some years now. The place was grand enough to be imposing and yet it was shrouded in secrecy. It taunted her every time she walked by it, which was near every day with her workplace being in the same district. She could scarcely imagine what it must be like within the library's giant wooden double doors. And it wasn't as if Ateya didn't like books.
Of course those big front doors wouldn't be Ateya's point of entry. After visiting hours they were locked, and it didn't seem like they opened again until morning.
But there were windows along the sides and back of the wedge-shaped building, some six or seven feet off the ground. Too high to see in, and too low to be second-story. Just high enough to climb into, if Ateya could mount the irregular shape of the building's bricks in the alleyway along the library's north side, in the back.
It wasn't the best day, or night as it were, to attempt such a feat. It was spitting down rain, and had been on and off for days. The stone of the building was cold and wet, and Ateya's hair kept dripping in her face. It really would have been wiser to wait until the weather dried out and the going was less treacherous. But Ateya was feeling eager, and restless, and she'd finally made up her mind to get a real look at the place, so here she was, grappling with wet bricks and sniffling, frozen fingertips prying open a window that was likely installed before she was even born.
Old as it was, and not meant to be opened from the outdoors, the window kept sticking and was difficult to move, but Ateya finally managed to budge it just far enough to slip through sideways, hang down from the sill, and drop the remaining two or three feet to the floor.
The hallway she landed in was bare, but stately. Marble floor, stone chair rail, ornately carved pilasters throughout, and well lit with a series of recess lighting along the high ceiling. Having dropped in, Ateya wasn't able to close the window she'd entered through, but despite the chill, damp evening air blowing in, and despite the prevalence of stone in the decor, the library was warm and comfortable. The entire place smelled of books.
Glancing about quietly, it seemed the hall went on for some ways to either side, with stairs upward at the end of the hall to her left, and stairs downward or an opening to another first level hallway to her right. Not wanting to linger on the first level, or potentially draw nearer any lobbies or front desks, Ateya turned left, and began quietly making her way up the steps.
The stair landing opened onto a catwalk that stretched on around the entire second level and overlooked the main lobby. Not ideal for evading detection... There was a spiral stair at the end, but getting to it and even climbing it would put her in plain view of anyone on the floor below, not to mention it looked to be metal and would certainly not be very quiet to climb in an echoing space like this, even if Ateya was as lightfooted as she could be.
The hall was lined with high arched doorways, though. If she was sneaky enough she might be able to hide out in one, snoop around for a bit, and maybe hop from one room to the next once the lights actually went out in the place.
It was strange that they were still on, actually. But then, it wasn't too long after hours. Maybe somebody was working late?
Hopefully they weren't working in the first room on the left...
Empty.
Ateya breathed a sigh of relief, a wave of giddiness close on its heels. Ah the thrills of breaking and entry. Technically, just entry this time, she hadn't actually broken anything...
She mused over this as she surveyed the contents of the room. Stately, like the hall she'd landed in, but not unwelcoming. Around a low coffee table, with plenty of space for comfort, there was a large, ornate, light green sofa and two matching chairs, each with a side table of their own, and tiffany lamps on each side table. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with dark wooden bookshelves save for a small fireplace across from the door, and free-standing shelves filled the far end of the room. The floor featured a nice, ornate throw rug.
All the shelves Ateya could see were near completely full of books, which she supposed made a sort of sense. From what she knew, this wasn't the sort of library people borrowed from. All of the books in it were for on-site use only.
Curious about what kind of books the room she'd landed in held, and needing to kill some time until the lights went off (they had to turn off at some point, right?), Ateya went to search through some of the free-standing shelves, away from the door.
She hadn't yet been able to piece together a theme amongst the titles, other than it being a non-fiction area of some kind, when she heard the softest fluttering sound behind her. It might have been a piece of paper falling to the ground on the light breeze she felt blow strangely past despite the room's distance from the window she'd crept in from.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Ateya jumped, nearly dropping the book she was holding at the sound of a dark, resonant voice close behind her. She tripped over herself and fell trying to back away when she saw its source.
Looming over her as she attempted and failed to scamper backwards across the floor was a huge creature of some kind. The way their form obscured the light as they entered the aisle shrouded them in shadow and made it hard to tell what they were beyond that, other than large, and imposing, and advancing on her slowly.
The creature reached for her, and she whimpered and flinched away.
“I don't want to hurt you. Get up. It's time to go,” they said.
Ateya remained frozen in fear, braced for some kind of blow or swipe. When none came, she slowly opened her eyes. The creature's large hand remained extended towards her. She blinked at it, shaking.
“You're... helping me up?” she asked.
“You fell,” they replied simply. Ateya stared at their hand in disbelief. She wasn't sure she could feel her legs anymore from the sheer panic that had flooded her system.
“I can carry you out, if you prefer,” the figure said.
“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head and shakily getting to her feet on her own, not wanting to take the hand of something so unknown and so much larger than her.
Now that her eyes had begun to adjust to the dim light, she started to be able to make out the beast's features.
They were predominantly animalistic, but not of any one type of animal in particular. Their nose resembled that of a bat, but the snout it belonged to was more like a boar's snout. So were the creature's legs, their ears, and their short mane of hair. They had multiple short horns like a goat would, and a long, spade-tipped tail like a devil. Giant bat-like wings sprouted from their shoulder blades. The rest of them, it seemed, was vaguely humanoid and extremely well-muscled, and... it wasn't a trick of the light, they were completely slate grey from tip to tail.
She'd seen them before, she realized. Just never up close.
“You're a lot larger than you look from the street,” she said.
“I imagine that to be true,” the gargoyle replied, before swiftly moving on. “Did you take anything?”
“No,” Ateya said.
Now that she could see them, she couldn't stop staring. She watched their face move when they spoke. They were surprisingly expressive for a creature made of stone. The expression they bore now was a stern one, all heavy brow and set jaw. The way their nostrils flared whenever they spoke made them look much angrier than their behavior would lead someone to believe.
“The book you were holding when I came in?” they prompted.
“Dropped it,” she said, pointing vaguely at the floor behind them.
Eyeing her suspiciously all the while, the gargoyle stooped with startling gracefulness to pick the book up and reshelve it. They gave one, single, profoundly wet sniffle as they did so, the sound snorting in its insistency.
Ateya blinked, and tilted her head. That was odd. Maybe they weren't actually all that angry. Their snout could just be bothering them. She wouldn't have expected that a gargoyle could be affected by something like that.
“Anything else?” they asked her. She shook her head.
“Good,” they said, “Then I won't find anything when I search you for stolen books.”
Ateya took another step or two backwards, shaking her head.
“I didn't take anything,” she said.
“My boss would be greatly disappointed in me if I took everyone at their word,” they said, grasping her arm in a manner that could only be described as immovable. Not tight, not even painful, but a living stone manacle closed around her forearm and would not let her go. She struggled against them.
“Hey! I said I didn't take anything!” she protested, trying to tug herself free as they reached to try and start patting down her sides. Before she could think about whether it might really hurt, Ateya reached up and flicked hard at the center of their nose.
The good news was that it didn't hurt. The gargoyle's flesh was surprisingly pliant, if tough and rough textured. It wasn't like flicking solid rock. What did hurt, a little, was their grip tightening slightly around her arm as their eyes fluttered shut, their nostrils now pulsing and flaring restlessly with their breath.
“Hhuh...! hhuH...!”
There was a sound of rushing water and they looked straight up, the wrist of their other hand coming up to press against the end of their snout. They clumsily started backing blindly and urgently to the door, snorting and panting all the while and dragging a protesting Ateya along with them. A shelf or two may have gotten bumped and fallen over in the process, and as their snorting became heavier and even more urgent, they backed clear into the doorway on their way out through it.
Their strength broke on a desperate, gasping inhale as soon as they made the catwalk, and they threw themself at the railing to release a desperate—
“HUAAAEGH'SHIEWHH!!”
—over the side. Ateya's eyes widened at the torrent of water that flooded forth from their snout, cascading down to the marble floor of the lobby below.
“Geez!” she exclaimed, flinching back. The gargoyle's eyes remained closed, and they snuffled aqueously, their breaths still labored and uncertain.
“hhuh- hh! H'YAAASHHUE!!”
They lurched forward again with another resounding sneeze, another deluge pouring from their snout as they did so. They snuffled again, rubbing at the end of their snout with their wrist.
“Why would you do that?” they asked, just as another voice rose up from beyond the lobby below.
“Ava? What the devil are you doing up there? I thought I told you I didn't want you patrolling while—Oh hello... Who do we have here?”
A tall, thin man with neat waves of bright red hair stepped out from the hallway at the back of the lobby. He wore a very fancy red and gold waistcoat, and small, thin gold wire spectacles perched atop his prominent, bridgey nose. As he stepped into view and spotted Ateya his eyes narrowed irritably.
“An uninvited guest, boss. I was just checking her over before showing her out,” the gargoyle, Ava, said. The bespectacled man continued squinting, and tilted his head accusingly.
“It seems like you were just sneezing all over my nice marble floor. I trust you didn't get any on the shelves?” he said.
Ava made a small noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt, his snout giving a twitch. They looked almost self-conscious for a moment. It was a strange look to see cross the features of something so stony and large.
“No, I... The shelves are dry,” they said. “I may just need to right some of them. They... tipped over.”
The man's eyes alit with a sudden temper at this information.
“They what?” he hissed, one hand coming to pinch the space between his eyes.
Ava remained absolutely silent while his boss seethed on the level below.
“And the books? Were any of them damaged? Or haven't you checked?” said the man.
“It just happened,” they said.
The man took an exceedingly deep breath and swallowed before letting it out and letting his hand drop to his side. He turned his gaze to Ateya then.
“And I suppose you had nothing to do with this?” he accused.
“What!? I was just-??? They grabbed me– I was just– I was trying to get away,” she said.
Ava's boss crossed his arms and glared at her nastily.
“And you would not have had to try to get away if you had come during regular business hours and paid the requisite entry fee, now would you? What exactly did you do?” he said.
Without breaking eye contact, she demonstrated, quickly slipping her hand up and flicking again at Ava's nose before they could pull away.
The effect was immediate this time, their eyes slamming shut as they wrenched aside with a streaming—
“hAAUH'SHHOO!!”
—that their boss narrowly dodged below, visibly shivering when some of the water splashed back at him on impact with the floor.
“Saints alive, Ava, that's cold!” he admonished.
“Sorry, boss. -snfgh!-” Ava snuffled, scrubbing at their snout with their wrist.
“Watch where you aim that thing,” their boss continued, peevishly.
“I didn't have much choice, boss,” they said.
Ateya couldn't help but be amused by the chaos she'd wrought, the feeling egged on by a quiet sense of defiance.
“Yeah, this thing seems pretty sensitive,” she taunted, reaching up and tapping at the side of Ava's snout. They gave a profusely wet snort and turned their head, leaning away from her as much as they could without releasing her arm.
“And you, stop menacing my gargoyle,” the figure below demanded testily. “How did you even get in here anyway? I know I locked the door.”
Ava snorted and kept their face turned, presumably not trusting that Ateya really would stop menacing them despite her momentary cooperation. Maybe they were smarter than they looked.
“She came in through a backfacing window,” they reported. “I found it ajar on my way to escort her from the premises.”
Their boss crossed his arms and took a deep breath, holding it and swallowing hard before letting it back out in a huff.
“Here's what we are going to do,” he said, turning to Ateya, still terse despite his overt efforts to calm his temper.
“You are going to come down here and help clean this mess, and then you are going to go back. up. there. and help reshelve all the books that were displaced because of your. actions,” he said, pinching irritably again at the space between his eyes. “I'm not going to charge you for any damages,—”
“Good, because I didn't—” Ateya attempted to interject.
“—but you still owe me your entry fee,” he continued, not allowing the interruption, “and I intend to collect. Further, you will submit to a search at the door before you leave.”
Ateya looked from the massive gargoyle still holding her by the arm to the snippy man they seemed to be genuinely deferent to. He was probably the eccentric who owned the place. The gargoyle could probably break her in half if they wanted.
“What if I don't want to do any of that,” she said, “I didn't tip your shelves, or dent your doorway, and if this stone goliath hadn't grabbed me I wouldn't have had to flick at their face in the first place!”
“And remind me why my gargoyle grabbed you again? Was it because you broke in and were attempting to peruse my collection free of charge?” the man asked simply.
“It's not optional,” Ava added.
“You can't keep me here, that's kidnapping!” Ateya protested.
“Oh really?” the curator said, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. “Are you going to go to the police? And what do you think they'll do, exactly? With the breaking and entering, and the tresspassing, and the destruction of property, and the harassment? Does that all end well for you?”
Ateya grumbled beneath her breath.
“You need to submit to the search,” Ava responded. “That's standard procedure.”
She stared at them blinkingly. How the fuck did they hear that? There was no way. Could they read minds? Were they hearing her thoughts this whole time?
“Ava, get a bucket. I'm going to assess the damages. So help me if any pages have been torn,” the curator said, stalking towards a staircase at the opposite end of the room.
“What should I do with our visitor?” Ava asked.
“You can release her for now, but don't let her leave until she's made up for her transgressions,” he responded, barely raising his voice enough to call over his shoulder.
Ava, at long last, released Ateya's arm. She rubbed at her wrist and stretched her shoulder.
“You've got a firm grip,” she said.
Ava did not respond. Taking a few steps away, with a strong beat of their wings, they rose into the air as if made of paper and just as quietly, and in a moment they were gone. Their flight was so fast Ateya could barely track the shape of them diving over the rail, swooping back through the entryway, and turning through a door someplace beneath the catwalk where she stood.
She stared after them for a moment in awe.
By the time Ateya looked up again, the curator had just reached the side of the building she was standing in.
He looked even more sour up close. His thin lips were perpetually pressed into a line, his eyes forever holding a leer of disdain. He glanced at her wordlessly as he slipped by, making his way into the room she had sneaked into, and as he passed there were daggers in his gaze.
He didn't seem to even care about the damage to the doorway, passing it without giving it any inspection whatsoever.
“Piss and daggers,” she heard him utter in dismay upon entering the room.
With the curator thus occupied, and the gargoyle off who knows where searching for a bucket, Ateya saw no reason she couldn't just quietly slip away.
Backtracking, she passed by the disrupted library room to see the curator inside, righting the shelves by himself as if they weighed nothing.
She didn't stay to watch for long. This place was weirder than they say, and she was ready to leave.
Maybe she would come back another day, if she could find a better way in. There was more she wanted to see, afterall.
She crept down the steps and back into the hall she'd dropped into when she had first arrived. The window was still open wide enough for her to fit through, if she could climb back up into it. There was no uneven brick to climb here though, and even the nearest pilaster was too far away to push off from if she tried to leap for the sill. Besides, her forearm was still sore... even if she could reach the window ledge, she didn't think she could climb into it like this.
She glanced further down the hall, to the other set of stairs and the hallway that presumably led out into the lobby itself. The curator had locked the front door, but? Surely it could unlock from the inside.
Ateya hesitated at the fork in the path, deeply curious about what might be on the library's lower levels... but ultimately decided to check another time. She had to leave while both known stewards were distracted and before any unknown others had the chance to show up.
She made it halfway through the entryway before the soft fluttering sound behind her alerted her again to the gargoyle's presence.
“Nice try,” they said, setting down a large metal pail. They held out a mop. Defeated, Ateya came and collected it.
“I'm going to go and check on my boss. Don't try to leave,” Ava said, flying up then to the second story and disappearing into the room the curator was in. As soon as they were out of sight, Ateya very quietly set down the mop and turned for the door.
Ava swooped down in front of her before she got three steps of the way there.
“What did I just say?” they admonished.
Ateya grumbled and turned back to get the mop. She guessed helping clean up wouldn't be so bad. She did make the poor brute sneeze after all. Not like it was her fault he sneezes in torrents though.
The curator of the library came to join her after not too long, taking up the other mop his gargoyle had brought and pitching in to get the floor dry.
“So about my fee...” he said, sopping up a mop's worth of water and wringing it into the bucket with a shiver. It barely made a dent in the small pond the gargoyle's sneezing had made of the floor.
Ateya continued mopping, and didn't make eye contact as she shook her head.
“I don't have any rare books,” she said. The curator shook his head in response.
“Doesn't matter. I'll accept a story in its place,” he said.
Ateya paused in her mopping.
“What?” she said. The curator paused as well, looking at her incredulously.
“A story. A personal tale. Something you've experienced or witnessed, explained in a narrative format. Surely I don't need to go on,” he said.
A story? All this prick needed for entry was a story?
“Does it have to be mine?” she asked.
“Yes,” the curator replied, without missing a beat.
“I-I don't even know your name! And you want a personal story from me?” she stammered.
That aside, she wasn't sure she even had any good stories to tell. Her life wasn't interesting.
“Leonidas,” he offered. “Leonidas Khrƴsídēs. And yours?”
Ateya blinked. She had expected more resistance than this.
“Ateya Ríoahdse," she said. Leonidas set his mop down, drying his hands on his trousers and giving another shiver as he made his way to a podium near the back of the room.
“And how do you spell that?” he asked, picking up a pen there and holding it poised over a ledger of some kind.
“What's that for?” she asked.
“It's a guestbook. Spell your name please,” Leonidas repeated impatiently.
“A-t-e-y-a, R-i–there's an accent on the i—o-a-h-d-s-e,” she said. “I know, it sounds like it should be R-o-a-d-s. You can just... put that, if it's easier. Most people do.”
Leonidas scoffed at the idea, giving an indignant snort.
“I would never. There's history in a name,” he said. To his credit, the length of time he took to finish writing her name, he must have been true to his word. When he finished, he set the pen down and considered the entry thoughtfully.
“Ríoahdse... are you Schyrse?” he asked.
Ateya shook her head.
“Czyrkish, but both my parents are Easterlan,” she said. The curator raised his brow and nodded, stepping away from his guest book once more.
“Now that makes sense,” he said. He came to pick up his mop again and get back to work.
“So what brought your family to Czyrk, then? The culture? The history?” he asked. Ateya gave kind of half a shrug.
“Kind of, maybe a little bit of both,” she said, wringing another mop-full of icy water into the pail which was nearing full. Despite this, the floor was only close to half dry at best.
“My parents met at the University of Praglyn, when they were both students there. They were both so culture shocked that finding another Easterlan was a relief,” she went on, sopping at another corner of sneeze puddle. She supposed she should be grateful it was only water.
“They got along well, and they kind of fell in love with the city at the same time that they fell in love with each other,” she said, continuing to work as she spoke. "At least that's how they always tell it. Once they graduated, the original plan was to move back east, but they both loved it so much here they decided to stay, instead. They moved in together, and eventually got married, and then they had me a few years later.”
Wringing out her mop again, she bent to take the pail and empty it.
“Uh, where...?” she asked.
“Just outside the front door will be fine, beside the steps please,” Leonidas directed.
Taking the pail to the door, she found the locking mechanism and undid it, then shoving the large wooden door open with quite a bit of force. It was far thicker and heavier than it looked, she wouldn't have been able to open it quickly even if one of her arms wasn't sore.
She looked outside. She could just... leave. Slip neatly out the open door and make a break for it, maybe even get inside another business before anyone caught up to her.
She hefted the pail up and splashed about three gallons of water into the hedges beside the steps.
The longer she spent with the library's odd curator the more curious she became, not only about the library itself but also about those who kept it.
How was Leonidas so strong that he could effortlessly lift a bookcase that must've weighed as much as a house, despite looking like he'd weigh maybe 150 lbs himself if he was sopping wet? And, turning to come back to the task at hand and catching him swiping at his nose and sniffling, probably catch a cold from it too.
Ateya could tell he was trying to hide it, but he was shivering pretty constantly now. He snorted lightly and cleared his throat as she approached and set the pail back down, affecting an unbothered composure until in wringing out his own mop again he was unable to suppress a violent shiver from coursing through his frame.
“You chill easily, don't you?” Ateya asked. He fully glowered at her from behind his spectacles.
“And how is that any of your concern?” he snipped. Ateya raised her hands placatingly.
“No, I just... thought that might be why you keep it so warm in here, that's all,” she said, not trying to offend
“Why I.....?” he hesitated, seemingly puzzled for a moment before quickly covering for it and changing the subject. “Oh. Yes. It is, now can we move on? You were telling me about your parents. -skff!-”
Was there another reason that he kept it so warm? Something he was embarrassed by, judging by how quickly he wanted to drop the topic. It was Ateya's turn to be puzzled now. What on earth could he be so embarrassed by about keeping the heat turned up?
“Yeah, sorry,” she said, allowing for it and returning to her work mopping the floor. “What else is there to say really? They moved in, they had me. Now I'm here.”
Leonidas sniffled again, budging at the tip of his nose with one wrist. He had more or less stopped mopping the place, not that Ateya could blame him. He looked near frozen just from having his hands in cold water for a few minutes.
“You skipped over the middle bits,” he directed. “The parts between your being born and now.”
Ateya shrugged one shoulder.
“Nothing interesting,” she said, not looking up from her task. “My life is normally pretty boring. If it wasn't I would probably be off doing something else right now, and not...sneaking into forbidden libraries and getting apprehended by sniffly gargoyles.”
Leonidas tilted his head and squinted, considering her carefully.
“Nothing? Not a single story?” he challenged. “I find that hard to believe... Have you never accomplished anything? Studied anything? Gotten a scar, broken a bone? Was mine the first building you've ever broken into, am I just that lucky?”
“Well–No? But– None of that's interesting,” she said. “I don't have any major accomplishments. I studied contract law, and now I'm a glorified secretary. I've never broken anything, and the only scars I have are from stupid stuff I did as a kid. Mostly climbing on things I wasn't supposed to and falling off them. And... No? But technically yes?”
Leonidas shook his head and crossed his arms.
“What do you mean, ‘no, but technically yes?’ Which is it?” he asked.
“Well, mostly the buildings I've taken a look around in have been abandoned,” Ateya said, frustrated that this nosybody just wasn't getting it. There was nothing special about her.
“Did you think the library was an abandoned building?” he accused, his eyes narrowing in offense.
“No! I just thought it looked cool!” Ateya defended.
Leonidas snorted out a huffed breath, seemingly placated by the assessment.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine, but there must be something you're interested in telling.”
“Telling you how my parents met wasn't enough?” she protested in response.
“No. I want your story, how you'd tell it,” the snippy librarian insisted. “A secondhand, personal story told and heard a million times isn't the same thing. It's going to be missing details. It's going to be missing context. It is not of commensurate value to a personal first hand account told by you, to me, in person.”
“Geez, okay,” Ateya said. This guy was passionate about stories.
She thought over his prompts again, attempting to wring anything even minutely entertaining out of them. To Leonidas's credit, he let her think.
“I have a scar on my right elbow that I got trying to learn to parkour off my mother's couch when I was twelve,” she offered after a few moment's silence.
“What happened?” the curator asked, suddenly calm and attentive. Ateya supposed this was an acceptable offering.
“I wasn't very good at parkour,” she answered. Leonidas did not seem very amused by her attempt at humor.
“Come now, what happened?” he prompted again. She sighed, and resigned herself to actually telling him.
“Well, I was twelve, and I hadn't really learned how to judge distances yet. Or how to jump very hard,” she explained.
“I wasn't like, being taught by anyone. I just tried whatever trick I thought would be cool to try next, you know?
One day, while my parents were out shopping, I was trying to master the fine art of leaping onto the back of the couch from the corner of the coffee table.
I didn't jump high enough.
The coffee table was like, behind the couch and off to the side for some reason? I don't remember why. But when I jumped I landed with my chest about a centimeter below where my feet were supposed to be.
I bounced off like a rubber chicken, and I somehow lost all rubbery qualities seconds later when I hit the floor.”
Ateya paused, then, coming closer to bend and angle her arm in such a way that might allow Leonidas to actually see the scar that stretched over the flat space in front of her elbow. The scar was roughly the width and shape of a strawberry that had a large bite missing.
“I scraped most of the skin off on the carpet. I never told them how I got hurt. I just said I was playing and I fell,” she said. She paused, glancing up at the prissy librarian then as a realization dawned on her. “Actually, I don't think I've told anyone else about this. You're the only one who knows.”
Leonidas's eyes sparkled with quiet delight in this knowledge, and he grinned in satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he said. “And now that story lives here, with me. Thank you, that wasn't so hard now was it?”
Ateya gave Leonidas a flat stare, and turned to go back to drying the floors. Leonidas disappeared back to his podium, flicking leisurely through the most recent few pages of his guest book while she worked.
While she mopped, she would occasionally hear a series of snorts and snuffles from the room upstairs that made her worry about an encore performance undoing all the work she'd already done, but Ava seemed to be keeping decent control over themself for now. It probably helped that they were no longer being actively flicked in the nose.
If Ateya felt at all bad about that, the feeling vanished every time she moved the wrong way and it pulled on how tender her arm still felt.
About two and a half buckets of water later, and the mop she had was mostly just pushing loose droplets around the marble floor.
“I think that's as good as I'm going to get this without a towel or something dry,” she said. The curator looked up from his guest book, peering at the work she'd done, assessing it. He flipped back to today's entries and gave a nod, coming out from behind his podium.
“I'll take it from here,” he said.
“So... do I go? Story told, floor mostly dry?” she asked. He leveled her with a flat look.
“No, you still need to go help Ava reshelve what you caused him to knock over, and then there's the matter of the search at the door before you leave,” he said.
“Fine,” Ateya submitted, handing the mop back to him. She grumbled quietly about not needing to be searched, and made her way for the nearest stairs to the catwalk.
Ava was reshelving books with surprising grace and gentleness for someone so large and stony. They didn't look up from their work when Ateya came in, instead offering simple instructions while they worked.
“They're organized by subsection, then alphabetically by author last name,” they explained. “Start looking for author names beginning with K in that stack of books there. I've already taken care of A through J.”
The displaced books were stacked neatly and carefully together by subsection on the various tables present in the room. Leonidas's work, most likely, the man seemed to take his collection very seriously.
Ateya grabbed as many as she could with last name K from the stack indicated, only flinching and grunting a little when she forgot herself and nestled them in her left arm to carry back with her.
Ava's gaze flicked to her, then back to the shelving. She stepped up beside them to start organizing alphabetically.
“...I'm... sorry about your arm,” Ava said, after a few moments’ uncomfortable silence. “I wasn't trying to hurt you. I only meant to keep you from leaving before I could perform my duties.”
Ateya hadn't been expecting the unyielding gargoyle to apologize to her. They seemed sincere in it. She allowed the apology to sink in for a moment so she could accept it before replying.
“You two take your jobs really seriously, don't you?” she said, hazarding a glance up at them.
They hummed thoughtfully in response, giving a nod in consideration.
“One might say that,” they allowed.
A silence fell between them again as they worked, but it was more comfortable, almost companionable now. Occasionally it was punctuated by a wet snuffle from Ava, or some small direction when switching between subsections.
It was hard not to stare at them between putting books back on shelves.
Ateya had never beheld an actual, live gargoyle before. She felt a kind of awed curiosity over the way their stony form and features came to life with their movement; the quick twitch of their snout, the give and bob of their adam's apple when they swallowed, the shift of their muscles as they raised and lowered their arms.
Then there were also their features, themselves. The way their snout smoothly transitioned into their cheek and the corner of their mouth. Both their horns and their pointed ears sat naturally on their head despite owing to two completely different animals. By all rights, Ava should have been grotesque with all the parts and pieces of various beasts combined together on them, but somehow everything worked together seamlessly, almost artfully. Nothing was haphazard or seemed out of place.
If Ava noticed her staring, they didn't acknowledge it, too set on the task at hand.
They did seem to be struggling with their snout though, and a pattern began to emerge as they worked, their snuffling increasing every time they needed to look down.
“If you want I can get the lower shelves,” Ateya offered, noticing this and taking mercy on them.
Ava gave a small, grunting snort, that same oddly self-conscious look crossing their face momentarily.
“If you wouldn't mind,” they said, carefully passing her an armful of books.
Getting everything back into place didn't take too long with both of them working on it, the room wasn't cavernous and Ava hadn't knocked into every shelf on their way through. Ateya was surprised when the last book was placed and it was time to leave.
“I'll see you to the door,” Ava said, gesturing back towards it.
She looked around at the room one more time before leaving it. It was a shame she hadn't gotten to see more of the place.
As Ava escorted her through the entryway, to the door, Ateya noticed the floor had been completely dried, and it was much warmer in the lobby than it had been before. Whatever secret reason the librarian kept the heat raised so high that definitely had nothing to do with the chill he'd taken on must have been responsible for that.
As for the librarian himself, he was in one of the large sitting chairs in the lobby, reading one of the books usually shelved there. He glanced up as Ateya tried to say her goodbyes.
“Well, it's been nice meeting you,” she said, reaching for the door.
“Search first,” Leonidas said, his eyes flicking back to the book he was reading as Ava helpfully kept a hand on the door to keep it shut.
Ateya's lips pressed into a line and she took a deep breath, sighing it out through her nose as she resigned herself to it. Rolling her eyes, she raised her arms out to her sides to allow Ava to inspect her.
She snorted, and coughed, and cleared her throat as the gargoyle patted down her sides.
Leonidas glanced up again.
“Are you hurting her, Ava?” he accused, an edge of surprised disapproval lurking behind the question.
“I'm being very gentle,” they assured him, pausing in their search nonetheless.
Ateya chose not to be forthcoming. If these two could be cryptic and mysterious then she should be allowed as much, too.
“Just get the rest of it overwith,” she grouched, avoiding eye contact.
Hesitantly, Ava returned to their search, patting down Ateya's legs while she coughed and snorted and huffed.
Leonidas watched her carefully, squinting at her as the search completed.
“Did you find anything?” he asked Ava as soon as they were done.
“-sngffh!- No, boss, -sngkfh!- she's clear,” they confirmed, snuffling and snorting as they stood up.
Leonidas rose, setting his book down and stalking over to the two of them, eyeing Ateya curiously the entire way.
“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms as her cheeks grew hot under the scrutiny.
Leonidas said nothing. He circled her, appraisingly, and once he was out of her line of sight he reached out and pinched her side.
An unsuppressable giggle burst from her lips, and she smacked a hand over her mouth, stepping away as if the man was made of fire.
He grinned, the same self-satisfied grin that had crossed his face when he'd finally gotten a story out of her earlier.
“She's ticklish,” he concluded, looking to Ava. “That's why she's been avoiding being searched.”
If Ava had any thoughts or judgements about this, it was impossible to read on their face. He gave Leonidas a single nod of acknowledgement.
“Anyway, while I thank you for your story and your assistance in righting the mess you'd made of the place, it is still after hours, and I believe this marks your time to go,” the librarian said then, turning his attention back to Ateya. “You're free to leave.”
Ava helpfully opened one of the large wooden doors, as if to show her out.
Fuming and embarrassed, Ateya made for the door directly, but before passing through it she hesitated.
Somehow, despite the chaos and the strangeness of the place, or maybe because of that, she didn't feel done with it yet.
“Can I come back?” she asked, turning to Leonidas. “If I think of better stories to tell?”
Leonidas tilted his head, considering.
“Why? What is it you're interested in seeing?” he asked in return.
Ateya opened her mouth to respond and closed it again, shaking her head.
“I don't know. This place just...” she said, glancing back and staring up at the many rooms and other floors she hadn't had the chance to see. “It intrigues me. I'd like to take a look around, if you'd accept me as an actual guest.”
Leonidas's lips pressed into a line as he considered this, his own arms crossing now over his chest as he hummed impatiently.
“I don't usually allow free-roaming guests, much less ones who have a history of breaking the rules,” he said, squinting peevishly. “Most people approach with a specific topic in mind at least, if not an actual book they'd like to study or read.”
To Ateya's surprise, Ava cleared their throat to interject, getting the librarian's attention.
“Boss, if I could speak with you,” they requested. Leonidas looked at least as surprised as Ateya felt, but he acquiesced.
“One moment, please,” he said, stepping away with his gargoyle, the latter letting the door they'd been holding slowly close as they walked away.
Ateya leaned against it while the two of them had a hushed conversation on the opposite side of the room, until she eventually got distracted and sneaked over to the librarian's guest book to snoop through it.
Her name was spelled right. Leonidas actually had really beautiful handwriting for someone as stuck up and tightly wound—
“Put that down,” he said. Ateya jumped and did as she was told. She hadn't even noticed him approach.
He continued.
“Ava tells me you took very quickly to the classification system we've been employing here recently, and that you were quite respectful with the books,” he said.
“Okay...? and?” Ateya said, not sure what this had to do with anything.
“And, we're still switching over from our old methods of cataloguing in many of the library's upper levels,” he continued, obviously perturbed at having been interrupted. He pushed on regardless.
“You want to see more of the library. We could use the help.
Frankly, most of our patrons don't take such an interest in the collection itself as a whole, most are here to study or read something in particular, as mentioned.
Anyway, I propose something of a deal:
Your admittance, legitimate, only in the evenings and once Ava is present, on the grounds that you take nothing and submit to regular searches until proven trustworthy; in exchange for your assistance in reorganizing the stacks in the upper levels of the library's collection.
In this way, you are permitted to see much of the rest of the building and gain an intimate familiarity with its contents, and we get an extra set of hands to make quicker work of an ongoing and extensive project.”
Leonidas seemed quite pleased with his proposal, though Ateya had a few reservations. Just one, really.
“If I have to be chaperoned by tall dark and minerals the whole time then why do I need to be searched so regularly?” she said. Leonidas's lips pressed back into a line and he huffed an irritable sigh through his nose.
“Ava may need to step away or have their back turned from time to time. They are a gargoyle, not a babysitter,” he said. “If you required such constant supervision as to render a period of regular searches unnecessary, then we'd likely fare better without your aid. Unless you don't believe you can go longer than ten minutes without getting yourself into trouble?”
Ateya crossed her arms and thought it over. She didn't need to think very long.
She really wanted to see the rest of this building, and she was now extremely curious about its two stewards. Being searched hadn't been too bad, anyway. She was ticklish, which was embarrassing and stupid, but Ava had kept it respectful and the entire search was done in less than two minutes.
“Alright, fine. But I get to read anything I want,” she said.
Leonidas sighed once more through his nose, exasperated.
“You may read whatever you come across while reorganizing. Some areas of the library remain off limits and you may not read anything found there,” he specified.
“And I get to pick which nights I come,” she added.
“Naturally,” was his response.
Ateya's first inclination was to keep pushing for more, just to see what else she could get out of it, but she realized that there wasn't really anything else that she wanted that hadn't explicitly been addressed already to one degree or another.
She stuck out her hand to shake.
“You've got a deal,” she said.
Leonidas shook on it.
His hand was startlingly warm for a person who'd been so chilled so recently, and Ateya wondered if he hadn't in fact already gotten a cold from it—but he wouldn't have spiked a fever so suddenly, would he?
“Good. I'll be seeing you whenever it is that you see it fit to return,” he said. “In the meanwhile, it has gotten quite late, and if I don't get some rest I'm going to be quite impossible to speak with tomorrow. Goodnight! Ava?”
The gargoyle flew lightly back over and resumed their post at the door, opening it for Ateya to leave through.
She paused once more just before stepping through the doorway, looking at them, briefly scanning their face for any inkling of why they'd stepped in and spoken up for her.
She found nothing. They were completely unreadable.
“Thanks,” she said anyway, then stepped out and down the steps, and out onto the street.
⚜
Ateya found it hard to sleep that night. It should have been no surprise. The evening's events had quite literally been the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her in her entire life, and she found herself tossing and turning in her bed as she replayed them in her mind again and again. The library with its forbidden rooms, its cryptic curator and actual, living gargoyle... it was all so fantastical and strange. It was a little frightening. It was very exciting.
Ateya returned to the library the very next night, after a full day of being completely mentally checked out at her job, attending her tasks automatically and daydreaming as a light rainstorm pattered against her office window. This time she walked straight up the front steps and knocked on the library's large wooden doors. Taking a few steps back while she waited, she craned her neck to see if she could still see that gargoyle perched over the point of the building like she could during the day, but he was nowhere in sight. He must have already been inside, getting to work on the reorganizing.
She looked down again when the door opened, greeted by the sight of Leonidas himself standing in the doorway.
“Ateya, I didn't expect you back so soon,” he said. “You haven't come at the best time... Ava won't be available for recataloguing today, I'm afraid. You may wish to try back later in the week.”
Her brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms.
“Why not?” she asked.
“They simply aren't available. If there's nothing else I can do for you, it is after hours,” Leonidas repeated, seemingly impatient to get her out of his hair and off his doorstep.
“Is this a trick?” Ateya accused. “You set our deal so that I can only visit when your gargoyle's here and then have them mysteriously unavailable when I knock?”
Leonidas pinched between his eyes in exasperation.
“No, what would the point of that be? They're simply occupied with other things. It may take the week for them to– Well, to be available for our reshelving project. That's all,” he said.
Ateya stood, arms crossed, not sure she was buying it.
“Okay,” she said. “Alright. Well if they're not here—”
“That isn't what I said, I said they're otherwise occupied,” Leonidas corrected.
“Doing what, exactly?” Ateya asked. It didn't seem there could be too many pressing library tasks for a gargoyle to engage in, at least nothing she couldn't probably tag along for, too.
“That isn't any of your concern,” Leonidas snipped, “They should be available again in at least a week's time. Check. back. then.”
He was hiding something. Clearly.
Frustrated, Ateya turned to go without saying another word. She considered breaking and entering again, but she didn't want to break their deal if it wasn't a trick. That was always an option for later if that was the case.
She was back three days later.
This time when Leonidas opened the door he was already exasperated with her.
“In case your comprehension of timescales has faltered, I might remind you that a week is generally longer than three days,” he said, not even greeting her.
“What can I say, I'm eager to get to work,” she sassed back. “Is Ava available now, or are they still otherwise occupied?”
Leonidas snorted, pinching between his eyes again.
“You're making me regret agreeing to this in the first place,” he said.
There was the soft noise of fluttering bat wings from just behind the doorframe, and then the sound of a familiar deep, resonating voice.
“It's fine, I'm ready to get back to work,” Ava said.
Leonidas sniffed and swallowed, lowering his hand and blinking up at them with surprise.
“Are you sure? It hasn't been clear for long. Are you still...?” he trailed off here, implying at something he obviously didn't want Ateya knowing about.
There was an affirmative grunt.
“I'll be fine,” they said.
“See? They're fine!” Ateya encouraged, completely without wanting or needing context. Anything to get back into this weird little bubble and poke around.
If her life had felt boring before, in the days that had passed since her last visit here it had felt painfully mundane. She'd gotten a taste of the strange and secretive and now she could not, would not go back.
Leonidas spent a few moments more gazing up at Ava appraisingly, then sighed and relented, stepping aside to let Ateya through.
“Do not make me regret this,” he said, making direct eye contact with Ava before walking away towards the back hall. “You'll know where to find me if I'm needed.”
Ava nodded, giving another acknowledging grunt.
“So where've you been?” Ateya asked, as soon as their boss was out of earshot. Ava gave a long, snuffling snort and cleared their throat before responding.
“I've been here,” they said. Then, moving along quickly to the task at hand, “We'll be starting on the fifth floor today. How are you with heights?”
Ateya cocked her head to the side.
“Fine, why?” she asked. “Is the fifth level over an open pit or something?”
Ava snorted, this time in what Ateya realized was a firmly suppressed laugh.
“No,” they said. “I just thought it would be quicker to fly. I don't usually take the stairs.”
“To... fly? You want to fly me to the fifth floor?” Ateya asked, as intrigued as she was taken by surprise at the notion.
“Is that not acceptable to your sensibilities?” Ava asked.
Oh. Surprisingly eloquent.
“My–? No, it's fine, I just? How are you going to get me up there?” Ateya asked, wondering at the idea. “Do I like, ride on your shoulders, or...?”
The gargoyle shook their head.
“That would be... inadvisable,” they said, extending their wings and slowly flapping to demonstrate why.
It was clear to see, there was simply no room on their back or shoulders for a person to safely ride. She would either be pinning their wings or, more likely, being thrown or buffeted by them. Probably both.
“I would carry you to the fifth floor and set you down when we arrived,” they explained.
“Oh,” Ateya said. She somehow hadn't been expecting that. Her stomach did a flip considering it.
Ava was large enough and strong enough that they could easily crush her if they wanted to...
...but if they'd wanted to crush her, they would have done it already, wouldn't they?
A wave of excitement rode in on the heels of her fear, the feeling always quick to take the reins from her nerves.
“Alright,” she said, breaking into a grin. “Okay, yeah, let's go.”
She uncrossed her arms and approached, a little hesitant and unsure of herself.
“So how do you...?” she started to ask, before Ava simply swept the legs out from under her and caught her easily in a bridal style hold.
It was like she weighed nothing to them.
Their hold on her was surprisingly comfortable. Though they were made of stone, their arms and chest were somehow not as hard and unforgiving as it might have seemed. There was some give, some yield to them that felt almost natural. They were coarse in texture, but not painfully so. The combined sensation almost reminded Ateya of the rough pawpad of a very large dog.
“Keep your legs and your head close to me,” they advised, shifting her slightly in their hold to make this easier to comply with.
They were also kind of cold. They almost felt damp. Not to the touch, but in a chilled sort of way, the feeling emanating from them only once she'd been held to them long enough to get settled in.
“Okay,” Ateya said, gazing up at them.
They snuffled and looked up from where they'd been looking down at her, their nose giving a twitch that looked startlingly delicate close up, and then they spread their large wings, readying for flight. Ateya did as she was told and curled inwards as much as she could, raising her knees and tucking her head against Ava's chest as they lifted into the air.
The flight was incredible.
Ava soared through corridors and up flights of stairs with a grace and swiftness that felt as though they were one with the air itself. They rounded corners with a pinpoint precision that made apparent the need to stay close to their form. It was the smoothest and the fastest Ateya had ever been ferried anywhere, and the exhilaration and beauty of the experience practically stole the breath from her lungs.
When they arrived on the fifth floor less than a minute later, Ava set her down carefully, leaving one large hand at her back until her legs were steady underneath her again.
If rooms on the second floor were near to full, the rooms on the fifth floor were barren. Empty shelves peeked out from every archway. Instead, the floors were littered with cardboard boxes, each full of books waiting to be reshelved, and unlike the second floor, there was no catwalk or overhang; it was a solid level that stretched the span of the building. The center was occupied only by further rooms, making for more than double the amount of shelf space to fill.
Ava snuffled again, scrubbing a wrist at their nose now that their hands were free, before clearing their throat and carrying on with the agenda for the evening.
“We've been reshelving everything Leo owns according to the classification system you saw three floors below,” they said. “The work will be easier once we reach higher levels and have fewer books left to organize. For now, all the books that aren't about religion and spirituality have been moved to other floors, and everything about those subjects has been moved here.”
Ava continued speaking as they led Ateya to one of the level's many rooms to get started.
“Everything's been sorted into boxes, to make the work easier -snghkt!- and the boxes have been sorted by room. We only need to reshelve them by subsection,” they said.
Ateya nodded, and set to work.
It was like it was before. Ava would give simple direction over which shelves housed which topic, and they would work together quietly, passing books to each other as necessary to empty the boxes and fill the shelves, with Ateya taking the low shelves so that Ava wouldn't have to look down so much, and Ava taking the high shelves that Ateya couldn't easily reach.
The books themselves were interesting. The room they'd started on was one for Wyytzenlen polytheism, mythology, and religious history. Ateya wasn't usually one for religious studies, but certain titles continued to pique her interest; books on how Wyytzenlen religion and cultural practices had changed with the ages, or books on how new traditions had been absorbed or had replaced old ones through cultural exchange between Wyytzenlendy and other countries.
Ava didn't seem to mind it that Ateya kept pausing in their work to skim through a text here and flip through some pages there, even if it did affect her speed. They didn't seem in a rush.
As the hours passed, what they did seem was increasingly uncomfortable. Their occasional quiet snorting and sniffling had given way to heavier snorts and snuffles, and they'd started breathing mostly through their mouth in between. Every so often their wrist came up to scrub at the end of their snout.
Ateya looked up from a book of Wyytzenlen religious symbology that she'd been flipping through out of curiosity to find them in one such pose, their eyes squinted tightly shut as they scrubbed at their nose, snorting and snuffling needily as they nuzzled up and down at their wrist, nostrils flicking restlessly.
Another snort, wetter this time, and another close on its heels. There was a faint sound of water rushing and they tilted their head back immediately, their snorts and snuffles turning shaky and frantic.
“hhuffh– snghk'kht! h'hehh... sngrk!”
Ateya half expected them to start backing hastily from the room, until she realized there was no balcony on this level. There was nowhere for them to go.
“Oh. Shit,” she said.
She stared at them for another second before scanning the room for anything that could possibly help. A cardboard box wouldn't do much good, and there wasn't much else in here.
Ava's snorting was growing particularly hitchy and urgent, their tail lashing about restlessly.
Ateya's eyes finally fell on the wall opposite the aisle they were working in.
Windows.
The wall was lined with center-split gothic windows.
“Hold on big guy, don't panic,” she said, making a beeline for the nearest window and undoing the lock. She cranked the panes open as quickly as she could before rushing back to them.
Ava was shaking and shuddering by now, they looked on the very verge of breaking. Eyes squinted shut, their nostrils leaking on every other snort despite keeping their head tilted back, panting and trembling as they struggled to fight off their own reflexes.
“Come on, I've got a window open,” Ateya urged, putting a hand at their arm to guide them across the room.
Their breaths grew hiccuppy and choked as they finally reached the window, their snout streaming even before—
“HAUUUH'SHEUGH!!”
—they sneezed violently out into the street, water jetting into the alley below. They shivered, their breath seizing desperately into a tremendous gasp.
“hhHHHHHHHUHh!! H'YAAAUUSHH-SHIEUUWWGH!!”
Another sneeze gripped them, more desperate than any Ateya had seen before possibly in her entire life, and it sent a flood of water out over the side of the building.
Ava sagged heavily against the window sill, wings and tail drooping bonelessly behind them as they snorted and snuffled to catch their breath.
“Thank you,” they breathed. They snorted again. “Leo would have been beside himself if I'd huhh- hHUH–! hEUGHSSHuewh!! snghrkt! huhff... If I'd gotten his books wet. -sngrht!-”
Ateya gave his shoulder a consoling little pat pat as he hung half out the window, catching his breath.
“We can leave this open, if you think it will help,” she offered.
Ava snorted again, and gave their head a shake. They scrubbed a wrist across their snout and heavily stood up.
“No, the damp isn't good for the books,” they said, snuffling and cranking the window shut again tight and locking it.
“Well what do you usually do?” Ateya asked, mildly perturbed by the situation.
Ava snorted.
“Leonidas doesn't usually let me do any work if I'm under the weather,” they said. Ateya's eyes went wide.
“Oh! Oh you're sick?” she said. That explained so much. She'd thought they were just a snuffly sort of creature, with the snout and all...
Ava nodded, crossing their arms and leaning back on the windowsill.
“The damp doesn't do me very much good, either, -snfhk!-” they admitted.
“Is that what it is?” Ateya asked, all sympathy. “I thought you felt damp... Does it make you ill? Why didn't you say anything?”
“Only with a cold,” they said, snuffling slightly. Their snout gave another soft twitch that didn't seem like it should've been possible given their composition.
“I didn't say anything in case someone decided to take advantage of my vulnerabilities,” they said, their tone pointed but almost playful.
Were they teasing her?
They snorted again before continuing more seriously.
“It doesn't do for security to get caught with a weakness,” they said.
Ateya shook her head, confused.
“So why are you telling all of this to me now?” she asked. Ava glanced down at her, not turning their head but with their eyes.
“You helped me,” they said.
A quiet pause fell between them while this sank in. Yeah, Ateya guessed she really had. God, how awful was this Leo guy to his gargoyle that they were so scared of upsetting him?
And how could he be? Ava was built like a brick shithouse—not even that, a stone shithouse—and at least twice his size! It didn't seem possible that they could be easily thrown around. Then again, Leonidas did seem deceptively strong...
Standing next to Ava now in companionable silence while they collected themself and caught their breath, Ateya considered the physicality of them. They did have some give... she wondered if they were more easily hurt than it would seem?
She lifted her hand from where it was crossed over her other arm and unceremoniously poked them hard in the triceps.
They hummed inquisitively in acknowledgement and glanced down at her expectantly.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and hiding her hand behind her arm in lieu of holding it and making a face. It hurt. It definitely hurt. Her, not them.
There was give to them, sure, but it only felt like it went about an inch down. Or maybe that was just where they got too dense for it to matter.
They hummed, gave a nod, and let the unexplained poke go unaddressed.
“Do you feel okay to keep going, or should I go home?” Ateya asked then.
She was having a nice time just getting to be a part of this weird little world, but if her being there was the only thing keeping Ava uncomfortable she should probably leave.
“Leo had said to come back a few days from now. I'm just not very good at listening,” she added with a smirk.
Ava gave another snort of amusement, dabbing with their wrist at a droplet of water that escaped their snout when they did so.
“I'd noticed,” they said. Ateya flashed them her very best, most winningest innocent grin in response.
“I'd like to go on,” they said. “I've been in need of something to do.”
Poor guy... Bored and sick? Well that's no fun...
“Alright,” Ateya said, kicking off the wall to return to the shelves. “I'll get the window for you if you need it.”
Ava grunted in acknowledgement, and for the first time since meeting them, Ateya saw a hint of a smile peeking through their expression.
The rest of the evening went fairly smoothly.
As they reshelved the books together, Ateya continued to pause now and then to flip through something interesting, and sometimes she would comment on it to Ava. They did not offer much back, but seemed content to listen to what she found fascinating and give polite acknowledgement.
Ateya continued to get the low shelves and Ava continued to get the high ones. Every so often the work would be interrupted by Ava's snuffling and soliciting Ateya for help, at which point she would stop what she was doing, guide them to the nearest window, and open it so that they could let themself sneeze. It went a lot more smoothly with a plan in place.
Eventually, the hour drew impressively late, and Ateya stopped being able to make sense of the alphabet anymore.
“I think I'd better head home,” she said with a big yawn, after spending five minutes internally debating whether Johnson or Johnston should be shelved first.
Ava gave a nod, placing the book he was holding up onto its shelf and setting the rest down.
“I'll return you to the lobby,” they said. “Leonidas still wants you searched at the door.”
“What!? Come onnn,” Ateya complained.
“It was part of your deal,” Ava reminded her. Ateya whined.
“Fineee,” she said. Stupid deal.
Once more, Ava scoped her up effortlessly and flew her swiftly through the building. With her eyes closed in exhaustion it was a lot less of an adrenaline rush, and more of a sharp breeze with the vague sensation of motion for a handful of seconds.
When Ava set her down, she got sleepily to her feet, stumbled a little, and caught herself on their arm.
They hummed in concern.
“Will you be alright to get home?” they asked. Ateya nodded.
“I don't live far away,” she said.
She raised her arms, ready to get the search over with, and choked back her laughter as Ava pressed lightly over her ribs, her sides, and down each leg.
They gave her a nod.
“Free to go. -snfghkhh!-” they said.
She nodded, yawned, and went to open the door, which was still locked. She undid the lock. The door opened seemingly on its own, before she realized Ava was holding it for her.
“Oh. Thanks,” she said. Then, stepping out through it, “Goodnight, Ava. See you tomorrow.”
There was a small, grunting snort of acknowledgement in response as she made her way down the library steps and out onto the street below.
⚜
When Ateya showed up the next evening, she didn't come empty handed, but instead came toting a recycling bin that was as large as she was and looked to weigh at least two hundred pounds. She had to walk backwards just to move it, taking frequent breaks to catch her breath and rally her strength.
This might not have been her brightest idea, but never let it be said she didn't commit to something once starting it.
If lugging the bin to the library had been hard, getting it up the stone steps out front was a trial. She cursed and struggled and begged as she wrestled it up each one.
Ateya was shaking, sweating, and panting by the time she managed to haul it up onto the landing, and she collapsed weakly over its lid to catch her breath as soon as it was done. She hadn't even knocked yet when Leonidas came to the door.
“What the devil is this?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.
“It's rice,” Ateya managed to huff between labored breaths.
“Rice?” Leo repeated, sounding personally offended. “Rice? Why would you bring rice to a library? Absolutely not! There is no food permitted on the premises. Why would you ever think—”
“It's for Ava,” Ateya interjected.
Leonidas pulled a face simultaneously so confused and so outraged it looked as if he might combust.
“Bwhh- What? For Ava?” he stammered. “Ava doesn't– Why would you bring–”
Ateya laughed. She couldn't help herself, she'd spent all her energy dragging this here through the city and had none left to spend on self restraint.
“What. are you. laughing. at?” he snarled.
Ateya let herself stop giggling, to spare the man's feelings.
“Sorry. -ahem- Yes, the rice is for Ava,” she repeated, composing herself. “They said the damp was a problem for them, so, I thought this could help.”
Leo's temper faded into something altogether softer and more bewildered.
“What? How on earth is that supposed to help? Ava– Gargoyles in general, they don't eat the same things the rest of us do,” he said. “Lichen mostly, but nothing like... Stars above, how many pounds of rice is that?”
Ateya shook her head, shoved herself up from the lid of the recycling bin, and threw it open. Dry, uncooked rice filled the thing near to the brim. A few grains skittered over the side and scattered over the library steps as she plunged her arm in to demonstrate.
Leonidas stepped back to avoid any hitting his shoes.
“As a dessicant?” he wondered aloud.
“I figured it might help,” she said, puffing a sweaty lock of hair from her face. “It couldn't hurt to try.”
Leo stared at the bin open-mouthed and dumbstruck, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“I... I suppose it...” he stammered.
“Can I come inside?” Ateya asked, still panting and red in the face.
Leo blinked, still utterly flummoxed.
“Yes, please come in... I... This is quite generous of you,” he said.
Ateya lifted her arm from the bin and tried her best to get all of the rice that had clung to her sweat to shake off outside, while Leonidas closed the lid and rolled the bin into the lobby near effortlessly.
“Now this is not to leave the entryway for any reason,” he said. “I'll not be having stray grains of rice tracking throughout my beloved library.”
He continued laying down parameters as he rolled the bin roughly to the center of the floor and opened it back up.
“Furthermore neither of you are to leave the entrance hall until you're absolutely. certain. there’s no rice left clinging to you, for the same reason,” he said, brushing his hands off and looking at the rice itself disdainfully. “Grain brings pests, and mold, and it simply will not do, and at the evening's end I fully expect you'll have both expunged every last grain of rice from the lobby itself as well.”
Ateya nodded, shut the door behind herself, and sagged down to the nice, cool marble floor to sit for a spell, just as Ava was gliding down into the room from somewhere else in the building.
“Got it. Keep the library squeaky clean,” she said, giving Leonidas a rough thumbs up.
“See that you do,” he said, squinting at her warily before retreating into the back hallway and leaving Ateya alone with Ava in the lobby.
“Got you something,” Ateya said, gesturing weakly to the bin of rice now sitting open at the center of the floor.
Unlike the other times she had seen him, Ava had yet to touch the floor. Instead, they remained hovering about three feet in the air, looking at the rice with some measure of disbelief.
“I heard...” they said. They shook their head. “This is extremely kind.”
Ava cleared their throat and snorted, then finally touching down and turning their attention to Ateya, herself.
“Thank you,” they said.
“You got it, chief,” Ateya responded, still catching her breath. “Go ahead, get in. Let me know if it feels like it's helping at all. I'm going to need a few minutes before I'll be ready to help with reshelving any books today anyway.”
Ava circled the bin for a moment before seemingly deciding the best way to get themself into it would be from the air. Flapping their wings slowly they gently rose up above the bin and carefully entered it, hoofs first.
As they lowered themself down further into the rice, carefully poking their tail in and shifting their weight to sink in past their hips, they let out a sigh.
“Feel better?” Ateya asked.
Ava nodded.
“It does,” they admitted.
Carefully they shifted and contorted themself to get more of their torso below the surface, spreading their wings for balance when the whole bin wobbled and threatened to tip with the motion. Stray grains of rice skittered every which way over the entryway floor. It was fine, it wasn't like that couldn't be swept up later.
By the time Ateya had caught her breath and the redness had faded from her face, Ava had managed to cram as much of themself into the bin of rice she'd provided as possible, sinking themself in past the shoulders and up to their jaw, their head tilted back to allow them to bury as much of themself as they could. Their wings stuck straight up behind them out of the bin at an angle that could not have been comfortable, but the look of relief on their face indicated this was an acceptable trade-off.
Now that she felt a bit less like her heart was going to explode from exertion, Ateya got to her feet and came over to chat, Ava peeking an eye open at her as she approached and then closing it again in relaxation.
“You have pretty good hearing, don't you?” Ateya asked, leaning against the side of the bin itself.
Her legs and arms felt a little rubbery and would doubtless be sore the next day, but the quiet sense of triumph and accomplishment she felt at seeing her idea pay off was worth the muscle fatigue.
Ava's brow rose in agreement, and they gave a slight nod, rice shifting about their face as they did.
“I do,” they said, a quietly proud smirk playing over their features. “I hear everything that goes on in the building, and on some parts of the grounds. Why?”
They opened their eyes to face her, then, at least as well as they could still being buried up to the neck.
“It explains how you were able to hear about this,” she said, tapping on the side of the recycling-bin-turned-rice-bath. She tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Is that how you found me sneaking in?” she asked.
“It is,” Ava said, closing their eyes again contentedly, grinning now, and giving a quiet snort.
Ateya gasped as a realization struck her.
“You heard the story I told Leonidas!” she accused. Ava's grin took on a mischievous quality as he peeked one eye open at her again briefly.
“I did,” they said. “I hear everyone's stories, and their conversations. It makes my job as sentinel more enjoyable.”
“Oh, you sneak!” Ateya accused. Ava gave a small, snorting laugh.
“You would know,” they said.
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever,” she conceded. “What's the weirdest thing you've ever overheard?”
Ava snorted again before responding.
“I couldn't say,” they said. “It wouldn't feel right to divulge others’ secrets.”
They snorted again, a little longer this time, their snout wrinkling up on one side with the breath.
“But you do know,” Ateya said. “Like you know what the weirdest thing would be.”
“It would be difficult to choose,” they said, now wiggling their nose up and down spiritedly.
They gave another snort.
“There is a problem with this arrangement. -sngkrffh!-” they said. “I -sngkffh!- I can't reach my nose. -sngrrhkf!-”
“I could scratch it for you,” Ateya teased, giving a playful scritch at the space between Ava's nostrils. Their nostrils quivered and flared immediately in response, Ava drawing in a big gasp as water rushed to fill their snout.
It was one thing to hear the oncoming torrent from nearby and another entirely to watch it flood in and stare you down like a water canon primed to blow. In a panic and with just as little forethought, Ateya clapped both of her hands over Ava's nose.
“Sorry! Geez, this thing really is sensitive isn't it!?” she exclaimed.
Unable to do much else to help themself, Ava snuffled and nuzzled up into Ateya's hands, bucking their rough snout against her palms needily.
“Okay, alright, I'm helping, I'm helping,” Ateya said, responding in concert to Ava's nuzzles while she tried to figure out what the best way to massage at their snout would be.
The heel of her hand wasn't doing enough, if Ava's frantic snorting and shaky breaths indicated anything. It didn't seem to be hitting the right spot, their pushing up into her constantly trying and failing to get at the slight crease that ran up and down between their nostrils.
Switching to her fingertips, Ateya was more dextrous, but she couldn't apply enough pressure to match what their nuzzling was asking for, and the time spent switching between methods didn't help. Ava snorted and gasped, fighting it hard, but Ateya could see them coming undone.
“Sorrysorrysorry!” Ateya rambled, all the while frantically trying anything to get them to stop. She dug her thumbs into the space between their nostrils and rubbed hard.
They took a deep snort and continued battling their sneeze, but it seemed like maybe it was helping. Their snuffling slowed down, their breaths still stuttering ticklishly but now seemingly less frantic.
“Like this? This is good?” Ateya asked, continuing her efforts. Ava nodded, unable to speak, shuddering and snorting sneezily when that interrupted the help they were receiving.
“Okay! Okay, I'll keep it up,” she reassured them. They snorted in response.
Ava's nose was surprisingly animated and flexible. Rubbing at the space between their nostrils as she was, Ateya could feel every twitch and tremble it gave beneath her thumbs as she worked to massage away the tickles that seemed to plague the ailing gargoyle's snout.
“sngrfhk! h-huhh– snffgh! hahh.... snfhk!”
She took to focusing her efforts on anything that felt twitchy or irritated, and it seemed to help, Ava's snout calming down bit by bit. The only problem was that she didn't have a ton of leverage, and the muscles in her hands were threatening to cramp.
“I'm going to try something, let me know if it's alright,” she said, then bracing her hands on either side of their snout as she continued to work at the center of their nose with her thumbs. Ava shuddered, then gave a shaky, stuttering sigh.
“Behh–hh-! Bh...etter... snfghhk!” they managed.
“It's better? This is better?” Ateya asked. Ava gave the littlest nod they could, and Ateya breathed a big sigh of relief.
“Whew. Okay. I thought you were definitely going to sneeze,” she said. Their nose continued giving demanding twitches so she kept rubbing at it for them, the ache in her palms receding to a gentle burn now with proper support.
“I... sngkt!snkrt!huhh... snrkht! I– hhuh–! hahh...” they tried, unable to get more than a word out before their unruly snout bothering them took their speech.
“Shhhh, it's okay. I understand,” Ateya said, keeping at her efforts, smoothing away every erratic tic and twitch and shudder she felt beneath her hands.
Ava continued to give little snorts and snuffles as Ateya worked, damp bursts of air fluttering against and pulling at her palms as she ran her thumbs firmly along the sides of the slight crease that marked the center of their nose.
Gradually, their distress seemed to ease. Their snout twitched less violently and less often. Their snorting started to wane and grow less fitful. The insistent rush of water to the back of their snout seemed to ebb and turn to a trickle. They were breathing a little more slowly and rhythmically.
“Are you feeling better?” Ateya asked.
“It's helping...” Ava said. “I still feel like I– hh! uhh... snfrkh! oh... snfk! like I h-have to -snkht!- huhh... s-sneeze...”
She kept up the massage, pressing in where their snout trembled and protested until it calmed once more. It seemed the slow, even breaths Ava was taking were very careful and intentional, and it probably wasn't the most helpful thing to ask them to talk through it. She kept up her attentions even as the quiet trickling sound of water went silent and Ava spoke again, this time of their own accord.
“Thank you,” they said, giving a soft snort. “I apologize, this isn't very dignified.”
It was Ateya's turn to snort then, not from irritation but from amusement.
“It's a lot more dignified than it would have been to get showered,” she said, still working at their nose.
Ava gave a quietly grunting snort, and the somewhat scrunched expression that Ateya had come to recognize as embarrassment crossed their features.
“I'm sorry. My snout is, in fact, very sensitive. Especially when I have a cold,” they said.
Ateya shook her head.
“That's okay,” she said, keeping her attention to their nose steady. “I don't mind helping.”
Ava hummed out a sigh and gave a quiet smile.
“Thank you,” they said. “I think I'm alright now.”
Ateya sighed, letting up the pressure and letting her hands fall from Ava's snout, her palms sore from the effort. Ava snorted violently as her thumbs brushed their nostrils on the way down, gasping against the ticklish intrusion to their senses.
“Waitwait–!” Ateya pled, hastening to bring her hands to their snout again as a rush of water flooded in.
It was no use. They snorted, and trembled, and their snout drew up in a snarl, revealing an array of tusks and fangs as they–
The recycling bin burst under the strain of their movement, the sneeze wrenching from them violently. Ateya was immediately drenched in bracingly cold water. Falling from the now ruins that was once a full bin of rice, Ava caught themself on their wings and rose into a ticklish hover, their tail whipping as their breaths caught and dragged.
Sneeze after torrential sneeze ripped from them, utterly bathing the lobby in a sea of cold water and uncooked rice.
Ateya shivered, looking around at the wreckage with dread.
“Aw man Leo's gonna be so mad,” she said.
Ava snorted, and snuffled—
“hUHh–! heUGH’SHhuwh!”
—and another sneeze tumbled out of them, splashing down into the mess below before they were finally able to open their eyes and get their bearings.
“I am so sorry big guy, I did not mean to make you sneeze like that,” Ateya said, utterly soaked through and standing in an inch and a half of ricewater.
Ava snuffled at their wrist drippily.
“It's fine,” they said, keeping a few feet off the ground and surveying the situation.
“I'm going to go tell the boss to stay put. We'll handle this,” he said. “Can you get the doors open?”
Ateya nodded, and sloshed over to the large wooden doors to let some of the water out while Ava zipped off to some other part of the library to keep Leonidas from witnessing the mess they'd made of his entryway, and presumably save him from having an aneurysm.
Between lugging the rice to the library to begin with and giving Ava's snout such an aggressive and thorough massaging, Ateya's muscles were well and truly fatigued and starting to feel sore by the time she reached the big double doors. She fought to get the lock undone, and struggled with the doors themselves, trying to pry one open just enough to get a shoulder behind and shove against with all her might so it would move. The rush of rice and water pushing back along the floor did not help much.
She had the first door halfway open, and was leaning all her weight against it when Ava returned holding a push broom and a pair of squeegees. They flew over to help her, and she nearly fell when the door swung open from beneath her efforts. She stumbled and caught herself.
“Thanks,” she panted, bracing herself on her thighs to catch her breath.
Ava fluttered over to the other door to get it opened as well.
“You exhausted yourself bringing that to me ” they observed.
“I know,” she said. “Probably not my best idea, considering...”
She gestured briefly and vaguely at the floor to indicate the rest of the thought.
“Hmm... But I do feel a bit better,” Ava said, smirking down at her encouragingly from where they hovered. “I appreciate your efforts. It was very thoughtful and very kind of you.”
Despite the exhaustion, the sore muscles, the thorough soaking, and the arduous task ahead, Ateya broke into a grin.
“Nice,” she said.
No books were returned to the shelves that evening. Instead, Ateya and Ava spent the rest of the night painstakingly removing sopping wet, heavy, uncooked rice from not only every corner and crevice of the entryway, but also the entrances of every room and hallway adjoining it on the first level.
Ava insisted on taking the brunt of the sweeping, and once everything was clean they shuffled everything down the steps, off the curb, and into the road for the street sweeper to take care of in the early morning, which was approaching more rapidly than either of them would have wanted.
“I may have made a mistake,” Ateya said, slouching against the doorframe as Ava flew back inside and alighted on the now-dry marble. They gave a short inquisitive hum in response.
“I still have to walk home,” she complained woefully, sinking down to the ground.
“You said you live close?” Ava asked. Ateya looked up at them from where she sat.
“Yeah, but it's still going to be a bitch,” she said. At least her shirt was nearly dry. It wouldn't be any good for her to catch a chill from the whole experience, herself.
“You don't have to walk,” Ava said, shaking their head.
“What are you talking about? Of course I have to walk,” Ateya said. “I don't think Leonidas would be too keen on me staying over and besides, I have work in a few hours. Oh who am I kidding, I'm probably going to call out. I'm not going to be able to move tomorrow...”
“I'll fly you home,” Ava offered.
“Really?” Ateya asked. Ava gave a small, snorting grunt and a nod.
“You've put yourself out a great deal, just to be kind to me. It is the least I can do,” they said.
“That would be amazing,” Ateya said gratefully, feeling altogether too limp to refuse.
The flight to Ateya's seventh story walk-up was just as smooth and fluid as their flights through the library had been, if noticeably slower. Ava didn't race through the streets as they raced around their home. The trip was still faster than most vehicles, and significantly quicker than walking would have been. They flew her right up to her bedroom window to save her the trouble of getting up the stairs.
It was a bit awkward trying to slide the windowpane open from within Ava's arms, but Ateya was able to manage it, then clambering inside and dropping unceremoniously to the floor. She got herself up onto her knees and propped herself against the window ledge by the elbows.
“Thanks,” she said.
Ava smiled and gave her a nod.
“You're most welcome,” they said. Then looking out at the sky, they nodded to themself.
“I need to head back to the library, the sun will be up soon. Thank you again, for all your help. -sngrrkh!- I truly appreciate it,” they said. It was the first time Ateya had heard them snort like that in a few hours. Maybe the rice really had helped.
“I'm glad it was worth the clean-up,” she smirked back. “You have to get back by sunrise? Is Leo expecting you?”
“He is, but that isn't why,” Ava said. “I need to resume my post before repetrifying. ...I can tell you more about it later, if you're interested.”
Ateya yawned massively and gave a nod.
“I won't keep you then. Goodnight, Ava. Or. Good morning? I'll see you around,” she said. Ava gave a quick nod, and made back for the library like a bat out of hell, disappearing with a blur in a rustle of wind.
Ateya stared after them for a moment before dragging herself heavily to her bed, pulling herself up onto it, rolling over, and falling asleep in her dayclothes.
Pairing: P/omni x C/aine aka S/howtime (P/omni Third Person POV)
Tags: established relationship, PWP, human C/aine and regular C/aine, P/omni has interchangeable parts, C/aine is nonbinary transmasc, soft dom P/omni, sub C/aine, top P/omni, bottom C/aine, praise kink, pet names, oral sex, fluff, sneezing ofc (but not until later chapters)
Pomni does a double take, her hand still gripping the doorknob.
An entire human man. Who's kind of just looking at her, legs crossed beneath her blankets, features brimming with barely contained excitement.
She freezes as soon as she sees him there, a near prey-animal level response. She's not really sure how long it's been since she's seen another human that doesn't have a digital avatar the way they all do here. That, and the fact that he's clearly naked -- or at least halfway -- underneath her covers turns any sort of processing power her mind would have had into mush.
All that aside. He's hot.
He's unfairly hot, when Pomni has time to dwell on it, and especially compared to her own cartoonish form. From what she can see now, as a familiar grin spreads across the stranger's face, part of her wonders if this is some sort of lust driven hallucination.
With a pretty face framed by waves of dark red hair, the stranger in her bed is toeing the line of androgyny, something that she's always found particularly attractive in men. He's got a strong, straight nose, a full but groomed mustache and beard, and goddamn. He's built. Not shredded, but sturdy, thick with obvious muscle underneath -- yet another physical feature she's always been drawn to. Generous amounts of hair cover his arms and chest, along with a trail down his belly.
Fuck, he looks good.
She blinks, caught somewhere between obvious arousal and still wondering if she's dreaming all this.
"Wh--"
"Surprise!"
Unable to hold back any longer, the man flings the covers off and gets to his feet.
He is, in fact, fully nude.
Instinctively, Pomni covers her eyes with her hands, aware that she's blushing hard at the idea of seeing a stranger expose himself to her so easily. She makes a sound somewhere between a squeak and a honk at the indecency of it all, only seconds away from yelling for Caine to get in here and set this deviant...straight.
Wait a minute.
"Oh...my...god."
Pomni slowly lowers her hands, taking a good look at the man who must surely be --
Caine. Of course it's Caine.
"How did you do that?"
"You really didn't recognize me?"
There's barely disguised glee in his voice, and it really is Caine's voice, coming from an entirely different form than she's used to seeing. He crosses his arms over his chest, pleased, and her eyes follow the movement.
They definitely don't glance over his naked, freckled legs, or what's between them. The thick thatches of ginger curls, and the folds that are surely tucked beneath. Is this different from what he keeps on his usual model? Or has he altered things, made the slightest aesthetic changes?
"I suppose I can take that as a compliment."
"You should," she says with a small laugh, relaxing. Closing the door and locking it with intention, she reaches out, hand hovering inches from his skin. "Can I...?"
"By all means!" Caine's chest puffs out a little bit. "Please, examine at your leisure, my dear!"
If he were any more excited about this, he'd be dancing.
Still chuckling a bit under her breath, Pomni moves closer, placing her palm to the center of his chest. He's made himself a good deal taller than her, and it's strange to have to look up to see his face. Even more bizarre that his face isn't simply composed of a floating set of teeth and eyes.
But which is stranger -- that she's gotten used to a partner with a less than human face, or that she's not used to looking at a human face anymore at all?
Best not to dwell on that.
Caine watches her closely, heart thumping away under her touch. It's so damn bizarre, to be able to look at this new human version of him and recognize his expressions hiding underneath. He loves to look at her face, to try and take a guess at what she's thinking when something new arises, and this situation is no different. With his hands delicately folded together at his chest, he's even standing poised like he usually would.
His skin is smooth and warm under her fingertips, a touch rougher than the glassy glide of his own usual exterior, but still soft to touch. The hair on his body shifts when she touches it, and -- the cherry on top, in Pomni's opinion -- his nipples harden ever so noticeably when she trails her fingers past them.
Shivering, Caine bites his lip, standing stock still as he patiently allows her to take her time and feel him over. He had promised that she could examine him at her leisure, after all.
"Definitely feels like the real deal," Pomni says, aware of how breathless she sounds. A thought occurs to her. "Like...insanely real. God, how much work is it to keep yourself like this?"
His striking eyes dart away for a moment (is he --? Oh, he is wearing eyeliner, God help her--), and Pomni gets the delight of watching him blush.
"Ah. Best not to worry about that now, starlet. Let me just say that I may have a, um. Limited amount of time to interact with you in this form."
He must be using a metric fuck ton of data. Caine's right; she really doesn't want to think about the logistics of that.
"So you're saying... we'd better make good use of this, while you have it?"
Trailing one finger dangerously low down his chest, Pomni cuts him a faux innocent look.
"Yes," Caine answers instantly. "Yes, exactly, my sweet brilliant jester, you're always one step ahead, so I had no doubt that you'd be able to -- mmph!"
She cuts his ramblings short, leaning up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his.
The way they normally kiss is a bit of a... compromise. Caine doesn't usually find himself in possession of a pair of lips, so her typical go-to is kissing his teeth or along his jaw. He enjoys this and likes 'kissing' her back by way of gently nudging against her. Though of course, when there's tongue involved, they find themselves on more equal footing.
But this? This is different.
His mouth is soft against hers, gentle and hesitant as he lets her lead, and Pomni melts against him with an embarrassing sound.
How had she forgotten the feeling of lips! Reciprocal kissing! Something so small but so visceral. Bizarre in itself if she lets herself dwell on it, the simple mushing of mouths against one another capable of inciting such want within her, but oh fuck did Caine put in the work to get the details right. His mouth is so very plush, the brush of his facial hair tickling her skin, and Pomni makes short work of grinding herself against him, her arms flung around his neck. (His neck!)
Caine responds with equal enthusiasm. Seeming to have found his sea legs, so to speak, he opens his mouth into their kiss with a telling little sound of need, sliding his arms around her thin frame tight when it's instantly granted. Pomni's own hands find purchase in his hair, tugging at silky strands and delighting in the noises he makes when it's lightly tugged. Their tongues slide together, and Pomni can't help the way her hips arch up into his, curious and desperate and needy to see how this new body will respond to her.
She takes approximately half a second to pull away, to say what she needs to.
"Bed," she pants.
"Mmhm."
They scramble there, Caine falling back against the mattress to let Pomni climb into his lap. She makes quick work of her shirt and bra, tossing them to the side like they've done something to personally offend her. When they return to the kiss, both moan with newfound passion, one of Caine's thick thighs wrapping around her hip.
"God, you're so hot," she says into his mouth, still intent on playing with his hair, and she can see his eyes dilate at the praise.
"You really like it?"
"Like is a bit of an understatement."
Caine ducks his head, always one to delight in praise, and cups her cheek in his hand. (His much larger, freckled hand.)
"Pomni, my dear," he begins, voice somewhat shaky. "Will you...?"
She waits, patient, watching his human face flicker between bashfulness and need. Long copper eyelashes dust his cheeks as he looks down and away, his cheeks flushing as he tries to spit it out. In the end, lust wins out. He's always so cute like this, asking for what he wants -- and she always makes him ask.
"Inside me?" he mumbles.
Just two simple words, but they might as well be gasoline to the fire already blazing in her core.
"Of course, sweet boy."
Pomni moves to sit up on her haunches, placing her palm flat on his chest to keep him where he is. Shifting a bit, she strips out of her shorts and underwear, settling back against him until her cunt's pressed almost flush with his own. Caine whines, spreading his legs so that she can get closer, giving her a delicious view of how wet he is.
"Pomni."
"Mmhm?"
She smirks as she runs her hands up and down his thighs, feeling the muscle there jump and flex for her touch. Pomni has a feeling he has more to tell her about how he wants her inside of him, but again, it's up to Caine to be more specific.
He covers his face with his hands, blushing almost as red as his hair, and the act is so distinctly Caine that she can see him past the temporary human form more clearly now than ever.
"Um," he begins again, swallowing hard as he fumbles for the words. "C-can you. Fuck me with the strap. Please?"
There's something so damn naughty about hearing him say fuck.
"Oh, absolutely," she purrs. "I was kinda hoping you'd say that. Get it out for me?"
He might as well be a human blur -- Caine fumbles backwards and practically darts up their mattress to stick his hand into the drawer of the nightstand that contains her harness and dildo.
"Thank you, baby."
Pomni tries not to laugh at his eagerness, but he's just too precious.
At this point, getting into the harness is as familiar as putting on clothes. Pomni had plenty of experience with a strap before she'd come to the circus, and often enjoyed a more dominant role with previous partners.
But.
The thing about this strap that they both enjoy so much is that she can feel it. As Pomni adjusts the dildo into place against her pubic mound, it perks up at her touch, melds against her body, and -- oh. Now it is her. At least, until she decides to take it off.
Pomni can't help but groan a little as she feels her cock stir to life, the last buckle of her harness pulled snug. The thing's a gentle blue, an average size, and a bit thick -- something they'd experimented with to see exactly what Caine preferred.
He's looking at her like he's going to die if he doesn't have it inside him right now.
Stroking one hand down her length, Pomni crawls towards him.
"Get it wet for me?" she suggests sweetly.
"Of course, sweetheart --"
Laser focused on the cock in front of him, Caine scrambles to sit up, opening his mouth and delicately licking at the head of her. Pomni gasps, always forgetting how this feels when she isn't wearing it. His bright, mismatched eyes peer up at her knowingly, grinning a little around her member, and Caine laps at her a bit more before putting her in his mouth.
"God, f-fuck," Pomni manages, her eyes fluttering shut. "That's good--"
"Mmmm."
He hums around her, smirking up at Pomni again as he attempts to swallow more -- and promptly chokes.
"Whoa, hey," she says, pulling out. "You okay there, tiger?"
Clearing his throat a bit, Caine nods, clearly embarrassed.
"I -- yes, I'm fine. Sorry, that's just far easier without a gag reflex!"
They smile at one another, Pomni's hand still gently stroking through his hair. For a tender moment, they stay that way, Caine enjoying the attention like a happy cat.
Pomni breaks the silence.
"You ready?"
He nods, eager. Moving briefly to sit up -- and still seeming a bit wobbly and unsure in this new body as he goes -- Caine kisses her.
Wizard with the kink making a magic doll of their romantic partner and having them watch on while the wizard teases the doll's nose, knowing they'll be feeling the effects of that activity any moment n-oh, there it is!
i am DELIGHTED to introduce you all to a new cast of characters set in a strange and secretive corner of the same world that my last fic takes place in. You can think of this as a spin-off with slightly smokier vibes, if you wish, although really this place came first...
without much further ado, i'd like to introduce you to my library monsters
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Water From a Stone (pt i)
summary: Ateya is just looking for something to wake up her boring life. Little does she know, her life will never be the same again...
8k words, Rated PG-13, No CWs. Gargoyle!sneeze, Trying not to sneeze, Making someone sneeze, NB sneezing
pt i
The city of Praglyn was beautiful, and older than the gods. Worn cobble streets still predominated, although some of the major thoroughfares had been traded for asphalt in recent years. Praglyn was alive with such juxtopositions.
Historic stone churches bedecked with enormous glass windows sat blocks away from shiny, metallic new centers for business. The heritage theater, all bricks and carved, ornate pilasters, shared a block with a chain hamburger joint, one of the ones with a claustrophobic plastic playplace in the back and somehow never enough people on staff to satisfy the ever-busy rush of people through its doors, in from the city's ever-lively streets.
Urban exploration was abundant here, but it wasn't any of the abandoned, moss-eaten parking garages or shuttered storefront-office-apartment buildings turned pigeon hotels that Ateya was most interested in exploring on this particular evening—or breaking into, as the case may be.
Dominating the end of a block in one of the city's more historic districts loomed an enormous library. It was privately owned, but it was known that for the right price, its curator would sometimes allow the lucky visitor in to peruse its stacks. Those visitors were often academics, researchers and the like, and the price of entry was often some addition to the library's massive collection, be it some intriguing new research publication or some rare ancient text.
Ateya had no such texts.
All the same, she desperately wanted to see inside, and had wanted to for some years now. The place was grand enough to be imposing and yet it was shrouded in secrecy. It taunted her every time she walked by it, which was near every day with her workplace being in the same district. She could scarcely imagine what it must be like within the library's giant wooden double doors. And it wasn't as if Ateya didn't like books.
Of course those big front doors wouldn't be Ateya's point of entry. After visiting hours they were locked, and it didn't seem like they opened again until morning.
But there were windows along the sides and back of the wedge-shaped building, some six or seven feet off the ground. Too high to see in, and too low to be second-story. Just high enough to climb into, if Ateya could mount the irregular shape of the building's bricks in the alleyway along the library's north side, in the back.
It wasn't the best day, or night as it were, to attempt such a feat. It was spitting down rain, and had been on and off for days. The stone of the building was cold and wet, and Ateya's hair kept dripping in her face. It really would have been wiser to wait until the weather dried out and the going was less treacherous. But Ateya was feeling eager, and restless, and she'd finally made up her mind to get a real look at the place, so here she was, grappling with wet bricks and sniffling, frozen fingertips prying open a window that was likely installed before she was even born.
Old as it was, and not meant to be opened from the outdoors, the window kept sticking and was difficult to move, but Ateya finally managed to budge it just far enough to slip through sideways, hang down from the sill, and drop the remaining two or three feet to the floor.
The hallway she landed in was bare, but stately. Marble floor, stone chair rail, ornately carved pilasters throughout, and well lit with a series of recess lighting along the high ceiling. Having dropped in, Ateya wasn't able to close the window she'd entered through, but despite the chill, damp evening air blowing in, and despite the prevalence of stone in the decor, the library was warm and comfortable. The entire place smelled of books.
Glancing about quietly, it seemed the hall went on for some ways to either side, with stairs upward at the end of the hall to her left, and stairs downward or an opening to another first level hallway to her right. Not wanting to linger on the first level, or potentially draw nearer any lobbies or front desks, Ateya turned left, and began quietly making her way up the steps.
The stair landing opened onto a catwalk that stretched on around the entire second level and overlooked the main lobby. Not ideal for evading detection... There was a spiral stair at the end, but getting to it and even climbing it would put her in plain view of anyone on the floor below, not to mention it looked to be metal and would certainly not be very quiet to climb in an echoing space like this, even if Ateya was as lightfooted as she could be.
The hall was lined with high arched doorways, though. If she was sneaky enough she might be able to hide out behind one, snoop around for a bit, and maybe hop from one room to the next once the lights actually went out in the place.
It was strange that they were still on, actually. But then, it wasn't too long after hours. Maybe somebody was working late?
Hopefully they weren't working in the first room on the left...
Empty.
Ateya breathed a sigh of relief, a wave of giddiness close on its heels. Ah the thrills of breaking and entry. Technically, just entry this time, she hadn't actually broken anything...
She mused over this as she surveyed the contents of the room. Stately, like the hall she'd landed in, but not unwelcoming. Around a low coffee table, with plenty of space for comfort, there was a large, ornate, light green sofa and two matching chairs, each with a side table of their own, and tiffany lamps on each side table. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with dark wooden bookshelves save for a small fireplace across from the door, and free-standing shelves filled the far end of the room. The floor featured a nice, ornate throw rug.
All the shelves Ateya could see were near completely full of books, which she supposed made a sort of sense. From what she knew, this wasn't the sort of library people borrowed from. All of the books in it were for on-site use only.
Curious about what kind of books the room she'd landed in held, and needing to kill some time until the lights went off (they had to turn off at some point, right?), Ateya went to search through some of the free-standing shelves, away from the door.
She hadn't yet been able to piece together a theme amongst the titles, other than it being a non-fiction area of some kind, when she heard the softest fluttering sound behind her. It might have been a piece of paper falling to the ground on the light breeze she felt blow strangely past despite the room's distance from the window she'd crept in from.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Ateya jumped, nearly dropping the book she was holding at the sound of a dark, resonant voice close behind her. She tripped over herself and fell trying to back away when she saw its source.
Looming over her as she attempted and failed to scamper backwards across the floor was a huge creature of some kind. The way their form obscured the light as they entered the aisle shrouded them in shadow and made it hard to tell what they were beyond that, other than large, and imposing, and advancing on her slowly.
The creature reached for her, and she whimpered and flinched away.
“I don't want to hurt you. Get up. It's time to go,” they said.
Ateya remained frozen in fear, braced for some kind of blow or swipe. When none came, she slowly opened her eyes. The creature's large hand remained extended towards her. She blinked at it, shaking.
“You're... helping me up?” she asked.
“You fell,” they replied simply. Ateya stared at their hand in disbelief. She wasn't sure she could feel her legs anymore from the sheer panic that had flooded her system.
“I can carry you out, if you prefer,” the figure said.
“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head and shakily getting to her feet on her own, not wanting to take the hand of something so unknown and so much larger than her.
Now that her eyes had begun to adjust to the dim light, she started to be able to make out the beast's features.
They were predominantly animalistic, but not of any one type of animal in particular. Their nose resembled that of a bat, but the snout it belonged to was more like a boar's snout. So were the creature's legs, their ears, and their short mane of hair. They had multiple short horns like a goat would, and a long, spade-tipped tail like a devil. Giant bat-like wings sprouted from their shoulder blades. The rest of them, it seemed, was vaguely humanoid and extremely well-muscled, and... it wasn't a trick of the light, they were completely slate grey from tip to tail.
She'd seen them before, she realized. Just never up close.
“You're a lot larger than you look from the street,” she said.
“I imagine that to be true,” the gargoyle replied, before swiftly moving on. “Did you take anything?”
“No,” Ateya said.
Now that she could see them, she couldn't stop staring. She watched their face move when they spoke. They were surprisingly expressive for a creature made of stone. The expression they bore now was a stern one, all heavy brow and set jaw. The way their nostrils flared whenever they spoke made them look much angrier than their behavior would lead someone to believe.
“The book you were holding when I came in?” they prompted.
“Dropped it,” she said, pointing vaguely at the floor behind them.
Eyeing her suspiciously all the while, the gargoyle stooped with startling gracefulness to pick the book up and reshelve it. They gave one, single, profoundly wet sniffle as they did so, the sound snorting in its insistency.
Ateya blinked, and tilted her head. That was odd. Maybe they weren't actually all that angry. Their snout could just be bothering them. She wouldn't have expected that a gargoyle could be affected by something like that.
“Anything else?” they asked her. She shook her head.
“Good,” they said, “Then I won't find anything when I search you for stolen books.”
Ateya took another step or two backwards, shaking her head.
“I didn't take anything,” she said.
“My boss would be greatly disappointed in me if I took everyone at their word,” they said, grasping her arm in a manner that could only be described as immovable. Not tight, not even painful, but a living stone manacle closed around her forearm and would not let her go. She struggled against them.
“Hey! I said I didn't take anything!” she protested, trying to tug herself free as they reached to try and start patting down her sides. Before she could think about whether it might really hurt, Ateya reached up and flicked hard at the center of their nose.
The good news was that it didn't hurt. The gargoyle's flesh was surprisingly pliant, if tough and rough textured. It wasn't like flicking solid rock. What did hurt, a little, was their grip tightening slightly around her arm as their eyes fluttered shut, their nostrils now pulsing and flaring restlessly with their breath.
“Hhuh...! hhuH...!”
There was a sound of rushing water and they looked straight up, the wrist of their other hand coming up to press against the end of their snout. They clumsily started backing blindly and urgently to the door, snorting and panting all the while and dragging a protesting Ateya along with them. A shelf or two may have gotten bumped and fallen over in the process, and as their snorting became heavier and even more urgent, they backed clear into the doorway on their way out through it.
Their strength broke on a desperate, gasping inhale as soon as they made the catwalk, and they threw themself at the railing to release a desperate—
“HUAAAEGH'SHIEWHH!!”
—over the side. Ateya's eyes widened at the torrent of water that flooded forth from their snout, cascading down to the marble floor of the lobby below.
“Geez!” she exclaimed, flinching back. The gargoyle's eyes remained closed, and they snuffled aqueously, their breaths still labored and uncertain.
“hhuh- hh! H'YAAASHHUE!!”
They lurched forward again with another resounding sneeze, another deluge pouring from their snout as they did so. They snuffled again, rubbing at the end of their snout with their wrist.
“Why would you do that?” they asked, just as another voice rose up from beyond the lobby below.
“Ava? What the devil are you doing up there? I thought I told you I didn't want you patrolling while—Oh hello... Who do we have here?”
A tall, thin man with neat waves of bright red hair stepped out from the hallway at the back of the lobby. He wore a very fancy red and gold waistcoat, and small, thin gold wire spectacles perched atop his prominent, bridgey nose. As he stepped into view and spotted Ateya his eyes narrowed irritably.
“An uninvited guest, boss. I was just checking her over before showing her out,” the gargoyle, Ava, said. The bespectacled man continued squinting, and tilted his head accusingly.
“It seems like you were just sneezing all over my nice marble floor. I trust you didn't get any on the shelves?” he said.
Ava made a small noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt, his snout giving a twitch. They looked almost self-conscious for a moment. It was a strange look to see cross the features of something so stony and large.
“No, I... The shelves are dry,” they said. “I may just need to right some of them. They... tipped over.”
The man's eyes alit with a sudden temper at this information.
“They what?” he hissed, one hand coming to pinch the space between his eyes.
Ava remained absolutely silent while his boss seethed on the level below.
“And the books? Were any of them damaged? Or haven't you checked?” said the man.
“It just happened,” they said.
The man took an exceedingly deep breath and swallowed before letting it out and letting his hand drop to his side. He turned his gaze to Ateya then.
“And I suppose you had nothing to do with this?” he accused.
“What!? I was just-??? They grabbed me– I was just– I was trying to get away,” she said.
Ava's boss crossed his arms and glared at her nastily.
“And you would not have had to try to get away if you had come during regular business hours and paid the requisite entry fee, now would you? What exactly did you do?” he said.
Without breaking eye contact, she demonstrated, quickly slipping her hand up and flicking again at Ava's nose before they could pull away.
The effect was immediate this time, their eyes slamming shut as they wrenched aside with a streaming—
“hAAUH'SHHOO!!”
—that their boss narrowly dodged below, visibly shivering when some of the water splashed back at him on impact with the floor.
“Saints alive, Ava, that's cold!” he admonished.
“Sorry, boss. -snfgh!-” Ava snuffled, scrubbing at their snout with their wrist.
“Watch where you aim that thing,” their boss continued, peevishly.
“I didn't have much choice, boss,” they said.
Ateya couldn't help but be amused by the chaos she'd wrought, the feeling egged on by a quiet sense of defiance.
“Yeah, this thing seems pretty sensitive,” she taunted, reaching up and tapping at the side of Ava's snout. They gave a profusely wet snort and turned their head, leaning away from her as much as they could without releasing her arm.
“And you, stop menacing my gargoyle,” the figure below demanded testily. “How did you even get in here anyway? I know I locked the door.”
Ava snorted and kept their face turned, presumably not trusting that Ateya really would stop menacing them despite her momentary cooperation. Maybe they were smarter than they looked.
“She came in through a backfacing window,” they reported. “I found it ajar on my way to escort her from the premises.”
Their boss crossed his arms and took a deep breath, holding it and swallowing hard before letting it back out in a huff.
“Here's what we are going to do,” he said, turning to Ateya, still terse despite his overt efforts to calm his temper.
“You are going to come down here and help clean this mess, and then you are going to go back. up. there. and help reshelve all the books that were displaced because of your. actions,” he said, pinching irritably again at the space between his eyes. “I'm not going to charge you for any damages,—”
“Good, because I didn't—” Ateya attempted to interject.
“—but you still owe me your entry fee,” he continued, not allowing the interruption, “and I intend to collect. Further, you will submit to a search at the door before you leave.”
Ateya looked from the massive gargoyle still holding her by the arm to the snippy man they seemed to be genuinely deferent to. He was probably the eccentric who owned the place. The gargoyle could probably break her in half if they wanted.
“What if I don't want to do any of that,” she said, “I didn't tip your shelves, or dent your doorway, and if this stone goliath hadn't grabbed me I wouldn't have had to flick at their face in the first place!”
“And remind me why my gargoyle grabbed you again? Was it because you broke in and were attempting to peruse my collection free of charge?” the man asked simply.
“It's not optional,” Ava added.
“You can't keep me here, that's kidnapping!” Ateya protested.
“Oh really?” the curator said, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. “Are you going to go to the police? And what do you think they'll do, exactly? With the breaking and entering, and the tresspassing, and the destruction of property, and the harassment? Does that all end well for you?”
Ateya grumbled beneath her breath.
“You need to submit to the search,” Ava responded. “That's standard procedure.”
She stared at them blinkingly. How the fuck did they hear that? There was no way. Could they read minds? Were they hearing her thoughts this whole time?
“Ava, get a bucket. I'm going to assess the damages. So help me if any pages have been torn,” the curator said, stalking towards a staircase at the opposite end of the room.
“What should I do with our visitor?” Ava asked.
“You can release her for now, but don't let her leave until she's made up for her transgressions,” he responded, barely raising his voice enough to call over his shoulder.
Ava, at long last, released Ateya's arm. She rubbed at her wrist and stretched her shoulder.
“You've got a firm grip,” she said.
Ava did not respond. Taking a few steps away, with a strong beat of their wings, they rose into the air as if made of paper and just as quietly, and in a moment they were gone. Their flight was so fast Ateya could barely track the shape of them diving over the rail, swooping back through the entryway, and turning through a door someplace beneath the catwalk where she stood.
She stared after them for a moment in awe.
By the time Ateya looked up again, the curator had just reached the side of the building she was standing in.
He looked even more sour up close. His thin lips were perpetually pressed into a line, his eyes forever holding a leer of disdain. He glanced at her wordlessly as he slipped by, making his way into the room she had sneaked into, and as he passed there were daggers in his gaze.
He didn't seem to even care about the damage to the doorway, passing it without giving it any inspection whatsoever.
“Piss and daggers,” she heard him utter in dismay upon entering the room.
With the curator thus occupied, and the gargoyle off who knows where searching for a bucket, Ateya saw no reason she couldn't just quietly slip away.
Backtracking, she passed by the disrupted library room to see the curator inside, righting the shelves by himself as if they weighed nothing.
She didn't stay to watch for long. This place was weirder than they say, and she was ready to leave.
Maybe she would come back another day, if she could find a better way in. There was more she wanted to see, afterall.
She crept down the steps and back into the hall she'd dropped into when she had first arrived. The window was still open wide enough for her to fit through, if she could climb back up into it. There was no uneven brick to climb here though, and even the nearest pilaster was too far away to push off from if she tried to leap for the sill. Besides, her forearm was still sore... even if she could reach the window ledge, she didn't think she could climb into it like this.
She glanced further down the hall, to the other set of stairs and the hallway that presumably led out into the lobby itself. The curator had locked the front door, but? Surely it could unlock from the inside.
Ateya hesitated at the fork in the path, deeply curious about what might be on the library's lower levels... but ultimately decided to check another time. She had to leave while both known stewards were distracted and before any unknown others had the chance to show up.
She made it halfway through the entryway before the soft fluttering sound behind her alerted her again to the gargoyle's presence.
“Nice try,” they said, setting down a large metal pail. They held out a mop. Defeated, Ateya came and collected it.
“I'm going to go and check on my boss. Don't try to leave,” Ava said, flying up then to the second story and disappearing into the room the curator was in. As soon as they were out of sight, Ateya very quietly set down the mop and turned for the door.
Ava swooped down in front of her before she got three steps of the way there.
“What did I just say?” they admonished.
Ateya grumbled and turned back to get the mop. She guessed helping clean up wouldn't be so bad. She did make the poor brute sneeze after all. Not like it was her fault he sneezes in torrents though.
The curator of the library came to join her after not too long, taking up the other mop his gargoyle had brought and pitching in to get the floor dry.
“So about my fee...” he said, sopping up a mop's worth of water and wringing it into the bucket with a shiver. It barely made a dent in the small pond the gargoyle's sneezing had made of the floor.
Ateya continued mopping, and didn't make eye contact as she shook her head.
“I don't have any rare books,” she said. The curator shook his head in response.
“Doesn't matter. I'll accept a story in its place,” he said.
Ateya paused in her mopping.
“What?” she said. The curator paused as well, looking at her incredulously.
“A story. A personal tale. Something you've experienced or witnessed, explained in a narrative format. Surely I don't need to go on,” he said.
A story? All this prick needed for entry was a story?
“Does it have to be mine?” she asked.
“Yes,” the curator replied, without missing a beat.
“I-I don't even know your name! And you want a personal story from me?” she stammered.
That aside, she wasn't sure she even had any good stories to tell. Her life wasn't interesting.
“Leonidas,” he offered. “Leonidas Khrƴsídēs. And yours?”
Ateya blinked. She had expected more resistance than this.
“Ateya Ríoahdse," she said. Leonidas set his mop down, drying his hands on his trousers and giving another shiver as he made his way to a podium near the back of the room.
“And how do you spell that?” he asked, picking up a pen there and holding it poised over a ledger of some kind.
“What's that for?” she asked.
“It's a guestbook. Spell your name please,” Leonidas repeated impatiently.
“A-t-e-y-a, R-i–there's an accent on the i—o-a-h-d-s-e,” she said. “I know, it sounds like it should be R-o-a-d-s. You can just... put that, if it's easier. Most people do.”
Leonidas scoffed at the idea, giving an indignant snort.
“I would never. There's history in a name,” he said. To his credit, the length of time he took to finish writing her name, he must have been true to his word. When he finished, he set the pen down and considered the entry thoughtfully.
“Ríoahdse... are you Schyrse?” he asked.
Ateya shook her head.
“Czyrkish, but both my parents are Easterlan,” she said. The curator raised his brow and nodded, stepping away from his guest book once more.
“Now that makes sense,” he said. He came to pick up his mop again and get back to work.
“So what brought your family to Czyrk, then? The culture? The history?” he asked. Ateya gave kind of half a shrug.
“Kind of, maybe a little bit of both,” she said, wringing another mop-full of icy water into the pail which was nearing full. Despite this, the floor was only close to half dry at best.
“My parents met at the University of Praglyn, when they were both students there. They were both so culture shocked that finding another Easterlan was a relief,” she went on, sopping at another corner of sneeze puddle. She supposed she should be grateful it was only water.
“They got along well, and they kind of fell in love with the city at the same time that they fell in love with each other,” she said, continuing to work as she spoke. "At least that's how they always tell it. Once they graduated, the original plan was to move back east, but they both loved it so much here they decided to stay, instead. They moved in together, and eventually got married, and then they had me a few years later.”
Wringing out her mop again, she bent to take the pail and empty it.
“Uh, where...?” she asked.
“Just outside the front door will be fine, beside the steps please,” Leonidas directed.
Taking the pail to the door, she found the locking mechanism and undid it, then shoving the large wooden door open with quite a bit of force. It was far thicker and heavier than it looked, she wouldn't have been able to open it quickly even if one of her arms wasn't sore.
She looked outside. She could just... leave. Slip neatly out the open door and make a break for it, maybe even get inside another business before anyone caught up to her.
She hefted the pail up and splashed about three gallons of water into the hedges beside the steps.
The longer she spent with the library's odd curator the more curious she became, not only about the library itself but also about those who kept it.
How was Leonidas so strong that he could effortlessly lift a bookcase that must've weighed as much as a house, despite looking like he'd weigh maybe 150 lbs himself if he was sopping wet? And, turning to come back to the task at hand and catching him swiping at his nose and sniffling, probably catch a cold from it too.
Ateya could tell he was trying to hide it, but he was shivering pretty constantly now. He snorted lightly and cleared his throat as she approached and set the pail back down, affecting an unbothered composure until in wringing out his own mop again he was unable to suppress a violent shiver from coursing through his frame.
“You chill easily, don't you?” Ateya asked. He fully glowered at her from behind his spectacles.
“And how is that any of your concern?” he snipped. Ateya raised her hands placatingly.
“No, I just... thought that might be why you keep it so warm in here, that's all,” she said, not trying to offend
“Why I.....?” he hesitated, seemingly puzzled for a moment before quickly covering for it and changing the subject. “Oh. Yes. It is, now can we move on? You were telling me about your parents. -skff!-”
Was there another reason that he kept it so warm? Something he was embarrassed by, judging by how quickly he wanted to drop the topic. It was Ateya's turn to be puzzled now. What on earth could he be so embarrassed by about keeping the heat turned up?
“Yeah, sorry,” she said, allowing for it and returning to her work mopping the floor. “What else is there to say really? They moved in, they had me. Now I'm here.”
Leonidas sniffled again, budging at the tip of his nose with one wrist. He had more or less stopped mopping the place, not that Ateya could blame him. He looked near frozen just from having his hands in cold water for a few minutes.
“You skipped over the middle bits,” he directed. “The parts between your being born and now.”
Ateya shrugged one shoulder.
“Nothing interesting,” she said, not looking up from her task. “My life is normally pretty boring. If it wasn't I would probably be off doing something else right now, and not...sneaking into forbidden libraries and getting apprehended by sniffly gargoyles.”
Leonidas tilted his head and squinted, considering her carefully.
“Nothing? Not a single story?” he challenged. “I find that hard to believe... Have you never accomplished anything? Studied anything? Gotten a scar, broken a bone? Was mine the first building you've ever broken into, am I just that lucky?”
“Well–No? But– None of that's interesting,” she said. “I don't have any major accomplishments. I studied contract law, and now I'm a glorified secretary. I've never broken anything, and the only scars I have are from stupid stuff I did as a kid. Mostly climbing on things I wasn't supposed to and falling off them. And... No? But technically yes?”
Leonidas shook his head and crossed his arms.
“What do you mean, ‘no, but technically yes?’ Which is it?” he asked.
“Well, mostly the buildings I've taken a look around in have been abandoned,” Ateya said, frustrated that this nosybody just wasn't getting it. There was nothing special about her.
“Did you think the library was an abandoned building?” he accused, his eyes narrowing in offense.
“No! I just thought it looked cool!” Ateya defended.
Leonidas snorted out a huffed breath, seemingly placated by the assessment.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine, but there must be something you're interested in telling.”
“Telling you how my parents met wasn't enough?” she protested in response.
“No. I want your story, how you'd tell it,” the snippy librarian insisted. “A secondhand, personal story told and heard a million times isn't the same thing. It's going to be missing details. It's going to be missing context. It is not of commensurate value to a personal first hand account told by you, to me, in person.”
“Geez, okay,” Ateya said. This guy was passionate about stories.
She thought over his prompts again, attempting to wring anything even minutely entertaining out of them. To Leonidas's credit, he let her think.
“I have a scar on my right elbow that I got trying to learn to parkour off my mother's couch when I was twelve,” she offered after a few moment's silence.
“What happened?” the curator asked, suddenly calm and attentive. Ateya supposed this was an acceptable offering.
“I wasn't very good at parkour,” she answered. Leonidas did not seem very amused by her attempt at humor.
“Come now, what happened?” he prompted again. She sighed, and resigned herself to actually telling him.
“Well, I was twelve, and I hadn't really learned how to judge distances yet. Or how to jump very hard,” she explained.
“I wasn't like, being taught by anyone. I just tried whatever trick I thought would be cool to try next, you know?
One day, while my parents were out shopping, I was trying to master the fine art of leaping onto the back of the couch from the corner of the coffee table.
I didn't jump high enough.
The coffee table was like, behind the couch and off to the side for some reason? I don't remember why. But when I jumped I landed with my chest about a centimeter below where my feet were supposed to be.
I bounced off like a rubber chicken, and I somehow lost all rubbery qualities seconds later when I hit the floor.”
Ateya paused, then, coming closer to bend and angle her arm in such a way that might allow Leonidas to actually see the scar that stretched over the flat space in front of her elbow. The scar was roughly the width and shape of a strawberry that had a large bite missing.
“I scraped most of the skin off on the carpet. I never told them how I got hurt. I just said I was playing and I fell,” she said. She paused, glancing up at the prissy librarian then as a realization dawned on her. “Actually, I don't think I've told anyone else about this. You're the only one who knows.”
Leonidas's eyes sparkled with quiet delight in this knowledge, and he grinned in satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he said. “And now that story lives here, with me. Thank you, that wasn't so hard now was it?”
Ateya gave Leonidas a flat stare, and turned to go back to drying the floors. Leonidas disappeared back to his podium, flicking leisurely through the most recent few pages of his guest book while she worked.
While she mopped, she would occasionally hear a series of snorts and snuffles from the room upstairs that made her worry about an encore performance undoing all the work she'd already done, but Ava seemed to be keeping decent control over themself for now. It probably helped that they were no longer being actively flicked in the nose.
If Ateya felt at all bad about that, the feeling vanished every time she moved the wrong way and it pulled on how tender her arm still felt.
About two and a half buckets of water later, and the mop she had was mostly just pushing loose droplets around the marble floor.
“I think that's as good as I'm going to get this without a towel or something dry,” she said. The curator looked up from his guest book, peering at the work she'd done, assessing it. He flipped back to today's entries and gave a nod, coming out from behind his podium.
“I'll take it from here,” he said.
“So... do I go? Story told, floor mostly dry?” she asked. He leveled her with a flat look.
“No, you still need to go help Ava reshelve what you caused him to knock over, and then there's the matter of the search at the door before you leave,” he said.
“Fine,” Ateya submitted, handing the mop back to him. She grumbled quietly about not needing to be searched, and made her way for the nearest stairs to the catwalk.
Ava was reshelving books with surprising grace and gentleness for someone so large and stony. They didn't look up from their work when Ateya came in, instead offering simple instructions while they worked.
“They're organized by subsection, then alphabetically by author last name,” they explained. “Start looking for author names beginning with K in that stack of books there. I've already taken care of A through J.”
The displaced books were stacked neatly and carefully together by subsection on the various tables present in the room. Leonidas's work, most likely, the man seemed to take his collection very seriously.
Ateya grabbed as many as she could with last name K from the stack indicated, only flinching and grunting a little when she forgot herself and nestled them in her left arm to carry back with her.
Ava's gaze flicked to her, then back to the shelving. She stepped up beside them to start organizing alphabetically.
“...I'm... sorry about your arm,” Ava said, after a few moments’ uncomfortable silence. “I wasn't trying to hurt you. I only meant to keep you from leaving before I could perform my duties.”
Ateya hadn't been expecting the unyielding gargoyle to apologize to her. They seemed sincere in it. She allowed the apology to sink in for a moment so she could accept it before replying.
“You two take your jobs really seriously, don't you?” she said, hazarding a glance up at them.
They hummed thoughtfully in response, giving a nod in consideration.
“One might say that,” they allowed.
A silence fell between them again as they worked, but it was more comfortable, almost companionable now. Occasionally it was punctuated by a wet snuffle from Ava, or some small direction when switching between subsections.
It was hard not to stare at them between putting books back on shelves.
Ateya had never beheld an actual, live gargoyle before. She felt a kind of awed curiosity over the way their stony form and features came to life with their movement; the quick twitch of their snout, the give and bob of their adam's apple when they swallowed, the shift of their muscles as they raised and lowered their arms.
Then there were also their features, themselves. The way their snout smoothly transitioned into their cheek and the corner of their mouth. Both their horns and their pointed ears sat naturally on their head despite owing to two completely different animals. By all rights, Ava should have been grotesque with all the parts and pieces of various beasts combined together on them, but somehow everything worked together seamlessly, almost artfully. Nothing was haphazard or seemed out of place.
If Ava noticed her staring, they didn't acknowledge it, too set on the task at hand.
They did seem to be struggling with their snout though, and a pattern began to emerge as they worked, their snuffling increasing every time they needed to look down.
“If you want I can get the lower shelves,” Ateya offered, noticing this and taking mercy on them.
Ava gave a small, grunting snort, that same oddly self-conscious look crossing their face momentarily.
“If you wouldn't mind,” they said, carefully passing her an armful of books.
Getting everything back into place didn't take too long with both of them working on it, the room wasn't cavernous and Ava hadn't knocked into every shelf on their way through. Ateya was surprised when the last book was placed and it was time to leave.
“I'll see you to the door,” Ava said, gesturing back towards it.
She looked around at the room one more time before leaving it. It was a shame she hadn't gotten to see more of the place.
As Ava escorted her through the entryway, to the door, Ateya noticed the floor had been completely dried, and it was much warmer in the lobby than it had been before. Whatever secret reason the librarian kept the heat raised so high that definitely had nothing to do with the chill he'd taken on must have been responsible for that.
As for the librarian himself, he was in one of the large sitting chairs in the lobby, reading one of the books usually shelved there. He glanced up as Ateya tried to say her goodbyes.
“Well, it's been nice meeting you,” she said, reaching for the door.
“Search first,” Leonidas said, his eyes flicking back to the book he was reading as Ava helpfully kept a hand on the door to keep it shut.
Ateya's lips pressed into a line and she took a deep breath, sighing it out through her nose as she resigned herself to it. Rolling her eyes, she raised her arms out to her sides to allow Ava to inspect her.
She snorted, and coughed, and cleared her throat as the gargoyle patted down her sides.
Leonidas glanced up again.
“Are you hurting her, Ava?” he accused, an edge of surprised disapproval lurking behind the question.
“I'm being very gentle,” they assured him, pausing in their search nonetheless.
Ateya chose not to be forthcoming. If these two could be cryptic and mysterious then she should be allowed as much, too.
“Just get the rest of it overwith,” she grouched, avoiding eye contact.
Hesitantly, Ava returned to their search, patting down Ateya's legs while she coughed and snorted and huffed.
Leonidas watched her carefully, squinting at her as the search completed.
“Did you find anything?” he asked Ava as soon as they were done.
“-sngffh!- No, boss, -sngkfh!- she's clear,” they confirmed, snuffling and snorting as they stood up.
Leonidas rose, setting his book down and stalking over to the two of them, eyeing Ateya curiously the entire way.
“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms as her cheeks grew hot under the scrutiny.
Leonidas said nothing. He circled her, appraisingly, and once he was out of her line of sight he reached out and pinched her side.
An unsuppressable giggle burst from her lips, and she smacked a hand over her mouth, stepping away as if the man was made of fire.
He grinned, the same self-satisfied grin that had crossed his face when he'd finally gotten a story out of her earlier.
“She's ticklish,” he concluded, looking to Ava. “That's why she's been avoiding being searched.”
If Ava had any thoughts or judgements about this, it was impossible to read on their face. He gave Leonidas a single nod of acknowledgement.
“Anyway, while I thank you for your story and your assistance in righting the mess you'd made of the place, it is still after hours, and I believe this marks your time to go,” the librarian said then, turning his attention back to Ateya. “You're free to leave.”
Ava helpfully opened one of the large wooden doors, as if to show her out.
Fuming and embarrassed, Ateya made for the door directly, but before passing through it she hesitated.
Somehow, despite the chaos and the strangeness of the place, or maybe because of that, she didn't feel done with it yet.
“Can I come back?” she asked, turning to Leonidas. “If I think of better stories to tell?”
Leonidas tilted his head, considering.
“Why? What is it you're interested in seeing?” he asked in return.
Ateya opened her mouth to respond and closed it again, shaking her head.
“I don't know. This place just...” she said, glancing back and staring up at the many rooms and other floors she hadn't had the chance to see. “It intrigues me. I'd like to take a look around, if you'd accept me as an actual guest.”
Leonidas's lips pressed into a line as he considered this, his own arms crossing now over his chest as he hummed impatiently.
“I don't usually allow free-roaming guests, much less ones who have a history of breaking the rules,” he said, squinting peevishly. “Most people approach with a specific topic in mind at least, if not an actual book they'd like to study or read.”
To Ateya's surprise, Ava cleared their throat to interject, getting the librarian's attention.
“Boss, if I could speak with you,” they requested. Leonidas looked at least as surprised as Ateya felt, but he acquiesced.
“One moment, please,” he said, stepping away with his gargoyle, the latter letting the door they'd been holding slowly close as they walked away.
Ateya leaned against it while the two of them had a hushed conversation on the opposite side of the room, until she eventually got distracted and sneaked over to the librarian's guest book to snoop through it.
Her name was spelled right. Leonidas actually had really beautiful handwriting for someone as stuck up and tightly wound—
“Put that down,” he said. Ateya jumped and did as she was told. She hadn't even noticed him approach.
He continued.
“Ava tells me you took very quickly to the classification system we've been employing here recently, and that you were quite respectful with the books,” he said.
“Okay...? and?” Ateya said, not sure what this had to do with anything.
“And, we're still switching over from our old methods of cataloguing in many of the library's upper levels,” he continued, obviously perturbed at having been interrupted. He pushed on regardless.
“You want to see more of the library. We could use the help.
Frankly, most of our patrons don't take such an interest in the collection itself as a whole, most are here to study or read something in particular, as mentioned.
Anyway, I propose something of a deal:
Your admittance, legitimate, only in the evenings and once Ava is present, on the grounds that you take nothing and submit to regular searches until proven trustworthy; in exchange for your assistance in reorganizing the stacks in the upper levels of the library's collection.
In this way, you are permitted to see much of the rest of the building and gain an intimate familiarity with its contents, and we get an extra set of hands to make quicker work of an ongoing and extensive project.”
Leonidas seemed quite pleased with his proposal, though Ateya had a few reservations. Just one, really.
“If I have to be chaperoned by tall dark and minerals the whole time then why do I need to be searched so regularly?” she said. Leonidas's lips pressed back into a line and he huffed an irritable sigh through his nose.
“Ava may need to step away or have their back turned from time to time. They are a gargoyle, not a babysitter,” he said. “If you required such constant supervision as to render a period of regular searches unnecessary, then we'd likely fare better without your aid. Unless you don't believe you can go longer than ten minutes without getting yourself into trouble?”
Ateya crossed her arms and thought it over. She didn't need to think very long.
She really wanted to see the rest of this building, and she was now extremely curious about its two stewards. Being searched hadn't been too bad, anyway. She was ticklish, which was embarrassing and stupid, but Ava had kept it respectful and the entire search was done in less than two minutes.
“Alright, fine. But I get to read anything I want,” she said.
Leonidas sighed once more through his nose, exasperated.
“You may read whatever you come across while reorganizing. Some areas of the library remain off limits and you may not read anything found there,” he specified.
“And I get to pick which nights I come,” she added.
“Naturally,” was his response.
Ateya's first inclination was to keep pushing for more, just to see what else she could get out of it, but she realized that there wasn't really anything else that she wanted that hadn't explicitly been addressed already to one degree or another.
She stuck out her hand to shake.
“You've got a deal,” she said.
Leonidas shook on it.
His hand was startlingly warm for a person who'd been so chilled so recently, and Ateya wondered if he hadn't in fact already gotten a cold from it—but he wouldn't have spiked a fever so suddenly, would he?
“Good. I'll be seeing you whenever it is that you see it fit to return,” he said. “In the meanwhile, it has gotten quite late, and if I don't get some rest I'm going to be quite impossible to speak with tomorrow. Goodnight! Ava?”
The gargoyle flew lightly back over and resumed their post at the door, opening it for Ateya to leave through.
She paused once more just before stepping through the doorway, looking at them, briefly scanning their face for any inkling of why they'd stepped in and spoken up for her.
She found nothing. They were completely unreadable.
“Thanks,” she said anyway, then stepped out and down the steps, and out onto the street.
My mind is very focused on thinking about characters with a sneeze they just can’t shake okay……they hitch so dangerously that they’re sure they’re gonna sneeze but—-nope it fizzles out for twenty seconds before itching at their nose again and they keep warring with this need to sneeze but all they can do is hitch
Content Warning: Substance use, intoxication, and the three do get decently smutty at the end. (aka #nsfquo tag!)
Word Count: 5,100
Note: Thank you @hitching-hyacinth for letting me write something inspired by your fantasy snuff sneeze prompt! Essentially, these three get their hands on magical powder that makes them higher the more they sneeze. This fic plays around a lot with the dynamic of these three fools, and it’s given me such a good excuse to practice sneeze descriptions!! Oh, and of course, they start getting pretty touchy as the afternoon goes on. Maybe I’ll make a part 2 to this, but only because I adore Gulliver’s sneezes and he needs more.
Forthwind muttered to himself as he sliced red onions. This was the unseen side of a culinary graduate: prepping in your own apartment for a function at the end of the week. He had to plan two days ahead just for the sake of a good meal. Well, a good meal that his reputation depended on, at least. He was humble and hospitable, but his desperate strides for the latter often stressed him out.
The aasimar was pulled from his task at a steady rumble emanating from the kitchen island. Someone was calling him at this hour? Sighing, Forthwind paused from his julienne slices. He was sniffling wetly and rubbing at one of his teary eyes with a wrist. Damn onions, he should’ve run them under water to avoid all the waterworks. After placing his knife down, Forthwind balanced his phone between his shoulder and pointed ear.
A yawn greeted him first. Then, “Forthwind…?”
“Hey! Ryfon?” Forthwind moved a grease-sodden pan into his sink to scrub it clean. He paused, smiling at a giggle from the phone. “…Hello Ryfon! I’m doing…doing quite fine. Just finished my preparations for tomorrow’s party.”
Ryfon, the eladrin on the other end of the line, was sprawled out on his couch upside down. He was holding an expensive looking tin between his fingers, reading the labeling on the back. “Oh, perfect timing then, huh?”
“It…it depends, Ryfon,” he opened his fridge, worriedly glancing at his unfinished tasks. “What’s up?”
“Well, remember when you said to get a hold of you if I ever found a fix you might like??”
The pan was neatly hung on a brick wall amongst Forthwind’s prized knife display. “Oh..? I’m listening.”
“Yeah, I think I found it. Well—Gully found it, actually. It’s really good. Super chill, super low maintenance, according to him, just like you we’re talking about.”
Forthwind was willingly subjected to a ten-minute ramble as he cleaned up the rest of his kitchen. According to Ryfon, Gulliver had been adamant on finding a substance most suitable for Forthwind. Being an aasimar, he had quite the sturdy tolerance against non-magical things; alcohol was mostly reserved as a compliment to a fancy dinner, and cannabis would get expensive when you needed a handful of edibles to feel something. Magical substances were the logical next step, but plenty of magical substances were more trouble than they were worth if taken incorrectly. That, and getting your hands on any sort of dispell magic scrolls was also a punch to the wallet.
“No wild magic with this one, yeah?” Forthwind was obliged to ask with the topic on his mind, “last time, I was a sheep in your bathtub for three hours.”
“Not at all. It literally feels like a super strong indica. All the arcane stuff is in the…like, the activation and preservation, or whatever. Gully, is that right?? …It, yeah- okay, yes!! Mainly the activation of the snuff.”
“Oh, it's snuff?” Interesting.
“Snff—! Yeah, you could call it a snuff.”
“…so, is this an invitation?”
“It’s a summoning!!” The pitchy, nasally voice was Gulliver, listening in on speaker. “If you wanna give it a go, get over here!”
“Sure sure, give me thirty-five.” It would be worth putting prep work on hold, he had a feeling.
———
Forthwind was never off with his timing. Punctuality was a huge part of being a chef, after all. Thirty-five minutes was enough time to change into comfortable clothes, collect a small array of essentials, and catch the bus to the next district. The setting sun was perfect company on his quiet ride.
“…snff..! Snf!” On his mostly quiet ride. He was one of four passengers, two of which had been eyeing him for a couple of minutes. He was well-acclimated to their smitten expressions; it wasn’t every day an angel sat across from you on metropolitan transit. The moment he looked down to his phone, he felt a spark of a tickle fester in his nose as the pair launched into hushed conversation. He knew he was the subject of their giddy whispers, not out of an unchecked ego, but how strongly his nose was acting up. Compliments were his most potent allergy, and even the implication of them made his breath tremble. The golden hour at least did something to hide the redness.
Forthwind’s nose creased at the bridge. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and a hand hovered expectantly in front of his face with parting lips. Good grief, whatever they were saying, it was making his nose act up so sharply— “h-hHh! hHEEishhiiw!!”
His nose buzzed like television static. A dull tickle that was growing dormant quickly. He sniffled with dissatisfaction and shook his head, but telling by how quickly he geared up for a second sneeze, that small action hit his onlookers in the chest.
“Gesundheit,” at least one was courageous enough to offer.
By the time Forthwind was walking up the street to the apartments west of campus, he had been blowing his nose into small travel tissues. Sneezing from compliments always made his nose so drippy! The used tissues kept a faintly-glowing residue, and his bright pink nostrils hinted at the culprit.
“Snf! Eugh, snrf!! Huhh…321, 323, 325…there we go.”
No one answered the first two sets of knocking dishes out to the bulky red door labeled 327. Right as Forthwind began to question if he had the wrong apartment, the locks clicked on the other side and the door swung inward. Behind it, a goblin as tall as his hip leaned out, dreadlocks spilling over his shoulder. He had an exaggerated, animated quality about him, as if pulled out of an old technicolor film and slapped into the real world. His eyes blinked individually behind his massive, rubbery pink nose.
“Good evening, Gulliver! How have you been?
“Heyyyy, not too bad! Get in here! Take your shoes off.”
“Thank you…honestly, I think I needed to take a load off. The preparations for the function have been killing me.”
“Yo, Forthwind!” Ryfon rolled over so that he could lean over the couch and face them. A few oak leaves were fluttering down from his autumnal hair, leaving only a few maples behind. “What Gully said, take it easy! I just ordered us some pizza on Airscamper, should be here in about…2 minutes?”
“Oh nice..!” Honestly, pizza sounded so appealing after studying with complex flavor profiles all afternoon. Forthwind yearned for something simple for once! “Well, while that’s on the way, about this snuff: could I get a look at it?”
The fancy aluminum tin was tossed his way, and he flipped it to the front. ‘Hitchington’s Snuff,’ apparently from the Emporium of Wonder collection. What kind of a name was Hitchington??
“Gulliver found it at an adult circus he went to the other day, apparently it’s wacky stuff…”
“Wacky fun, I feel I should add. It’s super chill and lowkey!”
“Mmm,” The aasimar squinted at his friends, and his eyes fell onto a paragraph on the bottom of the tin. “Let’s see here: ‘Tired of old fashioned sessions? Hitchington’s Snuff is a Tabacco-Free recreational snuff infused with enchantments.’ How curious.”
“Oh, wait, is that us?” Ryfon suddenly stood, pointing outside. When the other two followed his gaze, they could make out a winged creature approaching the balcony from afar. Ryfon rushed to the screen door and yanked it open, grabbing a purple air-traffic baton hanging beside it on the wall. He clicked it on, waved it crazily, and watched as they redirected their path.
A winged tiefling cautiously landed on the porch, a pizza bag slung securely over his shoulder. Pizza was exchanged for a water bottle and high-sugar snack, which, along with a generous tip, was a common courtesy amongst Airscamper delivery workers.
Ryfon brought the pizza boxes over Gulliver’s head. Forthwind couldn’t help a tiny chuckle at the sight of Gulliver’s huge nose. The way it teetered on his face as he snuffled, following the direction the boxes moved. The way it caused him to lean forward—Forthwind was concerned for a moment that his friend would float off the ground towards Ryfon. “Snff! Snf! A large bacon and pepperoni, with garlic glaze and stuffed crust…snfff! And a small pineapple and anchovy pizza too…”
Ryfon wasted no time cracking open a box. “You say that like you didn’t make the order with me ten minutes ago, Gully!”
“Shhh shhh, let me have my moment dude!”
“Hold on, hold on,” Forthwind scowled, putting his hands out, “I’m sorry, pineapple and anchovy? Nothing else??”
“Oh, here we go again, it’s an underrated combo!! Little bit sweet, little bit salty. It’s like chocolate-covered pretzels, but tropical!”
“Are you pregnant?”
“I’m innovating the pizza-topping industry.”
Tch, this living-cartoon of a man. Forthwind rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile. Whatever floats his boat!
While the pizza was still piping hot (having flown out of the oven not ten minutes ago), Forthwind, Ryfon, and Gulliver gathered round the coffee table in varying seating. Ryfon preferred the beanbag, simply because he could sweep the leftover leaves and petals easier over the hardwood floor. Gulliver took to the tiny round ottoman by the table. Forthwind, the couch.
“Let’s see what this actually looks like, woah,” Gulliver and Forthwind leaned in as Ryfon held the fancy snuff container. The tin opened to a fine, glittery gold powder. It was as if some gold leaf had been compacted to the texture of cinnamon.
“Oh, hold on, one more thing,” Gulliver suddenly stood, and dove into a paper bag. “There’s also this! It’s an antimagic sobering flush.”
What he revealed was a small, narrow bottle, the size of his thumb. A nasal spray applicator was connected to the top, and it was all painted in gold. Forthwind squinted at the fancy cursive words.
“Hitchington’s Diss-Choo, Dispelling Nasal Spray—Gulliver, where do you find this stuff, I feel like I’m about to snort an ACME product.” Oh, why bother? At least there was an easy out if things got too chaotic, and he couldn’t complain with that at all. That’s why magical recreation was the best kind out there!
“Hey, I don’t judge,” Ryfon shrugged, already navigating a pinch of it in an oak leaf he plucked from his hair. “Bottoms up, right?”
“Sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could be a sheep again,”
“Don’t manifest that, Ryfon.”
Forthwind brought some of the powder to his gentle nostrils. He was the first to try it, as he feared he’d back out if he waited any longer. The powder prickled in a way that nearly blinded Forthwind. He scrunched his nose, recoiling his head away from his hand as if it would get him away from the severe tickle in his nose. It didn’t burn, but it had this tingling effect that felt like heavy static. Every time he bumped at his nose as he sniffled and snorted, he had to fight waves upon waves of intense fuzziness under his twitching nostrils.
And here Gulliver was, practically snorting a line of it off the table! There was something objectively funny about it all, exaggeration that could only be pulled off by this clown. “Oh fuck, I got it in my eye!” He hissed.
“You got it in your everything, Gully, how much was that??”
“I dunno, but they don’t call me the Greenout Goat for nothing. Okay, first to sneeze has to get tickled.”
Both Ryfon and Forthwind instinctively went to protect themselves at the mention. Forthwind never considered himself a ticklish person until he met Gulliver years back. That, and the itch in his nose was beginning to stir up into something more productive.
“Oh gods, h-hHHh!”
“Oh already??” Ryfon laughed, pointing his way.
“My nose’s r…hHhh! Real f-fussy on a normal d—! Normal…dhHh-! hEHhh!”
Both Gulliver and Ryfon watched on as Forthwind hitched, anticipation heavy in their gaze. Why was this so embarrassing?? The feathers on his cheeks and neck were quick to puff out at all the sudden attention.
“HhHuhh…uhm- snf!! I lost it…” he sighed, relieved.
There was a pregnant beat of silence between the three. Then, suddenly—
“HhHGHh- heeEH! hHAH!!” Eyes shifted to the smallest in the room, whose big pink nose was flaring. His cartoonish physics had extra squish and stretch to them, evident in the way one of his nostrils flared almost disproportionately. Even as he grasped his reddening nose in both hands, he couldn’t stop what he’d started: “hyihHH!! hHAAB’tsshhw!!”
“Bless you,” Forthwind spoke up instinctively.
Ryfon and Forthwind watched Gulliver dazedly recover, sharing a second of silence. Ryfon then gestured expectantly to Forthwind. “Don’t just leave him there!!”
Right! He had been so focused on abating his own sneeze, he had already lost sight of the game. He hurriedly grabbed at a large, loose feather from one of his wings, poking it playfully at his side. He squirmed away quickly with a ticklish yelp, only to tumble into Ryfon’s waiting arms. His fits of laughter and wails made Forthwind grin.
“Now, Gulliver, how long does this stuff take to settle in? It makes my nose itch so badly…” Ryfon wrinkled his freckled nose with a pout.
“It’s already settled in, y…you just gotta …whew- activate it.” Gulliver panted, rubbing the tender spot on his stomach that Ryfon’s fingers had worked into him.
“What, with the spray?”
“No no, all you have to do is s-”
“h-hhHhh…sorry,” Forthwind had interrupted them with another false start, rubbing shyly at his pinkening nose.
“That’s exactly it, you just gotta sneeze a few times.” Again with the fey-like oddity that was this snuff! Who was this Hitchington guy?
“Oh, you weren’t kidding, huh?? That’s great news,” Ryfon spoke thinly, pulling a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Gulliver still sat on his lap, looking up as the eladrin elf rolled one end into a point. Or at least, he attempted to, but could hardly get halfway through the task before his nostrils twitched in warning. “It’s…s’great news be…because I’m gUH- huh—! hnk’TSCHHHhh’yiw!” He snapped his head to the side, sneezing towards the hardwood floor with a slight spray.
“Bless you!” Spoken just as enthusiastically from Forthwind again.
Ryfon lifted a finger, shaking his head. “Hh…heh! hehhHUHTtsshh’yiw!! Huhh snfff! I haven’t even tried making mysEHhsschhh’yiw!! Woah…”
“Bless you, bless you again,”
“You might wanna save your breath, Forthwind, we’re all in for plenty of sneezes.”
“Oh! Gods forbid I’m polite about it! I don’t mind…”
“Oh bless you,” Gulliver rested his cheek against his steepled hands, batting his uncharacteristically-long lashes. Forthwind choked out a laugh at the animated halo hovering above Gulliver’s stupid face. Gods, this freak of a man was too funny sober! “Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Speaking of, how are you feeling, Ryfon?”
“I can feel something, it’s like a pleasant buzz.”
“Need some help with your…?” He wordlessly balled his fist under his nose, ghosting the motion of tickling.
“Oh, yes please,” Ryfon offered the pointed tissue towards Gulliver’s paws, “you know how to do it in a way that makes me sneeze my head off…what did you call it??”
Gulliver, straddling Ryfon’s legs with his planted feet on the beanbag, put a hand on Ryfon’s forehead to tilt it back. The question broke his focus momentarily, and he tilted his head. “Call what? Inducing?”
“Inducing, I didn’t know we were using medical terms.”
“That’s hardly medical bro, like… ‘making you sneeze’ is too much of a mouthful.”
Gulliver was quick to start, dodging potential questions like his life depended on it. He sifted around with the tissue, poking for a sweet spot, before wiggling it in place when he found one.
“I just don’t g…get why you need to sh…shHehh…heh- oh-!” He coughed with surprise, thick eyelashes fluttering wetly. “Oh goHhds deHHSCHhh’yiw!! Hehh—heHHDTSSshhh’yiw!!”
“Bless y— bless you…” Forthwind chuckled. The tissue was pulled out of Ryfon’s nose only after the sneezes were over. Even then, he only did so to quickly dive into the other one. Tears immediately came crashing down his freckled face.
“Tickles a bit?” Gulliver sneered. Forthwind could only imagine what Ryfon was feeling right now, it had him overly-curious. Just watching the two made his nose scrunch sympathetically.
“Uhh…hHhUuh…!” Ryfon’s nostrils flared, and small buttercups unfurled along his locks. That was a rarer flower Forthwind had only seen whenever Ryfon got high, so it must have been working. At last, Ryfon waved Gulliver away from him, reaching for his pestered nose. His breath trembled needily. He leaned over in the bean bag, rubbing his nose in a circular motion using his fist. That seemed to be enough to coax the sneeze out. “HhRRSSHH’yiiw!! Hhuh—USSSHhh’yiiwh!!”
“Bless you, bless you.”
“Thank you Forthw—hhHI’m n-nHh!! Not donNUSHHhhuuh!!” Ryfon pitched forward, openly spraying his own lap and Gulliver’s. When he lifted his head, it was as if he overcorrected, sending his shoulders back into the beanbag with a soft thud.
“Ahah!! How high are you right now?” Gulliver spoke brightly, taking a tissue to clean up his face.
“Like…” was all Ryfon could manage without a loose string of giggles escaping him, “sNFf! It’s…it’s like, it…ahah! Hold on—snFFf!! It’s a great start.”
“Good! Forthwind, you haven’t sneezed once since we’ve started.”
“I’m about to,” he replied hopelessly, subconsciously mimicking the rubbing Ryfon did in hopes it’d spur on the same. There was a long pause, and he felt his cheeks sting. “I…hhHh! I don’t know why it’s so much harder to sneeze when everyone’s looking at me!”
“I was just trying to see if you could sneeze on command or something!” Gulliver laughed.
“No I…I uh…hHh! I’ve had this tickle in my nose since we’ve started, I’m trying to see if I can get it out…”
Gulliver watched Forthwind sniffle delicately and begin wiggling his nose about, hands-free. Coaxing a sneeze was stubborn work on its own, but who knew that being watched made it so much harder?
“You know, Forthwind, you’re kind of surrounded with enough to make you sneeze,” Gulliver gestured to the vestigial wings that were trying to hide his face in embarrassment.
“I know, I’ve never purposely made myself sneeze with them though, it just sorta happens by accident-!”
“Here,” Gulliver grabbed the large feather he was tickled with not five minutes ago. As Ryfon finally broke into the pizza, Forthwind sat upright on the couch as if preparing for a medical exam. Gulliver climbed up onto his lap, and sat himself down with a comedic plop. “Relax, Ryfon can take it, but I’m not gonna go crazy on you like that.”
“Fuck do you mean ‘I can take it’? You’re making me sneeze, not blowing my back out,” a very affronted Ryfon retorted
“With the way you were whining and gasping a few minutes ago, it was hard to tell!” Forthwind snickered his way. When the large feather was brought up to his nose, the side brushed slowly under his nostrils and made him shiver. He wiggled his nose carefully and resisted a momentary urge to sputter. He had naturally soft feathers, but it felt so different running under his nostrils. Every time he breathed in, he felt a few wispy barbs near the quill sneak into both nostrils. They flared quickly in response, but as quick as the irritant was there, it left.
“Y’know, I think this feather’s too big to do much. Do you mind if I…?”
Forthwind’s buzzing nose would beg to differ. “If you…oh! Sure.”
Gulliver pulled away, running a claw delicately along his wings. While he was up there, he took care of a few fresh pin feathers. By the time he returned to his field of view, a much smaller feather was pinched in his claws. A fluffy downy one, no wider than his pinkie. Forthwind snuffled at the sight of it—he’d lost count of how many times he had accidentally sniffed up one of these before, and the annoying fits that followed it.
The feather entered one of his twitching nostrils. Forthwind had to fight every fibre in his being begging to sniff at the intrusive tickle. He could feel the tiny barbs, clinging to the inner walls as it was twisted in Gulliver’s fingertips.
“Oh th-hHh..!” Forthwind stammered over the rest of his sentence, breath trembling. When he gasped, he was overcome with a chilly sensation that rushed across his face and chest, lingering in his tear ducts. His nose wiggled in the brief pause. His nostrils quivered with need, and quivered more when the feather was pulled away.
“HhHheeh- hhHEESSsshhw!!” Then, warmth. A rush of warmth that started at the base of his chest and ended at the tip of his nose. When he sniffled clumsily afterwards, the warmth spread from head to toe. His senses were heightened, but the high was only momentarily—no longer than ten seconds. “Huhh..snrf!! That worked, but only a little…”
“Bless! Takes more than one to really get a buzz out of it!”
“Thank you…snffk! You sure it’s not my tolerance??”
“Nahh, trust,” Ryfon waved his hand vacantly—or at least, attempted to. In reality, he lifted it, and halfheartedly bent his wrist. “It’ll feel kinda l…kinda like, a hot rag is on your face at first, or something.”
“Damn, Ryfon, that kicked in fast for you, buddy!” Forthwind snickered. “Alright, hit me again, Gulliver.”
“Hahah! With pleasure.”
Under Gulliver’s clawed digits, Forthwind’s smile faded with growing focus. The feather returned into his field of vision—the tiny thing was half slicked with glowing mucus. A few congested sniffles confirmed his nose had been running a little. He recoiled his head away from the feather bashfully.
“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to sneeze on you…”
“I don’t care, you didn’t sneeze in my face or anything. Hold still.”
The feather continued its torment, slipping into his other nostril instead.
“H-hhHih-! How are y….yeeSHHhhww-hEEIISSsshhiiih!!”
Two at once made his whole face tingle—he had the sense to muffle them in a politely-bent elbow. The glowing spot on his sleeve made him wince with embarrassment. There was the telltale stuffiness in his lungs, that floaty feeling of intoxication coursing through his veins. His head was starting to spin, and his motions were lagging behind. “How are you so gHHh!! Good at making me snee—heeh..!”
“I’m lowkey not that great, you’re just really sensitive.”
“Ooh! Color me surprised,” Ryfon suddenly flung both arms up, flashing a sarcastic grin, “Forthwind’s sensitive?!”
“RyfoHh!!” The playfully cutting words caught him off guard, and he coughed with a giggle. He felt his cheeks prickling from a sudden dopamine rush. “Leave me alo’de, …m-m’trying to get high,”
“I’m just saying, you look like a butch lesbian and a gay twink had a kid.”
That got a belly-laugh out of Forthwind, but Gulliver seized the opportunity to tickle his nose a bit more intensely. He squeezed his eyes shut with breathy, desperate hitches, before sneezing twice more. “HhHheehshhhiihw!! Huh…hhHh- Hipp’schhhiieew!”
“Bless you twice, oh! Three!!”
“Hiisschhuw!!! Huhh…” he had such quiet sneezes, no matter how intense. It was easy to see how badly his nose tickled, and the desperate sneezes that left him sounded like they were working overtime to rid him of the tickle.
“How are we feeling, buddy?” Gulliver pulled away from his pink nose, marveling at the glowing clear and gold mucus connecting the limp feather to his nostril.
“I’m getting there, snff!! Gods, I’m such a mess…”
“Oh shush, you’re a pretty mess, Forthwind.”
“Watch yourself, Gulliver,” Ryfon’s ear flicked a few times lazily, “allergies, dude!”
“Oh right, sorr-!” Gulliver turned back to Forthwind, watching with slight awe as he tilted his head back. Both his nostrils were already pink from irritation, but the wetness gathered at their rims made them glow a comforting salmon color. Anyone with a curious bone in their body knew the gorgeous way skin and flesh illuminated against a bright light. So to see his wet nose and misty eyes do the same was mesmerizing.
“HHh..! Hiihhss- hhHHhit’s okay, it hh—! Heh- hHeh- heEH- HESSHhhiewh!! Helps…gods, snffFF!! Huhhh… this feels odd…”
“What, you want me to keep going?” It was a lousy attempt at sarcasm, sounding more like a genuine question at best and a poorly-hidden plea at worst. Forthwind had sneezed all over Gulliver’s lap, and was clearly still recovering, sluggishly wiping slick from his upper lip.
“Let’s say, cap it at three.”
“Three compliments or three sneezes?”
“Three compliments. Snff!!”
Gulliver, placing the feather down, genuinely sat back with thought. When he did, his form suddenly went rigid as his tail pressed against the aasimar’s crotch. He lifted his hips again and looked down over his shoulder, curiosity becoming sudden flattery. “Oh, hello there…”
Forthwind’s cheeks stained bright red as he huffed. “Ssuh…sorry, I uhm…you’ve just been on my lap like that the whole time, it’s hard not to get excited! I can’t control it much…”
“Oh I’m not upset, quite the opposite, I just want you to feel good because you deserve it~!”
“FuUhck y—ihh! Hhhihh…Hisschiiew!!” The compliments were already getting to him, he could tell by the static buzz raiding both his nostrils. He was so flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was the high or the humiliation. He melted into the couch with a vocal whine as Gulliver teasingly smothered their hips together a few times. This stupid goblin was grinding on him and it was working, how embarrassing!
“Aww, don’t be shy! I’m flattered that me making you sneeze of all things is getting you worked up. You don’t mind me doing this, right?”
He demonstrated again, watching Forthwind shake his head with a bashful huff. “This is so stupid…you’re so stupid…”
“I’ll take the compliment! Ryfon, I need you for something. Get his arms over his head.”
“Come here, pretty thiiing,” Ryfon teased as he sat beside him, bringing his wrists upward.
“Hey—hHhRRSshhw!!” Forthwind could hardly get a word out before another sneeze winded him. “Don’t th—!! Don’t think you’re slick, you only get three as well, and that was one.”
“You have to give us a cap and everything,” Ryfon nodded, rolling his eyes. “You mind if I get handsy?”
“I feel like I’m getting spoiled—yeah go right ahead, what the hell…”
“Bet I could make him finish before my third compliment,” Gulliver chittered.
“Finish??” Forthwind echoed, peeking through his vestigialwings only for the goblin rocking on his lap to shrug. He couldn’t lie, if that was Gulliver’s goal, he was closer to achieving it than Forthwind would care to admit. Something about this snuff made all of his senses incredibly fussy and hypersensitive, and that was especially true on the spot Gulliver was so eagerly dry-humping, it didn’t help that Ryfon was busy spinning his white locks around his finger and playing with his nipple.
When Forthwind would shift his hands in an attempt to rub his nose, the eladrin above him was quick to react, abandoning the tease temporarily to correct him. “Apapap! You keep these up here—hEY-!!”
Forthwind had scoffed, reaching up to tickle at Ryfon’s sides. He squirmed, too laggy to suppress a shriek of joy and a giggle. Only a momentary tease, Forthwind was, but the objective Ryfon demanded was understood and obliged.
Gulliver, quick as the wind, unzipped Forthwind’s fly for better access to his underwear. All of his work had already earned him a faintly-glowing wet spot. “I swear to the fey courts, when we’re done, I’ll be able to use your briefs to port a ship in the fog.”
Glowing sweat was beginning to bead his forehead like tiny twinkling stars.
“Real fallen—fallen angel over here,” Ryfon hummed dazedly, running his hands down his chest from above, “ff—feeling good down there?”
Forthwind tried to speak, but the warm dizziness of intoxication was making his words sluggish at best. He merely panted and nodded, leaning into Gulliver’s moving hips. Gods, what a great feeling. As he looked up, Ryfon watched him expectantly, prompting him to speak up. “Y—yeah…ffuck, I’m close…y’better have clothes I can borrow…”
“How could I not? I’ll let you…I’ll let you like, I’ll let you get in my pajamas bro, don’t even sweat it. Not like that, but like,”
“Ryfon read the room, I’m gonna bust from chucklefuck over here!!” Forthwind whimpered and lifted his knee, squirming under Gulliver again with a vocal whine. Ryfon stuck his tongue out teasingly. “So sensitive, noisy too. No wonder you got folks drooling over you all the damn time…”
A flash of betrayal ran across Forthwind’s face, quickly taken over by a few hitches. He tried his hardest to control his breath, which in itself was rendered impossible thanks to Gulliver bouncing on his stiff groin. How dare he, at his weakest moment! “Hh-hHHh! heEIISSHHhhiiw!!”
“Ohh, that was a big one for you,” Gulliver sang at the gentle sound that escaped him. It had no choice but to be completely open, sending glittery gold and glowing droplets across the front of his own shirt. “You’ve got such a delicate sneeze, it’s genuinely the best one I’ve ever heard.”
“H-hHhcahHh’t…!” He warned, but couldn’t articulate before succumbing to a trembling gasp, “hHHIISSHHhhiiwh!!” A visceral sound, at least by Forthwind’s standard. He was so faded that he couldn’t tell where he just sneezed.
The noise following it was certainly not a sneeze, but a sharp cry of pleasure that ran from his core to his extremities. Ryfon’s grip on his wrists returned as he arched his back slightly. Gulliver was lifted up almost a foot from the motion, looking down in delight as the glowing spot he was grinding on grew twice as bright. The blissful afterglow was something he’d remember for weeks.
There was so much he could say about it all. He couldn’t find the words, at least, not fast. “…where was the third compliment…?”
“Fishing for them, are we??” Gulliver laughed, “I’m saving it for a rainy day.”
“…gods, I need a slice of pizza,” Forthwind finally sighed into the air. His finger pushed Gulliver in the chest, nudging him off his lap where he then tumbled onto the couch. “After that, you’re done for, Gully…”
“Yeah, you’ve only sneezed once since we started, you’ve got a lot of catching-up to do.”
“Aheh!! I’m not opposed. I’m starving too though…”
“Fuuuck, the anchovies,” Forthwind groaned in agony, “you better take a breath mint before we get back to it, you freak.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Snickered Gulliver, “bless you, by the way.”
Anyway you folks do you know what's hot? Hitches that catch. All sorts of marvellous hd-! and hhit...! and h'gh!! sounds. Like yes gasping and panting is choice already but just that extra extra audibly desperate edge telling you that someone is really really ready to explode.
Summary: Luise's job as the Royal Stoker has less to do with keeping a boiler lit and more to do with managing the melodrama of a sneezy dragon
Contents: Sick dragon, fire sneezes, nose scratches, stuck sneeze, one instance of inducing, probably an annoying amount of worldbuilding lol
Bad, because it meant they'd been waiting for her. A theory proven by a faint tremor rumbling up through her ice caked boots, only just enough to clock if one were already on the alert.
That the servants door opened on her second knock was both good and bad news for Luise: good, because it meant she was quickly able to escape the bitter morning freeze that bit at her face and fingers, ushered quickly into a kitchen large enough to feed several hundred, and already warmed from hearth fires preparing to do just that.
The kitchen boy who'd opened the door for her was a new one, his face twisted in worry as he helped her untangle the bundles of her scarf, shawl, and thick coat. Luise's skin puckered with gooseflesh with the loss of trapped heat, but it did nothing to quell the warm smile she sent his way. "He's been in a bad way today, eh?"
The boy nodded, dark hair flopping over his eyes. Her friendliness loosened his tongue a mite. "...mam says it'll knock the whole castle in, way it carries on."
Gossiping cooks. Luise blew a dismissive raspberry with her tongue, the boy's head lifting in surprise at such an unexpected sound. "Bunk. He may act the grump, but he's nothing but a big pussycat, never mind your mum." She hung her winter clothes over a broad, bare shoulder, offering the boy a conspiratorial wink. "But I'll have a word with him, yeah? The castle won't come down this day if I have any say in it."
Luise snagged a steaming roll off a nearby platter before weaving her way through a throng of frantic cooks fretting over the day's first meal as though the worry were part of the routine. She offered waves of greeting to those she was friendly with, noting with humour the naked relief in their eyes. A level of composure settled over the kitchen at her presence, something she found flattering and ridiculous in equal parts; cooks were a fussy, superstitious lot, and their proximity to her coworker made them antsy. She wasnt even certain the way they conspicuously avoided coming within arms reach of the iron door between the massive stone fireplaces was intentional, or just within their nature. People tended to avoid predators, after all.
Luise rolled her eyes fondly at them as she pushed through the iron door and descended the narrow stone staircase beyond.
The descent was long, lit only by the occasional sconce, and she took the stairs two at a time, eagerly seeking the wafts of warm air brushing her bare arms. The temperature rose, beating back the winter with every step until she'd gone from chilled, to cozy, to glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
The bottom of the staircase widened, then opened into a massive stone room big enough for the entire village to hold a fete if King Doran had any inclination to let them. The ceiling stretched to blackness before Luise could begin to make out details, sounds echoing eerily as they bounced off stone and the elaborate weave of giant metal pipes that burst from seemingly every surface, twisting and rolling in their organized tangle to converge near the back of the room.
Once, her predecessor had told her, this room had been a dungeon demanded by a wicked king forgotten by history, built large enough to hold his many foes. Later, another king with far fewer foes ordered a famous architect and inventor to fit the space with an enormous boiler and giant pipes to bring heat to every corner of the sprawling castle during the cold seasons. As much as Luise figured, the theory had been sound, but the project was abandoned after calculating how many resources it would require to stoke a boiler so large, the cost of fuel to burn and the manpower to burn it too excessive for a king who had already spent much of the royal treasury on piping. For a long time the project sat useless and abandoned, until King Doran's grandfather struck a bargain with their current boiler.
At the back of the room, the stonework had been dismantled to create an opening larger than a house, a series of natural caves visible beyond. The idea had been to install the boiler in the gap between the two, using the cave passage to recieve fuel deliveries and vent dangerous pressure in case of emergency. As such, all the pipes hung close to this area, waiting patiently to be attached to a machine that would never exist, and in the midst of these pipes lay a massive red dragon.
He was an elegant thing, beautiful in his awesome power, with sinuous muscles that rolled at the base of his wings as he shifted position, and beneath his long neck when he shook his head like a dog. Water arced off like crystals with the movement, more making languid trails down his spiral horns and scarlet scales to pool on the stone beneath him. Claws long as swords scored new marks along countless others in the floor, throwing up sparks in his restlessness. Thin tendrils of black smoke curled up from nostrils nearly as tall as Luise herself, jaw slightly parted to reveal enough teeth to rend a village into paste without so much as a blink of his yellow everflame eyes.
Those eyes locked on Luise in an instant, a low growling sound beginning in his deep chest and rising until it filled the room with his displeasure.
She grinned. "Bad today, huh Snuff?"
The growl gradually grew more vocal, and by the time Luise reached her workstation it had morphed into a long, tortured groan. "I fear, dear Luise, that I am not long for this world. What a cruel twist of fate that a creature so magnificent as I should bravely battle the elements, risking life and wing against blizzard and blaze alike, only to die here underground, as if he were a common lizard."
"Cold's no better, eh?"
"It feels as though I have inhaled a cotton field and am attempting to irrigate it with mucus."
Luise managed to add a sympathetic note to her laughter as she swapped her coat for her soot-blacked apron, giving the row of temperature dials leading from each pipe an initial check. "One of the kitchen boys was convinced you'd bring the walls down."
Snuff gave an irritated huff, jetting out more black smoke. "If this bloody ailment lasts much longer, I just may anyway out of pure rage."
"Of course," she soothed indulgently. Suneffessoat had been the castle's boiler for longer than she'd been alive, and regardless of his physical health he'd never make a move against the castle so long as the royal agreement remained intact: the exchange of heat for food and a salary (and a captive audience for his dramatics) was far too good a deal. "How's the snoot, you coot?"
She nearly felt the air shift with his powerful sniff, which he then released on a wavery sigh. "Primed and reh... r-ready, as always. Never let it be said that I am not a prepahh... prepared professional." He worked the muscles of said snoot, nostrils blowing wide enough in the process that Luise could've fit through without turning her shoulders.
She peered over her shoulder towards a slim tube tucked next to the temperature dials, the end feeding out into a shallow, empty tray. Having worked this job for so long, she could normally track the incoming delivery of a request slip even through Snuff's insistently vocal sneezes, but the tube remained silent of its telltale hiss. "Judging by how you were shaking the ground, I suppose you're not far off?"
Indeed, his neck was beginning to pull back into a swanlike curve, chuffing breaths losing their rhythm while his flaring nose picked up the beat. "Clohhhhhser e-ehh... every minuhhhhhHH--"
Now she heard the swish of an incoming request, and from the way Snuff bit back on the rising urge she knew he had too. "Ach, you can vent that one. The way you're winding up, the next one will be along before the fire's even out your mouth."
"I resehhhhh... I reseeEHHHHH... HH! HuuhhhHHHHH--" From the base of his throat grew a red-hot glow, and even in the throes of a sneeze he swung his head round to bury his explosive snout into a low-set pipe. "HRUUHHH-X'SHUUUHH!"
Luise retrieved the request from the tray, slipping a tightly rolled scrap of parchment out of the sleeve. She turned back in time to see Snuff give another shake of his head, narrowed eyes unfocused. The next sneeze worked his chest like a bellows and set the smoke from his nose rolling in great black clouds. He didn't have long.
She read neat, looping script written on the slip of parchment. "Next one goes to the guest apartments." The Countess Iris was visiting from the southern kingdoms, and if her frequent requests were any indication, she had some strong feelings about the weather. "Can probably give her the one after, too, she's a delicate sort."
Snuff, in no state to respond, hazily twisted towards the correct pipe just as his sneeze crossed from "urgent" to "immediate". "Hh-HRRUAHHHSHOOO!!" He then settled, sated for the moment, tension bleeding from the lines of his shoulders and the base of his wings.
Luise turned to pin the parchment to her order board, but she caught the deliberately innocent slide of Snuff's attention in her direction. Behind her, he snorted. And then again, louder, just in case she hadn't heard the first.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly. Working together for decades, and still, heaven forbid he ever ask for help directly.
When she didn't instantly turn to acknowledge his discomfort, a chorus of little self-pitying moans joined the sporadic snorts and snuffles. Luise would put a day's wages on the fact that he were flexing his nostrils theatrically all the while, and she'd win that bet. "Is something the matter?"
A heaved sigh, heavy enough to move the hair on the back of her neck. "Nothing to concern yourself with. After all, dragons have proudly and steadfastedly withstood far worse than a maddeningly itchy nose."
He couldn't quite look away fast enough as she turned to prop a hip against her station, angling his head up and away from her. 'No, I wasnt looking at you, of course not, how dare you imply such!' "Truly, a hardship," she played along benevolently. "Is there any way a powerless human such as myself could assist in this travesty?"
Snuff held to his haughty aloofness for an entire second before eagerly snaking his head in her direction, smooth scales nearly skimming the floor. "I don't suppose you could take time out of your busy day to give me the tiniest scratch?"
She laughed, thick wire brush already in hand. "Just don't sneeze on me."
"I would never!"
Despite his affronted claim, Luise knew well the map of his muzzle, taught to her in serious, cautionary detail by her mentor: do not cross the threshold where the sturdy pebbled scales of his face smoothed into the plush pink interior of his nostrils. Use extra force on the septum, lest his body decides to register a tickle instead of a scratch. And above all, never stand directly in front of his nose.
When she described her job to friends, many of them thought she was sick in the head (though most of them rescinded the thought once she hinted at her salary). Admittedly, it had its struggles. But as she leaned her weight into each long stroke of the brush, Snuff's eyes drifting closed and contented hum rumbling where her body pressed against him, she thought again what an honour it was to work with such a magnificent creature so intimately.
She scratched the spots she knew he liked; just behind the hood of his nostrils, along the length nearly to his cheek, standing on tiptoe to rub tight circles on the crest of his snout like she would groom a horse. These were not things taught to her, and sometimes she wondered if her mentor had viewed Snuff as more of a beast of burden and less of a companion, never bothering to learn his preferences and habits and quirks beyond what was needed to perform the job. Once they'd gotten comfortable around each other, Luise never needed to heed the warning about standing in front of his nose, because she could always tell when he was getting tickly by the way his inner nostril began to shiver and tic, the pink flesh growing steadily flushed until it nearly matched the shade of his scales.
Like now, for example.
He whined as she pulled away, chasing her until his snout bumped against her stomach again. No amount of shoving could move his giant head if he didn't want it to, so her cursory attempt ended in an affectionate pat. "Alright, you baby, nose in the air. You gotta sneeze."
"Do not," he grumbled, purposefully ignorant of how his nose twitched as though it had life of its own. A long tremor agitated the length of both nostrils from tip to depth like a wave.
Luise noted a crease like a snarl form in his scales. "It'll be a double, send them to the baths."
"S-smuhhhhhg bastard." For all his pouting, he followed instructions and unloaded two giant sneezes into the baths pipe. "HhhHHH'XHOOO-!! HAAH-SHOOO!!"
The day continued as such: orders delivered by way of parchment and tube, then executed through Luise's guidance and Snuff's unforgiving cold. His dramatics aside, it truly seemed like a bad one this time. Occasionally on high demand days, Luise would need to dump a wheelbarrow of coal or two into his open mouth to help stoke his inner flame. Today, her arms were already black with coal dust and soot from how many trips she'd made from the coal pile to Snuff, and still as the end of the day drew near, he was tiring.
Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. But she saw it in the hang of his head, the way his internal flame flickered at his throat, too low to properly reach his nose. The sneeze reflex and the flame were intrinsically linked, he'd told her once, and the lower the flame, the harder it would be to reach satisfaction.
"Hhh-! HUHHT-- rrrgh... hhaH-HAAH-- HADT-!!"
Judging by his stuttering half-sneezes and ticklish false starts, Snuff must've been feeling very low indeed.
At the next sneezes to fizzle away, Snuff let out a frustrated sound between a growl and a roar, thrashing in place. At this point his little tantrum was probably warranted. "Blast this nose, blast this cold, I must sneeze! HEAHHHH--" for a moment it seemed like he would finally get his wish, maw agape and nostrils blown nearly wider than his muzzle. "HEEAAHHHHHH--!!"
And then, tragically, nothing, the elusive sneeze teasing at his nose before darting mischievously away, heedless of its host's desperation.
Enough was enough.
Reaching down her shirt, Luise retrieved a key kept on a leather cord around her neck and knelt beneath her table to unlock a hidden cabinet. It was near empty of contents anyone could have considered valuable, but the two items held within were far more dangerous than the king's entire army.
On the right, a small selection of long, brown primary feathers pilfered from the rookery.
On the left, sealed tightly, a tiny jar of glowing golden powder.
Luise worked from the floor, blocked by the cabinet door. More than once Snuff's sensitive nose had been set off by the mere sight of these implements, and the general rule of thumb in dragonfire and pixie dust both was 'a little goes a long way'.
Careful not to get any on her hands, Luise opened the jar as though she were handling explosives. Using a sturdy feather, she gave the jar's rim a quick swipe. The few grains that caught the light as she twisted the feather in her fingertips would be more than sufficient. On went the lid, back went the jar, locked went the cabinet, hidden went the key. Safe again.
Snuff's wobbly hitches stuck high in his chest, eyes rolled to the ceiling. He didnt look round as she approached, weapon tucked behind the bib of her apron. "Head down please, Snuff."
Even in his all consuming battle with his stuck sneeze, he complied, resting his chin against the stone and snorting against the tickle in his nose. So violently did it twitch and flare and shudder that Luise didnt dare lay a hand on it. Other things, however, were free game.
She adjusted her grip on the feather shaft, coming to stand directly beside his right nostril. "Alright, big guy, give me a nice big sniff."
The feather flicked forward, drawing a long, slow line along the division between tough scale and tortured membrane a split second before Snuff obeyed. The feather and its payload vanished down the dark wind tunnel of his nose, trailing a vibrant red flush in its wake.
Luise took several very large steps backwards.
For a tense second, Snuff went completely still save for the rapid fluttering of his eyelids.
"Hhhhhhhhhhaauhhhhhh..." So great was the urge to sneeze that he couldn't even move his head for his first true, unsteady hitch: while his chin remained solidly on the stone, his volcanic nose tilted towards the ceiling as his jaws creaked open, scaly lips ticking up to flash gleaming teeth.
He sniffed HARD, long neck arcing into the air. His nose danced at the end of his muzzle like a leaf in the breeze, and Luise could almost see the feather's leisurely path down his sinuses based on what sections shivered with sensation. Only a slice of yellow remained visible beneath his hooded eyes. "HhaaaAAAahhhhhh..."
How much it must have tickled! Snuff, by his own proclamation, was rather sensitive to the effects of pixie dust (though experience suggested he far undersold how much it affected him). Such a tiny but potent irritant, on such a delicate and wispy vessel, gently brushing and caressing and stroking nasal passages stripped of any defenses by illness. Was it any wonder why his jaw went slack, wings rising slightly as if to brace against the oncoming storm.
Everything picked up speed as the feather continued its journey, spurred on by his rapid reflexive sniffles. "Hh! Huh... huuhh... HH-HUUHHH--" His voice plummeted as his fire rose, throat glowing with the promise of release. Huge, gasping breaths stoked his internal flame, his nostrils and mouth gaping so widely Luise could see soft embers flickering in their depths.
As he didnt seem to be of the mind to take instructions at the moment, she didnt offer a pipe suggestion to put this sneeze through. Honestly, she didnt even know if they'd be able to withstand it.
Finally the feather did its job. The fiery gradient of his neck surged upwards just as Snuff threw his head forward. "HRRRUUUUUAAHHHH-T'CZHOOOOOOOO!!"
Flame shot from his mouth and nostrils in a deadly torrent, spanning the entire length of the room and splitting into starbursting jets upon hitting the far wall. Louise shielded her eyes until his sneeze ran its course, light twisting eerily in every shadowed corner of the room, exposed skin buffeted by waves of intense, rebounding heat.
After the blaze flickered out, she gave a low whistle at the giant scorch mark he left behind, coating the far wall and a twenty foot streak on the floor with black soot. A strange smell filled the room, the subtle scent of burnt rock. "You want to aim for the vent pipe next time, mate?"
Snuff's head hung low, eyes hooded and mouth slightly open as he caught his breath. One final, searching sniff saw his nose to relieved satisfaction. "If you think I was not perfectly in control through that entire ordeal, you would be most sorely mistaken. I'd sooner bite my own leg off than kill you, you're hardly more than a morsel and it would be an inefficient waste of fire."
She heard the apology for what it was and waved it away with a hand. "Feeling any better now?"
His voiced sigh was the clearest it had been all day, repeated nose-clearing sneezes having burnt away the bemoaned morning congestion. "All this dreary awfulness today has served its purpose, I suppose." So, yes, despite the extra throaty growl on the edges of his words. Another huff, and he shifted his great body to curl around himself, pointedly resting his head near his haunches and away from her. Suneffessoat had officially clocked out.
Which meant it was time for her to follow suit. Luise smiled affectionately at the back of his head, trading dirty apron for dirty coat. "See you tomorrow for more dreary awfulness."
He didnt look round. "Your dying in the cold would inconvenience me severely, so do try to be considerate."
She skipped over the scorch mark bisecting the room, leaving boot tracks behind in the soot. Just before she started up the stairs, she sent a last cheeky, "I'll miss you too!" over her shoulder, ascending back to the dark and the cold as her bright, warm companion spluttered indignities behind her.
