"My, my, such a delectable little thing. Dost thou knowest, dear girl, who's domain thou hast stumbled upon? Surely not, for she does not run nor turneth away from my gaze. Interesting.”
I wanna write Vampy Urianger for spoopy season. SOON. c:<
"What're ye workin on?" Fyrwyb asked softly, leaning over Urianger's shoulder. For once, the little cottage in Il Mheg was quiet and fae free, if only for the slightest little while. Perhaps it only appeared that way, but that was all the roegadyn needed. Ever since reuniting with her elezen friend on the First and expressing her new feelings to him, her head did nothing but swim with affection. It was all incredibly odd. A classic case of not realizing what's right in front of you, Urianger had called it, in much more poetic terms. But even so, it was difficult for Fyrwyb to navigate her emotions.
"Tis further research on the behavioral patterns of the lesser sin eaters. Thancred didst offer some insights with which I hath used to produceth a small handful of discoveries," he offered with a soft tone, thankful not to be yelling or forcing a stern voice. The fae were ruthlessly rowdy and it became quite tiresome, communicating with them. Fyrwyb's company had quickly become most appreciated. His eyes lifted from his elegant note-taking to find the roegadyn much closer than he'd anticipated. He wasn't startled, but he did have to swallow a small lump in his throat to speak again.
"A-Ahem, wast there, ah...some matter I couldst assist thee with?"
The elezen found that he could not keep his eyes off of her lips. His ears began to feel warm and he quickly raised his eyes to seek hers. Pale green and bright, her eyes looked back at him with a longing he was not sure he understood.
"Not really," she started, taking care not to look away bashfully. "I just came to keep ye company, really. As I've been doin'."
She offered him a quick and genuine smile. His heart beat uncomfortably loud in his chest, a sure sign that she was making him very nervous. He tried to mask his change of demeaner with a casual sigh, but his breath caught in his throat and he had to clear it with a cough or two. How embarrassing.
"I can go if I'm botherin' ye," she stated, making it sound more like a question. To his own surprise, a new panic arose within him.
"Nay! Twould be most preferable for thee to remain. In truth, I hath sat alone in this fancifully humble abode overmuch. Pray, stay at my side a while?"
Fyrwyb had to hide the smile that was begging to spread across her features at Urianger's eagerness to keep her near. Even if it were just for better conversation, she didn't care. She would've gladly sat beside him in silence if it meant she could stay and watch him work. The roegadyn pulled up a chair next to him at the desk, gingerly moving the stack of books that occupied it. Urianger was swift in relieving her of them, stacking them back with the numerous others on the table. When she settled next to him finally, she allowed herself a moment of bravery and leaned over against him cautiously. He smelled very faintly of flowers and tea, a side effect of living with the fae she supposed. It made her smile.
Urianger's heart was in his throat. His ears burned and his thoughts were scattered, the subject matter quickly developing a repititious cycle. He had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to keep his composure. Luckily, in this body that was not completely his, the elezen was deprived of what he was sure would be the heavenly scent of Fyrwyb's hair falling over his own shoulder as she lay her head against it. He was about to attempt to continue his work when she spoke again.
"If I'm makin' ye uncomfortable, ye can tell me. It won't hurt my feelin's."
Urianger blinked slowly, his mind racing. It was not very often that the man ever took into consideration his own feelings. In truth, very rarely did he think of himself at all, unless it was of a direct concern to his work. Many times did he have to stop and check in with himself to remain sane on his stealthy forrays, but it was always the bare minimum. For once, he took a moment to address his heart; to really ask himself what it was that he wanted for himself right then.
A muffled thump filled the air as he snapped his tome shut. Fyrwyb opened her eyes in time to see him lay it down with the others before he shifted his weight. She was forced to sit up again, the support of his body having moved away from her. A small sense of dread began to fill her chest.
"I-I'm sorry, Urianger, I really didn't mean to bother ye. I can go, hones--."
The roegadyn's eyes grew wide as Urianger's long, nimble fingers were placed on either side of her face. His hands held her cheeks tenderly, keeping her still as he then pressed his forehead to hers. She just about went crosseyed while searching his expression.
His honeyed eyes were hiding behind long lashes. This time, he could not possibly share in her gaze.
"Thou deservest mine honesty, Fyrwyb. I am unsure. Terribly lost. My mind doth wander in circles regarding thee, time and time again. Since thine appearance here on the First, since our reunion, I long to be near thee. Tis frightening, the swiftness of my heart's decision to...to love thee," he choked out that last part, his cheeks and the tips of his ears beet red. It took everything in him not to pull away out of fear for appearing foolish. The next moment of silence seemed to drag on for a century.
"L-love?" Fyrwyb finally choked out, her mouth feeling dry. Her eyes began to well up with tears. She absently rubbed one of her thumbs against his wrist.
"I believe so. Twould best explain most of my reactions to thy company as of late."
A frustrated little huff escaped the elezen as his brow furrowed.
"Ever doth mine observations sound stuffy and insincere. Pray tell, wherefore must I come across as such a..."
Urianger trailed off in search of a word, leaving Fyrwyb to finish his sentence.
"A scientist?"
The two finally met eyes again and much to Fyrwyb's delight, Urianger began to chuckle. She followed suit, letting her own giggle mask her emotions. After a moment, they both sat back, Urianger letting out a soft sigh.
"If thee wouldst prefer that I not call this 'love' so eagerly, then I shall not. Tis not in mine interest to scare thee away so swiftly. Alas, in my heart, there is love for thee. Perhaps young and green, but honest."
Fyrwyb let out a long sigh, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and examined the fair elezen man in his bejeweled robes. The nervousness she had felt for days since reuniting with her odd friend was melting away at an alarming rate. She felt much...lighter.
"I'm the godsdamned Warrior of Light, Urianger. I don't scare so easily. Ye should know that."
She said it with a smirk on her face, another defense to hide her happy tears. Urianger looked to her with wide eyes at her quiet outburst. She wasn't normally so brazen with her words, and he couldn't decide if he was attracted to it or just surprised.
"W-Well, the ways of the h-heart can be intimidating and--"
Fyrwyb cut him off with a soft shush and reached out gently to take his chin with her fingers. She pulled him closer, keeping eye contact until the moment their lips met.
“You’ll be sorry!” Feo Ul cried out after Fyrwyb, keeping their distance from the looming cottage that she approached. Fyrwyb grimaced, rolling her eyes at the overly dramatic pixie’s warnings.
“I’ll be alright! Leave me be!”
For weeks she had been foraging in the flowers all around Il Mheg, studying the flora of the region. Many times the roegadyn had been warned about the pixies there, among other types of fae creatures, and how tricky they could be. Truthfully, it had proven more bothersome than treacherous. When Fyrwyb first arrived, she had been greeted by a welcome party of pixies who were ready to make a mockery of the woman. They floated mysteriously around her in a shroud of fog, taunting her, unaware that she had come prepared. A satchel full of gleaming red apples and a dainty glass bottle of sticky, sweet birch syrup were all she needed to befriend the fickle creatures. They went merrily on their way with her offerings and for the most part, left her alone. It wasn’t until she had decided to investigate the standalone cottage to the north that they made another prominent appearance.
“Silly sapling! Don’t you know what hides in that dusty old house? Of course not! But we do! Come back, right this instant!”
“I promise I’ll be careful! It can’t be all that bad,” Fyrwyb grumbled, her annoyance growing. She knew she shouldn’t be so careless when speaking with them, but she was losing her patience. All their whispers of dark energy and even darker magic were wearing her thin. If she were honest, it was starting to sound like another trick. Almost as if they were attempting to keep her away for fear she might take something precious of theirs from inside.
Fyrwyb hesitated for a moment, having reached the front doors of the large cottage. She held a basket hanging from her wrist and her hair was pulled up out of her face so that she might more easily forage for the flowers from around the building. A shiver tickled its way up her spine and she quickly became hyper aware of the fact that it was later than she'd originally thought. The sun was rapidly setting in the sky, leaving her to stand in a looming shadow.
"Don't ye lettem scare ye, Fyrwyb. It's just a dusty old house. Probably nothin' but old tomes and wadded up parchments inside."
She took a steadying breath and set her shoulders back. Her mouth was set in a determined line as she reached out for the handle on the door. It felt cold to the touch, despite the fact that the kingdom of the Fae wasn't necessarily prone to experiencing seasons. It nearly always felt like a warm spring day in Il Mheg, the flowers always in full bloom.
"Odd," she spoke softly to herself. Another moment of hesitation and she was cautiously pushing open the doors.
The roegadyn was surprised when her eye was first caught by all the light coming from within. As she took the first step inside, her eyes darted about, registering lamp lights, a lit chandelier, candles aflame inside lanterns on the tabletops. And the tables! She'd never seen so many books strewn about, as if the person occupying the space were reading each and every one at the same time.
"Wow, what a mess," she almost giggled. If it hadn't been for the eerie emptiness of the place, she would have laughed even. Just what were the pixies so frightened by? Old alchemy projects and forgotten manuals on astromancy?
Fyrwyb walked slowly through the cottage, eyeing the scattered star maps and admiring the antique globe that stood proudly on one of the many tables. She was rather impressed by the collection, but more confused than ever. It was utterly abandoned.
"Who would leave such pretty treasures behind?" She wondered aloud. Her eyes continued to scan her surroundings, quickly finding that despite all the wonder of the place, it was very plain. The walls weren’t exactly heavily decorated, save for all the bookshelves. Her mind drifted to the fae as she climbed the stairs at the front of the room. What were they so afraid of?
Preoccupied by the strange moss that seemed to be growing on a nearby doorframe, Fyrwyb failed to hear the impossibly faint footsteps descending the second, longer set of stairs to her left. As lit up as it was, the room was still shrouded with dark shadows. A slender frame slipped past the roegadyn, expertly blending with the darkness around her. Warm eyes watched her from behind the nearest pillar.
“Little lamb, thee hath strayed too far from thy home,” a voice suddenly filled the room, like it came from all around Fyrwyb. She felt as if she might’ve jumped out of her skin, were it possible for her to do that. She stumbled forward, turning herself in a panic as she fell, landing on the floor with her back against the wall. Wide eyes searched the dark corners of the room, but she couldn’t identify the source of the voice. It was deeply haunting and rich. A sultry warning.
“S-S’cuse me, mister, I didn’t mean to bother ye. Honestly, I w-was convinced this old cottage was abandoned until I opened the front door.”
Fyrwyb did her best to calm her breathing. Her poor heart ached, it was beating so fast. Usually she wasn’t caught off guard so easily, but the current circumstances were anything but normal. Not even the voidsent could sneak up on her so easily. She furrowed her brow, regret quickly clouding her mind.
“Pray tell, wherefore didst thee carry on, then? Tis clear, is it not, that someone doth occupy this space?”
The man’s odd manner of speaking made it hard for Fyrwyb to comprehend him in her panicked state. She shook her head, her eyebrows pinching together in concentration.
“F-Forgive me, I’ll be on my way,” she finally got out, doing her best to rise on shaky legs. She found herself leaning heavily against the wall as she stood, suddenly worried she might not actually be able to hurry out properly.
The shadowy figure still watched from his place behind the pillar, curious of the lamb. She felt different somehow, her scent drifting across the room like a radiant bouquet of wildflowers. He couldn’t help but lick his lips absently.
“Nay. I believeth I shall keep thee.”
Frywyb froze. The room was suddenly much too quiet. Her eyes darted around. An ominous feeling began to hang heavily over her and she made the decision to push away from the wall. Adrenaline kept her upright and she moved quickly for the double doors up front. All she had to do was make it out. At least outside, she would hopefully be able to face whoever was threatening her out in the open.
“Not so fast,” the voice came again, this time quieter and from directly behind her. The roegadyn gasped as her body halted without warning. She expected to trip or to feel the effects of being stopped dead in her tracks, but it was as if the air around her simply held her in place. A gloved hand appeared just outside the edge of her gaze, tickling up the length of her right arm. Goosebumps raised on her skin. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
“My, my, thy scent doth maketh my mouth water, little lamb,” he spoke softly, his breath strangely cold against her ear. The gloved hand, which she assumed to belong to him, reached across her neckline. He pulled back her hair on both sides of her neck. The blouse she wore exposed her collarbones and all with its low shoulders, her corset accentuating all her curves. The top half of her body was so easily accessible, it was almost comical. The man had ample options for where he could sink his teeth in, but he hesitated.
“Whatever you’re goin’ to do, do it! I’m not one for bein’ toyed with,'' Fyrwyb grumbled. She tried to sound determined. Maybe even annoyed. Unfortunately her voice cracked and wavered with her nerves.
“Oh, a feisty one, is she? Tis preferable. The weak and weary do not persist overly much. The lack of resistance makes for an unsavory meal.”
Fyrwyb felt the man’s hand slowly slip from her neckline, his fingers tracing down her arm once again and around her waist. She noted now that she could hear his unnaturally quiet footsteps moving around her. When he finally came into view, all she could do was stare.
Before her stood a very tall, narrow figure. His body was slender but she could tell there was strength by the way he held himself. His steps were deliberate, calculated, even just to circle around her. Broad shoulders were draped with a wonderfully antique looking coat. She would’ve complimented it, were the circumstances a tad different. The tie he wore was messy and his collar fixed high around a long neck. A strong jawline, silver facial hair, an oddly familiar tattoo on his cheek. Her eyes narrowed at that until she met his eyes finally.
Warm, bright yellow eyes, stared down at her from behind his wispy, silvery bangs. It was otherworldly the way those eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. She couldn’t seem to look away from them.
“Littlest lamb of the flock, she doth stare blankly. Might thine expectations have been different, I wonder?”
His voice was like a spell. It weaved itself through her body as he spoke, making her feel dizzy. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the fog away.
"Those petite pixies surely tried to warn thee? They know better than to come knocking on my door. Alas, this little lamb did not even offer such a courtesy. How rude."
The man walked circles around the fixated roegadyn. His eyes wandered up and down, taking in every inch of his prey. A strong heartbeat pulsed savory blood through her veins. The smell of her was delectable. It took everything in him to hold back. Despite his hunger, he was terribly curious what had caused this lamb to carelessly stroll into his domain, despite the warnings of the Fae.
As he stepped in front of her again, he let loose his hold of her with his mind and replaced it with physical touch. Supernaturally strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her hard against him. She let out a gasp and felt her body go limp. Though she was aware of her surroundings, she felt as if she still had no physical control. Her back arched away from the mysterious elezen, further exposing her cleavage to him. His hungry eyes devoured her curves. He licked his lips out of sheer instinct.
"Dost thou knowest what awaits thee, my lady? Nay. It matters not. Thy strength will bring thee back to me, and then? Then the little lamb will belong to me."
Fyrwyb could feel his cool breath against her chest as he hummed with approval at her scent. She was almost ready to give in when she suddenly felt the horrid pinch of something sharp at her neck. It took only a few seconds for the pain to subside into an ecstasy that she had never felt before. Her body hummed, and then it burned. And then everything was dark.
