[ TEETH ] for your muse to bite my muse ( specify where ) reverse this for me will you.
[ TEETH ] for your muse to bite my muse ( specify where ) reverse this for me will you.
❝ your form seems different. don't tell me something is troubling you ? ❞ with a tone steeped in playful mockery, mydei speaks, his words laced with no bad intent, the only way he knows how to express such feelings without fully exposing himself. picking small, inconsequential squabbles with phainon when the timing feels right has become something of a habit. framing his inquiries with a jest is far easier than fumbling for the right words to voice them earnestly. his manner is calculated, but there is a certain ease to it, as if he’s carved out a comfortable niche in these exchanges.
one hand moves up the length of phainon’s arm until it finds its place on a sturdy shoulder. there, mydei’s fingers curl slightly, offering a firm squeeze that teeters between friendly and unyielding. the metallic claws of his gauntlet press faintly into the fabric of phainon’s clothing — not enough to tear it, not yet. though his grip holds the potential for destruction, it remains measured, restrained, at least for the time being. after all, if mydei had truly intended to shred the material, it would already lie in tatters. whether it’s cloth or flesh, he is no stranger to deciding when and where to reduce something to pieces. his hands have been instruments of ruin for as long as he can remember, but here and now, their purpose is far gentler. the touch remains, a supportive gesture that carries an unspoken weight, perhaps the closest mydei can come to expressing himself when words inevitably fail. it’s imperfect, but it is his way — silent, physical, and purposeful, a quiet bridge to cross the gap between what he feels and what he struggles to say.
with a few measured steps, mydei positions himself behind phainon, the soft cadence of his movement almost lost in the stillness around them. his hand, once resting on phainon’s shoulder, falls away, retreating to his side as he instinctively reclaims a fraction of space between them. it is a fleeting gesture, a subtle retreat that serves as a brief respite, however minor. in that moment, mydei exhales deeply, the breath carrying the weight of years — air he hadn’t realized had been sitting heavy in his lungs, trapped within the confines of his chest.
he doesn’t ask why phainon is here just yet, doesn’t press for an explanation or attempt to unravel the reasons behind this unspoken tension. the questions remain unvoiced, caught somewhere between intention and hesitation, as though both of them have silently agreed to dance around the edges of the conversation rather than dive into its depths. mydei knows that warriors are not meant to tread lightly around their struggles. they are forged to confront problems head-on, fists clenched tightly around the hilts of their blades, prepared to cut through whatever stands in their way. but this — this is no ordinary problem. no blade could carve a solution, not without risking the ultimate cost, at least one of them injured.
the mere thought is unwelcome, the image of phainon’s wounded form stirring a discomfort mydei cannot quite shake. it’s a vision that brings no satisfaction, no grim resolution, only an emptiness he finds particularly distasteful. mydei has faced the horrors of loss before, enduring them alone without anyone to share the burden. yet now, he cannot fathom facing such hardships as part of an army, especially one that includes phainon. the thought alone makes his resolve waver, his mind brushing past it as if to shield himself from its weight.
so for now, mydei lets silence settle over them, a fragile, almost comforting stillness that wraps around him like a second skin. he leans forward slightly, closing the distance he had only moments ago reclaimed, and allows his chin to come to rest gently on phainon’s shoulder.
❝ you haven’t come to ask me to reveal my weaknesses again, have you ? ❞ the last time they had this conversation, mydei had responded with little more than a sharp glare and a curt reply. even so, he wasn’t surprised when phainon continued talking, poking and prodding with endless questions. it’s just how phainon is — his inquiries never feel intrusive, only brimming with an uncontainable, boundless curiosity. that, at least, is something mydei can respect.
with a sigh, his eyes slip shut as if to block out the world, and then, without warning, he sinks his teeth into phainon’s shoulder. the bite is firm, deliberate, and just long enough to leave a mark. mydei doesn’t doubt that even someone as resilient as phainon will feel the sting, nor does he question his own strength to press a perfect row of sharp teeth a little too deep if he were inclined. ❝ don’t waste your breath. ❞
