Look at this beautiful Iver and cute Loïc dirtysensitive drew! <3 Alternative universe, of course, in honour of Mermay.
Now do be careful Loïc, for there’s a price for that kiss.
Wait wasn't this advertised during Tracon VI? I have A3 with a drawing on it and underneath it there is a link to this blog, and on the other side there is a little story.
Yes! One of our team was visiting Tracon VI and helping a friend around the Artist's Alley. There was indeed two papers with pictures of Iver and Loïc, and small snippets of the roleplay on the other side. The project is still very much alive, but on the back burner due to other responsibilities. I’m both delighted and surprised that you found us through those, and decided to visit! :D
(I’m very sorry if we’re tardy in replying to your ask - we got no notification of it, not in the message box nor the email.)
Another inktober, and another collaboration with dirtysensitive! Heavily cropped because I am really not very good at this. Below is her original! It’s strange how much a picture and its flow change with a mere shortening of facial features. So much is lost when I go and try to mimic the pose while drawing the characters in my style.
Once upon a time, on the night of the Second Contract.
---
Loïc’s eyebrow rose. He leaned forward and moved the candle closer on the table to better see the hymn on the parchment. There was a cluster of notes and symbols on the sides, the whole space a mess of red ink. Underlined and over-lined words, sentences smudged and rewritten above in Koite’s lady-ish penmanship.
“This is a faun contract.”
“Correct.”
“How did you even get your hands on this? I have yet to see them write any of their songs down.”
“Quite simply. I found someone who had heard the first part, whereas I myself had once heard the second part. Don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t taking part in the proceedings.”
“...Right, you’d be able to do that, the immunity.”
Loïc rubbed his eyes, sat down, was quiet for a while.
“This is rather. There’s a worrying risk for...uncontrollable violence.”
“I have made some modifications in it. The original is not so much of a contract as it is a breeding spell. Of course it’s a crude method, theirs are nothing but,-” Koite snorted “-it’s the one that gives you the most time. Two to three months extra in a year, less than it would usually since you’re not a female.”
“Yes, I’d rather not have a pregnancy to top this all- wait, that’s not a plausible side-effect, is it?” Loïc sounded momentarily concerned.
Koite grinned.
“...Go drown yourself.”
His answer was a low, quiet laugh. Loïc followed Koite with his eyes when the fae rounded the table and cast a shadow on Loïc with all his formidable height. His eyes gleamed in the candle light, appearing a mix of whiskey and amber.
“The first contract protects you from fatal harm. They would be the perfect pair. But this is your choice. You asked for my best solution to prevent the last time from happening again. This is it.”
“Was this the only solution you found?”
Koite was suspiciously quiet. He started to lift his hand, pulled it back.
“...You want this.” There was realisation in Loïc’s voice. Was it the violence? Sex? No, too mundane. The binding in the contract? More probable. The first contract was purely in Loïc’s favour - did Koite wish to even out the balance in power? This would bind him to Koite. The longest extra time might have been a reason, too. Most likely a mix, and a large part of something Loïc hadn’t figured out about him yet.
He wondered idly if someday this trust would crumble, and reached for Koite. Too late to worry about that now.
“Walk me through your modifications. We need to add some safeguards for you, too. I’m not waking up next morning to find you on the floor with your trachea ripped out.”.
Koite lifted him, slammed him against the wall. His naked back tried to shudder away from the cold stone, it needed skin but the grip was iron. Mountains would have been easier to move than this hold.
Loïc couldn’t remember how many times he had come, he was oversensitive to the point of pain, thighs and lower stomach sticky, and yet tears gathered in the corners of his eyes from need. He couldn’t remember how long it had been, two days perhaps, they had fallen asleep from exhaustion once hadn’t they, he thought they might have. He remembered waking up to a body covering his, already taking again.
This might actually kill them. Water, he thought dizzily, and forgot it in the next breath when Koite sunk his punishing fangs above his left nipple, drew blood. Loïc whimpered.
“Look at me. Don’t you dare look away, not any others, nowhere else, be here-”
Koite’s eyes were hazy, blown so wide that the iris was barely visible. Blood on his lips, both from Loïc biting them broken and him breaking Loïc’s skin. His nails were blunt, so instead of bleeding welts they left long, red scratches, thank the gods they had cut them-
“-I’ll bind you, keep you here, forever and ever, you can never leave and you’ll be mine, no one else can have you-”
Occasionally Koite did this, said these things, raspy mumbles, and Loïc wondered, he wondered feverishly if they were something the song had induced or if they were something Koite thought but had not voiced before. The parts about breeding had been rather alarming. He needed to remember- to ask later-
Koite pushed his leg up, folding it on his shoulder from the knee. Loïc twined the other around Koite’s back, pulled him so close that his lungs were constrained under Koite’s chest. It felt good. Loïc wondered if he could fall asleep here. Koite’s fingers didn’t wander anymore, they went straight between Loïc’s spread legs, inside where it was hot and already wet with fae seed. Loïc was so sore but it didn’t matter, not this time. All breath left him when Koite pushed inside, cock filling him.
“-you feel so good, you’re doing so well, but you’re so breakable and I can’t break you, I can’t, can’t, please just bear it-”
Loïc wanted to laugh and cry. He would bear anything, anything for this beautiful thing before him, inside him, with him.
And wasn’t fae magic that at its core? Pain and pleasure, life and death, semen and blood, a heart living through its greatest love and doomed to break. If they survived this, morning come Loïc would be bound to the grove, to the fae magic through Koite, granted with the gift of a little extra time.
---
Later Loïc looked at the parchment and couldn’t understand how he hadn’t thought to ask where those extra months would come from if not from his humanity or the grove.
There actually is a point to why these pictures show them in a lot of skin contact, often their eyes closed. Also, Loïc is totally not a ho, despite necking around with two individuals (not that the Grove’s fae would even understand exclusive relationships the way humans do, but).
Dirtysensitive does a lot of sketches from Laguz that never see the light of day online. I love them dearly, though, and really wanted to share this. I got the permission to finish her sketch and post it here. <3 A collaboration of sorts. Ds’ sketch (copyrighted to ds, of course) is below.
I really want to do inktober too, although I can’t get the full amount of days. But some is better than none? So, first of the “digital ink” patch.
The third main character hasn’t taken the stage yet, but that doesn’t stop me from writing him in possible future scenarios. :D This snippet might happen in the far future. I also might draw a picture to accompany this. Meet Aamunkoite: highly intelligent, infuriating and often irritated little brother of Yönsilmä. (Also, do tell us if these snippets are more of a bother than an interest among the actual roleplay turns).
---
"The innkeeper is a cheat and the whole place is full of-" Loïc saw how the fine hairs on Iver's neck stood up in disgust. "-mice. We'd be better off camping in the woods."
Koite hummed, eyes gliding along the village's modest dwellings. Some of them were growing from trees, parts of a thick oak trunk, apparently grown by the dwellers themselves, Some were built from branches, rocks and moss, standing sad and rickety in the middle of large gardens. As they walked the path to the inner parts, it got better, but Koite was still surprised when they finally happened to a tavern.
"They'll trade for a room above the tavern, if you're that anxious about pests."
"I'm not anxious. It's him-" Iver threw a nod at Loïc. "-they'll give rabies to, and then we're in the middle of nowhere with a dying human."
"You haven't had rabies before, have you."
Koite gave a gloomy look to a passerby who looked upon Loïc in curiousity. Any stories Loïc had about creatures, Iver took to heart. And Loïc told those stories with relish.
Iver ignored Loïc. He had been doing that for a while. "Do you even have anything to trade - pretty things hold no value here."
"I can always sleep with them for payment."
Koite held his tongue, not taking the human’s bait. Loïc had been...complicated, today. He was quite sure that Iver's eyes had narrowed, some of Koite's lightning quick annoyance and possessiveness catching too easily through their contract.
The tavern, if one could call it that, was half-full. Nomads, merchants, craftsmen, errand runners - it was as much of a house of drink and dine as it was a meeting place. If they had had any worries about Koite's horns or Iver's hair being remembered, those disappeared when they stepped inside and noticed the tall creature-fae at the counter. It was easily the most unusual and intimidating sight at the establishment, fae folk giving it a silent and wide berth.
Koite hummed in vague interest. Iver snatched the arm of a passing server, flashing a charming smile and inquiring about who to talk to about possible accommodations.
Loïc came into the room with a light gust of wind blowing from behind him - the creature-fae's head snapped to them, large eyes protruding and zeroing onto Loïc.
Iver didn't notice, Loïc did, and Koite's mind was battling in-between calculations and an instant need to sink his claws into something.
He made a compromise. When Loïc came closer, he reached out a hand and casually pressed it against the human's neck, fingers cupping the side of it. Loïc followed the pull obligingly, attention on their first clue, and acknowledged the short nuzzle when it came, Koite's nose and golden wisps pressing against his cheek.
"About that sleeping thing- still up to it?"
Iver groaned from behind them. "Don't you start being weird too-"
Then Iver saw the vermin and its attention, and from the way his body language stilled, proceeded to switch track to vicious professionalism.
"Anything personal I should know of, or just the general interest?" His voice was flippant, strange."...and stop nuzzling him, it'll get the magnificent idea of killing you first."
"Which is precisely what we want." Koite let Loïc go. "This is general - it's paying attention to anything with high glamour. Or humanity. Might be the first time it has bumped into the smell, what with the location of this sad place."
"That's a rather scary nose." Loïc said softly. "The room?"
"The deer at the kitchens is handling it, she said he'd come by the counter later."
The tavern's owner was a beady-eyed, mixed man with enough practicality to agree on a night's lodging. Loïc stood beside Koite, who had taken a friendly, close feet from the man. He was silent and mild-mannered, but flashed a shy smile at the owner when the payment came up.
They traded cloth and stones for the room, coin having no use here.
"How do you know the vermin has anything to do with the rumors? It can't even sing. Or can it?"
Loïc sat on the floor, re-arranging their baggage. Koite tapped the window sill in thought, not answering. Iver didn't either, lying sideways on the bed, fast on his way to becoming bored.
Loïc stood up. "...I'll go get us dinner."
Koite waited.
The door closed with a bang.
"You're just going to let him go? You had a fit about me-"
Aamunkoite turned from the window, arms crossed, and gave Iver a neutral look. Sharp, receding steps echoed in the hallway outside their room. Koite ignored them in favor of examining the straightened fae on the bed - Iver stared at him, eyes annoyed and becoming unsettled
"Walk with him then, if you're worried. I can't be bothered to babysit you."
In the fog outside there was a gangly silhouette, crouched on the path opposite of their window, waiting. "...and while you're at it, figure out why he's pissed. I've been patient but I'll dig it out from both of you by force if you won't sort it out soon."
"Tch."
Iver stood up and took after Loïc, banging the door closed equally loud as the human had before.
Loïc was descending the narrow stairs when he heard the steps behind him. Iver was wearing his heavier shoes due to the muddy forest paths full of roots and rocks, and his stroll was quicker than Koite's. Loïc was both relieved and peeved at being tailed when Iver had been giving him the silent treatment for a whole day. It wasn't like Loïc couldn't manage amongst folk who had seen him with company, but…
Iver fell into step with him.
"...I've never heard them sing, but they're creepy fucks so who knows? They might."
Iver sounded stiff, bland. The late reply felt like damage control - calm down the irrational human by indulging him when in rocky territory. If Iver had hoped for the words to make him more manageable, more obedient, he was dead wrong. Gloom and sharp edges, that's what his insides were made of at the moment.
Loïc grunted and took to the counter downstairs. He might not be happy but he wasn't stupid either - fighting here would make them less heedful.
Their shoulders bumped - cloth serving as a barrier from their link. Neither felt like reaching out, if Iver's contained and muffled presence was anything to go by. Nonetheless, Iver provided him wordless shelter - Loïc was spared a few lingering looks if he kept a distance.
"Anyway, they're stronger than me. Stronger than the asshole, probably. We're better of not piquing their interest."
The server wasn't impressed by their trade, but sent them off with fruit (Iver), seeds (Loïc) and rabbit stew (Koite, hopefully). Loïc tried to haggle for roots but apparently it wasn't even an option in these parts.
They were at the stairs when the crash came, something heavy hitting a wall at the end of the hallway. They ran, Loïc trying unconsciously to link with a mind that was yet too far. The door bashed open, Koite's body flying through the air to the floor. He was shielding his chest with his arms, holding something black and incorporeal against his front. Iver crouched down and sideways, steel already in his hands. Loïc pulled his inner sleeves to his palms, glistening needles half-bared at his wrist.
"Stay back!" Koite's voice was a wheeze, lungs trying to get the message across after being hit empty.
The thing was, Koite had more strength than his size and stature suggested. Whereas fairies had bulky, heavy muscles, Koite's strength was sinews wound tight, dense muscles and bones like scales and rock. To throw him?
A snippet to accompany dirtysensitive’s wonderful picture. Alternate branch in their story, written by W this time. <3
---
The room was dim when Lamonte arrived. No fae lights were set and the candles around the room had ran dead. Only the smoldering remains at the back of the fireplace drew some edges to the darkness.
A quiet creak of the door marked his comings and goings, but the room remained still. Lamonte walked across it with long, silent steps, pulling off the hood and covers of his cape as he did. Small piles of frost and snow on his shoulders had started to turn into little droplets.
Lamonte let his cape fall off as he kneed on the tar wooden bedside. A pair of yellow eyes opened in the dark to take a hazy gaze on the intruder before closing again, and seconds later Yönsilmä lifted the covers, inviting.
”I’m still cold”, Lamonte whispered softly, only resulting in a small frown from Yönsilmä’s end. The covers rose a bit further. ”Get in.”
Lamonte pondered over it for a second, then proceeded to do as told. He slipped in between the messed sheets and pressed against Yönsilmä.
”Cold”, Yönsilmä hissed, shivering at the touch of frostbitten fabrics, the metallic buttons, and buckles against his bare skin.
”I warned you”, Lamonte smiled as the draun stubbornly buried himself closer nevertheless. His claws scrabbled the buttons a few feeble times, operating them unsuccesfully.
”Undress”, he commanded, and once again Lamonte followed, taking off the layers one by one.
”Did Madame tell you I’ve come here?” Yö asked, weariness rendering his tone thin.
”Rowan did.”
”You shouldn’t have come”, the draun whispered while, in contrary to his words, snuggling closer to his bare chest.
”How are you feeling?” Lamonte countered, wrapping his arms around the leaner body, one hand burying in the beautiful mess of a hair.
”Frustrated”, Yö grumped, followed by a faint ”tired” a bit after.
”And sick of being embedded down here.”
”Patience”, Lamonte hummed to his ear. ”Want me to lit up the fire again?”
”I have no need for your concern”, Yö brooded, ”nor for your avail on the matter, either. I have extensive resources to take care of the subject.”
”I know you do”, Lamonte hummed, smiling against the heated skin of his cheek.
What an emotional sturm and drang it was, the feeling of Loïc’s presence, his core merging with Iver’s mind. His own thoughts turned torpid and vertiginous, it had the same feeling as the loss of homing instinct.
And then came the information rush, flowing, illogical, broken pieces all over the place, and yet it all made sense. Was it some kind of a mind-reading technique? How on earth had this dangerous little human learned to do something like this? The thought got lost in a thousands of others; words, scenes, emotions, all like Iver’s own, and yet they were not.
Lady Jegra. The name was familiar, but not the facts Loïc was feeding him. He knew a certain someone who had to be confronted about her habits, but never bothered to tell Iver. Screw him and his stupid dominion games.
So this would be a rescue mission. Oh, yes. Perfectly illegal, in the eyes of the fae and the Court, at least, and that was all that mattered here. For him it was all the same; Iver was all about illegal acts, and he knew Loïc could read his nature through the link. He didn’t even try and hide the fact.
You know, though...
“Search-and-reclaim, and you can save one of your kind.” Iver’s voice was low. “Kill her, and we can save dozens from the very same destiny.” He knew the thought was all over the table already, but saying it out loud made it somehow… More authentic, more like a real suggestion.
“Just saying.”
Iver drew a short breath, trying to control the flow of his thoughts. For a moment he concentrated on the sheer color of Loïc’s hair, the feeling of air on his skin. Away with the thoughts of killing, that part of him didn’t belong to Loïc. Breathe in, how did it feel? Breathe out. Let’s try this link out, then. Loïc chose the playground alright, but Iver would hardly settle for playing nice.
Who are you, really?
A quick question he sent throughout his mind.
Why do you know so much?
It was worth a try, at least, for the flow of thoughts was harder to stop than words. If nothing else, this would show him how far the borders and limits of this telepathic link could be bent.
Loïc’s jaw tightened. To take a chance in this...Human children were valuable. Not many fae had them. Those who did were not people that the majority of the magical folk wished to cross. If Iver were to deem it too risky and would inform Lady Jegra, if Iver were to betray him in the middle Marie would be lost. Iver did not need him or Marie safe and healthy, he needed Loïc alive.
So, to take a chance in this.
Loïc dragged fingers through his short bangs, eyes wandering and hitting the small nail imprints on his wrist. Held down, released. Adamant for consent, unyielding in doing things right even when Loïc himself had given him permission to-
He had been kind, then.
But fear could bend the kindest of souls into a monster. And fae at their core were selfish.
To take a chance. But Loïc could manipulate the odds, couldn’t he. He didn’t want to do it again, gods, he wasn’t ready. It was too intimate, too soon, too sensitive, it had already backfired several times but this was all he had. Until he got to Garama’s, at least. The contract couldn’t get any stronger from use, could it. It had progressed to a level Loïc hadn’t meant to, was doing things he- But to lie inside this level, to hide things, it required practice. Iver did not have that practice. Let this be the last time.
He licked his lips, looked straight at Iver. Took a step, two, put his hands on Iver’s shoulders for support and to keep him from flinching away. This person, the shadow inside his head, was not Koite. It was a beautiful man with tight control and a crass mouth, with fickle behaviour and sincere thoughts. He remembered the presence at his back at the Undersell’s wall, warmth to contrast his wet goosebumped skin. He let himself imagine a world where he wasn’t painfully in love with Koite, where he had perhaps raised his eyebrows in challenge to a blue-haired fae at a rarity shop, met him at a crossroad, had a lost fight with their seduction glamour at a tavern.
“If you insist. However, in that case I’m sharing that information in my way. Let’s hope this won’t hurt.”
He pressed their cheeks together, a gesture that felt both a parody and true, and thought of what he knew of a human child named Marie.
Iver tensed slightly as Loïc came close. Steady, steady. Let him deal with this abomination of a shirt, just concentrate on his words, this is important, a chance to take dominance over the situation; to understand why he was caught in this goddamn position in the first place.
“What, alive and kicking?” Iver’s back bowed slightly as Loïc kept tightening the strings. “Oh, great. This is- nh!” A shiver went through his body – Loïc’s fingers had grazed the bare skin of his side, sending goosebumps all over. Intense indeed, full of sparks, the skin contact.
“It’s gonna be a real pain in the ass. Be it a beast, a fae or a human, it’s a shitload of trouble when the… object to claim has a will of their own. You can’t really predict the possible outcome. Blind spots all over! Even more reasons to plan ahead. Once again I have to question the propitiousness of the timing you insist.” Iver rose up and walked to a bed side mirror. Oh, would you look at that. The formless rag looked like a shirt again.
“Sorry, dearie, we won’t have a deal if you persist to keep the mandatory information to yourself. You have to tell me more about that creature of yours, going blindfolded after your lead isn’t a risk I’m willing to take. And as for my reward, what I wish for…” Various things, really. Iver stared at Loïc, lost in thought for a moment too long. “Just get rid of this contract, that’s all I care for.”
Loïc stared at Iver from the other side of the bed.
Well. This was a surprise. A tremendously curious one.
He followed the fae’s progress with the clothes for a time. And then stepped around the bed.
“I think these things are usually put on with the help of manservants. Here, let me.” Loïc lifted his hands slowly, started to arrange and fasten the strings and lapels in their proper order.
He arranged, bound, was quiet for a while.
“I didn’t have a lot of time for preparation due to a tight deadline. This must happen before the second day of the festivities. The original idea was to get bought by an Eve’s Gentry since they have guaranteed lodgings in the sleeping quarters, which was where I needed to be.”
Act normal, don’t shy away from him. Flinching from someone you took to bed is not normal behaviour.
“Circumstances have changed but that doesn’t mean I can’t use a court member for an entry. I could arrange a gentleman with a reservation to be...indisposed, and with you go through the security with their identity.”
Loïc straightened the shoulder cloth, sweeping his hands along their shape.
“What I must reclaim is legal and alive.” There was a slight tightening in Loïc’s eyes. “I’d rather not make any messes by killing people. Get in, claim, get out. We’d arrive and leave together in plain sight with a faked identity, enough glamour on us to fool the kings and queens. I need some supplies for emergencies, there should be this shop around here somewhere.”
He stepped back.
“But what would Iver of the not-Gentry wish for in exchange of his help and patience?”
“I can’t work with that much alone.” Iver reached for the shirt, the stupid, opulent piece of cloth, very difficult to wrap on with all the strings and buttons of white gold. Maybe he should burn it afterwards, watch the lace and silk turn to flames. That might lift his mood.
“You want my help, you’ll have to give me more than that. You have figured how to get to the Evening Court during the feasties, clever you. So how do we get out? And what exactly are we fetching, it sure as hell is not completely legal with all the trouble you’re going through. How long will it take? Does it require thievery of some sort or do we have a dealer? Do we need to arrange some equipment or perhaps a decoy? Do we need to kill people? Oh, and pray tell what happens after? Shall we run or hide or part? Under what code do we proceed when something goes awry and things start to blow up? And how should we deal with that marvelous security of a Court? You have given some thought to these things, right? And you are still completely sure this is best done during the feasties, hm?” Iver lift his gaze to Loïc for a short moment to see how that sunk in. Then the shirt, again.
“Raiding a fucking Court is not a job suited for amateurs. There’s bound to be a better time and a place for this.” This fucking shirt, what was that string supposed to do, how was it wrapped again? For fuck’s sake, he should just go shirtless.
“If you want to do this, it should be done right. I can’t help you if I don’t know what it is you need.”
A snippet to accompany dirtysensitive’s demon!AU of our side characters Lamonte and Yönsilmä (who have yet to appear in the main game, unfortunately).
Yönsilmä’s eventual fall has a theme if you’d like to listen to it. :D
-A.
---
Father Yönsilmä had stacked three books on the monastery’s library table, a single candle providing some light and making the golden, decorated anfangs glint in the dark. Their small library of holy and educational texts held old, painstakingly drawn books, some of them popular merely because their carefully illustrated content invigorated the imagination, rather than because of their literary merit. Pseudomonarchia Daemonum might have been one of those, but Yönsilmä hadn’t slept in two days and was growing frustrated in his search. The described demons were abominations, nothing like the man plaguing his sleep and services.
He turned a page, staring apathetically at yet another grotesque illustration of the agents in Satan’s dominion.
He concluded it to be a shapeshifter but there existed several of such type, and none of them had the abilities of this one. The man walked the holy ground without vaporizing, took part in the prayers and sermons and seemed to suffer no negative effects from holy objects such as the cross.
All things considered the man appeared more like an angel. Fallen from God’s grace, his smiles wicked instead of gentle, but carrying the traces of God’s glory still. And Yönsilmä, a mere human, looked upon him and desired with both body and soul.
“That is an option. It would also mean that my chances of survival here would decrease significantly, considering I’m still not the right species to take part in the Evening Court’s festivities. And I assure you-” Loïc was tired of this “-that on my dying breath I will rip out every last shred of your glamour with me and make you a powerless husk of a person.” Taking Koite’s glamour at the same time most likely, he didn’t know how separate they were.
He rose on his elbows, contemplating on sitting and clothing. A sheet and the drink from the side table should suffice for...
Don’t think. Later. It didn’t matter if this Iver thought he was easy, it didn’t matter anything could have happened from the sheer blind trust he had placed on a stranger’s indifferent fancy, it didn’t matter that sleeping with other fae might have cost him Koite, it didn’t matter he had no fucking idea what his blood and contract were doing right now. Later, later.
“I don’t have any delusions about my own worth, no worries, but I rather thought you might be interested in your own sanity. I have a third party in mind who might undo this, or at least know how it’s done.” They’d need Koite. “Not someone you’re probably thinking.” Loïc lifted his eyebrow, wondering on the vehement disagreement. Bad experiences with contracts?
Iver was a hard to get a reading off. He was too sincere for a charlatan, too unrefined for a Gentry, too capable of intimidation for a spoilt child on a look for an adventure, too rich for common folk. He was dangerous but showed restraint and...courtesy, if not moral, that most of his kin didn’t. The presence in his mind had been...unsure. Very different from calculating.
At that moment anyway.
“I gave you my reasons before.” Take a chance with him. ”I cannot go into details on that. Even though right now-” Loïc rose to a sitting, reached for the side table. ”-you deserve honesty.” What with you living metaphorically naked in my head.
Loïc found his trousers, put them on with stiff movements.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen but I will take the responsibility for it. Right now, however, fixing this isn’t possible.”
He’d need supplies. Garama should be around somewhere with his shop. Maybe he could get to...who was he kidding, they’d smell him out and catch him in a minute.
“No.” Third party, so to say, Lamonte. “No no no no no. Fuck, why.”
Iver twitched his hand free and pulled himself to a sitting posture, crossing his ankles.
Now what? How could he get to Egil like this? Fucking inconvenience. Iver had such a bright skill to attract troubles of all nature that he should just quit and make it into a profession. Well, hadn’t he seen this coming? Sure he had. He got only what was coming for him, time to face them consequences.
Iver turned to Anas- to Loïc. Seriously, that had come out of nowhere. Why would a human bother to fake his name in the Grove, and why start trusting Iver now? Because he gave his name first, because they slept together? That would make Loïc either a fool or a romantic, both equally bad. Friends and family… In which category did Iver fall, then? He’d prefer to be neither, just a meaningless passer-by and a nice little memory.
“And why should I care if you slip insane or not, you did this.” Yes, whine like an imprudent child, that will make the bad go away. Iver stroked his hair, it really was getting annoyingly long, and what was that? The fucking flower crown. Iver ripped it off and tossed it into a corner.
“Why, why are you doing this, hm? Using a sham identity and tricking people to share a contract with you – and poorly, to the tops! You must have some excessive reasons to make my life miserable. Don’t you try and tell me we are drowning deep in the shit just because you wanted to try it out with me. I recognize a schemer when I see one.” Iver started to nudge his trousers back on, and the belt, where had that slipped?
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