The Beast of Apathy Has The Flu | MysticCacao Sickfic
word count: 1,200 || content warnings: none
Thick steam fills the room like fog, sticky moisture clinging in droplets along skin and marble. The hot embrace of air curls around Mystic Flour like a taunting caress. She stares listlessly upon her dreaded punishment; a warm bath.
She has not the energy to adjust her towel straight as it drapes away from her chest. Her arms feel chained to her legs, heavy as though the wetness of the bathroom has sunk into them.
Dark Cacao grumbles before hastily fixing it for her, only for it to fall away once more. He turns to avoid facing her.
"There is no purpose," Mystic Flour says. "You will see me anyway."
"I know– I know." says Dark Cacao. "It is my duty. You're far too ill to help yourself."
"You burden yourself with fruitless labor," her eyes don't follow him as he turns the squeaking handle of the faucet closed.
He shifts to look at her. His expression sours when she doesn't move to the bathtub. "I suppose you're going to make me do everything, then?"
He waits for her reply, but it never comes. Taking that as conformation, he begins preparing her. He slides the tassels out of her hair, unties her bun and undos the clasp of her necklace. When there is nothing left to remove but the lazy cloth around her, he stands her up and closes his eyes. The towel pools at her feet, but the hot steam in the room prevents discomfort to her weary dough.
She feels burning at his touch, her body sore from days spent idle in bed. She allows him to carry her into hot, bubbling water. Her hair swims like snakes as it is submerged, ends splitting into tangled curls under the weight of the heat. She nearly slips under before he forces her upright, holding onto her shoulders before hesitantly letting her go once she's stable.
The dewey mist forces her eyes shut. She lets her head rest against the edge of the tub, cold iron sending pangs of shock through her aching skull. She moans, causing Dark Cacao to grumble in dissatisfaction. He kneels on the ground beside her and takes her hair in his hands. Cool, slimey fluid pours over her stringy white locks.
He massages the shampoo into her scalp, soapy water trickling down onto her face. When he pulls his hands back, they're covered in suds. He looks down at her, frail and thin. While it soaks into her hair, he squeezes more shampoo into his palm and rubs it over her body. It lathers on her shoulders, neck and chest, washing away the dirt from her neglect.
Mystic Flour opens her eyes to look up at him, piercing black irises stare unblinking at his face. He coughs, avoiding eye contact and half-assedly rinsing his hands in the bathwater. She slides against the back of the tub and submerges her hair once more, bubbles rising to the surface as water brushes each lock. The waters hot embrace stills around her as she sinks underneath. Her heartbeat drums in the back of her head, pulsing with each stab of her headache. It fills her ears deafeningly inside the wet silence of the now murkied water. She rises slowly, feeling the surface of the water break around her tender skin. Dark Cacao is waiting for her when she comes up and twists the length of her hair to fill it with conditioner.
He runs his fingers through its silky strings to thoroughly comb it in. At some point during her tired haze, she finds her head resting inside his hand. He lets her lean against him, keeping her propped up against his palm. He brushes her hair onto her shoulders and continues to scrub her with his free hand.
He sits down proper beside the tub to let her rest against his neck as the conditioner seeps in. She's kept sturdy by his arm wrapped firm around her shoulders.
Dark Cacao sighs as he stares down at her. Her brow is furrowed against his chest and her slicked hair drapes over the edge of the tub. It's quite strange, to see someone who once had you in such weakness now so frail and vulnerable, at mercy by your hand. Had he been here a few months ago, he'd surely take the opportunity to strike her down once and for all. She groans, pained, through grated teeth. He wonders for a moment if he's gone soft, lost his Resolution to a wicked beast once again. Maybe now, his perseverance lies not in the destruction of his enemy, but the destruction of her evil.
He wasn't sure he believed in the peace and love his fellow heros often liked to preach to him, no battle was ever won without a sword, but a part of him grew to understand after his reunion with his son. Does it lie in weakness, to not be able to resist the swell of warmth when you look at someone? To not put aside your affection or trust or faith in another for the good of cookie-kind? He still wasnt sure. There are things to do in the meantime while he figures it out.
Gently, he leans her back into the water, rinsing the product out of her hair and leaving it with a shiny finish. The tub drains in loud croaks, and not long after, the steam follows. With his arms under her shoulders, he helps her up and wraps her towel around her again. She's drenched, dripping soapy water over the floor. He doesn't mind. He lifts her under the knees and carries her to the guest bedroom in which she stays. Lucky for them, all the watchers are out guarding the citadel walls and doors; no one's around to see the ancient hero princess-carrying the beast of Apathy to her quarters.
The bitter cold of winter bites with sharp teeth, stealing the warmth right out of Mystic Flours dough. Snow and hail pitter-patter against the rooftop, echoing within the empty walls. Dark Cacao lays her in her bed and moves to retrieve her clothes. She stops him with a raise of her hand.
"You'll freeze," he warns. "You have to wear something."
"What pointless struggle..." she mumbles, pulling her towls further over her. "You exhaust yourself over trivial formalities."
"You're a nudist now. How new," he sighs, sitting her up and putting her towel aside. "I will dress you."
"..Your meaningless gestures have no affect on me."
"Perhaps, but the snow certainly will. If we all crumble anyway, wouldn't you rather do so in comfortable attire?"
"Do whatever you must."
After he dresses her, she curls up underneath the thick woolen blankets, insulated for harsh snowstorms like these. He sits beside her, watching the low rise and fall of her chest beneath the bedding. He knows despite her appearance, she won't be getting to sleep for a long time. He turns the lamp on the nightstand off and closes the door.
would anyone be interested in a cookie run kingdom/warrior cats au fic? it'd be mainly beast and ancient centered but would include other characters as well
:33< haii i just wanted to say ur account and art is so pretty.... i would say this on my proship blog but tumblr keeps SWITCHING IT TO MY MAIN BLOG because they want me dead 😭😭😭
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