i’m writing knight!phai rn and this might just be my favorite passage from everything i have written so far
there’s just something about dog-coded characters that i love. not the eager, tail-wagging kind like a golden retriever begging for attention (though charming in its own way) but the feral, guard dog kind—the kind that knows how to bite but only sinks its teeth in if you give it reason
and that’s how i really want to portray phainon in this au. hopefully i do it right… urghhhh
⟢ note: thank you @zozo-01 for tagging me hehe! unfortunate that i don’t have anything for phaicham rn but i do have this mydei fic collecting dust :3 this is actually the same mydei fic that i posted a sneak peek of a while ago! i hope you enjoy this one, dear zo <3
Mydei is still thirteen when he finally meets you in your lonesome.
He has just come back from sparring lessons, muscles sore and sweat drying on his skin, when he decides to wander the gardens. It’s habit by now that every afternoon he drifts there. Once, his mother often came with him, but not anymore. Now it’s his own ritual, a quiet place where he can pretend the palace is smaller—less crowded.
The garden is vast, sprawling like its own little kingdom, a gift his father, King Eurypon, had given the Queen when they married. It holds all her favorite flowers, colors blooming bright and perfurming the air, and fruit trees heavy with ripening sweetness. Pomegrenates in particular, their husks swelling like jewels on branches. His mother loves them. He does, too.
He turns a corner of the path, making for the great tree where he usually rests. But as he rounds the corner, he stops.
He hears music.
It’s faint, carried on by the breeze, yet it stops him cold. No one in the palace plays—certainly not like this. These are not clumsy notes or idle strumming; they are sure, fluid, and something alive. For a moment, he thinks he must be imagining it, until the melody bends again and the sound curls around him like a hand tugging softly at his chest.
He follows it—quietly, instinctively, as though he has no choice.
And then he sees you.
You are sitting beneath the wide branches of the tree, the curve of a lyre in your lap. Your back is turned, your small frame swaying with the rhythm. The music spills from your fingers, but it does not sound like an instrument at all—it sounds like something older, something that already existed, and you are only letting it breathe through you.
Instinctively, he draws nearer, careful with each step. He doesn’t want to break whatever spell this is, doesn’t want you to notice him and stop. And then, just as he’s close enough, he hears something else.
It’s then he realizes: the voice he hears is yours. You’re singing.
Soft, low, threaded with the music, your song coils through the air. He doesn’t know the words—maybe there aren’t any—but it pulls at him all the same. He feels it deep in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, something stirring like hunger and longing tangled together. His heart hammers and yet he cannot move.
You have ensnared him without even looking at him.
my writing has been absolute dogwater for the past two days but this scene actually got me giggling and kicking my feet !!!!!!
AND I’M ONLY AT 3.7K WORDS SO FAR 😭😭😭😭 i still have so much in mind that i need to write for this part!!!! why do i feel like this is going to be longer than from eden…. i am actually scared ????
*chucks an unfinished mydei fic i wrote last year with over 6k words at all of you and dips*
“i need to write for mydei more” she says. and she has!!! it just got abandoned 💔
honestly, i find writing the middle of a story far more difficult than any other part. thinking of an ending often comes more easily to me; the real challenge is figuring out how to bridge the beginning and the conclusion without losing momentum.
