in a new light
day 9 of fictober!
this time with Dragonlance
Raistlin x Dalamar (slightly)
Dalamar watched the sun set. Red and orange, blue and a hint of the nearing dark crawling through the clouds. The tower seemed almost peaceful. Almost. Its master cowered above some tomes, seemingly lost in thought, but muttering to himself every now and then. Most of the time, Raistlin prefered solitude and silence. He’d offered no explanation for staying with his apprentice, nor did Dalamar ask for one.
He should’ve been studying his own notes, but found his concentration to be lacking. He wasn’t bored. No. Or maybe a bit. Being raised and born as an elf, cursed him with a longing for open spaces and nature. So far, he’d successfully suppressed such desires to concentrate on his learning and ambition.
But time flowed slowly in here. He touched his robe as if trying to discern, if the marks still bled. They did. Would always do. Wounds of a traitor and a spy. He wore them with a sense of pride now, though, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment in which his attitude had changed. They were still ugly and disfiguring and crippling his self esteem. And at times, he dreamed of Raistlin pressing his hand against his chest, fingertips clawing at tender flesh, breathing uneven and golden eyes lit up by madness and passion.
Dalamar ignored those and the implications they held.
“Finished with staring at the sky? It’ll still be there in the morning.” Raistlin seldom raised his voice above a whisper and still Dalamar understood every word perfectly.
“I firmly believe that my books and journals will be here by tomorrow, too. And the sky offers a phenomenal view at this very moment.”
Raistlin smiled thinly. “So should your own writing.”
Light danced on Raistlin’s skin and Dalamar found himself unable to look away. The metallic hue of gold looked like a setting sun. His sharp jaw and cheekbones matched those of his half sister. Sometimes they even shared the same sardonic glint in their eyes and a lazy smile hiding their true temperaments.
Dalamar hadn’t observed those similarities before and wondered how he could’ve been so blind. Such details would be a later source for long musings, alongside his dreams.
“So, am I your next object of interest?” Dalamar noted the surprisingly teasing tone in his master’s voice. How very unlike him. Maybe he’d already drank too much wine, or longed to hear another voice besides his own.. Spending all that time in his own chambers also seemed to cause loneliness and even someone like Raistlin craved interactions on a regular basis.
“I’m your eager student. Of course, I’m watching you, learning from your behaviour and your very presence.”
Raistlin turned away. “Hm.” Another one of those rare smiles. “Be glad that I’m no naive tavern wench, or I’d be blushing, dark one.”
Definitely too much wine. Dalamar coughed and the marks on his chest seemed to burn. Surely a mere trick of his mind. “No offense, shalafi, but no one would ever mistake you for a tavern wench. You’re lacking some of the most obvious and important parts.”
“Well, I can’t argue with your logic.” Raistlin flipped a page in his book. “Though, I’d rather have you spend more time with your spells than with watching me.”
Dalamar nodded, knowing that he would dream of the sun.
