down on the floor (and i don't know what i'm in for)
rating: t
words: 566
just a little jinshi POV drabble, set after he falls asleep in maomao's lap at the end of s2, because i can't be stopped, and i just had to get into this little freak's brain (affectionate).
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ✧・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Sprawled out on the hard floor of the Verdigris House, head resting in Maomao's lap, is the best sleep Jinshi's had in months. For once, he doesn't dream. Just floats through the darkness, lulled by the smell of bitter herbs and disinfectant. Her smell.
When he wakes, squinting in the late afternoon light, he's shocked to find that Maomao hasn't moved an inch. He turns his head in her lap.
"You're still here."
She looks down at him in that blank way he's so accustomed to. "You're heavy."
But there's a pleasant sensation at the crown of his head. Slim fingers carding through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. Jinshi smiles.
"No I'm not."
Maomao purses her lips, but her fingers don't stop. "If I tried to roll you off of me, you could've become injured. Think of what my punishment would be, harming the Moon Prince."
They haven't talked about it yet — what his title means. Who he really is, has been this whole time. Jinshi the Eunuch is dead. Does she even know his birth name?
Would she want to know?
Jinshi opens his mouth to say something, then promptly snaps it shut. Above him, Maomao frowns, a little divot appearing between her eyebrows. It takes all of his effort to stay still, to not reach up and smooth it away.
What a mess they're in.
Well, that he's in.
"Something's bothering you," Maomao says, her hand still raking through his hair. "Is it that I said you have a big head?"
That draws a laugh from him, and when her eyes crinkle in response, Jinshi could fly. It feels so nice to lie here with the woman he —
But it's not that simple. Never will be.
So he rises, feeling every joint protest as he pushes himself into a sitting position opposite Maomao. Her hand hovers where it was just in his hair.
He misses the feeling already.
"I've taken enough of your time, apothecary," Jinshi says smoothly.
She cocks her head like she's trying to decipher the truth behind a ghost story. "Have you?"
No. Never.
"For today," he settles on, flashing her a sparkling smile and standing. He towers over her like this, even more than usual. "I'll take my leave."
Jinshi sketches a bow, then turns to the door.
"Wait!" Maomao's voice rings through the room like a bell, stopping him in his tracks. When he turns back, she's on her feet — up on her toes, really — and pulling open a drawer high above her head. She pulls out a sachet of dried herbs.
"To help you sleep."
Jinshi takes the drawstring bag from her outstretched hand. "How do I know this isn't just poison?"
Maomao rolls her eyes. "If I were going to do that, it would have happened a while ago."
"Smart girl," Jinshi murmurs, delighting in the flush that creeps across her cheeks at his words. "Thank you."
She crosses her arms, nose wrinkled. "I should have rolled you onto the floor, and maybe stepped on you for good measure."
His laughter echos off the walls on the way out of the Verdigris House, herbs tucked safely into his robe. There's still much to discuss, and an entirely new set of challenges to face — but no matter what's shifted, one thing is still certain.
She's still his Maomao. And for now, that's more than enough.
Drabble: what if deer!gn!reader challenges Alastor to an antler duel?
This fic has..: Silly and fluff moments, nothing more.
A/n: reader doesn't have to be masc.. Just have antlers-
• you saddle on up to Al at the bar with a cheeky grin, which at first doesn't get his attention but tapping the wood next to him does.
• He doesn't mind it because it's your alternative to tapping him on his shoulder or something similar
• "Yknow how your antlers grow when agitated and stuff? Can you do that at will or is it connected to your heart rate and mood?" "I suppose.. I could, why?" He curiously looks at you through his glass.
• "welll.. Yknow how male deer fight over territory and stuff? With their antlers - and I'm not trying to challenge you for your territory or status, please stop glaring at me - what if we did that just to blow off steam?"
• he starts to disagree, not wanting to engage in instinctual inhibitions and what not - before you explain that since he's stuck in a stalemate with Lucifer, and verbally fighting each other seems like it's not doing anything to help why not try something different. Just once is all you're asking for.
• you get that one chance when Lucifer and Alastor have a particularly bad fight, Al leaves asking you to join him outside. Its quiet for a moment before he speaks, "about that challenge you mentioned, dear.."
• you light up like a Christmas tree, growing your antlers to fighting size as soon as you're sure he means it. "Yes! Yesyesyes!" He chuckles as you, getting ready in the middle of the hotel's courtyard.
• the two of you are a couple of paces away from each other, Al starts to go on about how this is a unfair fight for you since you're much smaller in his demon form, but you charge at him anyway.
• some of the hotel members come out to watch when they realize what's going on, cheering and egging you both on. Charlie comes at just the wrong time, you get flung into a bush after being too prideful by cheering on your crowd.
• she's about to start scolding Alastor when you pop out the bush, all giggles and pure adrenaline. "Oh my goodness! Are you alright, I am SO sorry!" You wave her wave off, telling her you're fine and you two were just rough housing, she goes blank until you explain to her the situation. "Oh.. I- Well, just don't get hurt?.."
• the next time this happens Alastor accidentally breaks off your antlers. He laughs his ass off while you scream in horror about your antlers still attached to Al's.
A/n: I kinda thought about this while writing my draft of another fix involving deer!reader.. This was very fun to write. :). Edit: fixed the blank word.. I forgot about that.
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Kanade cringes at the moniker, which doesn't sound any less scolding even in a tone as light as Mizuki's.
She folds her arms and her brows furrow inwards. "You cannot keep him."
"Mizuki!" Kanade splutters as forcefully as his uncomfortably weak speaking voice will allow, "You're-- the way you-- keep him!? He isn't a stray dog!"
Mizuki's judgemental fuchsia eyes flicker to the shadowed corner Mafuyu is brooding in. A low growl rumbles from the vicinity as a scowl crosses his already displeased countenance. "Who's gonna tell him that?"
The ivory knight feels himself crumple into a pitiful, scrunched expression almost on instinct. His brows knit together as he bores a pleading stare into Mizuki.
"Mizuki, it's my duty as a knight to help the needy. If I were to leave him, then..."
Then he wouldn't deserve that title. No, more than that, Kanade wouldn't deserve to live. But, having failed Mafuyu, having failed himself... wouldn't it be more fitting for him to be forced to live with his guilt?
The sheer reflection of the pain to come makes him shudder like a child shrinking away from the draft. "Please. I don't have a choice. I have to save him."
Mizuki's lips (always soft and glossy despite her gruelling schedule) pull into a thin line; not angry, more protective. "Kanade... he's like... turbo-cursed... what if it's contagious?"
"Ah... Mafuyu, is it contagious?" Kanade starts, hesitating a little, a hand come up to toy with his silky white hair out of habit. Mafuyu shakes his head and the slate-like sheets of his armour clang eerily as the movement makes them rattle against one-another. His glossy, black horns flash impossibly white in the moonlight.
"See?" Kanade chirps, "It isn't contagious."
Mizuki pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a displeased huff. "Someday this altruism crap is gonna get you killed, I'm telling you..."
Kanade might have deflated a little at the judgement were it not for the glowing fact that, from what it sounds like, Mizuki has changed her mind. She changed her mind!!
"Quit looking at me like that~!"
Kanade brings a hand up to ghost across his face. Each part of it: eyes, mouth, cheeks, are part of perhaps the widest most euphoric smile he has ever experienced.
It doesn't do justice to the sunny warmth of success, nor the gripping rush of confidence at having an ally, a real ally, who he can trust. And it certainly doesn't hold a candle to the sheer ecstasy of knowing that he has a fighting chance at breaking the curse, at saving Mafuyu.
He whips his head around to face him, in the hopes that the dragon may share in his joy. Still, Mafuyu's expression is unchanged, all stony disinterest.
And yet, something in his eyes... those enthralling pools of oil-slick blue and syrupy violet... emulates light.
"Thank... you..." he supplants, voice still a little hoarse. His gaze fixes itself to the cobble of the ground.
"Wowie... he's so polite!" Mizuki cheers through gritted teeth. Kanade means to shoot her a dirty look, but he can tell from the way his brows feel on his face that he looks more like an abandoned puppy than an intimidating wolfdog.
a lil ko-fi drabble for @comfymoth of their ocs + hurt/comfort + monsters. this goes out to my fellow quinn-leon fans <3 (requests for doodles & drabbles are open if you're interested).
-
The cuts on her leg aren’t that deep, but the way Leon’s been fretting over them with antiseptic, cursing, and gauze, you’d think Quinn’s lost a whole damn limb.
“You’ve used an entire tube of Neosporin,” she tells him, wiggling her toes in his face to get his attention. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”
She’s not really sure Neosporin is much use against whatever freaky bacteria lives on monster claws, but still.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at her, just keeps fussing at it, dabbing here, smoothing there, his shoulders and the tense line of his neck all she has to go off of.
“Leon,” Quinn tries. “Hey, it’s not that bad. It doesn’t even hurt, honest.”
“What if it is?” he asks, looking up at her at last. His eyes are red with unshed tears. His fingers are white and trembling around her ankle.
“Leon—“
“We don’t know what the fuck that thing was,” he says, and it sounds like he’s trying for angry, but mostly he just sounds scared. “What if— I mean, it looked like—“
She waits.
Leon takes a deep and shuddering breath. In a very small voice, he says, “What if you…what if something happens to you? What if you turn— into something?”
“Like a monster?” she asks, unimpressed, and Leon looks away, caught somewhere between embarrassed and sincerely worried. It’s sweet. “That’d be pretty sick.”
“Quinn!”
She gently tugs her foot from his grasp and prods at his chest until he looks at her. Once he finally meets her eyes, she says, “First, you’ve watched every werewolf movie ever made. If I turned into one, you’d handle it. Second, you can’t tell me you don’t think having a werewolf for a best friend doesn’t sound awesome.”
(He snorts at this, though it still sounds shaky.)
“Third,” Quinn continues, blowing a weft of hair from her eyes, “it clawed me, dude, not bit. Who ever heard of claws turning you into a werewolf?” When he opens his mouth, she adds, “Teen Wolf doesn’t count and you know it. And fourth, you know what?”
He’s properly smiling now, small as it is, and rolling his eyes as he asks, “What?”
“If I were a monster, I’d be your monster, and I think that sounds all right to me. Okay?”
Leon shakes his head as he reaches for the roll of gauze beside them on the bathroom tile, but he’s still smiling as he says, “Yeah, Quinn. Okay.”
John: (hisses) "Babe, come on, it's not that serious."
Brian: "It is to me."
John: "I'm fine. Really. You've seen me worse than this, haven't you?"
Brian: "Not really. You tend to hide like a cat after your matches."
John: "Tch. It's just a couple of bruises, and like two cuts. I'm not concussed either."
Brian: "Yeah? What day is it and when is your birthday?"
John: "It's Sunday and it's on May 3rd."
Brian: "Okay."
(John mutters under his breath, "I'm not a little kid.")
Brian: "Listen, I'm just worried about you, okay? Besides, I gotta put this nurse school stuff into practical use. Even if I have to start on you."
"I have a feeling I'm gonna be doing this a lot."
John: "Not if I go for the knockout first."
Brian: "Well, I suggest you don't, because you being aggressive out the gate like that opens you up to everything."
John: (scoffs) "That's the same thing my uncle Eli says."
Brian: "You can bear to listen to him. He probably tells you you're head strong and stubborn too, huh?"
John: "He says it's a Ramirez thing; that's just how we are and it serves us well."
(Brian hums as he turns John's head.) "Goodness. I didn't think it was even possible to cut someone with an elbow until I saw you fight."
John: "Yeah. If you hit the face just right, you'll get split wide open. That stops the fight and if you can't stop the blood, that's a TKO. I was lucky that I stepped out the way I did or else it would've been real nasty. Scar nasty."
Brian: "Alright champ, riddle me this -- why didn't the ring doctor stitch this up?"
John: "It wasn't that deep for it; they told me to wash it and keep an eye out for any changes. Same with my knuckles."
Brian: "Uh-huh. You weren't trying to act tough, were you? I know given your looks, you wanted a little badge of honor to show off, so you declined. Am I in the ballpark?"
(John averts his gaze.) "...maybe."
(Brian lets go with a soft laugh.) "You dork. Johnny, you don't need to prove how tough you are. I mean, you do, but you don't. Not out here. That cut is a bit too deep for my liking but all we have is what's on the table."
"It might sting a little. Are you gonna behave?"
John: "I'm sittin' here with my hands folded in my lap. Of course I will; do what you need to do."
(Brian hums tunelessly as he cleans John's face before applying a dab of ointment to a cotton swab.) "Hold still."
(He does not, bouncing his leg.)
(John sucks air between his teeth as the swab meets his brow.)
Brian: "Sorry, sorry..."
John: "It's fine. I'm just being a baby about it..."
Brian: "John--"
John: "I know, I know, I don't need to act tough."
Brian: "Not for me."
(John sighs. No, I have to, he doesn't say. I want to.) "Babe?"
Brian: "Hmm~?"
(John rubs a finger across his raw knuckles. Strange that they don't really hurt.) "I... I want you to know that I appreciate you doing this. Looking me over even if I look fine. Your hands are soft and careful. It..."
(Heat spreads across his face.) "It makes me feel loved."
"Honestly, this is the part I look forward to, even more than the fight itself. Win or lose, I know that I have someone to come back to. You make me want to fight harder and be a better person. Thank you."
"I don't tell you this enough and I should -- I love you, Brian. I love you so much, it... hurts a little."
(John's word stuns Brian into stopping.) "I love you too, Johnny, but don't hurt yourself on my account!"
John: "Okay, okay, I went overboard on that... but it's true."
(John smiles at his nickname. He knows deep down that he'll hear more of that in the future.)
(Brian finishes up, placing a thin band-aid over the cleansed cut.) "Let me do one more thing."
(He leans over to kiss John on his forehead and lingers there.)
Brian: "There. All better. How do you feel?"
John: "Like a million dollars. And thirty-five cents."
"Thank you, babe."
Brian: "No problem. Now I have a favor to ask of you."
John: "What's that?"
Brian: "Work on your defense, please."
(John laughs.) "Okay, okay. I will. Just for you."
For the @sterekdrabbles prompt: Fish, History, Soak.
"I'll go ahead and say it, I'm very disappointed in both of you."
Stiles stands between his dad and Derek, looking from one to the other with a slow shake of his head. Derek is soaked, dripping lake water all over the deck of their rented cabin while the Sheriff does his best to avoid eye contact.
Derek breaks first, sullen beneath his floppy fishing hat. "You're the one forcing us to 'bond'. Did you really think, given our history, your dad wouldn't jump at the chance to drown me?"
"For Christ's sake, Hale, you fell passing me the rod."
Written completely on mobile so pardon any errors. No one is dead I promise. Everybody leaves one day 💔
Read on Ao3 or below the cut
"What do mean you're leaving?"
Phantom's lip is quivering, tears filling their big, sad eyes. Swiss sighs and pulls them closer against his chest.
"'M sorry buggy, but Frater needs help at the Ministry."
"But, but he has so many ghouls, why does he need you?"
The only way Swiss could describe Phantom right now is in anguish, the way sobs wrack their little chest, thin fingers twisting into his shirt as they bury their face in his neck.
Swiss soothes them as best as he can, large hands warm across their back.
"Doesn't Frater know the band needs you?"
Phantom sounds muffled, clinging to Swiss with all of their might.
"He knows bug, he knows. But the Ministry needs me right now."
Phantom sits back, something like anger and heartbreak flashing in their mismatched eyes.
"Well what about me, huh?"
Before Swiss can respond, they're breaking down again, words barely passing through their chapped lips, a heartbroken whisper.
"What about me, Swiss? I need you."
The way they say it, it breaks something in Swiss, too. There's nothing he can say, they both know that. And in that moment, the only thing Swiss can do is wrap his arms tighter around Phantom's shaking form, and let them cry.
When Phantom's breaths finally stop heaving, Swiss tilts their chin up and gives them a gentle kiss.
"The new guy needs you -"
"What if I hate the new guy."
"You don't mean that, bug." Swiss fixes Phantom with as stern a look he can manage. Phantom sighs, of course they don't hate the new guy. Just the circumstances.
"D'ya know when," they murmur, hoping that maybe tomorrow they'll wake up and this whole thing will have been a nightmare.
Swiss shakes his head no, runs his thumb over Phantom's bony side. Another huff from Phantom, and they snuggle against Swiss more tightly.
"Don't let go, okay?"
"Never will."
They fall asleep like that, clinging to each other like love could stop the wheels of time.
When Phantom wakes, their arms are as empty as their heart, a deep ache settling into their bones. Swiss's favorite guitar pick is pressed into the palm of their hand, and Phantom can't help but cry all over again.
-
The ride to sound check is quiet.
Dewdrop’s foot is broken. Mountain's fist hasn't unclenched despite Cirrus' best attempts at providing comfort. Solaris doesn't know what to say, just leans her head on Aurora's shoulder, who looks as lost as Phantom feels. And Rain? Rain looks like he hasn't slept in fifteen years, exhaustion heavy in the bags of fluid that have built up under his eyes.
Perpetua took his own van ahead of the group, still new himself and wanting to go early to check his monitors before the band arrives.
When the van pulls up Rain gets out first, helping Dew hobble out next. The van slowly empties after them, leaving Phantom scrunched in the back corner.
"Phant?" Cirrus sticks her head in, eyes gentle as she takes in the little ghoul in the back seat. "You coming?"
"Yeah, " they sniffle, "jus' needed a minute."
"I understand," she says, smiling softly.
And Phantom realizes that yes, out of everyone in the pack, Cirrus does understand the most.
"How are you handling it?"
She chuckles. "Well, it kind of is my fault she had to stay home anyways."
Cirrus reaches out for Phantom and they gently take her hand, climbing out of the van.
"But," she continues, nudging them gently with her hip, "I wish she was here more than anything. It helps to know she's watching, back home. I want to put on the best show I can for her, who cares what the humans think."
Phantom hums, thinking it over. "Do you think Swiss will watch too?"
"I'm certain of it."
They spend the rest of the walk in silence, hand warm in Cirrus's. It's a little less overwhelming with her by their side, and they know if they tug on the pack link it might take some time, but Swiss will be there.
When they make it onto the stage the rig seems wrong, the empty platform with its untouched microphone stand and tambourine feels too tall, taking up all the extra space in Phantom’s mind. Cirrus pats them on the back and heads toward her keys. Phantom shuffles past Mountain and stands in front of the platform, looking up and lost.
It feels like it's looming, an impassable fortress that Swiss alone brought down to earth. Phantom remembers all the kisses, the hugs, the head pats. Their toe hits the tuner they clipped to the front, sparkly purple bat stickers glinting under the lights - a gift from Swiss after they finished their first ritual despite Aether’s guitar being too heavy, the helmet too big.
Phantom then peeks to the side of the platform and spots an empty stand, the pick growing hot in their pocket. They turn with fire blazing in their eyes, pointing an angry finger at Papa Perpetua.
"What did you do with Mabel?"
Their voice is gritty, laced with a quintessence crackle fueled by anger and sadness and grief. Perpetua, for his part, is extremely confused. He's in the middle of adjusting the settings on his earpiece and mic, unable to hear well. He feels Phantom more than he hears them, turning to come chest to chest with the boiling ghoul.
"Mabel. Where is she? You got rid of Swiss and now you're getting rid of her, too?"
Perpetua blinks at them, eyes wide with confusion.
"Frater needed the Swiss, who is the Mabel?"
Phantom feels their throat tighten, grip on their glamour slipping. Claws are beginning to peek through their fingertips, a tail starting to form in their shadow.
"Mabel," they shout unhelpfully, gesturing towards the platform. "His Mabel. I swear if you did anything to hurt her -"
Papa backs away from Phantom, hands raised in surrender. He's not yet bonded with the ghouls, and the way Phantom's fangs are starting to slip is leaving him with several feelings, but most of them are fear.
Phantom stalks forward, drawing attention from the other band members who quickly rise and ready themselves to intervene. That is, of course, until Rain's sharp voice echoes across the stage.
"Phantom, stop."
Phantom whips around full snarl to find Dew cradling Mabel, Swiss's acoustic guitar, gently in his arms.
"Sorry bug," he explains, limping closer with Rain's help. "Tech said one of the strings was about to blow, and I didn't want him touching it. Swapped and tuned for you."
"Dew, I -"
"Don't worry about it," Dew shrugs. "But maybe take it easy on the new guy."
Phantom looks over their shoulder at Papa, cheeks heating as realization set in.
"You gonna play it?" Rain asks, head tilted just to the side.
"Think so. I can handle some of the parts, and still do and bit of pedal work for limp biscuit over there."
Dew scoffs and tries to shuffle away, stopped by Rain's firm hand at his waist.
"Swiss would be proud, you know."
Phantom takes a deep breath and looks down at the acoustic guitar in their hands, gently thumbs at her strings.
"Gonna make sure he is," they promise, face steeling with resolution. "It'll be the best damn show anyone's ever seen."
cade tilted their head up to look at nyx, in the irreversible beginning stages of a cosmic bargain, and his eyes told them all they needed to know: that he was sorry, that he had fucked up, that he has to do this. his blue eyes, once bright like the summer sky, had taken on the color of a blue so wild and yet so cold that showed the fire that had burned him from within.
some hollow promise leaves nyx and libertus upholds his childish optimism, but cade knows from the unwavering stare that nyx is giving them that he won't be able to keep that promise, and for a moment they do hate him. because after everything he had done for the glaives and his dead sister and everything now, he was acting upon a selfish impulse tied into that thin thread that he openly shared with them. because they felt that tug of selfishness sometimes, too.
and he knows it.
the oracle, in all of her youthful light and dirtied clothes, takes the ring from nyx and gives her own vow to see the power of kings to the crown prince.
cade feels their head pounding. their heart pounding. their arms and legs are tired - so tired - from fighting the way they did alongside the other members of the kingsglaive. to save insomnia. save themselves. maybe somewhere someone had a vendetta to exact and cade couldn't exactly blame them for it.
standing in front of them, still in the breeze carrying the smells of wreckage and ash and stone is, still cool as ever, the man that they had thought they would spend the rest of their life with. perhaps that was a childish fancy, a need to be wanted and be happy, because the only thing they knew of family was a years-aged warrior and not the parents who had traded them for safety. not that they had ever told nyx as much. they weren't sure he felt the same.
maybe the pull to be the world's savior at the expense of himself was too strong, too overwhelming that the idea of living a normal life ever again scared him. they had hoped that somewhere along the line of their shared secrets and hungry kisses, dancing around the subject for years to chase away the idea from the mind of others that they had something they both wanted to protect.
to love.
maybe love was nyx's weakness. astrals above knew it was cade's. but where nyx had ran headfirst into danger to protect those around him without a second thought, cade felt the guilt wracking their body that they would never have been so selfish as he was now.
somehow, that made them yearn to have him even more than the cocky smiles, the lean curve of his body, the beauty of his selfless nature.
selfless, he was selfless.
cade was selfish. they were being so selfish.
in the nothing that stood in place of the ruins of point d in insomnia, with the weight of the world in all of their hands, cade wanted to tell him that they loved him before he had a chance to fade away with the power of kings. they wanted to have been able to stop him themself the second they'd jumped off of the motorbike that had sputtered carrying them there. they wanted to be able to grab him and rip him out of the chains of fate that he'd bound himself in.
they wanted him to come home.
nyx smelled of singed flesh and brick and the burning aetherial scent of magic, of ozonic ember from the lightning magic he'd used on general glauca, when he reached his hand out to cade. it was his right hand, the one untouched by astral fire, that they found themself taking in their own ashen one.
there is a moment where the world seems to stop around them, and cade can feel the pressure of tears choking them, but they bite it back and take a deep, shuddering breath to calm themself.
not once did they tear their mismatched gaze away from nyx's wild eyes.
nyx is the one to close the space between the two of them, cutting the line of sight from luna to libertus and back again, like he didn't care who was watching when he limped his way into a desperate kiss that had him pressing his body into cade’s, who struggled to meet him with how short they were in comparison. he gripped their body, pulled them closer, with his hand where the curve of their spine met the ridges of their ribcage and dug into the muscle that tensed under his touch. cade couldn't help but reach their now-free hand to cradle the sides of his shaved head, the sting of a grown out undercut under their fingertips.
the kiss lingered, until they slowly started to drift apart like magnets on the same polar field. nyx pressed his forehead against cade’s, their noses touching in a way that was almost uncomfortable but neither of them cared. all that mattered to them was sharing a few breaths. just for a moment.
through half-lidded stares, the two of them wanted to be the only ones left alive. cade needed to burn nyx's face in their memory. they needed to remember the delicate tattoos above his eyebrow, on the peak of his cheekbone, the shade of a beard like sandpaper that peppered his jaw.
when they pulled apart, they came to an understanding without having said a word in the short time that had passed between them. cade had gone from feeling a sick hatred, a jealousy, to remembering the man that they fell in love with. despite his recklessness, despite his tendency to challenge authority placing him on traffic duties, despite being full of himself at the best of times and utterly serious at the worst. he was dynamic, fluid, untamed, and yet all he wanted to do was see people live freely. to smile.
to love.
cade understood him, but it didn't make his choice hurt any less.
they also knew that if they didn't get out of insomnia now, there wouldn't be a reason for him to make that choice. no matter how much they would rather stay with him until the end, he wouldn't let them do that, and so they finally - painfully - pull their hands away from his face.
libertus's voice rung in their ears, but they couldn't understand what he was saying. the oracle laid a soft hand on cade's shoulder while they watched nyx take his final jagged steps back over to finish what he had started with general glauca.
and with a final, sharp inhale, they too turned away and made to leave from the crown jewel of the kingdom of lucis before the night could get any worse. cade heard the stomping steps and clack of a crutch from libertus to one side, and the hurried click of the oracle's high heels against the cobblestone on the other as they both followed them to the car that would take them past the walls of the city.
all that was left was the race down the highway to a perceived safety beyond. and if not safety, then maybe hope would rise with the sun.
