Title: Of Mushrooms and Magma
Tony Stark Flash Bingo: 020 - Adopted : Ivan Vanko/Whiplash
Fairytale Bingo: Elementals
Contributors: @tisfan @27dragons
Pairing: Bucky X Tony
Rating: Teen
Tags: Magical AU, Magician Tony, Dark Elf Bucky, genre appropriate racial tensions, minor injuries
Summary: When magical artificer Tony Stark falls down a hole and breaks his leg, he doesn't really intend to come to the attention of the dark elves who live there. But when brother and sister, Bucky and Natasha, take him in and heal his injuries, Tony has to question everything he thought he knew about the drow. Word Count: 4230
Chapter Two: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166247/chapters/63697228#workskin
@soartfullydone asked: Me/Drow!Megatron - "You're so curiously silent now."
“Well, then, Starscream, if you are so sure of the Spider Queen’s wishes, you may be the one to present our new pet to her.”
It was the only thing that had haunted her every waking moment since she had been brought into this hellish subterranean city. Melody had seen many horrors since she had ventured into the bowels of the Underdark—Mind Flayers devouring the brains of their helpless victims, captives far less fortunate than herself strung up for the entertainment of her sadistic hosts, blood feuds carried out for all to see in the middle of the throne room, their lord presiding over the death match as if it were a card game at a local tavern—but it was those words, said with all of the malice and sick pleasure of a man fully aware of the repercussions that would follow, that kept her awake in her cell, dreading the moment she was fetched for this inevitable meeting with their dark goddess.
Perhaps that’s why, when Starscream forced her to her knees before that familiar, obsidian throne, she did not bother to resist, her limbs strangely numb as she kept her gaze on the dark, stone floor before her, hardly daring to lift her head to meet those deep crimson eyes that watched her so very intently.
“You’re so curiously silent now,” the thunderous voice of Lord Megatron broke the hollow, eerie silence, his Second flinching where he knelt at her side. “And here I thought you would be only too eager to bargain for your life before we present you to our Dark Queen.”
Starscream stiffened to her right, apparently just as terrified as she was for whatever this meeting may entail. “Lord Megatron, I mean no disrespect, but—”
“Silence,” Megatron snarled, cutting off his Second without hesitation, cowing the Drow at her side with ease. “Your pleas for mercy are as familiar to me as the winding corridors of my keep.” She didn’t have to look up to know he was grinning, his blood-red stare settling on her once again. “I have yet to hear such sweet utterings from our newfound pet.”
Melody clenched her jaw, her teeth aching with the pressure as she dared to lift her head, her bright blue eyes instantly meeting the sinister, unearthly glow of her captor’s gaze. The faint, violet glow of the faerie fire did little to illuminate the Drow lord beyond a vague silhouette, the sharp angle of his jaw the only discernible detail in the dim.
And yet that did nothing to smother the simmering rage sparking to life in her gut, that vile grin fanning the flames that she had thought sputtered and died in her cell beneath the keep.
“If you wanted to hear someone beg, my lord,” she ground out, “you may want to make sure your next raiding party snatches you a dog or two.”
“You ungrateful wretch!” Starscream’s panicked, shrill voice pierced the air like a banshee’s shriek, grabbing a fistful of her hair before wrenching her head back, exposing the sensitive, vulnerable flesh of her throat.
But he grew still as Megatron pushed himself to his feet, his hulking form casting a near imperceptible shadow over the Second’s slighter frame.
“Now, now, Starscream.” Megatron strode forward, the onyx blade at his side clanking loudly against the ebony armor adorning him. “The surface dweller seems to have found her tongue. I would be remiss to not hear what could very well be her final words amongst the living.”
Melody stiffened as the Drow lord drew nearer, his black armor seeming to devour what little light flickered in his receiving chamber. She was only vaguely aware of Starscream’s grip vanishing from the back of her head, the lingering pain just enough to keep her focused, to keep her panicked heart from plummeting to the bowels of her stomach as Megatron came to a stop just before her kneeling form—and drew his blade.
She swallowed hard against her too dry throat, her tongue feeling like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth.
“Now, then, human,” the Drow lord purred, his voice deceptively sensual as he brought the tip of his blade up to rest beneath her chin, ensuring her gaze did not leave his own. “I believe you were saying something about begging?”
“I thought I was to meet your goddess soon, my lord.” Melody cautiously wet her lips, unable to resist chancing a glance or two down at the blade, the steel itself somehow just as black as the walls that surrounded them. “Can’t do that without a head, I’m afraid.”
He chuckled, a dark, carnal sound that left her feeling frighteningly cold. “A head, no. But your tongue?” He lifted the blade slightly so its sharpened edge rested at the corner of her mouth, only just barely touching the soft, sensitive flesh. “We have presented more than one mute to her, surface dweller. She was more than pleased with them. They scream just as well in the end.”
Melody swallowed again, hardly daring to move, to breathe. Somewhere to her right, she could just barely make out Starscream, his bright, red eyes wide with hardly suppressed panic. She still wasn’t sure what he hoped to get from her, what use she could possibly have to the Second, but whatever it was, it left him deathly afraid of her seemingly impending doom.
That thought alone was enough to make her dangerously curious.
“They may scream just fine,” Melody said, her voice somehow remaining steady and sure despite the sword resting at the edge of her mouth, “but without a tongue, how can I possibly tell her of all of the riches that await her on the surface? Surely she’d find great use in an opportunity to bring the surface elves to their knees?”
A tense moment passed, and for the briefest heartbeat, she thought the Drow lord would throw caution to the wind and sever her head from her body after all, but then his rumbling laughter reached her ears once more, and his fanged smile pierced the dim as he lowered his blade. “Well, well, surface dweller, it seems you have found yet another way to prolong your pitiful life.”
The Underdark is where nightmares are born and bred. You had heard the stories, you listened to their warnings, but still you went. You had to know for yourself. You thought the goblins would be your undoing, or the Duergar, or the fearsome Mind Flayers. But it was the Drow that found you, and it was the Drow that grinned as they dragged you to their leader, bright red eyes glowing in the pitch black of the Underdark's caverns. (cont.)
(cont.) "You'd best hope lord Megatron is in a charitable mood," one said, his hand like a cold vice at the back of your neck as he kept you on your knees, your eyes trained on the floor, "Surface dwellers rarely last past the throne room."
Something was off, but for the life of him, Chrollo couldn’t figure out what it was.
For the third time since that morning, Silva pulled out the map and held it close to his chest, reading it as he walked. Every so often he would glance up at the sun and reorient them, taking them due south and deeper into the humid, arid forest. Chrollo fanned himself with his hand, recalling all too well how disgusting it had felt traveling through a similar heat when he first had left the Underdark. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the town from before. A cold mug of mead sounded like a dream right now, one he would pay any sum to enjoy.
“As much as I adore putting my faith in your navigation skills,” Chrollo said, breaking the silence that had been following them doggedly for the past ten miles, “I think that avoiding weather like this would probably be better than diving head first into it.”
Silva peered over the top of the map, glaring at him without much heat. When surrounded by the wet, sticky air, there was no heat left to sting as much as the weather already did. “I know what I’m doing,” he grunted, going back to whatever it was he thought he was accomplishing behind there.
“Sure, if you say so,” Chrollo grumbled, shifting his folded cloak to the other arm, a thin layer of sweat sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I know what you’re doing. Why don’t you let me lead for a bit? Let’s go back north. This heat is awful.” If the humidity got any thicker, it would be like drowning with every breath he took.
“Suck it up and deal with it,” Silva grunted, in no mood to play it seemed. “I know where we’re going.”
“And where is that?” Chrollo snapped a little, his own patience evaporating like the sweat on his dark skin. Gods, but it was hot. Did he feel it worse than Silva, or did Silva just handle it better? There wasn’t an ounce of shade along the path they traveled, the only spot of cover in sight some far off forest that looked just as stifling with the thick heat mirage rippling along the stretch of space between them. Could there really be a town out here? How did they survive with it so oppressively hot?
“Where we need to be, brat, so stop harping on it.” Silva folded up the map with an annoyed air, shoving it deep into his pack without another word. He held a hand over his eyes and looked off towards the forest, orienting them towards it silently. Chrollo sighed and glared at him, but if he felt it, he didn’t make it known.
“You’re being such an ass today,” he mumbled, shifting his cloak again into the other arm, regretting not keeping enough space open in his pack to let him shove it in there so he wouldn’t have to carry it. “You’ve been an ass since we left that other village. Did you forget your manners back there? Maybe we should double back to get them.” Before he got fed up enough with Silva to stab him, he added silently with a glare hot enough to make Silva turn.
For a moment, it looked like Silva might snap back at him. Instead, he took in a deep breath and looked back ahead, letting it out with a low sigh. “Just keep moving,” he muttered, shifting his back higher, his own fur-lined mantle tucked under his strap to hang from the bag. The glint of his axe in the sunlight was nearly blinding. “It’s too hot to argue and we need to get into the forest before we run out of water.”
Chrollo groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wasn’t used to this sort of heat at all. The Underdark was nearly frigid, any light that shined down there created through artificial means. The sun baked him from above, his dark hair holding the heat like a stone. How surface-dwellers put up with it, he would never know.
But, in the end, Silva was right. Once Chrollo stopped complaining, he found that the walk did go faster. The sun rose and then began to list to the west, its overbearing heat easing slightly as it lost its apex. Chrollo was completely soaked in sweat when they finally ducked into the trees, the shade granting some relief, but not much. The humidity was even more thick here, sticky and heavy and just barely preferable to what it had been before.
“Great Gods far below,” Chrollo swore, leaning heavily against a tree. “I fucking hate this. I hate this place so much.”
“Whining won’t make it better,” Silva said, his own breathing labored, his long hair bundled up in a messy bun on the top of his head. His pale skin was flushed red, his simple shirt soaked through with sweat. He pulled the axe off his shoulder and carried it in his hands as he pressed on, forcing Chrollo to keep moving.
“It’ll make me feel better,” Chrollo gasped, stumbling behind him weakly. “Can we please, for the love of all that resides beneath our feet, make camp soon?”
“There’s still daylight to burn,” Silva tried to say, but Chrollo just shoved forward and blocked the man’s path, chest heaving as he tried to breath in the air that stuck in his throat.
“If we don’t stop soon, I am going to pass out,” he said, stumbling a little in his search for another tree to lean against. “Seriously, Silva. I don’t think I can keep up this pace with it so hot.”
Silva let out an annoyed growl, but it seemed he was too worn out himself to bother arguing. He let out a breath and nodded, looking around at the wilderness surrounding them. “Let’s at least get deeper in,” he sighed, taking Chrollo by the arm to get him moving. “We need to find a clearing so we can make a fire.”
Chrollo pulled a face, his vision swimming a bit. “A fire? In this heat?” He was cringing at the thought alone.
“You want to eat tonight? It’ll help keep animals away, too. Always make a fire, brat. Even in heat like this,” Silva lectured, dragging Chrollo through a thick bunch of vines to deposit them into the first clearish space they had seen yet. Chrollo didn’t bother to yank himself free of Silva’s hand. He just shucked off his pack and crumpled to his knees, letting Silva hold onto his arm as he finally rested.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he groaned, his hand falling down beside him on the ground when Silva dropped it. “You go do that. I’m gonna. Breathe. For a bit.” Try to, at least. Gods, it was so hard to breathe here. He heard more than saw Silva walk off to gather wood. There was plenty around them so he wouldn’t have to go far, luckily. The clearing was strewn with all sorts of loose branches and the like, some dried while others looked soaked through with the moisture afflicting everything in the forest’s embrace. Chrollo closed his eyes and caught his breath. With the sun off him and the hike over, he could begin to cool down a little.
He opened them back up when he heard a soft sort of clatter, turning a bit to watch Silva deposit an armful of small branches into a pile. He knelt down with a handful of moss and set himself to stacking it all together, building up the fire the way he always did when they made camp. A lot of skill went into the movements. Silva had been doing this for decades. It showed.
Silva edged away from him the moment Chrollo tried to sit beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to spite Silva. “Not feeling like talking to me now? I just wanted to watch you work.”
“It’s too hot to have you clinging to me, brat. Go drink some water and leave me be,” Silva said a little harshly, a flood of sparks rising off the flint and steel to fall on the tinder bundle tucked inside the dried sticks. A few caught and Silva leaned down to blow gently on it, coaxing it into a small fire within a minute or two. There was a lot more smoke than there usually was, probably from all the moisture in the wood.
As weary as he was from the day’s travel, Chrollo figured he knew the way to alleviate whatever it was bothering Silva. He moved closer to Silva despite his admonishments, draping himself against the man’s solid, muscled shoulder. “I know a better way to deal with the heat,” he whispered, kissing Silva’s cheek, running his hand down Silva’s arm to rest over his hand. “Why don’t we sweat it out together?”
Silva stilled, his breath catching in his throat. Chrollo smiled and moved his lips to Silva’s ear, teasing him with a soft gasp. “You’ve been so tense today,” he breathed, lacing their fingers together, bringing Silva’s hand to settle on his thigh. “So on edge. Do you want me to help? Let me make you feel better.”
Cool blue eyes took him in, a shiver running down Chrollo’s spine. Silva stared at his lips, and then lower, following the line of Chrollo’s neck down to his clavicles. “It’s…” His eyes closed, his jaw tightening. He pulled away from Chrollo and stood up, leaving him on the ground by the fire. “No. I’m going to go bathe. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Chrollo blinked, staring up at the hunter in disbelief. “Oh, well,” he murmured, beginning to lift himself off the ground. “I’ll come with you.” It was so hot here. A dip in a river would be heaven.
“No you won’t,” Silva grunted, looking off into the trees. “Stay here. Finish making the camp up. I don’t need you hanging on me as I wash.” He turned and began to move towards the tree line. “It’s hot enough right now as it is.”
It stung more than it should have. Chrollo crossed his arms and sat back down, glaring at Silva’s shoulders as he walked off into the woods. What was that all about? “Fine then!” he shouted at his retreating back. “Don’t drown yourself!”
Silva didn’t even react, and within a few seconds, he disappeared entirely, vanishing amongst the thick foliage and hanging branches. Chrollo sighed and kicked at a log half in the fire, watching the sparks rise up in a wave nearly as angry as he was. What on earth was going on with him? Chrollo had been around plenty of men, but in his experience they tended to sweeten their disposition after getting off as much as Silva had.
“His loss, then,” he muttered to himself, glaring into the crackling fire. If he didn’t want to touch Chrollo, then he didn’t have to. It would have been nice to have been rejected in a kinder way, but Silva had always been a rough brute of a man, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.
Rubbing at his eyes, Chrollo told himself to stop thinking about it. It didn’t matter. Not really. Silva was probably just irritated from all the walking and the humidity. There was no point in taking it personally.
Chrollo sighed. Logically, he knew that, but it was still hard not to be upset. Things had been going well, hadn’t they? What a mess this had turned into. He really hoped it was just the weather. He really hoped the irritability would pass like a bad storm. Maybe it would once they got out of this forest.
But that begged the question of where they even were right now. Chrollo rolled onto his knees and looked for Silva’s bag, spotting it off against a far tree. He moved towards it, digging into the bag for the map he knew to be inside. Silva had been so cagey about where they were heading. Any attempts to pick the next destination had been met with staunch refusal to Chrollo’s utter chagrin. If Silva thought he could bogart the map, though, he had another thing coming.
Clothes, whetstones, some dried jerky– Chrollo rooted through it all, snagging a piece of jerky to chew as he searched for what he knew had to be inside. Gods, Silva was a slob. Nothing was organized in here. The clothes were all wrinkled, the weapons strewn about in a manner that Chrollo figured had to be dangerous. It was only after a few minutes of constant digging that his fingers brushed crisp parchment tucked inside a side pocket. Smiling victoriously around his mouthful, Chrollo swallowed and yanked it free, setting it in his lap.
His smile morphed into a confused frown a moment later when he realized he had grabbed two pieces of parchment, not just one. The one on top, the thicker of the two, opened up to reveal the map. Chrollo glanced at it, tracing his fingertip along the route they had taken thus far. They had been walking for a couple days since the last village, their progress directed towards the south. Traveling at Silva’s side had given him a rough estimate of distance and walking speed, and with a bit of quick addition, he gathered they were somewhere within the Berserian Forest.
Chrollo bit his lip, his finger traveling a little lower over an x that marked what he knew to be an entrance to the Underdark. That x… that hadn’t been there before, had it? Chrollo would have noticed it when he had stolen the map, wouldn’t he? He drew the map closer to his face, the evening far from too dark for him to see through. A cursory sniff told him the ink was fresh. Much fresher than the rest around it.
Running his fingers through his hair, Chrollo tried to keep the inevitable thoughts at bay. It was just a coincidence, right? Silva had probably just marked the Underdark entrance to make sure they steered clear of it. They were heading south because there had to be some major city he wanted to go to. A city with big bounties and a big enough crowd that Chrollo could get lost in; a place where Chrollo didn’t have to worry about being seen or targeted.
His heart lurched in his chest when he forced himself to look back down at the map. Once the forest ended, there was nothing southwards. Nothing besides a few insignificant dots that symbolized villages too small to bother with.
A branch snapped somewhere behind him and Chrollo whirled around, breath choked and adrenaline pumping like a heady cocktail of fear and instinct. He scanned the darkening treeline. Was it Silva? An ambush?
He jumped half a foot in the air a moment later, only to catch himself when his eyes recognized the disturbance for what it was. A squirrel ran out through the clearing, darting past him to reach the other side of the camp. Chrollo let out a short gasp of a laugh, smacking his cheeks a little. His heart hammered in his chest. He needed to calm down. This was silly. This was so silly. He knew nothing at all, really. Not nearly enough to be getting so paranoid, at any rate.
“Just breathe,” he told himself under his breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Just. Breathe.”
A much needed breeze rolled through the clearing, cooling the sweat on his brow. The leaves whispered and the grass answered, the parchment crinkling along, begging to be included. Chrollo looked down at the other sheet, his hand stalling just above it. A feeling of disquiet filled him, only growing stronger when his touched the papery surface. For some reason, he didn’t know if he wanted to look at it.
He closed his eyes, laughing at himself a little. What was he so afraid of? It was just a little piece of paper, no bigger than a sheaf from a book. He snatched up the page and opened with his eyes still closed, taking in a deep breath, refusing to let his smile fall. Silly. So silly.
Silly as it was, he couldn’t help but count to three before he opened his eyes.
Confusion greeted him first one he did. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, the thick, ornate script a little hard to read. He ran his finger beneath the first line, parsing out slowly what was written. Here by that which has been agreed up in order of His Lordship in search of the aforementioned… Chrollo relaxed a bit, realizing it was just a contract. For a bounty? Some sort of acquisition, it looked like. Was this what they were going south for? Chrollo wondered who on earth could have given it to Silva. They had been together pretty much the whole time.
Chrollo cursed whoever had written this. He scooted closer to the fire in hopes that the unnecessary light might help him read the looping, cramped script easier. There should be a name on here, one that told who had ordered the bounty. So much legal-speak. It was a wonder Silva was able to read any of this at all. He supposed that working with these types of contracts often allowed for a certain amount of proficiency. It would be a necessary skill to learn if Chrollo wanted to be a hunter too.
With that in mind, he set to studying the page before him. First came a few paragraphs of various clauses, it looked like, all outlining the various rights and claims each party had. Things to protect from scams and double-crosses, a few lines here and there to account for injuries and compensations. Whoever had written this was thorough. Exceedingly so. Silva was dealing with a professional, one who knew what they were doing and weren’t afraid of covering every single possibility that might arise.
Moving on, Chrollo narrowed his eyes at the next section. His attention wavered when he was met with another thick block of text, the script all the more cramped, the words nearly unreadable. He snapped back into focus when he caught sight of a tangled Dr–. Could it… No, there was no way. It couldn’t say Drow, could it?
It took a moment for him to realize his heart was pounding. Chrollo looked down and covered his heart with his hand with a frown. He needed to calm down, he told himself. It was too early to be making snap assumptions. Just keep reading. It was probably nothing.
The next paragraph made his heart stutter. For a moment, he swore it stopped entirely. The script changed suddenly as if written in another hand. The words seemed illuminated, drawing his eye and stealing his breath from his lungs as mercilessly as a punch to the gut.
Upon completion of the outlined task, His Lordship, the renowned Hisoka Morrow, Purveyor of the Western Underdark and the most loyal servant of the Council–
His eyes began to blur, so much so that he could barely read what remained. He didn’t need to, though. He would know the hand of his lover anywhere. How many years had he sat at Hisoka’s side, watching him work, watching him sign document after document, ending lives with just an errant scratch of his plumed quill? Chrollo sagged forward, catching himself in the dirt, something like anger flooding his veins.
What was this? How could this be? It had to be a mistake. He forced himself to look, to see past the fury, the betrayal.
Signed by the Hunter Silva Zoldyck on behalf of his most noble Lordship in that the return of one Chrollo Lucilfer be made swift and punctually–
“What are you doing on the ground, brat?” an annoyed voice asked, the forest crackling and crunching in deference to his arrival. “I’m gone for an hour and you’re already making a mess of yourself.”
Chrollo was on his feet in an instant, the contract clenched in his shaking fist. The very air tasted bitter on his tongue, and when he saw Silva, saw him with his shirt slung over his shoulder, his long hair wet and tossed over alongside it, as guiltless as priest, Chrollo saw red. Blood red.
“What is this, Silva?” he breathed, his body cold, his breath coming short. “What did you do?”
Silva had the audacity to look confused, but it only lasted for a moment. After that, he just looked ashamed. “Chrollo,” he murmured, taking a step closer, reaching for him with the hands that had signed the contract. With hands that had sold Chrollo out like chattel. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?!” Chrollo shouted, eyes pricking with moisture. He threw the contract up to Silva’s eye level, reaching for a dagger from his hip. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you sold me out!”
The man snarled, moving into Chrollo’s space. “I didn’t,” he bit, and if he was just a touch more angry, maybe Chrollo would buy it. “You have it all wrong.”
“Do I?” Chrollo hissed. “Then explain why you have my lover’s signature on this?” He brandished the parchment, jabbing the point of his dagger at the looping name tucked so neatly into the corner of the page. “Explain why the hell you signed next to it?”
“Put the knife down, brat,” Silva ordered, somehow keeping cool despite the tempest of emotions assaulting Chrollo. He lifted his hands placatingly, hair still dripping wetly from the river he had just come from. For a moment, the memory of him submerged in the water and spitting curses rose up in Chrollo’s mind, overlaying the present like a cruel joke.
“I won’t,” Chrollo breathed, throwing down the contract, holding the dagger out in front of him. “Not until you explain yourself.”
“I did it for you, alright?” Silva shouted, his loud voice rolling through the clearing, echoing off the trees like a clap of thunder. His chest heaved and his glare was as hot as the fire behind them. “They came to me. Threatened to break my arms if I didn’t hear them out. You miss your lover so much? Well, he misses you too, brat.”
“What are you talking about?” The dagger in his hand shook, his feet moving him back as Silva steadily worked his way closer. “Hisoka did this? How did they find me?”
Silva rolled his eyes. “They’ve been tracking us since the cave,” he grunted, averting his eyes, glaring somewhere past Chrollo. Chrollo ached to look, to follow his gaze, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Silva. “There are dozens of hunters looking for you. I took the damn contract to get the information they had. To see how much they knew.”
The dagger fell an inch and Silva matched it, moving that much closer. “How… How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked. “I saw the reward. I saw how much he was promising.” It was more than enough to incite betrayal. Far more than enough.
“Because,” Silva said, his voice soft though his features were hard. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”
Chrollo froze, his eyes wide. He wanted to believe him; every inch of him wanted to believe that Silva spoke the truth. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the man before him, looking him in the eye, searching for the truth. Silva sighed and drew ever closer, arms outstretched to embrace him.
When he wrapped his arms around Chrollo, it almost felt the same as it had before. Silva was warm. So warm. “Do you… Do you promise?” Chrollo’s voice was shaky, his face buried in Silva’s chest. The dagger slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud, nerves soothed by the man’s familiar scent, by his addicting warmth.
Silva didn’t answer. He held tighter, holding a hand to Chrollo’s head, keeping his face on his shoulder.
“Silva?” Chrollo whispered, tugging against his hold, stomach twisting anxiously.
“I’m sorry,” came the low, whispered reply.
There was a sharp jab as something was stabbed into Chrollo’s thigh, and then a dizzying rush as the world began to tilt on its axis. Chrollo clung to Silva’s chest, staring up at him, confusion brimming in his eyes. “What?” he gasped, his knees giving out. Silva caught him before he could fall, but he hid his face from Chrollo, staring at the ground.
“Just sleep,” Silva’s low voice rumbled, Chrollo’s eyes so heavy that they refused to remain open. “Just sleep and it’ll all be over once you wake.”
All over? What would be? But blackness encroached greedily, devouring him completely before he could ask.
Drow half-elf Jiang Cheng's hair has been colored with black pigment as long as he's had hair, as is Fengmian's preference. He's not sure why his father wants his hair colored, but he does it dutifully in the hopes of earning his approval - it never works, but he hopes. As far as anyone outside his immediate biological family is concerned, a-Cheng's hair is naturally blue-black, the same as Fengmian, and his sister.
(Yu Ziyuan seethes with silent rage that her husband makes his son feel inadequate simply for resembling her too much.)
When his sect is all but razed, Jiang Cheng makes a decision. He removes the pigment from his hair for the first time, revealing the stark white underneath. It's both a political move and a personal one; politically, it helps him to appear more worthy of respect to have a visage that evokes the image of his fearsome mother.
Personally, it's freeing. He looks in the mirror and sees his mother, whose poisonous love molded him into what he is now. He braids his hair in honor of his father, but he will not hide who he is and who he looks like anymore. It feels like shedding a skin he was never meant to wear.
(Wei Wuxian very nearly collapses from Horny when Jiang Cheng visits him with his frost white hair for the first time. Just when he thought Chengcheng couldn't get any more ethereal!!)
obsessed lately with a handwavy dnd/mdzs mashup that includes drow half-elf jiang cheng and moderately (extremely) obsessed wwx /////
baby human wwx whos never really been around elves (not a mind drow) brought to lotus pier initially kind of afraid of the ash-skinned mme yu and her kids, but when the dog incident happens he develops an immense fascination with jc's pointy ears specifically (and starts finding his ashen skin really pretty actually! when he blushes he turns a very fetching shade of purple-pink he's never seen before!)
he just wont stop grabbing at jc's ears every chance he gets. when he snuggles up with him in bed he always falls asleep holding on to one of his ears (and as much as jc would NEVER admit this he finds it super comforting and warm lmao) which develops into wwx teasing him with it by doing it in public cause he KNOWS he hates it when he indulges his pointy ear fetish where other people can see it LMAO
teenage wwx whose childish interest in jc's unusual ears has developed into something a little less innocent cause i mean of course it would. hes always pushing jiang cheng's bangs behind his ears and gently thumbing the cartilage leading up to the pointed tips (and if this flusters jc at all thats HIS business and youre wrong actually it's annoying he swears) and the way he wants to BITE and lap at them like a dog is embarrassing honestly and hes lucky no one at lotus pier can read minds cause his thoughts are Deeply Deeply Impure and not fit for polite minds lmao
fengmian has semi non-subtly always found mme yu and their kids a little bit off-putting in their foreign appearance, and always 'reassures' wwx that theyre not as scary as they look (untrue in mme yu's case) even if they look very strange, but wwx doesnt really understand what hes trying to say cause theyre all super pretty?? even mme yu's scarlet eyes are pretty to look at, even if he might get in trouble for making so much eye contact lmao. he was only scared of them for that first day cause he'd never seen drow before. if it ever occurs to him that fengmian spends so much time with him in part because hes a human wwx might actually go on the warpath lmao
and like the idea of drow mme yu who fucking LOATHES the sun so much shes grouchy all day, compared to her sun-loving son who has freckles from all the time he spends in it. he wouldnt last a day in underdark-style meishan yu akigjllsgj
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