A dramatic and macabre artist who is considered 'dark and moody' by those who give him grace and 'violent and aggressive' by those who do not.
Comes from a pretty rough upbringing and has terrible emotional regulation. Known as someone who 'loves nobody'.
Which is completely untrue, since he's 'forever gentle' for one Andrew Perrault, his best friend/boyfriend(?) who he loves very much and has for years.
He's a very loyal (knight) friend and will literally fight for the people he cares about. Although since the literal part is literal, he tends to get into trouble over it.
Dresses pretty sloppily, but in a rogueishly handsome kind of way if you like guys covered in charcoal and paint (and sometimes blood).
"You're, uh, Suletta. I remember you from that show, which-"
"Uh, yeah, we don't have to talk about that. Anyway. I'm Thomas, Andrew's boyfriend." He really didn't expect anyone else to be on the shore with him as everyone got ready to go fishing. He had his charcoals with him, fingers itching after hearing about-
When Andrew woke up and Thomas wasn’t there sleeping beside him, Andrew knew immediately that the other boy was gone. Gone gone. Spirited back over to the other side of the veil they had both crossed to get here.
Thomas had promised that he would never leave him. That they’d always be together.
Andrew remembers when Dove had promised him the same thing.
It was supposed to be the three of them. Inseparable. Now, only Andrew was left.
The weakest out of all of them, Andrew must be the unluckiest, too, if he’s the last one here.
To have your heart torn away, not once, but twice in a lifetime? It was too much for any single person to be expected to bear. Especially for fragile Andrew, who was only held upright by the trellises that were Thomas and Dove.
He’d started at the empty spot in their bed and cried. Cried for... he doesn’t even know how long. Long enough for Miorine to come looking for him. To see his sorry state and drag him out of bed in an attempt to make him feel better. Feel anything at all except for empty.
He really appreciates her. Andrew even thinks that Miorine would have made a wonderful support system herself had he been given more time to grow and intertwine with her the way he had with Dove or Thomas... But his other two people had been ripped away too quickly, leaving Andrew’s stems broken and bleeding—cut down almost to the root, only half an organism left.
As soon as Miorine left, he crawled back into his bed, but he was too tired and empty to cry now...
The sound of Thomas’s voice has Andrew lurching upright in bed, tired eye blown wide, looking around wildly. His gaze immediately finds the boy he loves, and for a moment, he just stares, his borrowed heart beating painfully fast against the sharp cage of his ribs. He stares at the freckles across Thomas’s nose, at his auburn hair, at his green eyes.
Andrew’s heart twists.
His forest green eyes.
His hair the color of autumn leaves.
Andrew glares at the other boy, whom he’s now sure is no boy at all, but a manifestation of whatever ancient growing, lichen-covered spirit now resides within Andrew. He’s seen this trick before. Had his heart broken and his mind shattered because of it.
Steeling himself against his heart, Andrew flops back down into bed, turning away from the forest spirit who wears the face of the only person left that he loves, and pulls the blanket up over his head.
“Go away. I’m not in the mood for this game.”
Maybe if Andrew still cared for his life, he’d be more concerned. Would be worried that now that their beloved Thomas was no longer here, the forest no longer had any use for Andrew. But he just doesn’t care.
He would have let Thomas kill him if he’d wanted. It would have been less painful if the real Thomas had slit his throat on the way out, rather than leaving this imposter to finish him off. Andrew doesn’t want the last thing he sees to be a recreation, a perfect imitation of a boy whose flaws were what made him more beautiful than anyone in Andrew's eye.
Tears Andrew thought were all but dried up begin to wet the pillow he's buried his face into. His only consolation is that the forest must yearn for Thomas, too, to take his form like this. At least Andrew isn’t alone in his loneliness.
“I miss him too...” He admits, quietly, wrapping the blanket around himself tighter so that he doesn’t shake apart.
Sometimes its hard to put Andrew in context when his words can cut so deep. Thomas' ears focused so much more on Go Away than anything that comes after. He has to clear the burrs from his ears to process the rest. Exhaling, a game.
He wonders what he looks like.
He can feel his heart shred itself against Andrew's wooden ribs, and he instinctively clutches his own chest in response. Pain blooms across his chest from their connection.
"Andrew."
He forces his voice out through his clenched teeth, reaching out and clutching at the blanket.
"Andrew."
A hand moves to to grasp his shoulders.
"It's me. It's really me. If it was going to show you me, it wouldn't have waited to do it! It would've wanted you without the grief - " his voice cracks, knowing what fresh wound was torn open. Fresh growth underneath made all too aware of the burn of air and light.
Kneeling beside the bed, he doesn't loosen his grip, but uses his other hand to grab Andrew's, pressing it up against his chest.
"See? Feel. My scar, and you still have my heart. There's nothing there, see? Because it's with you. Whatever I am now," I don't think the forest would understand how to make it this way. Not while keeping us both in tact.
"Andrew?" He knew Andrew was here, he had to be. He could feel the tether on his heart tugging him back to where they were staying. He remembered going to bed, and then...
Waking up, alone, in a different bed. It was after the new year, apparently, and he knew that wasn't right. Peering into the dark room, he exhaled,
He glances down to the others blanket to witness still awkward stitches finding their form.
" But trying anyway yeah? That's cool though! Mastering skills takes time! Have a look how I do it and then try again? " Eiden happily chatters. He takes the needle and slowly links the patches, explaining few points as he does.
" I do drawing too though actually! But I've been sewing stuff for a long time now, wanted to be able to make and mend my own clothes. "
"Yeah, alright," this guy's cheerful, at least. As much as it was Thomas' natural inclination to bristle at anyone trying to teach him or lecture him, he instead pauses to listen.
"It'd be useful to be able to sew my own clothes. I get in plenty of trouble." And he'd much rather spend his money on art supplies or taking Andrew out on dates than on clothes.
And he'd be able to customize his clothes, which would be cool.
He starts to clumsily mimic the guy, adding, "But for now, I wanna make a blanket for my b-..." A pause, he glances up at the guy, and then back down at his messy stitches, "Boyfriend. His name is Andrew. He's prone to getting cold, especially these days."
❝ Are you collecting rocks? ❞ Without any warning of his approach, Vanth peers over the boy's shoulder, harmlessly inquisitive. He'd spotted him bent over the autumn rot of the Mistwood's forest floor, alone and rummaging around for—well, Vanth actually doesn't know. Whatever it is, Vanth thinks there could be better places for it: the Mistwood is a hostile environment, unkind to turned and distracted backs. Surprisingly, Vanth is probably among the lesser threats within these woods. To this freckled teenager, anyway.
❝ You know, I'm not the only thing that could've snuck up on you. You realize what kinda woods these are, right? ❞
@dramacabre — creature encounter.
He doesn't really jump, at least not physically, at the weirdo who sneaks up on him. He didn't make any noise, which was already a problem, but he kept encountering not-quite-humans in these woods.
And they were encountering him, too. A not-quite-human. A heartless boy.
"Looking for some type of fungus that likes to grow on the floors. I'm interested in what the mycelium looks like for an art piece." He'd been trying to lean slightly away from monsters, especially as they learn about Andrew's power and how they collaborate.
"But yeah, I know what kind of woods these are, old timer, thanks. Golly gee - a poor heartless boy with an axe snuck up on by a murderer, right?" His voice was thick with sarcasm, his hatchet tucked into his belt.
"I'm guessing you're not just some well-to-do human walking around 'woods like these', huh?"
Eiden's not in the position of an instructor but as always he's prone to offer his help when it seems needed. Easily he drops next to the other. His own blanket almost done so might as well grant some time for others.
The third time he pricks his finger, he curses. He's pretty sure he cursed, anyway. Exhaling, he looks up at the guy offering advice. Right when he's about to tell him to piss off, he notices how well-done his blanket is.
(...Fine.)
"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I'm more of a...canvas-and-charcoal artist, not..." he lifts his barely done and poorly stitched blanket in defeat.
Andrew takes Thomas's free hand in both of his, laughing with delight and folding himself against Thomas's shoulder as he does so. He can't help it. It's rare to see Thomas so awkward -- so outside of his element. That was usually Andrew's job.
"I would hope it's with you! I wouldn't want to go with anyone else, you know!" Andrew teases, continuing to laugh.
…That is, until familiar feelings of anxiety well up within him as a thought occurs to him.
"W-we… we haven't… not been going on dates-- I mean- You weren't… waiting for m-me to ask you, right?! Because I would have!" Andrew is quick to assure him. Very quick.
"I just… we- we were already spending so much time together, I… I didn't think to ask…"
Andrew fidgets guiltily with his fingers between Thomas's, feeling terrible.
"No, well, it's not because we didn't, but we should probably go- Right? I mean, I was also kind of waiting for the right time and the right date. I was gonna ask you out and then that terrible dating show with your friend happened." He's usually not this awkward, but he can still remember pressing his freckled nose against the screen as he watched poor Andrew have to fumble through a reality dating show.
He squeezes Andrew's hands, Andrew starting to fidget with some level of anxiety calming him down - someone had to be, and this is usually how they balanced each other out.
"Honestly, I wanted the perfect place for our first 'official' date. I was thinking the Firewalks show - it's quiet, there's some noise sensitivity options. It's low-key compared to a lot of the other summer activities." Something he put a lot of thought into for Andrew. "And then we can get food and come home and watch a movie or just sit together. What do you think?"
He'd considered asking Andrew to go to Candle Lighting for the Lost, but...Well, neither of them were that public about their grief. Not intentionally, anyway. It would be better to honor Dove in their own way, on their own time, when they both felt like it.
That, and...
Selfishly, maybe, but he didn't want this to be tinged by Dove's death. Of course her absence would touch every part of their lives for the rest of however long they would live, but right now...
"So, I was thinking that maybe,"
"You'd want to go on a...d...date?" He holds up the flyer, pointing it out. It was the last night for it, the Spirale Firewalks Show. Fireworks but in a way that wasn't overstimulating. A nice, 'comforting' event.
"With me?" That television show from a while ago played again in his mind, and how uncomfortable Andrew was around so many people. This was a much better way for him to go on a date.
@wildeheart -> spiralefes 2025 -> Spirale Firewalks Show
"So long as you know what you're getting into." Andrew teases to cover up for the fact that he worries he'll never be enough for Thomas. He soaks up the other boy's attention like a flower turning towards the sun.
"If you want to go we can leave." Andrew can feel eyes on him, but even if a thousand people are looking at him, when he's with Thomas, there's only one person whom he cares is looking at him. Thomas's laugh draws a quieter one from Andrew, though he can tell something is still bothering Thomas… Maybe it is Andrew's fault after all. Still, the pressure on his chest eases marginally, enough to breathe. Enough to take Thomas's hands in his and pull him up to stand with him in Andrew's space.
"…I don't want to go back." Back to a world that didn't understand Andrew? Back to a world that only wanted to hurt Thomas? A world that wanted to separate them and lock them away? No.
"Everything that matters to me now is right here." Andrews squeezes Thomas's freckled hands in his. He lets his scarred hand cup Thomas's face where the other boy had placed it earlier and tilts Thomas's chin up towards him, a silent demand for their eyes to meet. Brown and green. Earth and forest. Dependent on each other. Never apart.
"You're my best friend. The only person who understands me. The only one who can ground me to reality. You're my whole world…"
These things are easy for Andrew to say compared to what he really wants to tell Thomas… Thomas has already said the words, and Andrew wants to too, so badly he can feel it ache and reshape his bones. It's of the utmost importance that Thomas knows beyond a shadow of a doubt, and then Andrew will let Thomas lead him anywhere he wants. Suddenly, he can't wait anymore; he draws Thomas further in, tangling his fingers into the short hair at the nape of the redhead's neck and shielding him from onlookers.
"I love you."
Andrew confesses softly, speaking into Thomas's ear so the other boy doesn't have to share Andrew's devotion with anyone else. Andrew wanted the moment of his own confession to be like Thomas's: filled with magic and drama and heroic sacrifice. Instead, it's messy, filled with tears, and surrounded on all sides by the unknown… But, isn't that more honest to who Andrew is as a person? And either way, it might not be perfect, but it's theirs... and that's what's most important.
"Ever since the first moment I saw you, I've loved you. Always you. Only you."
'Want' never played a role in anything, here. Maybe not until now.
But, Thomas never wanted to go home in the summer. Thomas never wanted his parents. But, Thomas never wanted them to die either. Thomas had wanted Andrew, but that hadn't been enough to overcome his own internal demons, to not make Andrew cry and Dove angry. And he hadn't wanted the forest to take Dove. And he hadn't wanted-
Ah, but did that matter now?
There was nowhere for them to go back to. One or both of them would be accused of killing any one of the bodies left in their wake. And once they realized Thomas had no heartbeat and Andrew was partially made of the forest itself - well, who knows?
They couldn't go back, even if they wanted to.
But...
"I don't want to go back either." They can't, but the want is more important. Maybe want can play a role now.
And just as he's saying that, Andrew is whispering a confession feverishly into his ear. Thomas has never been a person of faith but he feels as though he's awakening to a new religion. One of plants and vines and thorns and desperation. And that flavor of faith suits him just fine.
He holds onto Andrew like a prayer.
"Me too." He says, his own call and response. Amen.
"Me too, I didn't understand it. I didn't understand me, but it was always you. I.." He won't invoke her name, the dead Saint, because he had already explained that. It wouldn't do to baptize their new relationship further in her blood.
"But you know that, you know. But I want to say it again, I love you. Only you, Andrew Perrault." He shifts, pressing their foreheads together.
"Can I..." he falters slightly, "Can we...?" He wants to kiss him, to seal the sermon, but...
"I've never wanted to kiss anyone more." He laughed slightly, embarrassment coloring his features now. He could be a knight in battle, but outside of battle, his ear still tingling from Andrew's own confession, he's a mess of freckles and tears.
