You knew you made a pretty stupid decision when you agreed to let your dorm be taken. You also knew that you should probably learn to not be such a doormat when your friends give you the puppy eyes.

Either way, here you are, sleeping in the bed of Dormhead Kingscholar.

Honestly you would’ve been fine sleeping on the floor but Grim wouldn’t have it. He could just settle on Kingscholar’s bed on all on his own, but no you have to hold him.

The sheets are of a superb quality, you’ll admit that, and the nights are so cool that you can put on your old man pajamas without sweating. Kingscholar doesn’t seem to give two shits about what you do, which you greatly appreciated.

But you do have a single complaint.

Sometime during the night, while you slept as though you’re confined to a coffin with Grim under your hand, you felt something like sandpaper scrape over your forearm.

“Wha?” You blinked sleep out of your eyes, barely able to focus on the ceiling before you felt it again, catching a scratching sound close to you, arm pulled away from you and clutched in someone’s hand.

The sandpaper like appendage pulled away, leaving behind a slightly moist trail on your skin. You grimaced and turned to the side.

Kingscholar had a grip on your elbow. His eyes were clearly closed with the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. His nose lightly nuzzled your forearm. Then he licked a long, coarse trail from just above your elbow to your wrist.

Okay, that hurt.

Using the arm he was holding, you frantically tapped on his head.

“Kingscholar!” you harshly whispered. “Dormhead Kingscholar!”

But try as you might, he’s stubborn to wake up. He moved his head away and began his grooming a new.

You switched from tapping to flicking his ears. He stirred on the third flick, tongue still on your arm but Grim still thankfully asleep. He’d wake up the whole dorm if he saw that.

His bleary green eyes were quick to focus on you, narrowed into an expected glare. “What do—”

He took in your incredulous expression, traced his eyes to your shoulder and finally at the offending arm he’s holding so closely. His tongue was on your skin.

…

He retracted his tongue, let go of your arm and turned away from you without a word.

You attempted to speak up, “Kingscholar, what was—”

“I hate noise. Sleep.”

“But—”

“I will kick you out if you don’t sleep.”

…

Huh. You’ll tuck that piece of info away for later. Perhaps for Ace’s ears?

No, you won’t say anything. Not unless Leona messes something up. For now, you sleep.

“I warned you didn’t I?” The anger in your tone, the way it lurked behind your every word as you forcefully tugged on his leash. You pushed his face to the ground, held down with your heel. “I told you to stop maiming Ace and Deuce. And what’s the first thing you do? Send them right back to the hospital with claw marks and broken limbs.”

Leona bared his teeth, tempted to snap them at your ankle, to cut through the tendon just do you can’t walk away from him, but it’s not easy to hurt you. Not easy to watch your skin bleed. “They didn’t get the message the first time. I’m not letting them touch what’s mine.”

You kicked the side of face, tugged at the leash again, and slammed his forehead onto the wooden floors. Leona doesn’t fight it. This is the first in a long since you’ve given him attention. “You know, why do I even bother keeping around jealous pets like you? This collar you have? It’s a gift. A gift to say I want to keep you. But this gift can become your shame. It can show I have spoiled you and then abandoned you just as easily.”

You let the leash drop to the floor, as though tired of it. “Remember Leona. I have many compliant pets. You want to have me? Then obey me.”

Leona did not rise from the ground, knowing full well you haven’t allowed it.

“Why do you want to become king, if you’re not willing to work as one?”

You said with a wall of ink rippling behind you, while his palace shined around him, with every beastmen in existence bowing down before him.

“The title of king. Tell me, Kingscholar.” The ink was a pool, consuming your legs but you walled forward nonetheless, not caring for the way your skin absorbed it. “Who are the first people to utter that word? Who are the ones the determine who should be king or not?”

Leona knows the answer. He knows very well the unfairness of this title, given to his brother simply for the fact he was born first, rather than his own merit. And to more to it, his own magic seeks to work against him.

“I know your story. I’ve seen it while I slept.” The sparkling floors of his palace retract from you, but onwards you continued, growing ever closer. “Rules dictate that your brother will be king, but the title alone isn’t enough to protect him. A single person cannot call themselves king and have other believe it. The crowd itself, the people who live and make up the kingdom determine their king.”

As if he didn’t know that. The servants and common folk all throw themselves at Farena’s feet without hesitation for the fact he’s the first born. Loved since birth, and will likely be loved until death, where his son will inherit the love in return.

It all makes him sick.

“Leona Kingscholar,” You stood among the faceless crowd that sing him praises, the ink following you as thought an all consuming ocean, “You’re already on your way of becoming a king, and yet here you are, starving them, choking that very image out of their eyes for the fact you can’t be the beloved King Farena.”

One by one, his subjects began to melt into the blackness. The once immaculate floors losing their shine, defeated by the torrents that not even he can resist. And yet, there you still stood, the beds of your nails almost soaked black. Your eyes continued to hold that pesky determination he’s seen so many times before. When his brother decided to take the title seriously, when Cheka wanted to pry a sentence of praise from mouth.

When Leona wanted to take his brother’s crown.

“Wake up from this nightmare of your own making. You can’t be the king for Farena’s people, but you can be the king of your own. If you can’t recognize their devotion towards you, if you say ‘that’ s not enough,’ or’ that’s not what I want,’ then what you dream of is not the life of a king.

"Wake up. Before the people you’ve betrayed come to eat you.”

Leona shot up from his bed, knocking away a sleeping Grim. He didn’t wake up, simply rolled, but Leona was too frazzled to pay attention.

Ink dribbled down your chin, the veins in your eyes turning black.

…

Something vile in him was squirming. He can’t call it anger. But it was hot and almost hateful. He wanted to tear at something, and another weaker part of him wanted to cry. Either way, his breath weighted heavy on his lungs, his skin too moist to be comfortable.

He looked over at your side. Peacefully, you laid still, curled up as though protecting your insides. Your mouth was gape as ink slipped past and soaked the pillow.

Leona’s stomach turned to stone, but the instincts he was so proud of stayed silent. He couldn’t listen to anything. Not the light snoring of your cat, not the sleepy mumbles of Jack and Ruggie in their make-shift beds, not even the gentle swishes of his curtains that so often reminded him of home.

But even so, Leona reached over, lingering his fingers over your mouth. You were breathing, calmly even. He tried to nudge your face away from the stain, trying to hook his fingers between your cheek and the pillow, but then your expression went from peaceful to annoyed.

He stilled, you settled, and the ink he thought he saw was no longer there. Two seconds later, Leona realized his hand was also covered in your saliva.

A bone deep sigh of relief came out of him. His skin cooled and his muscles released their tension. Leona let his head rest on his knees for a moment, letting his brain swim in the feeling before peeking back at you, making sure that that was really just drool coming out of your mouth.

It was. That’s good. Disgusting, but good.

… He still remembers what he did to you, when you dived right into the blot his body was being consumed by. He remembers the way you invaded his memories, the words flying from your lips as freely as the ink that followed you, the way you dragged him out even as he fought you, hurt you…

And choked you.

You were unconscious, but not by his own hand, but by the ink itself. Blot toxicity, as the docs called it. Any longer, and you would’ve been the first death caused by him. Any longer and every demeaning word, every rumor said behind him, Leona would’ve started to believe them. He would’ve been deserving of hatred.

Leona would’ve never had the chance to become your friend. That thought, he fears most of all.

“Alright,” you said around your pen, closing the fridge door with a firm slam. You gripped your pen and wrote down everything you needed. Most of those things being food for the several pets that you’re pretty sure aren’t yours but they have been here for so long that it’s difficult to distinguish.

Oh and don’t forget food for yourself. Snacks count right? Yeah, yeah they do.

You clicked you pen, stuffed it in your pocket and picked up your wallet and house keys. Good thing the market is within walking distance. There’s always a worry that you’ll be too far away from the pets in here. And it doesn’t help that some of them(namely Azul) hated the sound of engines. Luckily this neighborhood was always a quiet place, even with all the new people and renovations done.

You tiled your head, mentally walking through the house to see if you really did lock everything up. You’re pretty sure you did. You nodded, opened the front door, flicked the locks as habit, and stepped outside.

You walked right into a muscle built torso, a hard button almost bruising your poor nose. You stumbled back with a strangled noise, cradling your face just as you heard a snort. You looked up, finding a sunshine like face struggling to keep his laughter in behind a fist.

“Oh,” you said, nasally, “Mr. Kingscholar.” You sniffed, massaging your nose, “Why are you at my front door?”

Well, yeah that’s pretty rude in the way you’ve asked, but you’ve already shoved your face into him, death is expected at this point. Accepting with grace is the only option.

“Did I catch you in a bad mood?” Falena tilted his head, grin not once faltering in complete contrast to his clothes that clearly scream business, “Ah, but I suppose I did come unannounced, if I know Crowley the way that I do. Did he mention I was going to come by?”

Did he? Crowley’s a chatterbox with an added mumbling problem with the weird habit of mixing his daytime TV shows with important information. You may have tuned him out. Whoops. Oh well, Crowley, he will have to forgive you. “Nope.”

Falena sighed, pushing back his curly hair, “Figured as much. Can’t rely on him for much of anything. I’m guessing, seeing as you’re dressed up, you’re going shopping?”

You nodded, tapping your wallet.

“Oh that’s good. It’s nice to hear you venturing out of your house more often. I was beginning to think you moved away! Cheka would’ve been so sad.” His eyes glowed with fondness, “And Little Leona too.”

That’s when you heard a huff. It was small, clearly made with tinier lungs, and in a light storm of sand, a small land spirit formed on Falena’s shoulder. The edges of his hair, fingers and feet all ended in a sand like texture, little flecks of it being carried off by the wind, but never affecting their shape. He looked at you with lazy yet judging eyes, no longer containing the defiant glare he would show anytime you so much as came into the same room as him. He just looked annoyed at worst.

“I don’t think my moving out would stop Leona from camping out in my house,” he doesn’t even need to pick the lock to come in. He’d just find a sunny place and sleep there all day, ignoring the calls of both Falena and Cheka. Until said little boy started crying. Leona’s weak to his tears. “Did you know he watches me while I’m in the bathtub.”

Leona growled just as Falena bent down a little, snorting into his fist. “He does that to Cheka too! Probably thinks he’ll drown. We do have large bathtubs. He truly has a gentle heart.”

As though getting tired of him, Leona dissolved into sand and reappeared on your shoulder. “I’m guessing you’re here to drop him off before you go traveling again?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Falena straighten up, brushing the sand off his shoulder, “I know Cheka loves him, but I know Leona needs his breaks from him. Oh and before I go,” Falena rummaged through his wallet, pulling out a black card before handing it to you, “Here you go!”

You stared at it, “Uh, but didn’t you already give me a card to use on Leona?”

Falena reached out and patted your head before you could think to dodge the attempt, “Just use that to buy whatever you want. I trust you won’t abuse it.”

“I, but, uh…” Sir that is too much power to have.

“Think of it as an early birthday gift!”

He’s not going to budge on this one. Besides…it’s not as if you hated money. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get myself something good then. Thank you, sir.”

“Falena. Ooo, or Uncle Falena!”

“I, I…Thank you, Falena, sir.”

“Well, that’s a step at least.”

Typically, whenever Leona is dropped off, you let him do what he wants. He keeps to himself well enough, doesn’t have that burning curiosity you’ve seen in Ace and Deuce when they think you’re not looking. You had child proof a lot of your thinks. And unplugged your blender just in case.

Anyways, Leona picks a spot and stays to that spot until Mr. Falena comes over to pick him up. Well, his son does the picking up but that’s besides the point. There’s a window on the attic you had that swings open from the bottom. It’s an empty attic, save for his bed placed upon an empty book case that Cheka gave you, said he didn’t want him to miss home too much, and a pretty detailed hand woven rug Mr. Falena gave you as a welcome present. You can’t say it Leona’s favorite place in the world, but it serves well enough for his naps.

Leona wasn’t in that attic today. In fact, as you stuck your head out the window, he was in the bird bath, having a soak, shooing away any stray birds that come too close with a perfect blast of sand. His tail flicked water out of the bubbler, languidly just laying there as he continued to soak in the beating summer sun.

Honestly, you were originally just going to leave him there. He isn’t harming anyone and you were pretty sure he was going to come back inside at some point. That and you were confident that Riddle’s temperament would only be annoyed and non-destructive. As in, a simple whip of his thorns cast from the ground and nothing more.

This was the day you learned that Leona loved to mess with the easily tested.

You were about to duck back inside when you say a speck of red land on the rim of the bird bath, being carried by a long woven rope of thorns and roses. Riddle—you think it’s Riddle—went over to Leona, but he dissipated and reappeared right behind him.

And promptly kicked Riddle right off the bird bath.

“Oh no,” you pulled yourself back in and rushed down the stairs, sucking on your teeth when you heard the very ground of your backyard start to rumble, likely roots responding to Riddle’s demands.

You just wanted to nap, a nice little hour of escape from this hot day that not even your AC can chase away.

The weather was at an odd temperature, the kind of heat that, when in the shade, is perfectly cooling but if you stood in the sun, you’d be cooking. The winds were cool, carrying the scent of water as you bit into your sandwich, listening to the leaves rustling from the big tree you were leaning against.

Right in front of you, absorbing the sunlight as though it wasn’t cooking everyone alive, was Leona. His tail swept slow arcs against the picnic blanket you had put down, his head resting against his arm. You honestly don’t understand why he wasn’t sweating, but you supposed this was the same logic cats followed. Even when the sun makes stove top burners out of bricks, cats always seem to soak in the sun without getting heat stroke.

Crazy animals. Crazy Leona.

You wiped crumbs from your mouth before leaning over Leona, still holding a sandwich

“Leona,” you called to him.

“Hmm?” He did open his eyes but he sat up a bit, refusing to open his eyes. He slips back into his naps easier this way. There was no need to look at you, no need to keep his focus needle sharp.

You smiled. Leaning closer, you lifted his chin with a finger and placed a soft peck on his lips. Only then did his eyes shoot open.

You pulled back with a laugh, grinning as you took another bite of your food.

With both elbows keeping his torso up, Leona’s ears flattened against his head, huffing through his nose not with anger or disgust, but with a mild annoyance. It didn’t bother you. You just continued eating.

Though, just as you grabbed another sandwich from the basket, Leona suddenly grabbed your wrist.

“Huh?” Leona pulled it, forcing your sandwich to his mouth before taking a huge bite out of it. Only then did he let go, chewing as your arm went limp at your side. He laid back down on his side, facing towards you as he chewed.

You looked at your sandwich, half gone, it’s other half forever lost in Leona’s stomach.

“You dick…” you whispered, declaring a war against Leona in your heart. A war you know Leona has no hope in winning, for you know he values you too much to let his pride keep a petty warfare going for too long.

Luckily for the school, and the head of Ruggie, it was a day off when Leona decided sleeping in would be better than getting up. He didn’t know what happened, but all he knows is that he woke up with his lower back radiating a deep pain, the kind of pain that makes one want to scratch at their bones, or twisted themselves up into a horrid shape so that the pain comes from a different area.

Annoyance bordered on anger, directed at the failings of his own body for not being able to take something as simple as pain. It wasn’t a broken bone or a torn muscle, but the results were still the same. Leona will not get up. He can walk if he really needed to, but why should he? Not as if he has anything he needs to do.

Leona growled, the noise transforming towards the end into a sigh. As he stuffed his face into the various pillows he ordered Ruggie to get to prop his hips up a bit.

Ruggie probably went behind his aching back to call for you, since you were right next to him, tracing a palm along his spine.

It didn’t take a genius for Leona to notice the callous on your hands as you rubbed at the muscle embracing his ribs, shirt hiked up over his shoulder blades. They scratched in a way that’s oddly familiar to him, soothing as well. It brought memories of a better time, of when he was younger, when a servant would put his cream on his back from the time he fell. Balance is difficult when your feet were growing too fast. It’s one of the only times he can recall when anyone would show concern for him. The memory has been soured by the bitterness of his home, but he hates how much he still takes comfort in it. In knowing there was someone, back then, would work hard for him, to the point of harsh callouses developing on once soft hands.

Your hands trailed to his waist, Leona’s attention diverting to the strength in your fingers as you gripped. You lightly scratched him with your blunt nails, the urge to stretch and fall into the feeling growing along with this fuzzy haze of sleep. Well, not quite sleep, but it’s of the same comfort. You pressed your fingers into his skin, pushing against tense muscles that held tight to his pain until they finally started to let go. A sigh left Leona as you went lower.

You landed on his hips. Leona would never admit it, but he raised them just a bit higher. He can’t help it, your hands were doing wonders. Goosebumps raised up and along his spine when you rubbed your thumbs into the dips of his hips, his tail lightly twitching, the fur at the base raising up. Leona couldn’t help but grip his sheets, mind fogging up when you scratched along his waist band, then up his sides. It tickled a bit, but that only intensified the comfort in his blood, blanketing him in a heat you could only get under a thick blanket during the cold nights.

The pain was still there, radiating from the base of his spine, but with this, he can peacefully fall asleep.

You have no scent.

Of course that makes it easy to sleep around you, to snore the world away as you pass by him without so much as rousing his needle sharp instincts. Leona had the misfortune of having a sensitive nose. People such as that lizard are always pungent to him. The smell crawls into his head, stings his brain and pokes at the ever lit fire of annoyance in him.

It’s only natural he wouldn’t notice you sitting on the other side of the tree he likes to nap on, reviewing notes and skidding a highlighter over keywords. The noise of crinkling paper woke him up, but the breeze blowing through was too nice to get up and walk away from.

Leona can sleep anywhere, if given enough time, but still, he needed time. Any changes to usual yanks him from his sleep, but with no scent, you were practically not there at all. He can ignore you with ease. He can ignore the soft mutterings of your voice, can ignore hums and sighs as you shifted about, can ignore the smell of your clothing because you yourself had no scent. He can sleep soundly even as you followed him in his dreams.

This place is a hungry den of beasts.

Without magic, you may as well be a blob of boneless flesh. Leona wished to say he couldn’t understand the sure click to your steps, the relaxed arch of your back when you sat, the steady tone to your voice, but he does know. No matter how many layers of spells and magic theory one may hide under, invincibility will never be within reach. With the right move, with the right steps, anyone can become a useless sack of meat. You understood this better than he had, otherwise, why would you have survived at all, in this college?

But Leona also knew of it. There was no magic to you to conceal your weakness. A careless misfire and you’d suddenly be missing a lung, or a spine, or a heart. You defeated him. You managed to lead a dance through his storm of sand. If you were to fall because of something as small as an accident, then Leona would be weaker than the rest of this college.

So, it’s only natural he would be aware of you, of when you dive into a crowd to get your lunch, of when you pass by his class even though the door was only an inch open, of when you gave a smirk as you ribbed at your little buddies. One wrong move, and every one of these students will see you as an open target that you are not.

His ego needs to be torn out of him.

This little imitation of a dog has been barking nonstop. It’s nonsense, always a ear grating scramble of words that only follows whatever shiny thing is dangled in front of his dumb eyes. Whenever Leona is taking a nap, this pathetic excuse of a college student would stomp so loud, as though announcing his presence for anyone with one working ear. Low life’s like this one should learn to keep their heads down, learn to pop their ego before someone truly worthy of anything comes along and eats them up.

Besides, if anyone is dumb enough to bump into you, unskilled enough to not notice you and even yell at you for the sake of saving their own hurt ego, Leona doesn’t want them in his dorm at all.

This student will be kicked out within three days. Leona will make him resign, if he doesn’t send him to his home in a coffin.

There really isn’t a point to trying anymore, is there? Why bother, when person after person, obstacle after obstacle stands in his way, blocking him from a dream that once shown brightly in his heart? He could be smarter, stronger, faster than any king that sits upon their throne, but everything and everyone would simply point at him and spit out their scorn. They don’t even need to say anything. Their gaze was enough.

Stop with the platitudes. He doesn’t want to hear them. Not from Ruggie, not from Jack, especially not from his brother. He doesn’t need them. He’s never needed them. Just…

…just let him rest. Let him sleep everything away. Let him sink into this dark abyss, into the landscape of dreams where he can be anything and everything he’s ever wanted.

There really is no up or down in this place. The black expanse that lays before him was neither suffocating nor comforting. It was neutral, carefully and deliberately neutral, never responding nor moving without his command. A true follow of his thoughts. The dark beneath his feet became ink, rippling and rumbling as it rose up, letting itself cover his legs. There’s no need to struggle, no need to fight. He can’t reach what he wants anyway.

Something descended upon the endless lack of ink, sending a clear, delicate ripple. A wave that woke him up. Countless eyes looked down upon him, white stars that burned and blinked, swirling around as more and more came into being. A hand reached below him, sinking into the ink to pull him out, so effortlessly at that, and Leona can’t help but feel as though this thing was mocking him.

No, not thing. Not when his instincts, once clotted, once blocked, sung through his skin, telling him to be wary, to avoid you as one would to a every watchful falling moon. Now you have the size to match.

“Can’t even let me be, huh, Prefect?” What was there to be afraid of, when he has messed up this much? It would be better if you just ate him up already. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end to him, consumed by the person that so thoroughly unraveled everything?

“Of course not.” Your voice rumbled through his bones, shaking the eyes in the sky before they burst into flares of light, one by one. Their stardust slowly fell to the ink below him, stubbornly glittering as it sank and sank. A beautiful night sky, coming to fall around him. “Why would I want to clean up your mess?”

Maybe it’s this space, or maybe it’s the way the stars and comet showers that reminded him of home, but Leona couldn’t help but laugh. He let himself relax as you brought him closer to your indiscernible mass of tendrils, scales and cosmic dust, cradling him in your arms as the lake of ink became brighter. A galaxy in the making.

It’s not as if anyone has to know about this. Leona can privately enjoy himself.

“You’re eating my mess right now,” his mind started to fog up, lights blurring his sight of everything, even you, “I suppose I can clean some things. Can’t promise I’ll get everything.”

“That’s a start.” your human tone has never rang so clear in his ears.

The first thing Leona did as soon as the mirror dropped you off into his homeland was drag you into his room. No lagging behind for sight seeing, no taking the time to tell you about the little things or rules that you should be conscious of in his home, nothing. Just, ignored everyone’s greeting and went straight to bed, fully expecting you to join him in dream land.

“Uh,” you lingered around the edge of the bed, not really feeling up to sleeping, “didn’t you say your brother wanted to meet me?”

You assumed he wanted to meet you as soon as possible.

Leona gave a muffled groan, making no attempt to face you. His tail thumped his bed in irritation before he sank deeper into his sheets despite the harsh daylight lighting up his room.

“Delaying the inevitable, I see.” Not too surprising. Leona has made very clear his disdain for his brother, but unfortunately he also a modicum of respect for Falena. Otherwise, why would he even bring you here in the first place? He’d just ignore his brother’s request and never tell you that his family wanted to meet you.

“Don’t mind him, I figured he’d be like this.”

Well, isn’t that grand timing?

Bulkier in comparison to Leona, with wilder hair, Falena strode into Leona’s room as though it was his own, gently tugging Cheka along. The two big grins they had on their faces only made their resemblance more apparent. Doesn’t help that they simply radiated an energy that, when combined, feels almost exhausting just to stand next to.

Leona gave a louder, very exaggerated groan, flipping a pillow over his head.

“Oh,” a thought popped into your head, then immediately slipped out, “wow, you make Leona look like a string bean.”

The harsh intake of breath of Leona had you force a snort of laughter back, Falena wide eyed, empty headed look did not help.

Whoops. Not that you can help it. You’ve been surrounded by princes, models, and all sorts of various shades of higher society people that you’ve kinda have grown desensitized to them. Your honesty cannot be contained, no the matter the social constraints.

Cheka tipped his head to the side. “Hmm? But Unca Leona is strong. He can carry me!”

He let go of his father’s hand, taking big steps towards the bed before flopping over Leona’s back. “Come on! Show them you can carry me!”

Leona refused to move, giving a huff. Only then did Falena sputter out a big, boisterous laugh. From where you stand, you can spot Leona’s ears perk up a bit. You almost missed the way his body lost almost all tension had it not been for the subtle sinking of Cheka.

Well, seems you’ve made a great first impression.

The sun was an everlasting comfort that was once taken from him. He was kept in an air tight chamber, away from windows, curled up in a corner as his every twitch agitated the shards in his face, spine and legs as he stuffed every last ounce of yearning down inside the pit of bitterness. To want is to soften, and if he softens too much, he’ll let something vitally important slip through. But the sun does not care for how much he’s changed, nor does it seek to sink it’s fingers deep into the weaker spots of him.

It shined on, warming up every grain of sand in his body. It’s why he never naps inside anymore. Walls suffocate him in a way that frustrates him, but he can never voice them out. At least, not yet. His tongue was still so very heavy, still weighed down by a guilt that poisons his lungs. The memory of your name slipping past his lips and into the ears of an easily jealous master still grips him tight.

You may have already forgiven him, but Leona won’t do the same for a moment of weakness, a moment of yearning that he was supposed to reign in as he always does. His own pride failed him, crumbling past his fingers as easy as sand does.

The sun was beginning to set on this grassland. In about an hour, Leona will make his way towards the roof of your home set here on this land, to soak in those last rays before the stars wink into existence. He felt the tips of your shoes dip into the sand, and while a part of him wants you to turn around and leave, he made a compromise to himself and let you cross the river, but Leona turned his back to you.

Leona glanced into the water this morning. The cracks in his face were still there, but now they’re further marred by a gross growth of black stones, looking almost like pimples, painfully growing out of the place where his eye used to be. This was a good thing. It’ll only be a matter of time before they fall off and he’ll finally see out of both eyes again, but he growled at the sight either way.

You won’t want to touch his face if you see this.

Leona doesn’t want to face rejection, so he won’t allow you a chance to touch it. Not until these stones fall out on their own and into their own tiny little graves.

You knelt by him, trailing a hand up his back before combing through his hair. Well, his sand replication of hair. Either way, the stiffness of his back gave way, and Leona couldn’t help but melt with the butterflies fluttering up his spine. When you gently nudged his shoulder to guide him on his back, Leona’s legs locked up and he growled.

It was only for a moment, but he growled at you. He felt sick. Leona could only curl up further into a ball, grabbing his head to hide.

You weren’t a danger to him, he knows this, but even so his stupid body flared up a nerve and forced hostility out of him. And now he can’t even get words out give any semblance of an excuse or apology.

But he still felt your hands there, in his hair when you should have flinched. He still felt your hand moving up and down his back when he basically told you to leave. You continued to touch him, trusting that he won’t suddenly attack or hurt you. It helped Leona gain just a little more control over himself.

The yearning in his heart only grew stronger. And here, in this land, in your hands, Leona finally gave in and laid flat on his back.

He saw the way you blinked at his face, eyes tracing over the gross growths on his face. The fingers on his neck didn’t so much as tremble before you cupped his cheek. You stroked his face, his hairline, and his ears. When you tried to move to massage his scalp, Leona grabbed your hands and returned them to his face.

Not yet, he wants to say, please, just a bit longer, so that I don’t think this is all a dream.

Maybe it’s the haze of sleep crawling around in his brain, or maybe it the dropping temperatures in his dorm, but either way, Leona drags his heavy body across his bed to partially lay his weight on one side of you.

You shifted with a groggy, “Ow,” languidly leaving your lips. Leona only made a noise in the tonal equivalent of an apology, adjusting himself so that his head was on your shoulder with his hand dipping under your shirt. You didn’t flinch. Leona runs naturally hot even during the cold nights in this dorm.

It wasn’t enough. It felt right, nice even, but none this was clicking in the right places in his head. Something was missing before Leona can truly admit he’s comfortable.

With some slight maneuvering, Leona managed to gently wedge his hand under your back, letting your weight press against the joints of his fingers. Like this, he could count how many breaths you make if he wanted to. Though, Leona was more distracted by your slow heartbeat.

Through the fog of dreams, you looped an arm around his neck, palm skimming down the length of his spine. The light graze of blunt fingernails raised goosebumps, forcing the fur at the base of his tail to stand on end.

Leona wasn’t wearing a shirt. He didn’t want to wear one. In the morning, he’ll probably give an excuse that he was too lazy, but it’s never easy to fool you with lies. Much in the way Ruggie does, you simply knew him too well. That’s the problem with getting too close to anyone. But still…

He wouldn’t be here, drinking in the feel and movement of your skin, the sound of your heart and the smell of a dreaming you if he didn’t want to trust you. Though, you’d sooner pull his teeth before he’d ever admit that to anyone.

A sigh of lazy bliss left his lungs as Leona pressed his nose against your neck, feeling your pulse under his lips. His hand left your back and started to drag over your side, just feeling, just making sure he commits the feel of your skin to his memory.

In all this time, Leona hasn’t opened his eyes. The dark does nothing to impede his eyesight, but he really doesn’t have a use for it right now. He doesn’t want to see, he wants to feel. And he wants to sleep.

Closing the last new inches between you and him, Leona pressed himself against your side, letting his hand rest just above your hip. This was better. Comfortable. He could sleep like this.

And with nothing to fight against, without that insistent itch of needing something, Leona lets the wind take him to his dreams.

Nowadays, it’s rather rare for you to be sitting in any one place for too long. It can’t be helped, really. With the amount of pets now in your house, you had to follow a strict schedule, both to make the pets as comfortable as possible, but also because of how easy it was for you to take one break and then stretch it to weeks.

It was winter, and as is their nature, the plant nymphs have all entered hibernation for the first time. With nothing to threaten them, their little bodies have finally started following the instincts instilled in them instead of being filled with fear. As such, you finally had your mornings all to yourself.

This also meant that your lap was now the new bed for Leona. He wasn’t so much curled up as much as he was just splayed on your thigh. He had his arms hanging off your leg, gravity drooping his head down as his legs twitched every so often. You dragged a finger over his back, poking his feet a few times just to see him spasm in his sleep. Little grains of sand flecked off and quickly faded.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep this deeply before. He almost looks like he’s melting with how flat he looks.

Another thing was the fact that slowly, Leona was starting to slide off your thigh. Sure, you could’ve adjusted yourself and make sure he stayed in place, but you really didn’t want to. He can pick himself back up anyway.

He did not, in fact, pick himself back up. Gravity eventually won with his instincts failing to do the same. The little pet landed right on face, pressed against the soft, thickly stuffed blankets.

One second passed, then two, then four, and only after fifteen seconds passed did you realize he was going to stay asleep. You felt your belly tense up with the need to laugh, but you had to keep it in. You needed to capture this.

A few quick swipes on your phone and you took a nice number of photos in deliberately unfaltering angles. Picking the one you liked best, you promptly sent one to Mr. Falena, knowing very well he’ll show this to Cheka later.

“Leona’s going to hate me later for this.”

His reply was almost instant, “With the way he’s sleeping, I don’t think he’ll be awake enough to find out!”

“Let go of me!” A young, second prince yowled out, kicking and scratching at the creatures that were more animal than man, “Let go of me, now!”

Magic does nothing to them. Fire, water, wind, flora, just about all of them were buffed away with the greatest of ease, sliding off their bodies as though nothing more than rain drops on wax paper.

“Wow, kid’s just as feisty too!” The monster grabbing his arms pointed out, “Our King of Beasts is going to just love you.” He jostled the prince about, laughing at his bobbing head.

“Too bad he doesn’t have the scar,” the other creature said, binding his legs in rope, “Ah well, we can always make one. I’m sure our god will be happy to have an einherjar such as you, looking the way you do.”

Leona dug his teeth into his lip, sucking in a breath to call the magic laying dormant within him. It sparked, swirling with life as these creatures took him farther away from the city. He let this magic, unstable as it was, flow out of him, “King’s—!”

A spear pierced through the clouds, embedding itself into the ground right next to Leona. A hole was left right in the torso of the monster holding his legs. No blood, no organs, nothing. A simple gaping hole, leaking out smoke as though nothing more than an illusion.

They let go of his feet just as the other monster dropped his head.

He didn’t run far. Another spear came a split second later to take his head. Both corpses disappeared in slow trails of black smoke. The spears followed, becoming glitters of light.

“Finally,” Leona sighed out, untying the ropes from his legs, “took all of you long enough.”

“’All of you?’ There’s only me, young Leona.” The beat of your wings sent wind through his hair. Lightly, your feet touched the ground. “Were you expecting an army?”

He retreated back, coiling the energy in his gut, ready to launch a spell if needed, “Who are you?”

Your armor clinked as you dusted it off, feathers pristine in their colorful glamour. “Look to your myths to find your answer. It should be easy enough.”

A Valkyrie. Chooser of the Slain. A death deity. He’s heard the stories. Who hasn’t been told?

“Judging by your expression, you have found your answer,” you looked behind you, as though looking for the corpses that have become smoke, “I’m not here to pick up your soul. As you can see, you still live.”

The tension Leona’s jaw eased, but his spine was still stiff. “Then why are you here?”

“I’ve come to slay that which seeks to mess with mortal fates,” you gestured to the open space that once contained his kidnappers, “They are servants to a god participating in a war over an empty throne. They cannot meddle with your fate, not as long as you remain within my sight.”

“So they can’t mess with it, but you can?” Leona didn’t wait for your answer. “You meddled with my fate, why not meddle with it more by making me king?”

You blinked at him, evidently surprised, “You would rather the throne be handed to you?” You shook your head, “Such laziness is unbecoming of a king. Besides, I know very well that question doesn’t hold weight to it. You simply want another agreeable servant by your side.”

Ah, people such as you always irritated him, thinking they know him better than he knows himself, even if they are right. “At least you have some brains underneath that helmet of yours. Seems you’re not all muscle.”

You sighed, “Such words would offend the ears of any god.”

Leona scoffed, “What? Are you gonna tattle that a bratty princeling like me made fun of you to your gods?”

Rather than a scowl or a snooty upturn of the nose like he expects from any haughty noble, you laughed, “Ha! Why would they ever listen to such ramblings? They sit far too high in their realms to catch any words spoken by those in Midgard.”

You let out a breath, calming yourself down. “It’s about time you go back now. I’m afraid I have to leave.”

So soon, huh? Leona huffed. “Yeah, just leave me all by myself, how merciful you are.”

“Glad to see you understand your position.” You did not take the bait. “May we meet when your life ends.”

With that, you fly back into the sky, a distant star he could never reach. A memory he will never let fade.

There’s a little space behind the book shelf that was just enough for stuff roll into. Just enough for Leona to crawl into and hide. Ever since Mr. Falena brought him here, almost entirely limp in his hands, Leona has not made any noise.

A change of pace would probably do him some good, he said. He’s not sick, just, tired. Very very tired. Mr. Falena hoped the vet’s advice will work and that more interactions would help. He only had Cheka as his companion now, ever since Ruggie moved in, but even then, the kid was too much of a handful.

Leona still moves, still blinks at you, but his colors have been dulled, his eyes lacking their usual shine. Leona’s even been sleeping way too often to be considered normal. He’s even been sleeping through his feedings.

You slide down, sitting against the wall closest to the place Leona was laying in. He looked up at you, blinking from his sleep that has spanned all night and day before putting his head back down.

No growls, no fussing, nothing. As though he truly had no energy in him.

Leona’s been here, in this unusual spot just to hide away from the others. He didn’t want to interact with them. He wanted to be left alone, it seems.

“Hey little guy,” his ears twitched at the nickname, finds the distasteful as always, “You doing good?”

You reached out, knowing he won’t scratch or bite you. You scratched the top of his head, though he didn’t snuggle against it. He just let it happen. You moved your palm right under his chin, letting him rest on it like a pillow. You didn’t want to annoy him by insisting on scratches. Just let him feel your presence for now.

“You need to eat a bit,” you would know, lack of energy leads to an empty appetite. You know he’s hungry, but you also know the feeling of just everything not being appealing. A fruit or piece of meat being comparable to stuffing paper in your dry mouth. “just a few bites, okay?”

You nudged his face higher, gently coaxing his mouth open to press a piece of fruit to his tongue. He didn’t do anything, simply blinked up at you before moving his face away.

However, you sighed in relief when he did give it a few reluctant licks.

“Alright,” you leaned back, letting Leona rest on your hand, “that’s something. I’ll be here until you’re ready for a bite, okay?”

It’s going to take time to get Leona out of this. As long as you exercise the same patience and persistence that you showed to yourself, you should get somewhere.

(Oh to hate walls but also have severe separation anxiety.) image

Leona needs no sleep. He hasn’t felt the urge to ever since his magic fully bloomed. He honestly can’t tell if it was a gift or a curse granted upon him.

A curse, he would say, for he was robbed an escape as his body fought to get those hot fragments out of himself. A gift, he would begrudgingly admit, for now he will never be left in the dark, left unaware and stupidly ignorant of whatever anyone wanted to do to him.

Leona hates how his body stiffened up, how nauseated he felt as he stuffed himself into the corner of your room. Stuffed, implying he’s curled up tight like a pathetic shaking ball. No, he wasn’t stuffed in a corner, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to make himself move.

Ha, years of yearning to be outside and here he is, refusing to do just that even though this land was his to roam. Even though this place was only touched by you.

It’s his stupid nerves. It’s this little parasite within his head that likes to spit at him and nip twitches and sparks into his fingers whenever you’re out of sight. It whispers how you’ll be gone again. That you’ll be taken away and forced to leave another home empty.

And eventually, everyone else will be taken as well.

This much should be fine. He can play the role of a silent guard dog like how Jack does. It’s just until his body finally listens to him again. And if you didn’t want him here, then he’ll just sleep in the hallway, near the door, waiting for you to start your day.

You lifted your head and patted the empty space on your bed. He can see you were starting to drift off.

“I know you don’t need sleep,” you scooted farther back, “but at least get comfy, okay?”

Ingrained in him were boundaries he must know. Never be two steps within the kitchen. Never be an obstacle in the hallway. Never sleep on a bed not meant for you.

But those were not your rules.

Gritting against the discomfort, Leona stood up and walked over to the bed. He can’t get under the covers, he won’t let himself, but he managed to push himself to lay his body right next to yours.

You turned your back to him. You simply trusted that he won’t do anything. You’ll sleep just fine even though you know he doesn’t need sleep at all.

Leona cannot slip into dreams, but he felt as though he’s finally having one.

…Leona can’t really move anymore. He doesn’t have the energy to. Well, not as though he even wanted to.

His legs can’t even move anymore, the joints locked up, practically sealed away with plates of hardened sand and metal encased in black stone. They were supposed to fall out, but months upon month of not moving, of not even bothering to get up and cast off old sand, has hardened.

In a way, it’s good. Nobody can stab him when his body gets like this.

That’s if anyone would bother.

Leona was within a tomb, thrown in here and locked away when he helped Ruggie and Jack get out of here. To where and to who’s arms, Leona doesn’t know. He hopes someone kind. Another part hopes it would be you they’d return to, and another wants to scratch at the walls out of outrage, jealousy.

…ah, he’s so tired.

The black flecked sand that was a part of him had long leaked out of this room. He didn’t bother to sharpen his connection to it, just wanted it to take down this rich mansion while leaving his hovel alone.

He even made sure to have the sand shift into a barrier. Everything will be kept in, and everyone will be kept out. A sandstorm probably would’ve been fitting, but no. He won’t. He can’t. He’s already done enough.

He could get out. He could go over to the door and push it open. It wasn’t held down by magic anymore, or the weight of a command. The master that was owner of it all was dead. She melted, didn’t even go down screaming.

Just became an ink puddle to be absorbed by his sand. Pathetic really. Someone as unshakable as that master, becoming nothing in seconds, really seemed like something from a dark comedy.

Ah, he wants to laugh, but he can’t. His voice doesn’t want to work.

He blinked with the only eye that worked, but even that was getting blurry. He couldn’t even hold up the barrier anymore. He can feel it fall apart, landing back on the ground. It’ll be swept away by the winds soon enough. With any luck, it’ll take him with it.

That would be nice, to feel the wind for the first time in who knows how long. Leona hasn’t bothered to keep track of time. He couldn’t feel the sun while in here. Had no one to keep track of or guess the passing of days.

Out of sight, out of mind. That’s something that master practiced in spades.

And when he closes his eyes, Leona hopes to never think again.

…

There was a noise. Of something moving. A grinding of stone against stone.

Leona twitched, as though rousing from a nap, but didn’t turn. He stayed where he was. There’s no point. Why bother talking when he can’t?

…Leona can hear words. He can’t make them out, but they’re talking. To him? Probably, but he can’t understand.

…white smoke and arid winds.

Oh, it’s those two. What are they doing here? You idiots, you weren’t suppose to return here.

…Leona can feel a hand on his shoulder. It tugged him upwards, off of the stone he laid upon. He didn’t catch himself and fell right onto a shoulder.

Your shoulder. Your shirt. Your skin.

Your smile.

You look so tired. Was it his fault? Probably. He knows he’s a case an a half. Never liked to make anything easy for you. Even now, he just make everything difficult.

He tired. Leona’s so, so tired, but he’ll stay awake, just a bit longer while leaning against you.

It didn’t take much begging to get his dad to let him come here, to this college way before the tournament starts. Of course, it was with a lot of bodyguards, and while Cheka liked them a lot, they don’t want to leave him alone long enough to find Uncle Leona.

Uncle Leona doesn’t relax when they’re around. Cheka doesn’t get it, they’re very nice ladies, but he understands that Uncle Leona doesn’t like it. Cheka likes Uncle Leona better when he grumbles and yawns rather than quiet.

So, when Cheka heard doors opening and students pouring out the classrooms, Cheka squeezed through their legs and before they could pluck him up. He’s done this many times. Sure, his dad isn’t going to like it, but he promises to say sorry once he’s done playing with Uncle Leona.

This place, Night Raven College, he hasn’t been here much, so everything here still seems so new. Familiar, yet always has new things to discover. It’s sparkling and pretty!

Sparkling and pretty, like the dragonflies in zipping in the air, heads twitching like they’re actually looking at him and only him. One of them even landed on his nose like how his mom would kiss it goodnight.

Cheka tried to grab it, so he can show Uncle Leona, but it flew away from him. All of them gathered in the air, looking down at him with their big eyes before they all flew north. Cheka had to follow. Their wings were too pretty and he wanted to see where they would go.

They all went into a small garden hidden away in the trees. A secret garden, with a pond just a few steps away from him. Bright green reed grew from the water, so tall that it drooped and almost touched the pond. The golden dragonflies swooped and did loops, never hitting each other as they made ripples.

Cheka ran and knelt by the grass, enraptured by their dance as droplets clung to their golden bodies. One of the dragonflies, the biggest one he’s ever seen, landed on the water, somehow not sinking at all. It looked at him and stayed still.

Now was his chance!

Cheka gripped the ground, nails digging into the dirt, and stretched his whole body. He reached out a hand, tried to get out as far as he could to get the pretty bug so he can show it to Uncle Leona.

It pulled back farther and farther, skidding across the water. One by one, more dragonflies joined the biggest one on the water’s surface. All that can be heard was the distant wind, empty of any buzzing wings. They all stared. They all waited as Cheka’s bright eyes focused on the most beautiful one.

A hanging reed got caught in his hair and tickled his nose. He sneezed, lost his grip, and tilted forward. The light glared off of the shiny heads of all those dragonflies.

A hand gripped the back of Cheka’s shirt and yanked him from the edge of the pond. Cheka would’ve struggled as he was lifted into the air, if it wasn’t for the familiar growl of irritation that entered his ears.

“Unca Leona!” Cheka celebrated with a big fat smile, outstretching his arms as though to hug him, even though he knows Uncle Leona won’t do that. But he might someday, so Cheka can’t lose hope.

“You…” Uncle Leona looked like he wanted to scold him, but something in him gripped his jaw tight and just sighed instead, “What are you doing here? Are you trying to cause a international panic?”

The dragonflies in the water flicked their wings and lifted themselves in the air. They swiftly rounded around the both of them, but most of them lingered over Leona’s shoulders. They’re so pretty but Uncle Leona’s prettier.

Cheka laughed sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to catch one of those,” he pointed, “and give them to you.”

Leona titled his head, directly looking at the bug, then shook them away. “All this trouble for a couple bugs.”

Cheka already had his legs tense for when Uncle Leona would drop him like he usually would when he gets annoyed like this. But, Uncle Leona lifted him up higher and higher until Cheka was settled on his shoulders. A warm, giddy feeling at being so high up made him kick his feet out.

“Careful with the ears,” Uncle Leona grumbled, gripping his ankles to keep him steady, “this’ll be faster anyway.”

“Okay!” Cheka laid his chin flat on Uncle Leona’s head. He may not have gotten a dragonfly, but at least he got this.

“And don’t tell Falena about this.”

“But—”

“No.”

Uncle Leona’s no fun!

You can see that Mr. Falena was trying so hard to keep his composure. His eyebrow was twitching and that smile of his was too giddy to be his normal one, just a few snorts away from becoming a laughing grin.

You have to admit, his gentle face was already soothing away the irritation that came with the day, but by no means were you ready to let go of your pissed off mood.

He cleared his throat again when another hiccup escaped his throat. He pointed to the glass tub with the rubber top in your hand. Within in lay an angry Leona, laying on his stomach, waiting for the first opportunity to pounce out of there but can’t.

“So,” another snort escaped him, “what did he do this time?”

You thumbed the path behind you, in the general direction of the kitchen. Just the thought of walking back to your kitchen was pissing you off all over again. You resisted the urge to just shove Leona back into Mr. Falena’s arms.

“Made a big ass hole in my fridge.” Sanded through that thing more like. You put on a childproof lock to keep him from getting in and the little shits solution was to make a hole, a big fucking hole that can fit your head, and get your food that way. “Kept stealing my food too.”

It wasn’t that hard to catch him. Sure, he’s a naturally slippery fella but if you grab him but he scruff, he goes naturally limp. It was just a matter of catching him and stuffing him in a tub.

He fought the tub, that’s for certain, but this was a tub gifted to you by Crowley, and everything he gives you always has a magic touch to it. Unbreakable, this thing.

At that, Mr. Falena hissed and winced. “I… Am so sorry.”

He took Leona from your hands. He brought the glass tub close to his face. Leona glared at him, but it’s hard to take it seriously when his belly was all full and round like that. He had a feast.

“Leona, we have plenty of food back home. You don’t have to destroy fridges like that.”

Ha, like that gentle scolding will teach Leona a lesson. That only works on Cheka. You can tell he didn’t listen by the way he scooted his head deeper into his arms.

Ugh, your poor fridge. Your poor food…

“I’ll be sure to get you the best fridge I can find. Both magic and childproof as well.”

“That’d be nice.” Well, you can’t reject the offer. Having a fancy fridge sounds really nice, actually.

Yes, you have the money. Yes, you certainly have the time. Yes, you were actually going to get Leona’s favorite food after Mr. Falena called and said he was dropping Leona off, but Leona decided to hiss at you when he found nothing resembling his precious meat in his plate.

Fine little bastard, you get nothing but the standard pet food. Nobody’s allowed to take the attitude with you in your own home.

You were leaning against the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as you ate from a bag. You’re too lazy to walk and sit down right now.

“Hmm?” You thinned your eyes to a glare. Leona was on the edge of the counter. He’s not going to sand your bag is he?

Nope. Leona scoffed and flopped right on the counter, away from you. The little snores that escaped him were clearly exaggerated.

You took your stuff and walked right out. To the living room you go, you guess. Best to give Leona some room to cool down, lest he does something stupid that’ll make you put him in the tub of torment again.

You sat down on the couch, only for Leona to come in as a spirit of sand, solidifying on the arm. He hissed and growled like you’re the one invading his space before turning his back to you and curling up again.

Buddy, you’re the one that followed me.

You gathered your bag and phone and went right upstairs. Sitting in your bed wasn’t the best thing. You made it a rule to spend some time in other places but you’re allowed to cheat a bit.

You stopped in the middle of the hallway. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around.

Leona was right there, behind you. He glared up at you, turned around again before laying down. He so tiny compared to the size of the hallway, you almost let go of your annoyance before you figured out why he’s doing all this.

…he wants you to watch him ignore you, doesn’t he? That’s so bratty you can’t help but snort. He’s not gonna stop until you give him what he wants huh? Well, you can play this game longer than he can stand. This’ll be fun.

“You know,” you rubbed at your temples one tepid morning, in an attempt to sooth a headache that refuses to leave you be in this darkness, “hatred is a contagious thing. You implant a single thought and it germinates. Like weeds, they take to lonely soil, consume it even.”

Leona wanted to dismiss your rambles as nonsense, as dregs of paranoia that come with sleepless nights and too-bright mornings. But that’s not what he sees. A reflection, perhaps? No, you had not made this bed your grave like how he tried to make that basement his tomb. You had not given up your routine. Your shoulder, pressed against his forehead, was damp with water. He smelled a clean soap.

“With all of you back,” Somehow you managed to sink deeper into the sheets, not weight down by regrets but by too many swirling thoughts, “I have made myself a beacon of hatred, haven’t I?”

Leona opened his eyes.

“Does it matter?” What’s the point of it? Why linger on that when you, on sheer willpower alone, carved out a paradise that they had all given up on? Why were you letting any of this bother you when Leona couldn’t care less? “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that when you made the choice to get us all back? I didn’t take you for someone with an empty skull.”

Panic makes a fool of many but your gently breathing body was far from that state. You were less alive but you’re not a corpse just yet. Though that is enough for useless thoughts to fester, swell and leak out. Leona’s words were a needle and his hand wrapped over your shoulder.

“I can’t fend myself from enemies, you know.” you patted his arm then reached to scratch his scalp.

“But I can,” he said, with the ease of sand falling through fine cracks, “And that’s more than enough.”

“Enough?” He managed to get a smile but it wrong, as though taped over your mouth. “Yeah, everyone’s enough. Can’t say the same for myself. Can barely bring myself to feel much of anything honestly.”

Like being an empty vessel, a lone existence in a body that was missing something. Like you’re missing a part but you’ve kept putting it off that now you’re missing just about everything vital. A shell, filled with only mild disappointment.

“One of those days, huh?” Your arm made a decent pillow.

“Yup. Tired, very tired. Exhausted both inwards and out.”

“It’s not like you have anything to do. We can just lay here. It’ll at least make that octopus jealous.”

“He does do a horrible job at hiding it. Just don’t heckle him, Leona. I’m not in the mood to be annoyed.”

Items that one seldom use, that one doesn’t want to see or care for them to gather dust are always out of sight. Placed behind big furniture, behind closet doors that are seldom opened, or even under laundry piles that should’ve been put away long ago. It doesn’t matter. It’s too much of a hassle to get up, open a trash back and stuff them all in there. There’s just too many things Leona doesn’t care about.

If it breaks, so be it. If it rots, so be it. Useless things are put in useless places. Water bottles, wrappers, red tissue paper from gifts he didn’t care for, empty soda cans for when he craved that shot of sugar, and piles of textbooks he’s required to buy but seldom used.

Thing that Leona occasionally use, like shoes, pencils and his ceremonial uniform, those get put on the floor. They’re not important enough to be on the bed, rarely anything is, but they can’t be put in a shelf and forgotten about. Leona doesn’t have the energy to go around and relocate every little thing he needs.

So, rather than do that, it’s better to have it plain sight. On the floor, where he can just push it to the side if it’s in the way. Not too taxing on the memory, though not even this method helps. It ends up blending with the floor at some point, a permanent fixture that he can’t distinguish. You might notice a single black blade of grass in your yard but when they start to pile up, you eventually stop noticing altogether.

Leona’s bed wasn’t a cluttered mess, but it had enough things in it to not be considered clear. There’s a wide area clear of anything. Of course, this was the spot where he slept, where he’d wake up, daydream and go right back to sleep. He can flip, he can lay on his stomach. Rarely does he ever move from this side of the bed. On the other side was more clothing, things like hair bands and his college uniform are there.

Ready to be picked up, ready to be used without him ever getting out of bed. There are even little bags of snacks, still closed, still waiting to be consumed when getting up to get a meal was just not worth it. A couple of water bottles were there as well. A hairbrush, his phone with the charger hanging on the pillow next to Leona’s, and his phone itself.

All sorts of crumbs have gathered on that side of the bed, but his spot stayed clean and free of dust and debris.

The world continues to spin while Leona lays here, drifting into the blackness that sleep provides, that temporarily takes away his ability to feel. It’s less than numb, it’s simply nothing.

Another day, another night passes, another class missed. Leona is just too tired, too sleepy. He can get up another day. Not today. Never today.

You waved after Kalim as he ran towards his ride. He jumped in, closed the door and off he went. Lilia perked up.

“Well then, let’s start looking around.” Lilia clapped his hands, already scoping out the beauty that is Sunset Savanna. Wouldn’t that be nice, just to take your time and explore the place? A beautiful marriage of nature and skyscrapers, in hot weather that only makes the plant life look more vibrant.

“Huh, hey, aren’t you coming?” Grim lightly kicked your legs like they would kick-start them somehow. You lightly pushed him back with your foot.

“I, uh, can’t actually.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a black car with a rather familiar symbol on it. A very detailed symbol. One that matched the one on your letter.

“Ho? Is that the royal crest of the royal family?” Vil’s smirk was nothing short of poisonous, enjoying Leona’s increasing discomfort. “Could it be your brother was that impatient to see you? Or are they perhaps here to pick you up?”

“Either way, it wouldn’t do to keep them waiting, dear prince.” Lilia, of course, had to join in the teasing bordering on cruelty.

“…you’ve got to be kidding me…” Leona growled from his throat, ears laid flat, tail lashing. “Come on, we’re going.”

Oh boy, guess now’s a good time as any to out yourself. Not as if it was a secret, you just thought it would be funnier. That and you know that it would put Leona in a horribly sour mood and you honestly didn’t want to deal with that.

“Huh? Oy, where are you going?” Grim, of course, being your little minion, was the first to notice you walking towards the car that was detailed in your long, long letter. Seriously, you have quite the number of things planned in this little space of time you were able to grab.

“I’m going to my ride.” You bluntly put, digging into your bag to pull out a puffed up white envelope. You flipped it, showing the royal crest. “I kinda have my whole day planned out already. With my friend. And his wife.”

“Wait, you mean to tell me your friend was part of the royal family?” Of course Vil would get it first. His skills of observation are nothing to laugh at. He looked impressed, probably cause of how little history and influence there was to your name, but there’s also this vague aura of discomfort about him, as though he expects you to laugh and say it’s a lie.

“Specifically, Mr. Falena. Well, Falena, he really doesn’t like it when I get formal.” You nodded.

Leona looked as though he wanted to skin you the moment the dots connected together. But he was never one to give into his anger. He prefers to seethe. See, this was why you didn’t want to say anything until the last minute. “And you didn’t tell me, because?”

“Cause you’d get into a shitty mood and I don’t want to deal with it.” You, Falena and his wife have been planning this outing for a while. It started off as a joke on his part and then it just, grew. Adding activity after activity, and when the opportunity finally came up, he leaped at the chance. So, here you are, after not so subtly reminding Leona that he still owes you a few favors.

“So you deign it necessary for us to deal with the fallout at the last minute. Truly, you are diabolical.” Lilia says that but his expression says he likes this. Any kind of sour mood was just an excuse for him to either try and lighten it up, or make it worse.

“Though, where exactly are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?” Vil asked, crossing his arms.

“Well, hold up,” you opened the envelope, shaking the long scroll of a page. It trailed down, down, down until it hit the poor sweating Jack’s feet, “Uh, well there’s going to be a tour of the palace, eating at some of the vendors, go to a river, go the district Leona said he was taking you Vil, shopping, more shopping, more food. There’s a lot to do. Oh and of course we’re going to see you all play.”

“Why would my stupid brother waste his time like this…” He refused to engage with you anymore, wanting out of any subject that relates to him.

You rolled up the paper and stuffed it back in the envelope.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!” Grim jumped up, already assuming he can go by trotting towards the car.

Vil only needed to take one step forward to grab him by the scruff. “You weren’t invited. If you have any scrape of etiquette in you, you’d know you can’t just invite yourself when dealing with royalty.”

“Yup.” You popped, shrugging your shoulders. “Sorry Grim, you’re gonna have to sit this one out.” Besides, you want a vacation away from him for a bit, as cruel as that sounds.

“To think your influence has went so far as to even charm those that don’t even attend Night Raven College. You’re shaping up to be a fearsome individual.” Lilia smirked, but waved nonetheless.

“Well, what are you lingering for?” Leona’s face finally relaxed, not quite angry, more finished with the situation. “Leave. Can’t have you being late to meet his royal highness.”

Bitter, bitter.

“Later.” You waved and hopped into the car. Off it drove, leaving behind a baffled group, wondering how you even managed to contact Falena, let alone be friends with him. Leona knows, but damn he tried to push that information out of his head.

“…It’s cold…” Leona rasped out, curling into himself as best an injured, pain-killer drugged man can do. You can’t even say if he was actually conscious or not. The low pitch, the way the words almost were indistinguishable from the drafts you’d get in your room, makes it seem as though he’s still trapped in a dream.

“I know, I know,” you mumbled either way, wiping his bare back with a towel, “Hold on, I’m almost done.”

Leona’s certainly a different challenge to bath compared to the slight form of Riddle, but at least this bed’s big enough to accommodate just about any size. He’s not as heavy as he appeared to be and he’s pliant enough, not quite the squirmy mess that Riddle was when he was trapped in a night terror.

Though, that doesn’t mean that Leona didn’t have his own troubles plaguing him while you were giving him a sponge bath.

“…It’s…cold…” He talks quite a bit in his sleep, but only these lines. Repeating the same thing, over and over again even when he’s drowning the sheets with his sweat, and even when that fever had passed.

You grabbed his shoulder, said “Alright, back you go,” and laid him flat on the bed with the towels removed. Putting Leona in loose fitting clothing was a bit of a hassle considering his rag doll like state, but you’ve had the practice. Not like you had much of a choice.

He murmured something as his head fell to the side. You couldn’t hear, but you could guess what he’s saying.

“What are you dreaming about?” You lifted his head, arranging his hair behind him so it wasn’t irritating his face. “Something you won’t ever tell me, that’s for sure. There we go.”

Prideful beings such as Leona would rather keep their dreams to the grave all while dismissing it as anything important. Dreams are often nonsensical but with magic at play, and its relationship with the imagination itself, there always that slight possibility of something more.

Will you get to know the details? Probably not. You never really ask so much as you piece it together. Heavy weighs the loneliness upon a crownless head, you suppose. Funny though, even with a crown, that shining gold wouldn’t be enough to deter that isolation.

He only really stops mumbling when you put a hand on his forehead. Not his head, not his back, not his hand, the forehead. How interesting.

You stretched, working out some of your sore muscles before a tiny knock at the window caught your attention. “Hm?”

You parted from the bed and opened the window. Outside, with gold dust flowing with the wind, a little wood fairy was waving a letter right at you. You grabbed it, making sure to toss a sugar cube their way before fastening the window shut once more.

The envelope was a fancy thing, colorful in it’s warm yet vibrant colors, like the writer couldn’t stand for the standard white envelopes that you find a lot. There was a gold wax seal that stood out, of an insignia that you don’t really recognize.

You draped yourself on the nearest chair and broke the seal.

Two letters were present inside, one written boldly in that ham-fisted way kids do when trying to keep their pen steady, and another in unique curves as though they’re not used to writing in this language.

Letters of gratitude, from both Cheka and his father, the first prince, Falena.

The cold is nice for the excuse to not get out of bed. Plenty of nice and heavy blankets and sheets to use, but the problem comes with the fact that your heater is an old finicky thing. Sometimes it’ll get along with you and toast up your room and toes, other times it’ll seethe and overdo it way past the point of comfortable. It even makes a weird noise and you’re not about to test out what that is.

You would get it repaired, but the thought of picking up a phone and making a call really tires you out. You can barely get up in the morning just to feed yourself. And with this winter snow blanketing a few inches, you’re not in the mood of going outside.

So, here in bed you are, heater off but house solid enough to keep the worst of the cutting wind out. You had so many layers on you that you felt like a slumbering monster under a mountain. You moved just as slow.

The plants are sleeping, Silver is on vacation with his pets, Rook is visiting his family with his own, and Leona is right under the sheets with you.

You felt the need to take a peek.

Green eyes sharp with annoyance glared clear at you. You couldn’t even make out his body, it was just his irises.

“What?” you challenged him, dared him to make any sort of noise or complaint. “You’ll get stuffed in the tub again if you show me attitude.”

Besides, he’s the one that crawled into your sheets while you were there. And you’re not moving just because he’s here. You value yourself too much to crumble under his attitude. You don’t reward a clearly inflated ego.

Leona only gave a huff from his side of the bed before closing his eyes. Good, no growling. That’s a start.

You let the blankets drop and shifted on your other side, feeling your ear go numb from not moving all morning.

You felt a shift behind your legs. You didn’t really move so much as you snuggled closed into your side, just in case Leona thought it be a good idea to try and nudge you off the bed. He tried doing that a month back but only succeeded in getting your arm off.

Instead, you felt a little hand touch your leg, pull back like you shocked him, then placed it right back. Some more movement, as though shuffling around, trying to find the best spot, then you felt a whole body relax against the hollow of your knee.

…huh.

Alright, you can work with that. That’s some good progress. Mr. Falena and Cheka will be happy to hear Leona willingly let himself use you as a pillow.

While you mentally labeled this an hourglass, that was only one half of the structure you know have on your desk. On this shared golden stand shaped like a staircase was both an hourglass and a snowglobe. You just found it discarded right behind a tree while you were walking home in Sam's shop. It was a pretty piece, one that you knew you would never be able to afford, so you took it home.

The hourglass, unfortunately, was partially missing a piece of the top that kept all the sand in place. What little was left was this pretty black sand that had flecks of white and gold. It was nice and you wanted to see if you could do some maintenance on it so you could use it for a little bit.

But, well, things happen and Leona ended up finding it. He took a sniff, spent a good while just, zoning out at the large fantastical kingdom inside the snowglobe, then spotted the opening the hourglass.

"Umm," Falena scratched the back of his head as you showed him your new object, "Is Leona..." His whisper trailed off as he pointed to the hourglass filled partially with golden sand, fully replacing all the black sand that was once inside.

You nodded, stepped back, then turned it over.

However, instead of the sand obeying gravity, it pulled the rest of it sand like an exposed tail. You even shook it a little but the sand swirled around and pulsed in protest.

"He doesn't want to get out," you deadpanned, "I've been trying for an hour already."

"Did you lure him with food?" Falena reached into the folds of his clothes, ruffling around for something. You bet he keeps all sorts of snacks for Cheka to snack on. And other little toys, like those water arcade games.

"I tried," you flipped it back over and Leona partially stuck his sand self out the top again, clearly relaxing in the face of your plight.

"Ah, well..." Mr. Falena got a little awkward. He stuck out his hands. "I could just take it?" The word 'take' sounded very unsure in his mouth, like he wasn't sure if you'll allow it or not.

You just sigh with a little grumble at the end. You really don't want Leona to claim another one of your little knick-knacks. He's been doing that a lot.

You old fridge? His now. That insulated cup you had for when you're working on the plant nymph garden? His now. The blanket, the umbrella, your old wallet, and even that book you were just reading the other day.

So uh, safe to say that you really don't want to part with this.

"How about this," Falena took a step back since you were unwilling to give this thing up, "He can stay here for the night and if Cheka misses him too much, I can bring him right over for a visit. Just until he finally gets out of there."

Ah, you're not exactly the best at handling kids, and most of your pets aren't exactly kid friendly, but Falena said it's a visit, not babysitting duty.

"Yeah, I can do that."

Is it petty to want to keep this one thing out of Leona's little paws? Probably. But oh well, you have your things and Leona has his. Ruggie already has a hoarding problem and you really don't want that habit to ingrain itself in Leona as well. Doesn't help that Jack really looks up to Leona, so your little winter cloud of a pet would start hoarding things too.

...but also you really like this neat thing. You don't want to give it up.

Well, you're going to have to get some snacks ready for Cheka. That boy has been growing nonstop and he loves to eat.

While you mentally labeled this an hourglass, that was only one half of the structure you know have on your desk. On this shared golden stand shaped like a staircase was both an hourglass and a snowglobe. You just found it discarded right behind a tree while you were walking home in Sam’s shop. It was a pretty piece, one that you knew you would never be able to afford, so you took it home.

The hourglass, unfortunately, was partially missing a piece of the top that kept all the sand in place. What little was left was this pretty black sand that had flecks of white and gold. It was nice and you wanted to see if you could do some maintenance on it so you could use it for a little bit.

But, well, things happen and Leona ended up finding it. He took a sniff, spent a good while just, zoning out at the large fantastical kingdom inside the snowglobe, then spotted the opening the hourglass.

“Umm,” Falena scratched the back of his head as you showed him your new object, “Is Leona…” His whisper trailed off as he pointed to the hourglass filled partially with golden sand, fully replacing all the black sand that was once inside.

You nodded, stepped back, then turned it over.

However, instead of the sand obeying gravity, it pulled the rest of it sand like an exposed tail. You even shook it a little but the sand swirled around and pulsed in protest.

“He doesn’t want to get out,” you deadpanned, “I’ve been trying for an hour already.”

“Did you lure him with food?” Falena reached into the folds of his clothes, ruffling around for something. You bet he keeps all sorts of snacks for Cheka to snack on. And other little toys, like those water arcade games.

“I tried,” you flipped it back over and Leona partially stuck his sand self out the top again, clearly relaxing in the face of your plight.

“Ah, well…” Mr. Falena got a little awkward. He stuck out his hands. “I could just take it?” The word ‘take’ sounded very unsure in his mouth, like he wasn’t sure if you’ll allow it or not.

You just sigh with a little grumble at the end. You really don’t want Leona to claim another one of your little knick-knacks. He’s been doing that a lot.

You old fridge? His now. That insulated cup you had for when you’re working on the plant nymph garden? His now. The blanket, the umbrella, your old wallet, and even that book you were just reading the other day.

So uh, safe to say that you really don’t want to part with this.

“How about this,” Falena took a step back since you were unwilling to give this thing up, “He can stay here for the night and if Cheka misses him too much, I can bring him right over for a visit. Just until he finally gets out of there.”

Ah, you’re not exactly the best at handling kids, and most of your pets aren’t exactly kid friendly, but Falena said it’s a visit, not babysitting duty.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Is it petty to want to keep this one thing out of Leona’s little paws? Probably. But oh well, you have your things and Leona has his. Ruggie already has a hoarding problem and you really don’t want that habit to ingrain itself in Leona as well. Doesn’t help that Jack really looks up to Leona, so your little winter cloud of a pet would start hoarding things too.

…but also you really like this neat thing. You don’t want to give it up.

Well, you’re going to have to get some snacks ready for Cheka. That boy has been growing nonstop and he loves to eat.

“Congrats Ruggie,” Leona gave a lazy grin to the shrinking, frowning Ruggie as he leaned against a boulder, “you went from insect to a pipsqueak.” He really doesn’t hesitate to tease, does he?

“Shut up…” Ruggie hissed out through gritted teeth, “can you at least do me a favor and get me some clothes? Laughing at me isn’t going to protect me from the wind, you know.”

“No need,” you finally decided to stop letting Ruggie suffer and stepped out the door, carrying a pile of clothing under your arm as Ruggie ducked further into the tree, hiding his modesty, “I got you some things. Try them on.”

The relief that entered him practically sagged his bones. “I owe you the world, Caretaker.” Ruggie reached out his arms as far as he could, making sure the leaves don’t leave him exposed. “Give ‘em here, please.”

Ah, what nice manners, unlike the sand spirit that continues to smirk at Ruggie’s newfound size. You can only imagine how horrified Ruggie was when he woke up right next to Jack, bigger and bare as all day, his tiny clothing torn asunder.

You adjusted yourself and tossed the ball of clothing into the wind spirit’s hands. You already had a set of clothes prepared inside this sanctuaries house, but Ruggie refused to move, so you had to bring those clothes here. He caught them just fine and dipped back into the leaves.

“Seriously, why did this had to happen while I was sleeping?” He grumbles, pants dangling in view for a bit before disappearing, “And in front of Jack and Leona? They’re never gonna let me live this down.”

“Don’t worry, Ruggie!” Jack pipped up from below, standing as high as his tiny form will allow him. “I didn’t see a thing!” The joy in his eyes reflected the light so brightly, a great contrast to the conflict on his face when he woke you up this morning.

Jack was proud, that much you’re certain, but you suppose he’s disappointed that he hasn’t gained his bigger form yet.

You leaned against the wall of your home, stuffing a snort back down. “I mean, transforming in front of me wouldn’t have been any better.” While sure you wouldn’t have laughed at him—at least not in his face—your reaction wouldn’t have been any better. You don’t think mortification would’ve been a confidence booster.

“It be ten times better.” Finally, the wind spirit jumped down to the ground. “They’re too big,” Ruggie remarked as he flapped the sleeves. He really doesn’t look all the different from a regular person had it not been for his odd, shifting transparency and constantly moving clothes. The winds of this land are calm, but Ruggie certainly was not.

You just shrugged. “They’re hand-me-downs, what do you want me to do?”

You got these things from Crowley, Trein, Vargas and Mr. Kingscholar. Kalim wants to give you clothes but after that one time you let him indulge, you realized you can’t afford another closet just to fit all that Kalim wanted you to have. Crewel wasn’t a believer of giving you old things. You were either up to date or it’s nothing on his part. And Sam, well, he likes his gifts to be more unique. Clothes are too boring and common, simply put.

Even though the naked problem was solved, Ruggie still didn’t look all that happy. His body sagged a bit, eyes wandering down to Jack right by your feet. You saw the frown on his face.

“You weren’t going to be small forever, not when I’m around,” Leona pushed himself off the boulder, turning into a cloud of sand, solidifying right next to you right before poking Jack with his foot, “now you can actually help out around here instead of taking advantage of the Caretaker’s coddling.”

His ability to say such things with a straight face was something to envy. You smacked Leona on the back hard enough to stumble him forward. You gave a tight smile, clapping your hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Now that both of you can assist me in cleaning out all the other places. Speaking of which. Leona, we’re gonna have to clean out Jamil’s place.”

“Wha—”

“Come on,” you turned around, waving your hand to follow, “we’re burning daylight. Best to get it done as quickly as possible. So you better come here.”

The shift in your tone left no room for defiance. Leona’s ears flattened and you can see sharp words forming on his tongue before he pushed them back. He sighed. “Fine.”

Good boy. “I’ll pick you up later Ruggie, okay?”

“Take your time!” Now that put a smile on Ruggie’s face.

You flapped out whatever excess moisture you could get, snapping the shirt once or twice before pinning it to the wire with the last of your pins. You stepped back to look at all the clothes, weighed down by water as they basked in the sun.

Finally, you got all of the clothes out of the way. Look at the way all your socks, shirts, and pants were hung up. Clean, clean perfection. Can’t wait for them to be tossed onto the bed in nice, clean pile and never put away.

Oh well, one thing at a time. At least you’re not leaving your clothes on the floor this time. Anyways, there’s still one thing you need to do. Or rather, someone you need to call.

You looked over your shoulder, towards the roof where you last saw a flash of a little eager rascal. “Ruggie! Come here a sec!”

You barely finished your sentence before you felt a weight settle against your shoulder. The familiar, almost hissing laughter was all you needed to hear to know who joined you.

“Well, buddy?” You gently bumped your head against Ruggie’s. “You know the drill. Go for it.”

A gust of wind buffed your face before leaping right at the clothes. In a fantastic whirlwind, Ruggie wound up, down and all around. He stopped for a moment, solidifying right back into his tiny form just to stick his tongue at you, wearing your shirt even though it was just too big. Then it was back to his wind form, whipping out as must water from your clothes as he can.

When Ruggie was finally done, he reappeared right on your show, swinging his little legs as though he wasn’t just running miles in the same spot a second ago. You snorted at the kiddish grin he threw your way.

When you bent down, Ruggie leaped onto your hand. You didn’t need him to be close to smell the detergent practically infused in his body. He didn’t seem to mind. You can see he relishes in the smell. You are using one that he favors, after all.

You patted his little head, giving him a bonus scratch behind the ears.

“Good job, Ruggie.” A small test pull of the clothes told you they were perfectly dry. “I’ll give you a snack in a bit, okay?”

And you’ll hold to that promise. Otherwise your socks will go missing over the course of the day.

There was a solid knock on your door, snapping you out of your daily morning zone out. Well, not quite fully pulling your consciousness into your brain, but it was enough to inject a slight sense of urgency in you. You pushed your sheets off, barely noticing that Grim was gone but chalked that up to him getting first dibs on food, and sat on the edge of your bed, and nothing more.

The knock came again, this time keying you in on who it is. Only Jack would have that strong and solid a knock. You cleared your throat and then said, “Come in.”

“Excuse me,” he said as he opened the door and closed it just as quickly. A little too quickly actually, but you’re still too groggy to do anything other than raise an eyebrow at him. You may not have replaced the door, but you have enough sense to know Azul would used luxurious wood he probably heckled from some poor seller.

Jack stiffened up slightly, and murmured another apology. You saw his hands reach up to straighten collar, tugging at the fabric before settling down.

He’s…softer than usual. Is there something wrong?

You shifted and made to get up, but Jack held out his hands towards you.

“Ah, wait! You don’t have to get up yet,” He didn’t touch you, but more air-guided you back on your bad. “Let me help you get ready.”

Your eyebrow raised higher and gave an elongated, “Okay?” before relaxing.

A question started to form on your tongue, but the relaxed smile he gave made you pause. “Thank you,” he said, his shoulders finally lowering.

He padded over to your closet, glancing over to you, as though making sure you haven’t lifted a finger just yet, and grabbed your uniform. When he got close enough, you reach out your hand, palm up.

“Give it,” you said, bobbing your hand for emphasis, “and turn around will you?”

The little upturn in his eyes went down, along with the corners of his mouth. The caretaker in him probably really wanted to put on your clothes for you. Sorry Jack, but this is faster this way.

When you finally finished sliding on your pants, you sat back on the bed. The creak the metal springs gave made Jack’s ears perk up, the tip of his tail beginning to gently sway just as you said, “Turn around.”

When his eyes locked with yours, you leaned back, lifting a foot and gave a single command. “Shoes.”

You’ll give him this much.

He took to it quickly. Jack kneeled before you, enveloping your foot between his hands with the grip one gives to glass art. He glanced up, finding your light but encouraging smile, and set to his task. On goes the sock, next the shoes, then repeat.

When he set your foot down, he didn’t dare look up. Both his hands were clenched on his lap. He rolled his shoulders a bit and settled down.

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

He jumped, apparently too lost in his own brain static to anticipate a noise from you.

“Jack, look at me. What’s wrong?”

He obeyed, pupils shifting about your room, but you can’t mistake the look of eagerness hidden beneath that veil of nerves.

He straightened his posture after a deep breath, likely centering himself after that whole routine of keeping it in. Finally, he asked, “May I pick my reward?”

You made a noise in your throat, caught a bit off guard.

A reward, huh? It’s been a bit of a routine you’ve established, ranging from things such as petting his head, collaring him, brushing his tail, and even kissing his ears after following your orders. Guess he wants something that’s outside these things.

Well, you’re not against it.

You smiled. “I’ll humor you. What do you want, for being such a good boy?”

Jack’s ears cutely perked up, his tail moving just a bit stronger. You almost choked on your spit when he started eagerly unbuttoning his shirt, but kept yourself quiet as you did agree to whatever it is he wanted.

He pulled his shirt down, exposing his muscled shoulders to the delicate lights in your room. His skin was shining a bit, likely from the anticipation running clear through him.

He leaned his neck to the side. “Can you bite me?”

Bite. A mark, made by your own teeth. He wants you to sink your teeth into his skin and leave something behind. Of course, why haven’t you thought of adding that onto his list of rewards? Oh idiot idiot you, you still have so much to learn about him.

Well, all the same, you’ll reward him. “Of course.”

You patted the space next to you. You’re not in the mood to kneel on the floor.

His tail’s movements turn up a few notches, almost whacking you but he had enough sense to be careful as he plopped on the bed. Looking at his face, you can see he was trying not to show how excited he was, but he always had very expressive eyes, no matter how cool he tried to play it. That and his tail doesn’t help.

You reach out, letting your palm rest against his cheek. The glow in his eyes evened out a little bit, taking on a soothing golden glow, almost sleepy looking as he leaned against you. You traced the solid column of his neck with your other hand, enjoying the way his breath hitched as you brushed over a sensitive spot.

You could just bite his neck, leave a mark for the world to see. Jack probably wouldn’t mind, at first anyway. Well, fortunate for the both of you, you’re a rather private person. You’d rather have it be a little secret for Jack to think on as his shirt brushes against what you’ve left behind.

You leaned forward, hearing the way the sheets shift over each other as Jack tightens his grip on them before kissing the spot just above his shoulder. You can feel the way he shuddered under your fingers.

You paused, letting him take a moment to breathe and collect himself before opening your maw and biting down. Jack jumped, a noise almost bordering a whine travels through him before it levels out into a soft growl. A content growl. You let go, finding a bruise blooming beautifully on his shoulder.

“There we go,” you said, satisfied with your work.

“You…Prefect…” Jack breathes, looking at you with eyes that clearly want more than just this one bite, “you should’ve…bit harder.”

You simply patted his cheek. “Later, when you’ve earned it. Just grit your teeth and settle for this for now, okay?”

“…I’ll try to endure.”

“Good boy. That’s all I ask for.”

“You sure about that buddy?” You couldn’t help but question Jack’s judgment on this one. He wants you to be his added weight to improve his broom flying skills, but the problem comes down to the fact that you have no speck of magic in case something goes real wrong.

“Would you rather ride with Grim?” Jack inclined his head towards Grim, frowning as though you offended him for even questioning his decision. Meanwhile, Grim was over on the other side of the field, tugging at both Ace and Deuce, probably to show off his “expert flying skills.”

“Yeah, that’s a no on that one.” He might get offended that you didn’t automatically go to Grim first, but it’s his own fault for forgetting you existed and immediately dived for someone else. “Alrighty, let’s go on a ride then. I trust you.”

You saw Jack’s tail stiffen up before he relaxed, rubbing the back of his head as his ears twitched. “Mm, just hang on tight. I won’t catch you if you fall.”

Ain’t that the biggest lie of the century? Just last week, he was panicking because you had a cut on your forehead, quite literally sweeping you off your feet to get you to the nurse. To be fair, the blood made you look like you were dying, but it only looked bad. Just needed a bandage. But, you refrained from calling him out.

“Of course.” And planted your butt on the broom as soon as Vargus gave the signal.

When it was Jack’s turn, up and up you went. The wind threatened to blast you right off his broom, but you had confidence in your grip that you won’t fall off. You can see the giddy expression on Jack’s face as he pushed himself to his limit, taking in the new heights he’s reaching. You couldn’t help but smile, tempted to pat his head or back, but you don’t want to break his concentration.

“Ah!” The sound of a squawking Grim cause you to look down. He looked positively peeved at you, mouth forming the word “Traitor!” as he shook his fist at you.

You simply waved like you were a royal heir on a carriage in a parade.

“Hey,” Jack called for your attention, “have you ever been this high before?”

In a plane? Certainly, but where’s the fun in spoiling it? Besides, you’ve never been this high on a broom before so…

“No. Grim never made it this high before.” Finally, Jack started to lower to the ground, “Have you been practicing? Didn’t think you can handle my weight that easily.” Big or small, you still had enough to you that can throw the unpracticed off their flying game.

Jack looked back at you, focusing on your face for a touch too long before he realized he was staring. He turned around, shoulder’s hunching just a bit. “I have…”

That tenacity of his. What a sight to see. “I’m proud of you.”

Then he landed on the ground, stumbling on his feet but managed to catch himself.

Quietly, for your ears only, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Lonely little thing, the church grim was.

The cemetery was one that has never been used. It holds the title of a cemetery, but it’s location was so well known for floods that nobody trusted this place to hold the bodies of it’s loved ones. So now, here it is, bared off from the rest the land with a dreary black fence, grass deader than dead and saturated in a white fog so thick it should’ve made your skin moist.

Even so, you stared directly into the eyes of the fog’s maker, irises so gold no sun could match them. White smoke trailed off his white tail and the tip of his ears, hair wild and matted. His little clothes weren’t doing any better. Even so, he still had enough energy in his body to growl, the sound amplified by the fog he made to blanket the empty cemetery.

Huh, no wonder Crowley was concerned. How long has this little guy have been here? The only guess you can make was that he was abandoned here by the previous owners of this cemetery, left for dead in a place where bodies are supposed to go.

You walked over to the fence, making sure to keep careful eye contact with the grim. You waited for him to stop growling, only then did you lean over and went “Oops,” and promptly dropped a napkin full of food.

“Well,” you turned on your heel, walking away to give him room, “I ain’t getting that back.”

The fog swirled intensely, threatening to swallow you up, but then it retreated and concentrated on the food you placed down. The little guy disappeared from his post, but was now slowly walking towards your gift. He didn’t stop watching you, only inching ever so carefully, looking for any signs of anything hostile.

You just nodded and took a few steps farther out. No sense in making him too uncomfortable.

Finally he reached it and heard the satisfying sound of a large crispy bite.

Oh good, he’s eating, you sighed silently, turning around to walk back to the hotel room you booked with money saved from birthdays. You know this little guy doesn’t trust you enough to grab him or even so much as approach the cemetery. Day one is done, now to go through with the others.

You’re taking this little guy home one way or another.

The little smoke pup wasn’t there when you arrived to the cemetery, but the presence of the thick fog was enough to tell you that he was still there, lurking around the area somewhere. Probably watching you from whatever safe place he’s claimed. You can’t say you blame him. Your actions are probably too weird for him to be comfy with, especially since you were a stranger.

You placed a can of food this time, in the same place as the first time. You walked along the fence, making sure the can was still within view, then slowly slid to the ground. You took out your own set of snacks, quiet snacks that won’t make too much noise, and started munching. Good thing you charged your phone. You had a pretty good feeling you’ll be here a while, waiting, watching.

You fence didn’t make for a good backrest. You missed your good ol sofa back home, but what can you do? Speaking of home, you can’t help but think about how the plantlings are doing at home. Sure, you asked Crowley to look after them while you’re on “vacation,” but you can’t help but doubt his ability to truly know what they want. Well, then again, you’d think the same thing of anyone else. You know their habits and the learning process can usually be messy.

Messy, but not destructive, you hoped. If there is some kind of irreparable mess to deal with, you can be assured that Crowley will compensate by any means necessary. Like that one time you got so horribly sick he practically moved into your house to take care of you. But then he lost his patience in not finding things you need fast enough, so he put you in his home for the time being. It was an odd time, but not a bad one.

Aluminum scrapped against concrete. You turned towards the noise, finding the little church grim pushing the can through the bars of the fence. He puffed into smoke and reformed behind the food, looking directly at you. Probably questioning why you’re still here, sitting and eating without much care in the world. You just stuck out your tongue at him, snorting at his tiny gasp, and went back to eating.

Then you heard a yip, almost bordering on a bark. You focused back on the church grim, his gold eyes unblinking as he stuffed food in his mouth. When you tried to stare into nothing, the pup made another loud noise to get your attention. He continued eating, making sure to lock eyes on you at all times. You did the same, munching and sipping.

He wants a staring contest? Fine, you can play. You’ve won against Riddle, you can win against this pup. Just as long as he continues eating.

“It’s too cold,” you groaned under your blankets in response to hearing Jack _scratch, scratch, scratching _at the door. “You can get out the house yourself anyway. Go, run!”

You dove back under your endless amounts of pillows, ignoring the sniffs coming from the bottom of your door. Jack gave a large huff, padded around your door then started scratching again. He’s going to ruin the wood at this rate.

You sighed, headache forming behind your eyes, the noise going from bearable to just under the cusp of too much. You lifted your face before giving Jack a command, “Come in.”

The scratching stopped. You pried your eyes open just in time to see Jack in mist form, slithering through the cracks in the door before manifesting right on the edge of your bed, sitting flat on his butt. Hs tail was clearly wagging, but that didn’t take away from the annoyance on his face.

Your eyes were still way too dry to not be squinting.

“I’m not coming outside with you,” and that’s final. It’s too cold, you just barely recovered from a sickness yesterday, you are not fit to be outside where a temperature shock will have your bedridden all over again.

Jack’s annoyance morphed into a marriage of disappointment and grumpiness. He pushed his ears flat against his skull, tail flat against the bed.

“However,” you scooped up Jack, pulled the blanket along with you as you abandoned your dearly loved bed for the frost covered window, “you can slide and run around the roof if you want. Just wear these little things, alright?”

Custom made jackets and pants, little covers for his hands and feet, and finally a hat to protect his ears. Crewel really went all out with the details. There’s not a stitch out of place like what you’d expect from anything doll sized. Inside every piece of clothing was a small magic charm dyed between the layers of the fabric, to keep Jack from freezing. His kind was especially prone to frostbite, on the account of basically being born from water.

Jack pounced on the clothing. The first few attempts to put them on himself ended in failure, so in the end, you had to lend a helping hand. He looked very much stuffed in the outfit, but he was wagging his tail nonetheless, waiting as patiently as one such as he could behind the window.

The moment you opened it just a pinch, Jack semi dissolved and reformed right in the air, over a particularly large pile of snow that had built up.

He landed in it with a splat, the only thing visible about him was his whipping tail. He popped out of the pile, sneezing off the snow from his nose before he dashed towards the next pile, looking back every so often to make sure you were there.

You just waved back at him, snuggled deep in your blanket. A happy medium for the both of you.

You extended your stay at the hotel for a few more week, given the stubborn nature of this little spirit over here, pacing back and forth on the territory he has ben protecting for quite some time. While Crowley may not have been happy, having to take care of your duties and follow your strict schedule, the fact you’ve been making progress managed to be the final push needed to get him to stop whining.

You’ll be back, probably in the next week or so. Oh well, you’re not exactly keeping track of the time. All that matters is that this little pup is looking nice and healthy. The smoke trailing from his tail has never looked more full, the gray patches of fur on him were more vibrant, and he’s actually letting you walk around him without cautiously looking up at you.

In fact, anytime you’d get too far away to give the church grim his space, he’d make a barking, almost whining sound from the back of his throat. Ignore him and he’ll follow you, well that is until you got to the edge of his territory.

And so here you are, standing beyond that point, where the little thing, Jack as you’ve named him, paced in circles. He stepped one foot over the imaginary line in his head before retreating. He looked up at you, then back down, then back up before growling. His ears pressed flat against his head. He sat on the ground, refusing to move further.

“Sorry buddy,” you shrugged, “I’m not moving either.”

If you want to actually take him with you, to your home, Jack is going to have to willingly step over that line. He needs to let go of this place.

You reached into your pocket, crinkling a bag just to watch him perk up with interest. “You want these treats,” you patted your pants, “you’re gonna have to come to me.”

But still, he refused to move. He stretched himself forward though, pointing his nose right at you as though trying to get a better whiff of what you had, but caught himself, scoffed at you and stubbornly turned away.

You took out the back of dog treats and called out to him, “Jack, please.”

The church grim’s back went ramrod straight, ears turned towards you. He still refused to look at you.

“I know you’ll love these, Jack.”

You’re not surprised when you saw Jack finally look at you. Rather than golden eyes gleaming with confusion, all you saw was shock. All this time, you never really spoke out any name to him. It was just, Buddy or Smokey Pup or Church Grim.

You can practically see his little brain alight with the realization that you gave him a name.

It was enough for him to finally take a step beyond the line he made for himself. When Jack stood just a few inches away from your shoes, you popped open the bag and leaned down to give him a treat.

“Here you go, Jack.”

But he didn’t take it. Instead, he nudged the treat out of your hands to stuff his face into your palm.

By that point, you knew he didn’t want to let you go.

Familiars aren’t anything unusual. Jack has seen them in all kinds of forms, ranging from large tortoises to the smallest of sparrows. Even one of his teachers had a cat for a familiar. Though, much like any pet, they’re a responsibility. There are boundaries to be set lest they rebel against their masters, hence why Jack tends to associate familiars with well seasoned mages. Mages who have seen their fair share of the world simply by existing in it.

There will always be exceptions to the rule. In his mind, sparkling in the admiration he felt towards the truly strong, Leona was the exception to all exceptions. Leona had multiple familiars, none of them mammals, none of them with scales.

Bugs. Dragonflies. Beautiful things with golden wings as fragile as a crisp leaf. Shiny little heads that twitch and turn. Ever watching, ever listening.

“The eyesore of that molded dorm?” Leona’s words came out like a wisp. Jack was never meant to listen in. “Of course you little freaks would want something like that.”

Sardonic. Disgusted, yet agreeable.

These bugs were ever talking. Ever wanting.

These dragonflies love to linger. Jack will find them on the windowsill, on the counter, in the water, on top of doors. Jack one time accidentally crushed one when he was walking to class. It crunched in the wood. It squirmed, it shrieked, and it died a stiff, gummy death.

Rot. The sweetness of coagulation clung to his tongue. It made his eyes water as his whole body rejected this scent. All he could do was run before his stomach started to seize. It was familiar. The sounds, the smells, the sights, all of it he has seen. It was during the very first day, upon being welcomed into Night Raven College.

When the mirror was broken, trying to glimpse into your soul. When the mirror became a sightless abyss, pulsing with creatures the flowed like blood, rotted liked blood, that stain like blood.

Jack was already planning on meeting you, on scaring you away from whatever Leona and the bugs have planned for you, but he was too late in catching you. You passed by the fountain, too far away for him to close the distance, but he did see you pause.

You looked at the edge of the fountain. Jack could only see your back, but he saw you raise your hand in the air. You beckoned for something to come closer.

You were calling to a lone dragonfly.

It landed on your finger, but you didn’t bring it closer to yourself. You did not move, but Jack heard a crack. A wet, yet solid noise, as though a bone snapping within its meat.

The golden carapace became little more than wrapping plastic. Whatever was growing inside this bug was much too fast for the outer body to keep up. Jack could see to its insides, he could see the squirming of black little things, skittering about underneath. It gained more wings, horrid wrinkled things that makes you want to snap them off. Between its legs, it nearly split in half. Millions of little fingers, bug legs and loose threads grabbed at your hand.

The smell it released, it was enticing, almost hypnotizing. But Jack would rather have the smell of rot than this. So he ran, towards you, to kill this creature that has tricked so many with its false golden beauty.

In one swift motion, you threw the thing into the ground. It died the same way, a stiff, gummy death. His hands flew to his nose just as the scent turned horrid. You were quick. It didn’t even have time to scream.

You turned, but Jack hid himself behind a tree before he could be seen. You lingered before his ears caught you walking away. Jack slumped to the ground, finally letting himself cough.

You couldn’t help it. It was early in the morning, and being groggy usually means you’re more willing to give in to whatever random urges pop up in your head.

Jack liked to be on your shoulder or on your hand while you grab some water to chug. As soon as you opened the fridge and cold air buffed the both of you, Jack’s ears gave a tempting twitch. He shook his head, down to his tail, puffing it out before giving a mighty stretch to his whole body.

Just as he finishes flapping his ears about, you clamped your lips onto the tips with an “Ahm.”

You let go a few seconds after Jack gave a bark muffled by his cheeks.

Jack looked at you with his shiny gold eyes, clearly confused by the tilt of his head. He back up when you laughed with a tired smile, cautious. He even covered his ears with his hands, trying to bury them in his hair.

“Sorry buddy, it’s nothing.” image

You did it again just as you got out of the shower, towel over your shoulders as your wiped your neck dry. A shower before bed, especially on a hot day, was always nice. And, once again, you were kinda sleepy.

You bend down to pick Jack up, who was patting at your ankles, gazing up at you with eyes that were borderline begging. But Jack doesn’t beg, at least not in that whiny way like Azul. Jack’s version of begging was to sit down, wait patiently with a wagging tail and shiny, expectant eyes.

Rarely were you ever in a shortage of shampoo lines. Rook, Crewel, and Sam loved to give you bottles of it, so much so you have a cabinet just full of them, all different brands, all of them expensive. Well, expect for Sam, you have to pay for those. Cheaply, by the way.

Though, this time, you were actually using a shampoo recommended by Neige. And apparently the brand he picked was by far Jack’s favorite. It didn’t have much of a scent to be perfectly honest. You just smell clean with a vague hint of after rain. You guess this smell was agreeable with Jack’s senses.

When you had Jack close enough to your face, he pressed his forehead against your cheek. His quick little sniffs tickled your skin. When you breathed out, his ears twitched once again.

You opened your mouth and closed your lips on his ears once more. You pulled back just as Jack snapped into attention. You couldn’t help the smile on your face when Jack gave a full body huff of annoyance.

“My bad, my bad.” You were absolutely not sorry. image

When you woke up one morning, it was to your own ear being clamped on. You reach out and swatted whatever was on you, but you shot up in bed when you heard a shocked yelp.

“Ah shit!” You steadied Jack from the roll you sent him, “Sorry! I thought you were a bug.”

You placed him on your lap, rubbing your fingers all over his face. He found his sweet spot right on his chest and watched his leg stomp on your blankets.

“Sorry, Jack. Sorry.” Well, he was bound to get revenge for all those ear nibbles you’ve been doing.

You let him go when a gruff bark escaped his chest. His attention calling noise.

“Hm?”

Jack stood up straighter, eyes narrowing before closing them. His ears were straight up, tail wagging up and down. You raised an eyebrow when he didn’t do anything. Just sit in silence. What does he want?

He opened his eyes, gave a short huffy growl with his whole body. He pushed his ears down and and let them spring back up.

“Ahm.” Jack bit at open air. Only then did it click.

“Oh.” You cupped Jack in your hands, taking a second to watch his tail go wild, before gripping his ears with your lips.

His ears are truly made to be nibbled on.

It’s cold and your home doesn’t have the best walls.

You have blankets but they really can’t compare to pure body warmth.

Maybe the cold is giving you a nightmare?

Really, all of these are nothing more than excuses, words that barely hide that fact to Jack himself that he just wants to sleep next you. He knows this, Jack knows how obvious this desire would be had anyone spotted him pacing back and forth in front of the transport mirror, but he really can’t get himself to admit it.

It’s childish. Besides, does your bed even have enough room to accommodate him? It was easier to just hop in and sleep until the sun barely peeks over, but now he has to be careful of how he handles himself.

Really, Jack doesn’t want to admit he just wants to curl up and lay next to you while the snow falls outside your window. He knows if he doesn’t have a good enough excuse you’re going to give him that teasing smile you always do.

Jack rubbed the back of his head before throwing his hands up.

“Ah, what’s the point?” Teasing or not, your smile was always nice to see. He can deal with the embarrassment later.

So Jack stepped through and appeared right into the quiet hallway of your old home, freshly rebuilt through the heavy magic of Dire Crowley. Smelled like him too.

…and like Leona and Ruggie too actually. It wasn’t stale.

“Are they here?” Jack mumbled as he climbed up the steps. Did Jack really just spend a good hour agonizing over his decision to sneak into your bed just to have them already be here first?

The door wasn’t even closed. He nudged it just as Ruggie popped his head out from the foot of your bed. He was grinning but placed a finger over his mouth. You were already asleep, curled tightly over a fluffy pillow.

“Finally decided to join us, huh?” Leona raised his head, taking up the other half of the bed, groggily blinking but Jack knew he never truly sleeps. Still, it’s nice to see that he can let himself be this way again. “Took you long enough.”

Leona flopped back down, huffing out as he settled under the mountain of blankets they were all under. Ruggie laughed but it was quieter, more conscious of himself so as to not wake you up.

You had plenty of space to yourself, but where was Jack supposed to fit in all this? He can’t fit in the space of your hands no matter how much he wants to.

Jack crossed his arms. He’s more than willing to sleep on the floor, he’s done it before, but…

“Get in here, I have enough space.” Ruggie whispered, then kicked Leona’s legs. “Hey, move your legs.”

A grumbling mumble, but Leona shifted. No lashing out, no growls. Not even a flash of sand.

“Well?” Ruggie raised the blanket as much as he could. Can’t have you being too exposed to the open air.

“…thanks.”

Jack couldn’t help himself. He let his tail lay over your legs as he crawled in.

Jack’s not really one to remember names of people he’s not close to, or won’t see often, but he remembers faces pretty well. He knows of that coyote over there, always in a posse, following what the others do. It gives Jack this weird sense of illusion, like the strength that coyote wants to show off is only as good as the people he’s with. There’s pride in being with a pack, certainly, but one can’t forget that you’re also an individual. It’s probably why he doesn’t remember his name.

All this to say that it ticks something off for Jack to see this student following you, the janitor, to and fro the hallways, carrying stacks of books and papers, all neatly tabbed and coded. Jack’s only impression of this man was an exaggerated scowl fit for a guard dog. But now here he is, shoulders pulled straight, black ears at attention and a silly smile on his face. Even his tail was waving without a care in the world.

It’s not unusual to see you in the hallways at this time. Everyone basically went back to their dorms or are in their clubs so it’s probably the only time you can study in peace. A janitor you may be, you don’t seem to waste an opportunity to study. It’s admirable.

Though, you have no magic, and Jack gets the sense that coyote is of the kind that don’t like to snuggle up to humans. Which begs the question: why is he following you around with that giddy expression on his face?

Well, whatever you do is your business, no sense in prying.

So he says to himself but look what he’s doing, walking right towards you anyway.

The senses of a beastman never fail, so the coyote was the first to turn around. Jack should really learn his name at some point.

“Ah?” His voice challenged, teeth bared as though ready to growl at him, but the student perked up at the sight of Jack. “Oh! It’s Jack! How you’ve been?”

Jack really needs to learn his name. But it’s rude to ask now. Ugh.

“Hmm?” The bandages on your arms caught his attention more than anything else. Raw skin, dusted to golden sand. Jack tore his eyes away to your face. “Howl? What’s up?”

Jack crossed his arms. “…he’s not bothering you, is he?”

The first one to greet should always be the person you respect the most. If he’s causing trouble, Jack will take up the books and follow you.

“Him?” You glances over you shoulder, the coyote brightening up, almost bouncing on his heels when you gazed at him. “Oh, no he’s been a great help.”

“Really?”Jack’s ear gave a twitch when he saw how the lackey deflated when you turned back around. You jutted a thumb behind you.

“Mm-hm. Said he’ll take care of all the heavy stuff so long as I give him something.” You backed up, leaving the coyote room to join in the conversation. “What was it you wanted again?”

“Yeah!” The coyote butted in, adjusting the books as though showing them off, “I carry the stuff and you choke my lights out as soon as you heal!”

“…what?” Did Jack hear right?

You nodded with a sigh, as though you had no choice. The injuries already left you looking tired and somehow you shifted to downright exhausted. “It’s as my lackey says. He carries my shit, take my shift and I send him off as a ghost.” You snorted. “I kid, just to dreamland. I was willing to give money but—”

“Nope, this is my sorry to you,” The coyote shook his head, firm and unwilling to budge, “I thought you were some weakling bothering the boss but you knocked him a new one! I can’t just say sorry and leave it at that.”

“Is the choking part of the apology?” Jack dared to ask.

“Yes!” Why is he so eager then? Why is his tail wagging? “An apology and nothing else!”

You shrugged at his lost expression. “He’s willing to help basically for free. Can’t exactly reject that.”

Jack shouldn’t have said anything.

It wasn’t a bark so much as it was a borf. A pushing of air that’s not quite strong enough, as though restraining himself from being too loud. Jack, poised at the window, little hands pressing against the glass, made another noise, a growl.

“Hmm?” you lifted your gaze from your phone, “Jack? You see something?”

You really had nothing to do today, so you figured it be nice to just hang back and relax in your bed. Everyone’s fed, most of the plants were in their sun-nap hours, the seafolk were in their little caves and the rest where with their respective owners. So, the only one that decided to hang back with you was Jack. Loyal little dog.

For a moment, he was beside your leg, in the next he drifted to the window. Now he was watching something, ears tall and stiff, chest puffed up like he’s trying to make himself bigger. The little trails of smoke fogged around him, almost obscuring his tiny figure.

“Jack?” you called again, pushing the sheets aside. “What are you looking at?”

He didn’t twitch when you nudged him. You looked out and immediately spotted and a familiar, large, gray and fat cat napping in your tree. He was on his back, flame ears flickering low like the flame of a old gas stove. The gluttonous creature that loves to steal from the garden was fast asleep, drool pooling from his mouth, legs twitching as though running in his sleep.

When he gave a snort, Jack jumped and growled.

“Ho boy,” you sighed, pressing your fingers to your lids. You gave a quick scratch to Jack’s head before picking him up by the scruff. Another aborted bark slipped past his lungs but quickly died like a deflating balloon. He limps, just like Leona does when you grab him by the scruff. Monkey see, monkey do as they say.

“Don’t worry about him,” you plopped Jack onto your chest when you laid back in bed, the little creature blinking at you in clear confusion at letting a strange creature into your territory. “Riddle will take care of it.”

The cat is in his territory after all. Can’t have any turf wars happening accidentally. Even so, Jack laid his body down, but kept his face towards the window, golden eyes wide and ready to pounce at the slightest sign of the magic cat trying to get in. At least he’s staying on you. It’s nice to feel his weight.

The forest was a difficult thing to traverse for a spirit as small as Jack. At the start, he was born on a pleasant hillside place by a lake, and his next home was in a clear cut cemetery. Both of these places didn’t have the confusing cluster of tress and roots with paths narrow and inconsistent. It’s easier for Jack to become a cloud of fog, but he never manages to stick the landing quite right.

So, what is a creature such as he doing in a place that he was clearly not familiar with? Well, simply put, Jack had a goal. And said goal was walking further and further away from him with the greatest of ease, with five little plant nymphs that were having even easier time keeping up.

A human’s senses are dulled to the sounds of nature around them. A farmer would have an easier time knowing what’s off and what’s not, but even that doesn’t compare to the razor sharp instincts of animals and magical pets. Jack’s ears were raised, his tail still and puffed. The plant nymphs, especially the smaller red and blue one, were constantly looking around themselves.

The deeper you went, the softer and more muffled the noises of nature became, but they were never silenced. No, they blended. Tweets of birds warbled out into rushes of leaves. The crack of a rotted bark piece echoed into the breath of a flame.

As the sounds became nothing more than a messy thrum of its former self, the trees and roots became more and more twisted. Natural juts of strong roots began to resemble gnarled grips into the ground, spiraling and digging into the dirt as though trying to become its parasite. The leaves, as you walked deeper in, grew bigger than the last until they all consumed the last of the sun’s rays.

The forest was quiet. The forest was hungry. And yet, you and your little group kept walking in deeper, as if you knew your goal was somewhere beyond.

Jack’s chest huffed and puffed, but something kept him from making any noise. Perhaps he knew if he was too loud, he’ll catch the attention of something. He dispersed his form into fog once more, looping under a large root to close the distance, but not quite enough to catch your or the plant’s attention.

However, when he solidified once more, his foot got caught on a stray rock. He didn’t yelp, but something gurgled in his throat. He rolled forward when he landed on the ground. Little Jack did not catch his balance in time, for he crashed right into your ankle.

Only then was there pure silence. The lingering echoes all held their breathes.

Then you sighed and corroded noise returned, just the slightest bit more distinguishable than before. You reached down and scooped up Jack, who was trying to shake dirt from his eyes.

“I was wondering who was following us. What are you doing all the way out here? Didn’t you want to stay in the garden we left behind?”

The abandoned cemetery was nothing short of a paradise of glorious flowers and lush nature. Not even a flood would be able to wash away the land Jack wanted to protect. But…

Well, the flowers you planted were beautiful. The glossy leaves and sturdy stems were perfect for Jack to run through. The headstones and those that sleep no longer have to worry about being left alone. Nature has taken this place, as as such, Jack no longer has to linger. He can leave it behind, knowing it won’t simply be taken by the floods.

That’s why he chased you.

But Jack was a prideful little critter. His face pinched up, huffing out as though that will help him regain his cool. The plant nymphs, all looking up to you, knew better. And so did you.

Either way, when Jack puffed himself onto you shoulder, you didn’t fight it. Though the red and blue plant nymphs certainly squeaked a complaint out.

“Well, I guess we have a new addition. Welcome, Jack.”

Your AC wasn’t broken by any means. The thing works pretty great but it is also very old. There’s only so much cold air it can pump inside your home. Even as you stand directly in front of the vent on a chair, it’s just not enough to shed this heat from your house.

You’re baking and so is everyone else in this house.

Right now, you’re in as little clothing as possible, on a spot where the vent’s air hits, surrounded by a bunch of plug-in fans you had in storage for such as day as this. You stretched out your arm as far as you could and tapped your nail against the glass of your water. Well, it was your water.

“You doing alright Jack?” Poor little guy joined you with a very lethargic crawl, almost a drag if you’re being honest. Could’ve melted right there with you but then Jack saw ice in your cup of water and dove right in. Now he’s just soaking, head propped on the rim, but ears still flat as you both baked.

Jack gave a very lazy whine. As though he couldn’t hold it anymore, Jack became a formless wisp of smoke, overflowing lazily to the floor like a block of dry ice.

“Yeah, right there with you, buddy,” you shifted just an inch to the right and sighed at the newly found cold. Maybe you should take some notes and run and ice bath? But then again, you don’t exactly like the thought of getting sick. A moment of cool could easily turn into a burning fever the next day, and you just know that would kill you.

The door to your room burst open, knob knocking against the wall as you heard a voice cry out, “Great Seven this heat is unbearable!”

You didn’t even have the energy to flinch.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded but even that was a bit much, “you might feel cooler if you take off that mask, Crowley.”

You’ve pretty much given up on Crowley actually knocking on anything that isn’t his drunken head on the panes of windows.

“Nonsense, this is part of my identity. My charm point, if you will.” Crowley popped into view and you almost laughed. Reminded you of those curious doves that would look down when you laid down in patch of grass, “Though, what you say tempts me so. If only my own cooling system would actually work as intended!”

Because there was enough room in your circle of fans, Crowley sat right next to your spread eagle self. Yeah yeah, just sit right next to you. It’s not like his body heat is gonna make this any better. You closed your eyes and hoped the darkness would somehow make this heat bearable. Moving just doesn’t sound pleasing at the moment.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do!”

You opened your eyes, “Do what?”

You heard ice clink against glass. You shot up just as Crowley’s lips touched the rim. With an echoing yelp, Jack reformed his chosen self and bashed his head into Crowley’s nose. Crowley gave a cry as he dropped the glass right onto his lap, only to give out an even weirder, almost vibrato-like shriek as he spilled ice water all over his crotch.

“…Jack was in there,” you snorted out. You should probably get a towel so he can get all that puppy water out.

Ace was trying so hard to be normal, you can see that, but it’s hard to ignore Grim over at the distance, balancing a tray of eggs and beans on his head. He’s kicking his little feet, mouth wide in a grin, as he twirls and piles more food on his plate.

“Looks like a stupid hat,” Ace spat out, voice warbling with a laugh that wants to come out. Either way, a snort escaped him that minute he faced Deuce’s own red face. They’re both horrible at keeping up appearances.

“His balance is pretty impressive,” you mumbled out around your spoon. Your words were too quiet, and those two are distracted so your words were missed. Oh well. Your eyes flitted to Jack when Ace and Deuce descended into stifled snorts and chuckles. His arms were crossed, as usual.

“If he drops that, he’s going to make a mess,” Yeah, sticky fur and a whining Grim does not sound like a good time. You could say it out loud, but Jack’s body was more turned towards Epel.

“A pile like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets buried under it. A grave of beans, ain’t that a funny image?” Epel had his eyes glued to Grim, probably mentally wishing he can trip and fall already. Rascal that he is. Jack likely doesn’t want to admit he wants that too, but the ruffling of Epel’s hair was enough to signal that he does.

“I just know the noise he’ll make will give me a headache,” Sebek sits on the other end of the table, rubbing his temples as though it was already pulsing. Right next to him was Ortho, was tapping away on a rhythm game.

“No need to worry. If the chaos gets too much to handle, I can silence them pretty effectively.” Oh you have no doubt about that. It’s impressive to you as always to see his multi tasking at work. Able to play the game with just one hand while he point to Grim with his other.

Instinct told you to look back to Grim. And just so you can signal the group to look, you said, “Oh.”

Grim stepped on a spoon. He slipped and flew right into the air, his foot catching on the table cloth before all his food went sailing to the ground below.

From the bottom of his heart welled a deep lament, and Grim yowled his grief. “My food!”

The whole table started laughing.

You looked to the right. Ace was clapping Deuce on the back, who was holding his gut as they both wheezed.

You looked to the left. Jack was practically shivering like a cold dog, head bent down to hide his smile while Epel was slamming the table in silent laughter.

You looked to the front. Sebek had his mouth covered, clamping his jaw down like the sight was beneath him. Ortho was fully leaning onto Sebek, still somehow keeping a perfect score on his game.

You were laughing too, but you were quicker to calm down. You were still smiling, still buzzing with the humor in the air, but the urge to laugh just went away.

Everyone was still laughing.

You scooped another spoonful of food and stuff it in your mouth.

Before you lost your direction in life and shut yourself in, you used to make an effort to visit the flea market on weekends. You didn’t always go there to buy something. Sometimes the atmosphere was enough for you.

But, circumstances are different now and you have the urge to walk somewhere that isn’t up the river. That and you wanted to bring the youngest of the pets with you somewhere.

So, here you were, padding down a dirt path that’s been trodden by many a shopper. Its been a while, new shops and faces are here, and yet your legs take you to a specific place that you still remember. How long has it been? Probably years. You don’t remember.

It was a humble bakery, with a wooden board that’s messily painted in children handprints and gold glitter. The owner was still there, still a face you recognize. Mrs. Dana. The kind of grandmother with hardened hands that knead dough just as much as she caresses the head of her children. The kind that always seek to pinch their cheeks.

She waved to you, beckoning you to the vast amounts of sweets on display. They ranged from simple cookies to overly decorative empanadas.

“Is there anything you want, sweetie?” Whether she remembers you or not, well it doesn’t matter. The familiarity of it all was enough.

You waved back, “No, not for me.” You brought you bag into your arms, opening the flap. “Come on, take your pick.

In succession, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek all popped out, hanging their little arms over the edge to stay up.

Ace being Ace tried to launch himself at the red thumbprint cookie but Deuce was there to hold him back. What manners he has. Epel, however, successfully jumped out, but did not make a graceful landing. He’s flat in his face in a mess of crumbs.

"Oh my,” Mrs. Dana wasn’t even angry, she was snorting behind her hand.

“Sorry about that,” you strained out as you swiped Epel up. Poor little guy was holding his face. “Don’t do that.”

You looked to the rest still in the bag. Jack was stock still, tail not wagging so much as it was vibrating in place, the trail of fog condensed into a thin line. He was staring straight at a bone shaped cookie.

You raised an eyebrow at the sign above it. “I didn’t know you made treats for dogs.”

“I didn’t but I had to expand my wares. So many people are having pets that I had to make little treats for them.”

Ortho, finally losing his patience, zipped out and dove just above a little cup of custard. He flashed back and forth from white and blue while pointing to the treat. Guess you’re getting that too.

Sebek, on the other hand, was frowning. Well, he’s been frowning since you came here. Honestly you don’t know his issues. He crawled into your bag out of his own volition. You guess he’s not used to being away from Malleus.

You patted his head, watching that little frown turn into a silly smile you’ve been on delighted toddlers. “I’ll get you some butter cookies.”

As for Ace and Deuce, they managed to get down in a more organized manner, shockingly. Now they’ve teamed up to grab those thumbprint cookies. Well, you have the money to spare.

“I’ll be taking all that they pick.”

And, of course, your pets all gave various noises of delight.

Since they were too small, you gave a firm knock on the door and waited. Ace was having a case of stomping feet while Deuce was sweeping over his tiny bag as though a tiny wrinkle will keep him from getting candy. Jack was on your shoulder, tail straight up in the air as he gripped his bag in one hand while Ortho hovered over your head, lazily twirling about while giggling. Epel was heckling Ace by poking at him with his branches. And Sebek…

Well, Sebek was hiding behind your shoe, little arms crossed over his chest like he’d rather be anywhere but here. And yet, here he is, dressed up like the little knight he always acts like, still clutching his tiny bag.

The door burst open and Vargas stepped out in all his loud and muscled glory.

“Happy Halloween!” He shouted from the tops of his lungs and you felt tempted to just, turn around and walk away. How the pets didn’t attack on sight was a mystery to you. Probably has something to do with that bowl of treats and candy in his arm. Thing looked more like a cauldron than an actual bowl, “So, you’re here to trick or treat?”

“Yeah, yeah, Happy Halloween to you too,” you rubbed at your ear, hoping there won’t be any ringing in it later, “I’m not doing the trick or treating. It’s for the little guys.”

Ace, Deuce, and Epel made a chorus of squeaks, sounding rather impatient. Jack grunted, tail lightly wagging and ears twitching in excitement. Ortho laid himself on your head and shove his open bag in Varga’s direction, and Sebek even stomped over and showed his bag.

Vargas bent down and hummed in approval. “They’re all dressed up too. Looks like Divus’s work.”

“Yup,” He did a pretty good job on the costumes. Ace and Deuce in mummy costumes, Epel a tiny vampire, Jack a pirate, Ortho in a rather complicated black set of armor, and Sebek the knight.

“Good thing Sam spread the word,” Vargas dug his hand into the candy pile and pulled out a set of very, very small treats, “Here you go.”

The little pets on the ground stretched themselves as far as they could up. Vargas reached gave little sprinkles of specially made candy right into their bag, making sure not to give one or the other too much. Can’t have them fighting with one another.

“Say your thanks,” you reminded.

And all your little pets whistled in unison. Some obviously louder than others.

“You’re welcome.” Vargas, never one to let himself be beat in volume, shouted back.

“Alrighty,” you sighed, turning on your heel, already anticipating all the walking you’ll be doing, “to the next house.”

The structure of power here dictates that when you’re going out, one of the familiars must volunteer to tag along. With them, comes the pets. With Riddle, it’s Ace and Deuce. With Leona, it’s Jack. With Vil, it’s Epel.

However, this routine has an exception. Should more than one familiar choose to shadow you, the rest of the pets must stay home. This was not a strict order given to them, it’s something they do out of respect for those that clearly hold more power than them. It’s as though their leader form some sort of unbreakable group that they won’t dare intrude upon.

You honestly don’t get it, or at least the point of letting themselves lag behind when the pets clearly wants to come with. But, you’re not one to push it. If that’s how they want to function around beings such as Riddle, Leona, Jamil and Vil, then so be it.

Right now, you’re just ready to nap. The river was calm and the wind was crisp in such a way that it drove the bugs away, while also letting the sun keep its warmth.

“It’s odd,” you heard Jamil wonder, tail swiping over the fallen dried leaves “that Azul rejected the offer the Caretaker gave. And rather enthusiastically as well. What are your thoughts on that?” His face was blank, but it was the kind of blank that came with perfectly knowing the answer.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Vil plucked a comb from your backpack, resting his feathers over a nearby rock, “Clearly he has something planned, otherwise he wouldn’t have had such a smug smile.” How ironic that Vil had a similar expression on his face, clearly awaiting whatever surprise Azul might have waiting.

“Anything involving him is bound to cause some trouble, however,” Riddle crossed his arm, closing his eyes as he soaked in the calm that’s tempting you to nap, “I doubt it’ll be anything dangerous. But if it is, I’ll gladly take care of it.” And it seem he too has similar feelings that Vil has. It’s always so odd to see that sly smile on such a soft looking face.

“Whatever it is and whatever it will be,” Leona rolled over, laid on his side and propped his head on his arm, “it doesn’t involve me, so I couldn’t care less. And keep the gossip down, the Caretaker’s trying to nap.” And leave it to Leona to keep track of your lax self. He’s only here because Malleus wasn’t.

Speaking of, he really does love to keep to himself. An independent one, always taking the time to explore at his leisure, forgetting the amount of days that pass before he has to come back. Fae really do run on a different clock. Anyways…

“Ah, sorry,” Jamil spoke first, “we can take this conversation elsewhere, if you like?”

You waved him off, tugging your hat down to shade your eyes. “I don’t mind. Keeping talking.”

The noise’s relaxing. Hearing the banter was better than silence.

That cat you’ve yet to nickname has been visiting more often than you’d like him to. You can’t really say you’re shocked, since the state of your garden is not longer barren and wilting with your neglect. More plants means more hiding places and things to chew on. But also because that gray cat’s been eyeing your mini gardeners lately.

You would be more worried if it weren’t for the fact that Riddle can level the house if he wanted to. The only reason this cat’s been able to get on your roof and relax in your trees is cause Riddle lets him. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet, but you figured it’s only a matter of time.

Today’s looking to be a calm day, so you figured this would be the best time to introduce Jack to the backyard. He’s a little too keenly aware of territories and where they lay, so he’s been avoiding this place, though that didn’t stop him from watching through the windows. In fact, he still refuses to touch the ground. He’s on your shoulder right now, taking in the sights with his mouth agape.

Though, when you turned around to get deeper into the garden, you heard Jack’s teeth clack and a muffled bark behind them. The distraction was easy to find. It was the cat again, not really napping but not really moving from his spot in the dip of some tree roots.

“Ah, was hoping he wasn’t here…” You really didn’t want to stress Jack out, so you guess him meeting the others will have to wait another day. “Oh?”

Then, out of the bushes, burst out two little plant nymphs with too much bravado for their own good. Ace carried a big leaf with a sturdy stem, all big and glossy like those of a magnolia tree. Deuce had a leaf of his own, though this one was considerably more spiky around the edges.

With timing and coordination that can only come from life long friends, Ace and Deuce whacked the lazing cat right on the head. He did not move, only blinked very slowly once before opening his mouth and letting blue fire spill out in one steady stream, burning the leaves only.

Ace and Deuce both squealed and retreated behind your ankles.

Ace looked up at you, pointing furiously to the yawning cat. Deuce, on the other hand, was trying to climb up into your pant leg like that’ll keep him safe.

You sighed. “So, what do you think, Jack?”

Jack’s stare could not be anymore devoid of wonder as he stared down at the two nymphs that still weren’t paying attention to him. He gave a sigh of his own before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

But he didn’t float back inside the house. No, he swept down right in front of the fire-eared cat settling down for a nap. The smoke morphed, expanding then condensing into the sharp and harsh features of a wolf’s head.

The cat stood at attention, arching his back just as the wolf’s eyes glowed gold.

The maw opened and Jack howled.

The stray yowled, scrambled up the wall and left.

You blinked. “Huh. Impressive.”

Though you know that cat’s going to be back to try his luck. He’s a stubborn one. And very arrogant. Honestly could give Leona a run for his money.

Jack puffed back to his usual form. Pride strengthen the length of his spine and shoulders, even lifting his chin up a bit as he basked in your praise and the plant nymphs jealousy and begrudging respect.

That’s certainly a first meeting.

“Ow, Azul, come on,” you bent down to try and grab the guppy who had himself wrapped around your swollen ankle, “it’s not that bad.”

Well, it does look rather bad but it wasn’t painful so much as it was… tight. And it was only tighter with a fussy Azul refusing to let go and go into the bath. It wasn’t this bad when you tripped and tumbled over that rock back on your hike. It only started to swell the minute you sat down on the tub’s lip and began filling the tub.

As much as you’d like to take everyone your hikes, there’s only so much attention you can spare when you’re busy trying not to get into any accidents. You’re not clumsy by any means, you walk as slow as needed since you’re not in any rush, but terrain is usually subject to the whims of whatever magical creature is in the forest.

As such, you could only bring Azul with you. He’s not a fast swimmer but he enjoyed himself either way.

“Azul, that’s not going to make it go down,” you finally managed to untangle Azul. He gave a long whine, stretching his tentacles towards your leg but you plopped him into the tub just as golden sand flowed from under the bathroom door. “Of course.”

You sighed just as Leona reformed his little lion self. You patted Azul’s head and got up. You don’t want to say you hobbled over to the sink, but that is what you did to grab the bottle from the cabinet below. It was a special mixture you ordered from Sam. You like letting the seafolk swim in the river, but you don’t want to potentially bring any sickness or parasites into your main tank, so you always wash them first before putting them back.

Cheep!

Now that sound was his alerting noise.

“Azul?” And you probably shouldn’t have taken your eyes off of Leona.

Leona was not a malicious little thing. Sure, he’s the definition of grumpy and bitter anytime he’s around… anyone that talks more than two words an hour, but you can tell he doesn’t hate anything or anyone. That being said, that strong poke to your ankle had you thinking for a moment if Leona had something against you.

You hissed and gripped the sink to keep yourself from falling.

“Leona…” you managed to squeeze out, “That hurt. That hurt a lot. Don’t do that again, please.”

Leona didn’t look the least bit sorry when you gazed at him. However, he didn’t look entertained by your pain either. His eyes were narrowed and his tail flicking sand back and forth. The little flecks didn’t land on the floor, they floated and hovered over his head, flying around like angry flies.

His attention was suddenly off you with a twitch of his ear. His form disappeared, becoming a little storm of sand. He flew to your doorknob, seeped into the edges and heard him pushed down the latch bolt.

The door suddenly slammed open and only then did you lose your balance. Jamil, who was in the middle of climbing up the door, fell like a thick stick right onto the floor. The compression socks he had in his hands luckily soften the blow.

“Ow, ow. Uh, hey, you okay, Jamil?” Luckily it wasn’t that bad of a fall. Didn’t hurt as much as it could’ve. And the bottle was fine as well. Jamil though, he fully face planted. Socks or not, that must’ve hurt.

Jamil got up with a shake of his head, face dark with both irritation and embarrassment.

Leona reformed himself and gave a laugh. Jamil glared but it did nothing to stop that wide grin on his face.

Jamil huffed and slithered over to your lap. He present your socks to you, shaking them up and down as though trying to tempt you to grab them. You did.

“Thanks. I’ll put them on in a bit. I have to bathe Azul first.”

Azul heard his name and was startled, pausing him in his escape attempts. His tendrils were already trailing over the side of the tub, water dripping right down to the floor. Before you could scoop him up and put him back, Leona came over in his sand storm form.

He whirled and lifted Azul right up and let him go with a splash. Leona reformed on a small life preserver toy you had in there. He laid on his back, little legs and arms dipped into the water as though he was on vacation. He gave a big loud yawn while Azul surfaced the water with an irritated trill.

“Hold up, hold up,” you dragged yourself and Jamil onto the bathtub, “let me wash you first, then you can fight. Jamil, hand me the bottle over there, please.”

Well, it seems they’re going to be here a while. No point in fighting against it.

And, just as you took your eyes off of Jamil, said little naga traveled off your lap, looped his tail under Leona’s preserver, and flipped it over with a quick flip. Leona sunk like a stone with only the cutest of yips. Oh boy, it’s going to be one of those days, huh?

By this point, Rook isn’t even saying any words. He’s just cooing and awing over the pictures of your younger years, when baby fat was aplenty and coordination was just not your thing.

You tried to turn the page on your photo album just so you can finally put it away but Rook pinched the page and refused to let you leaf through it.

“Just a few more minutes, please,” Rook leaned in closer to your photos, adoring smile nearly splitting his face, “let me admire your tiny self just a little longer.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed out, not really getting the appeal but oh well.

“You might want to keep a close eye on him,” Leona appeared in a small gale of sand, leaning on the couch arm closest to you, “he’ll try and make a copy of your photos. Might even show them off to everyone he meets while he’s at it.”

Leona didn’t flinch but his body did pulse with sand for a moment when Rook shot his gaze towards him. He simply thinned his eyes to a glare, tiny golden grains floating in the air behind Rook, ready and waiting to coat his shirt.

“Now now, I wouldn’t do something so intrusive,” Rook shook his head, as though the notion was laughable, “though, if you’re willing to lend such an offer, well, I wouldn’t mind in the least!”

“Nope,” you shot him down.

“Oh that hurts, that you don’t trust me so,” Rook hung his head, but you can tell he wasn’t hurt in the least.

“Rook, is that you harassing our dear Caretaker?” Vil practically descended on the back of your sofa, crossing one leg over the other as he sat between you both, smile almost poisonous in its amusement. “That won’t do. Look at this, you even got this lazy mound of sand to move all the way here.”

“Finally away from your perch, huh?” of course, Leona takes the jab with stride, “And here I thought you got your pigeon feet stuck on the branches. Seems I won’t have to cut them off after all.”

“Stop,” you said, turning the page just to get there focus on the album and not on each other, “I’m not in the mood for banter.”

“Apologies,” Vil dipped his head, the feathers on his neck calming down just a bit.

Leona grumbled out a ‘sorry’ of his own, but it was enough.

“Oh?” Rook tilted his head, tapping a finger against a familiar masked face, “Is that Crowley carrying you on his shoulders?”

You leaned in, then nodded. “Yeah. I made my first kite in that one. He got it stuck in a tree and had him help me get it down.”

“Seems more that you forced him,” Leona leaned a little into your shoulder.

“And look at him, unable to handle your weight,” Vil tapped a claw on the veins straining in Crowley’s neck and the sweat that made him shine, “was he always this out of shape?”

“Pretty sure he’s been out of shape for most of his life,” you sighed out, “however long that is.”

“Oh look at this photo,” Rook gestured to the corner of the page, “he’s carrying you in a backpack this time.”

“Yeah, Crowley actually got me new shoes but it was raining that day,” you pointed out the mud just coating his legs, “he didn’t want them getting dirty.”

“Did he really forget that he can just use magic to keep you elevated?” Vil raised an eyebrow.

“Yup.” You replied.

Leona gave a sigh of amusement “What did you expect out of that birdbrain? Sure, he has his feats but his idiocy is the only thing that rivals him.”

“He’s been with you for quite a long time, hasn’t he?” Rook had a far-off look to his face, as though wading through old memories.

“Yeah he has,” honestly he’s been there since you were in diapers but you don’t have photos of those. Took a few years of convincing for Crowley to finally say yes to being photographed.

“And will probably be there for many more years, knowing him,” Vil turned the page this time, “I’m shocked he hasn’t gotten you into an accident.”

“I’m more surprised you even survived to this day,” Leona tapped at your arm out of boredom, “He can barely take care of himself, let alone a waddling kid with no magic to them.”

“Right?” And you very much agree with him, “And he used to babysit me a lot. Felt more like I was watching over him than him to me.”

A bit of an exaggeration to be fair, but still. Before the photos, before Crowley was this… goofy force of nature, there was a time when Crowley was just like those crows in those old fairytales you were read: silent, lurking and ever watching events unfold.

A creepy man that didn’t interact with anyone. And yet, your family was the fools that decided the house next to his was the perfect one. Well, they weren’t wrong but the atmosphere wasn’t exactly one would call kid friendly.

Well, either way, that’s all in the past and your little kid self somehow wormed their way into his heart. You could chalk it up to loneliness making you stubborn in being friends with him, but either way, that was then and this is now.

So, in a way, yeah you did look after him. What a funny man he is. Maybe you should get Crowley something later. A new hat maybe?

Leona, in the first few months of being here, was pretty much a regular runner from your home. Not in the sense that he actively exercises but more in that he escapes your home to find a spot elsewhere to nap. He really didn’t like being in the same room as you and you would’ve been a panicking mess had it not been for Mr. Falena telling you of these habits in advance. And how Cheka’s voice always brings him back, especially when it starts sounding warbly.

Point being, you left him well enough alone cause you can tell he wasn’t too fond of you. But, at some point or another, Jack has taken a shine to Leona. Whatever power that admiration has, it was enough to actually keep Leona here in the house.

“He really likes to have his ego stroked huh?” You mumbled when Jack plopped his butt in front of Leona’s napping self, acting as his little guard dog. His wagging tail tells all of his enthusiasm for this self appointed position. “No wonder he didn’t want to be in the house.”

Excuse you for not inflating his ego every second of every day. Your self worth doesn’t hinge on groveling. Besides, that’s just a good way of fostering some concerning separation anxiety, or at least aggravating it.

Jack’s shining eyes look like they could light up the room. It’s a usual sight, what with you being his owner and treat-giver, but it’s also funny to you because his face was usually so dead around the younger plant nymphs and other youngins. His tail kept smacking the wrinkle in your bed sheet as Jack kept his back straight.

You gave a small wave to him. Jack bounced like he wanted to bark but refrained. But, just as you’re about to walk away and go about your day, you saw him.

You saw Leona. Awake, eyes fully opened without a trace of sleep, with the largest of smirks in his face.

Leona gave a low chuff. Jack whipped around, staring with all the admiration he can show, waiting for him on hand and foot.

Oh, this little fucker. He really thinks he has Jack wrapped around his tail, huh? Does he really think he has that much influence in your house?

You gave a sturdy pat to your thigh. “Jack. Come here, little buddy.”

Jack’s tail stopped, his pupils somehow grew bigger, and he faded in a puff of smoke without so much as a pause. No inner conflict, no hesitation.

Instantly, he was by your foot, looking up at you as though requesting permission to be on your shoulder. You angled your head and Jack puffed to it. He pressed his face against yours, still riding a little high on all the excitement he generated on his own.

Leona, meanwhile, stared right at you, ears and tail twitching with irritation before flopping on his other side with a huff. At least he’s not running away.

Don’t be so arrogant, little sand lion. This is your home, this is your domain. You know how to run it.

It doesn’t fade. Not even when you faced the wind, letting the rain soak you to the bone, the scent coming from you still lingers. It permeates, suffocating the pleasant rain and fog with it’s own sweetness.

You reached to your neck, undid your tie, and tossed it behind you. You grabbed a stick and drove it deeper into the mud. Even in it’s grave, the perfume refuses to go.

All Jack could do was turn away and ignore the phantom headache pulsing behind his eyes. He held the umbrella over you and dropped the towel on your head. All of this was a familiar song and dance. But still, he couldn’t keep himself from gritting his teeth from behind his frown.

“I just left my tie in a rather obvious place, Jack,” you rubbed the towel against your neck before wrapping it around yourself, “Vil gave it to me, though only after a long walk.”

He knows. Jack also knows you were without a tie for a while. More than a week. More than enough time to just wash the damn thing and give it back.

“…Are you sure he didn’t do anything to it?” Was this even something Jack wanted to know?

You shrugged, rubbing at your face. “You know him better than I do. I wouldn’t know, and I don’t care to find out. All that matters,” you grabbed his hand, coaxing him to relax his grip on it by caressing his knuckles, “is that he’ll leave us alone for a bit.”

“It’s not like I know him, I haven’t seen him for a long time.” And by this point, Jack doesn’t want to know. “What are you gonna do when he starts to demand more? No sense in thinking that he’ll be satisfied with just a tie.”

“He won’t,” a part of Jack want’s to believe that your confidence was a false front, but the whole of his heart knows better, “Vil is trapped by his reputation. He’s built his entire image on the fact that he’s untouchable. If word gets out that I was somehow able to attain him, well, it would ruin him.”

Jack leaned down, nudging your hands away to clean up your face himself. You took the duty of holding the umbrella up. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

It’s stupid to ask, with the stark difference in strength made clear between the both of them, but to not ask would show Jack’s complacency in this whole affair. He can’t sit right, just knowing that you’re only a few steps away from being under Vil’s control. That the only thing keeping him from doing anything drastic was a few gestures made to give false hope.

You patted his cheeks. “No need, Jack. He’s trying to appeal to me, after all. He wants to keep me happy, and you keep me happy, so there’s no need for you to do anything. Don’t give Vil any fuel for him to use.”

How admirable you are, how brightly you march forward with the knowledge that you’re untouchable. And all Jack could do was follow behind.

The sun was rather strong today. As much as you trust Sam’s products to keep your skin protected, you didn’t want to risk any annoying sunburns so you brought your umbrella as well. And besides, while you do care for Vil with all of your withered heart, his talons were not going to be kind to your shoulders.

You’re very lucky to have a magically tear-proof umbrella. How Crowley finds or makes these weird gifts are beyond you.

“You’re having a good time,” you commented, looking down to a Jack that’s just mindlessly running circles around your feet. He clearly wants to take off, with the way his eyes sparkled towards the river on the horizon, but he didn’t want to leave you. “If you want to run over there, be my guest.”

It’s not a hiking trip. You’re just gonna go to the river, soak your feet a bit and then go back home. You’re proud of the fact that this distance didn’t leave you out of breath anymore.

With a little yip that was probably supposed to be bark, Jack bounced once and took off to the river as a cloud of fog. You heard a little chirp before the extra weight on your umbrella left. Beautiful iridescent violet feathers shined in the sun and followed after Jack.

“Aren’t they both excited?” You chuckled lowly.

As you got closer to the flowing river, Vil dove down, splashed his talons into the water before flying up in graceful arc. Droplets of water flew and Jack manifested his head just enough to try and catch them in his mouth. A fluttering set of chirps escaped Vil, very much entertained.

When you saw Jack’s ears pin themselves against his head, you knew he took those noises as a challenge. The cloud of fog skimmed over the river, following Vil’s tail feathers before a huge ghostly wolf paw came down and splashed a sizable wave of water over the siren’s butt.

A shrill shriek came out of Vil, and the fact it didn’t make your ears bleed or fuzz up your vision told you he wasn’t truly angry. Like a missile, Vil focused entirely of trying to splash the dodging Jack back.

“Don’t play to hard, you little rascals,” you smiled, taking off your shoes before sitting down. “Don’t want you guys getting hurt.”

They both have rather intense attitudes, so you’ll be sure to keep a close eye on them while you rest.

“Think you can take me?” you teased Epel as you laid your weight on his back, coiling your arms tight around his neck without actually choking him.

You pulled him up without much effort, locking him in place. Resting on the roots of a distant tree, Leona can practically smell the adrenaline rushing through the Epel’s veins. His grin was fierce, surprisingly fitting for him despite his soft face.

With the right move, you could so easily crush it against the grass. Perhaps a gust of wind will come and force Epel’s face right into a rock.

Wouldn’t that be a dream?

“Ya wanna tussle?!” the volume of his voice only made the pomefiore student’s excitement more obvious. Too loud. Too obnoxious.

Can’t you choke him harder? He could stand to be quieter. Or would ripping out his throat be better? Ah, but you would never do such a thing. Leona would have to do that himself but he knows what the results would be.

There’s already a distance between you and him. Blood won’t make the wall disappear. It’s his own fault for crafting the damn thing in the first place.

Epel managed to pry your arms off, but you tapped the back of his knees before sending right into the ground. It became a mess of flailing palms and coiling limbs. Purposefully clumsy as grass was ripped up and stuffed down shirts and pants.

It wasn’t long before laughter bubbled out of the both of you. Messy laughter, tinged with breathiness and some silly honking as you were squished.

Leona wanted to smile, but his fingers were itching to rip out the tongue of your wrestling playmate. Jealousy was a familiar flavor. What he wouldn’t give to get rid of it all.

“I win,” you stood on top, sitting on Epel’s back as though he was a throne. You patted his head when he huffed against the ground. He wasn’t the least bit angry.

Victory will always fall to your fingers one way or the other, especially with those tenacious first years at your side, listening to your every beck and call. Had Leona been a weaker, less prideful second born prince, he would admit to himself that he would obey your every order.

Of course it was never that easy. He needs to keep everyone at a distance, needs to make sure that if he messes up, that it won’t echo out in the crowd and land right in your ears.

He trusts you. Really he does, but he knows he has done nothing to earn the same trust you hold in that ferocious Epel.

Perhaps time will eventually give him the courage to close the distance between? Maybe one day you’ll both tussle to the ground, make each other eat dirt and sand until eventually you become the victor.

Vil knows of himself and he knows of Leona. He knows of his own pride, sits in his strict code of conduct, always seeking to better both his body and mind. And he was forced to regress, to have every bit of him corroded until he became the mess that he is right now.

Leona, on the other hand, chooses to lay in his apathy. His pride lays in his inability to be bothered. To let time pass by and linger as nothing more than an arid wind among the sand. A ghost that simply watches. A being that never truly sleeps.

Vil can’t stand him and the messes he makes, but none of what he feels is hatred. There’s no black vitriol sitting behind his teeth when he looks at him. There’s no urge to grab at his feather and rip them out just to curse him with the sight.

Vil can’t hate Leona, and he knows that Leona can’t hate him. They’re both wounded creatures lapping at what hasn’t scarred over. And they both wish to lay in your quiet yet caring hands. To lash out would be no different than lashing at themselves.

And yet, something was different today, when Vil came back from his shopping trip. Vil was never one to ignore an oddity, especially with someone like Leona.

“Clearly you’re here for something.” Rarely does Leona venture outside the land he’s claimed for himself. Perhaps if this was the Leona of the past…actually, mark that off, that’s not correct. There was always a point where Leona was not willing to venture, a limit that many don’t notice because one always can find him napping anywhere that’s heated by sunlight.

It’s the fact that you can find him napping at all tells Vil everything he needs to know. The lion must always ensure the stability of their pack. He may be mimicking the species, but right now, Leona’s away from them. Vil knows he’s not a part of them nor will the both of them pretend as such.

“Well, out with it. Unless you’re willing to hold my bags for me.” A jest but the mention of any manual labor was usually enough to shoo him away.

“How did the Caretaker get those bandages on their shoulders?”

…ah, Vil accidentally clawed his own palm. The stones under his heel rolled and grind on the concrete. He can’t move his legs anymore.

“…ah, never mind.” And just like that, the eyes that turned the green his eyes sharp faded. Leona scratched the back of his head, as though all of this was a bother. As though Vil wasn’t a threat that needed to be confronted.

…a threat? Was he a threat? Was he still a threat? If he finds himself lost in those memories once again, would he go farther than sinking his claws into your shoulder? Would he rip you apart just to escape the torture conjured by his head?

“Hey,” Leona snatched up a bag just as it slipped from his grip. He tapped the side of his head. “Don’t go getting lost in your thoughts. I don’t know what nasty things you’re imagining, but it’ll take a lot more than that to drive me away.”

“…thank you,” VIl shuddered out, straightening his spine once more. Manners are sewed into his pride and as such he must show them when appropriate. Though that doesn’t stop Vil from wanting to poison Leona’s tongue when his lazy, mocking grin crawled onto his face.

“Thank me by letting me have first dibs on the meal.”

“Touch it and I’ll make your fingers rot off. The first bite for any feast is reserved for the Caretaker and the Caretaker only.”

A jacket, some smaller socks, and a solitary blanket of a color so faded it couldn’t possibly be anything but a hand-me-down. Ruggie was staring at these articles, laying haphazardly on the left side of Leona’s bed.

“Are these…” he picked up a sock that was obviously not Leona’s size, “Cheka’s?”

That wasn’t correct either and he knows it.

“Ugh…” Leona lifted his head, looked at him, then yawned as if nothing was ever wrong, “Just leave them there.” He laid back down, “That pesky Prefect’s gonna come and pick them up later.”

…Well…that makes even less sense. Well, not in that these aren’t your clothes, they’re very much your size, but in the fact Leona didn’t bother to just, kick things off the side. Ruggie knows his dorm leader and he knows him to be a bed hogger. And it’s been a few days already since you’ve moved back to your dorm after the gas leak got fixed.

And wait, why did Leona let you camp out here of all places? Didn’t he literally do your bidding for the sole reason of getting you out? But wait, why would Leona even bother letting you sleep here in the first place when he has all the power needed to just flick you out here?

…

Ruggie suddenly gained a minx like smile. Before he started his usual giggle, he dropped the blanket and socks back down. Leona’s tail started flicking up and down and that’s when Ruggie knew he overstayed his welcome here.

“Alright alright,” he said, tossing Leona’s laundry in the basket. And just under his breath, “you really gotta be more honest with yourself.”

And so, for the next few days, Ruggie didn’t touch those small articles of yours. They weren’t even moved from their place. And when you finally returned to pick up the things you’ve forgotten, it turned into another sleepover, of which Ruggie had to join. He needs to see how Leona acts when you’re here. It’s too juicy to miss.

And, funnily enough, nothing happened. No touching, no cuddling, just good ol you talking to him and Leona, telling stories of your various subjugation of several rowdy students who never knew when to quit, how Grim was grounded for skipping class so he’s in Riddle’s tender care. All of it was normal. Terribly so. In fact, there wasn’t anything special about the way you treated him or Leona.

Only Leona was quiet. Ruggie knows a sleeping Leona better than anyone, and he wasn’t taking his hours. He was listening, if his twitching tail was of any indication.

Finally, when everyone fell asleep and morning came, Ruggie woke up in a bit of a huff. He was expecting some sort of scheme or something more interesting to happen. Instead he witness something real mushy.

Ruggie picked up his pieces, knowing full well his time in here was getting shorter, and by the time he fled to his dorm to put his things safely away, you were already gone. Ruggie set about his usual routine, picking up some tossed out clothes that should really be put away, organizing Leona’s accessories and making sure he had all his collage material in order.

All the while Leona lounged about, with your blanket right under his tail.

Really Leona, thought Ruggie as he heaved a trash bag off the floor, you gotta be more bold than that for the Prefect to take any interest in ya.

Oh what stubborn lions will do to keep their pride.

On his every difficult quest to find the best way to wake up Leona—without getting growled at, makes him fucking jump every time—Ruggie made an interesting decision upon noticing some interesting observations.

One: whenever you come over for a sleepover and you get up second—Ruggie is always first because this dorm would collapse otherwise—Leona’s ears would twitch in your direction as soon as you yawned. On those beautifully rare days, it’s so much easier to wake him up. Well, he would growl certainly, but only when you weren’t in the room.

Two: during lunch, when Leona absolutely looked ready to face plant into the table after filling his belly, he would fight the sleep while eavesdropping your conversation over by your table. Sure, Ruggie is doing his best to keep him awake so he can at least walk to his next class, but he knew Leona was not truly focusing on him. Only taking in the key words to pretend he’s listening. Which usually works, but Ruggie knew him all too well.

Three: there’s a recent location that Leona has taken that Ruggie, at first, couldn’t understand. It was under a tree, which was understandable as shade is nice, but it was too close to the field that’s used for gym class. Smelled of sweat, specifically of Vargas’s, but one day, Ruggie sat there with him because he was tired too. Then he heard a shouting, your shouting. You and Grim were using the field to practice commands, to fine tune Grim’s reaction time.

Ruggie came up with the brilliant idea to copy your voice. And so came pushing his schedule around to fit in a few hours of vocal practice. Leona did raise an eyebrow at him when he would rush around the room much faster than usual, but it wasn’t too out of character of him so Ruggie was glad he didn’t bother asking. Just told him to quiet down.

The first trial run of his new skill set was a failure.

He adjusted his voice accordingly, taking on your tone and whispered, “Leon—” but got a pillow to the face.

“No. Get out.” Yikes. Leona didn’t come to class that day. Which wasn’t unusual but Ruggie knew the true reason why.

Only after a month of training did Ruggie have the guts to try again. This time, he got something.

Ruggie spotted Leona sleeping under a tree through a window, once more, probably going to skip class. Nudging the window open in case Leona decided to chuck something at him, Ruggie mimicked in your voice, “Grim, get up!”
Ah, he messed up on your intonation. Said it too slow.

But, it made Leona’s ears twitch. Stayed still for a few seconds before getting up and walking away.

Yeah, yeah Ruggie messed up. And Leona made this known via a bigger appetite than usual. His arms would ache for a good week from how much he carried.

And now here he was, only a few weeks later, back in the place where his first failure took place: Leona’s room.

There was supposed to be another sleepover planned but you had to cancel due to your catalog of assignments that were suddenly dumped on you. As such, Ruggie knew Leona would be incredibly irritable as soon as he woke up. Absolutely will refuse to go to class because Leona is, by all means, a princely man child.

This was the perfect opportunity to test out his fine tuned skills. And if this doesn’t work, well, Ruggie is just going to have to trust in his legs.

The benefit of being Leona’s lackey was that the man himself will let himself slip into deep sleep while Ruggie was in the room. While he would never say he fully trusts in Ruggie, how he lets himself doze spoke volumes. And too bad for Leona, Ruggie was going to abuse that just a little bit.

Ruggie spent some time picking around Leona’s room, making some small sounds to test out just how deep into sleep Leona was. He didn’t so much as twitch his tail. Ruggie grinned.

Making sure to position himself on your side of the bed—don’t know when that side became yours but Leona no longer slept on it—Ruggie gathered all his days of practice into place and gave a simple, “Good morning, Leona.”

Ruggie darted back to his broom, sweeping as though he never left his place, and tried his hardest to keep his giggles down when he heard Leona’s sheets shifting around. Heard him breathe in deep and yawn out. The best part was when it ended on a questioning tone. A good ol yawny “Huh?”

“Ah,” Ruggie turned around, hoping his grin wasn’t too wide, “morning, Leona. You’re awake early.”

Leona’s gaze stayed sleepy, blinking as though trying to get rid of whatever dream he had. Or he had dry eyes. Ruggie doesn’t know. But Leona wasn’t glaring, and that was a plus.

He stretched, sitting up as he scratched his head.

“A dream, huh?” he murmured.

Ruggie almost cracked, but managed a stable, “You say something, Leona?”

Leona gave an annoyed sigh. “Nothing. Just get me my breakfast when you’re done. I’m gonna need it for today’s test, as much of a bother as it is.”

Success!

The forest has long since claimed this particular patch of ruins. If one were to travel just south from this place, from the entrance of what was likely a lavish palace, you’d find that the vegetation that so often reclaims things has been cut off. It was a fine line between plants and sand, as though nature itself took a knife and forced the boundary.

It was an easy walk, an interesting exploration to a place already recorded countless times, drilled into Leona’s head from many tutors that think he’ll listen if they repeated themselves enough.

And yet, despite all those years being uninterested in a place that abruptly appeared, here Leona is, pencil at the ready to record his own findings and theories. None of his notes will make history, he knows it. Not as though he’ll ever give them to any scholar. This is all just for his own curiosity, with Ruggie who wanted to tag along.

“Wow,” Ruggie whistled out, leaning over the edge of a monstrous crater resembling a maw that craved to consume this dilapidated palace, “what do you think could’ve caused this?”

Staring at the center of the hole, something hot and itchy scratched at Leona’s brain. He couldn’t help but kick a stone into the flaw of this otherwise interesting ruins. It landed in the plants without so much as a sound.

A holy place, huh? A structure made by the very gods themselves? Then why is this place dead and falling apart like any normal corpse?

It’s nothing more than a mockery. A palace of false gold and greed.

The wind picked up, sweeping a leaf right off. At the center of this crater was a bundle of gray flowers.

Gray among green, among red and orange, among feather, among sand.

Leona walked to the edge himself, taking a seat.

“A spear,” Leona can’t take his eyes off those flowers, “thrown by a furious god, piercing the clouds to end the dreams of a power hungry fool.”

Leona can hear the flapping of orange feathers, useless useless flapping, trying to escape but they can’t. Powerless against a god, against a kin with eyes that have witnessed the end.

“Wait, really?” Ruggie’s ears perked up, rather surprised.

“Of course not.” Leona scoffed. “I don’t have a clue, so why bother asking? It’s just another story to scare kids into behaving.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Ruggie grabbed his bag, dusting it off, “Don’t pull my tail here. I was just asking.”

Leona just waved him off with a smirk. He got up, stretched a bit in the sun and made his way back to the abandoned palace.

“I’ll be inside. If you fall in, don’t come yelling for me. I know you can get out yourself.”

“So caring…” Ruggie murmured under his breath, leaning closer to the crater out of spite. “Huh.”

Oddly enough, Ruggie’s fingers itched to dig in, to grab those flowers. Maybe they’ll be worth something?

Ah, he shouldn’t. For all he knows, they could be something marking a grave. Still though, those flowers. They sure are interesting looking.

Ruggie knows Leona to rarely get hurt. Man’s too lazy and on the rare occasions he does get motivation, he only comes out of it with bruises and light scrapes. The court is his battlefield as well as his kingdom, he shines most there as though it was a throne.

Whoever heard of getting injured when you’re in bed?

Indents in skin and bruises, sure, but gashes? Full on bleeding on the sheets as though you were fighting for your life? Deep claw marks lay within Leona’s shoulder, vertical things that go from the joint all the way to the wrist. A pattern, steady lines that told Ruggie Leona wasn’t struggling with anyone, save for his own mind.

Red was brilliant color, and yet what caught Ruggie’s eyes was the flashes of gold outside Leona’s window. The dragonflies. They never enter his room. They like to be at everyone elses’ but not here. Ruggie understands why. While he’s gotten used to the sound of flies and mosquitoes flying around his ears, they’re no less annoying when you just want to rest.

Blood decorated Leona’s fingers on his right hand, glinting like those golden decorative claws he’s seen humans of royalty wear. Claws that were useless on folks like Leona. Why wear fake ones when you were born with them?

And the kicker? All Ruggie could really say was,

“Again?” Tired as he was, blood wasn’t a new sight to him. Why else would Ruggie have a first aid kit ready? “Man, this injury’s real nasty.”

It’s always that same arm. Always in the same scars. They’d heal over just fine, but then they’d be dug open once more.

“Shut up,” Leona, of course, didn’t care. He wiped his hands on the blanket, as though remembering to nonchalant the moment Ruggie let his voice out. “Just get to work. See if you can anything.”

Anything. Rot, dirt, stray pebbles, grass, insect pieces, glass, roots, eggs.

Always, Ruggie would find nothing hidden in the loose flaps of his skin and muscle. He’d dig around, deeply too on Leona’s demand, but there would be nothing to dig out. It’s gross, humiliating almost, like he’s a nurse with a fake degree.

“You don’t have anything,” Ruggie closed him up, actually having to stitch some wounds together. Leona really dug in deep in there. Whatever he thinks is inside his body, he really wants out. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Leona does get his regular physical. It’s a required thing, especially if one is part of royalty. And they all found him to be perfectly fine.

Was it nightmares making Leona like this? All paranoid and stuff? Was it the familiars? If he hates these bugs so much, why not just sand them and call it a day?

Of course, Ruggie doesn’t say any of these thoughts. It’s not in his place to.

“No,” there it is, Ruggie pissed him off. “Get out.”

“Sure thing,” He won’t linger around any longer. There’s no point in doing so. Ruggie will come back when Leona’s out. H’s gotta clean his room after all. Bloodstains are hard to get out when they’re allowed to set.

The amount of texts Kalim has sent you, apology after apology for things he couldn’t have possibly have predicted has left your mood just the slightest bit sour. Not with irritation at Kalim, of course not, but with guilt of knowing that Kalim likely does not know what to do with his own swirling storm of emotions. Of the guilt, the sorrow, overwhelmed at the possibility that you might perish suddenly and without warning. You suppose it would be shocking to anyone that a constant in their lives can easily be cut out of it.

Before you went to bed, you had to call Kalim to prevent him from getting out of his house to check up on you. The fact you were able to talk at all is a miracle, and while you did want to reassure him, you think you failed in the task considering how nasty your voice sounded. Scratchy, dry, a few seconds away from dying out like a leaf in a dessert.

But, the doc said that you’ll be fine. You have your meds, you have your water, your mini fridge, and a bathroom within crawling distance. If the worst comes, you have Crowley to rely on. He’s the one that took you home in the first place.

When you woke up, your fever was still sky high. Fatigue laced through your bones in a binding grip, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, and your vision was swirly, but not as bad as it was yesterday. That, and the nausea was gone. So that’s already a good start.

You drifted off for a bit, letting the fever haze over your mind before you caught brilliant red entering your vision.

The scent of roses carried into your nose, your head facing the window as you laid on your stomach. Roots retracted from the sill as Riddle slid down his makeshift root slide right next to you. In his hands was what looked like a water globe, tinted pink and glowing just enough to grab your attention. When he stopped right by your face and knelt, you blinked but opened your mouth just a bit to let him slip the drop through.

Nectar. Riddle took the time to gather nectar, probably from his flower to feed you with. The sweetness of the treat cleared your head a bit.

You push yourself up, looking down at Riddle. “Thank you, Roseling.”

Riddle puffed up with pride just as the other four nymphs tumbled down the roots the roseling was controlling. Trey was the only one to keep his balance, despite carrying a large pile of clovers in his arms. He helped the others up, before skittering off to put his plants around your room. When he stopped right at the edge of your bed, Cater came over to his side and duplicated himself until there was enough of him to make a strange ladder down. Riddle used his roots to get back on the sill, still watching you.

Speaking of, it’s only now you noticed just how decorated your room has gotten. Lilies were on your night stand, tulips on your blankets, roses on your window sill, and branches of plumerias were tied around the cane Crowley let you borrow.

“Morning,” you snorted at the running nymphs, Ace tripping over Deuce, then looked over to the clock, “or afternoon. Ah, fuck!”

Feeding! You have to feed—!

Your legs swished under the blankets, bumping into a pile of something that was resting in the space between your ankles. Luckily you didn’t have the strength to accidentally launch anything into the wall. You angled yourself, looking back. “Ah, sorry Ruggie. Oh, and hello Leona.”

Ruggie had his head resting against your calf with Leona resting on the other side of the bed, on your other pillow. Despite your sudden movements, the only reaction Ruggie gave was a sleepy shake of his head, as if only his ears were tickled, a yawn, then laid back down. Leona stretched, going from his curled position to a spread eagle one. So that’s what was tickling your face throughout the night.

You pulled yourself up, adjusting your pillow to support your back as you rested against the headboard. Ruggie followed, chasing after your legs, his new pillow apparently. You stretched as far as you could handle, only stopping when dots started to cloud your vision. The hot air blowing through the window was not making it better.

“Can someone close the window? I’m still sweating.” You may be shivering, but you don’t need any hot winds right now.

Something hissed from the space between the pillows. In a graceful slide, Jamil popped out, eyes thinned to a sliver from sleep.

“Hello, Jamil.”

He only nodded to you, yawning as he slid over your belly, past the stray petals on your bed, and up the roots. When the roots have fully retreated, with his tail, Jamil pulled the window closed. What strength his body has, to pull the tricky window. There’s a trick to it, but brute force also works.

On the journey back, Jamil used his tail to grab your medication, dropped it off onto your lap, then dove right back under the pillows you were resting on. All you could see was just the tip of his tail. When you lightly pinched it, he retreated fully. You guess it was a sleeping day for him. Ah, but before you can take your med, you need to brush your teeth. You mouth tastes awful.

You carefully slid your legs off the bed, pushing the blanket off of you to bury Ruggie in. As you were reaching over to grab a pair of socks, you saw the cane suddenly stand up and move towards you. Looking down, you saw Jack using all of his strength to carry and balance to cane closer to you. He only dropped it as soon as it touched the side of your bed. Well, now you don’t have to shakily try and grab the cane that Crowley accidentally put too far from your reach. You would bend down to pat Jack, but you don’t think you can do that right now. Instead, you beckoned Jack to get on your bed by patting the space next to you.

Agile little thing that he was, Jack took to your command and skittered up the sheets. Though, rather than standing and waiting for your next order, Jack, with some stiffness in his limbs, walked over to lay his head against your thigh. You smiled, playfully patting his ears, watching them twitch.

“I’ll be fine. Stay here for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Leaning some of your weight on the fancy, and improved, cane, made your way to the bathroom. Just as you were about to take a look into the mirror above the sink, you gasped when you looked at the tub. The filled tub. With three little seafolk staring up at you from the rim. Floyd was on top of Azul’s head, who was on top of Jade’s, who was on top of the tub.

“Ah, did I leave you there?” you hissed to yourself, trying to grab at whatever memory was left behind in the haze of yesterday.

You remembered that Azul had inked up the tank pretty badly, to the point you had to completely drain the tank and take out the decorations to clean them up. Azul, Jade and Floyd were dyed black, and since you figured you wouldn’t be gone for that long, you put them in the tub in your bathroom along with the rest of the decorations. You did have enough time to clean, just not put everything back. You really didn’t think you would out for long, since all Kalim wanted to do was visit a few street vendors and that’s it.

Azul, Jade and Floyd were stuck in the tub since yesterday. And yet, none of them looked angry. They haven’t even made a single noise. They just stared.

Carefully, you sat down on the toilet, dipping your fingers into the water. Cold. Of course it was. The three seafolk immediately dived towards your hand, Floyd grabbing your thumb, Jade wrapping himself around your wrist and Azul just straight up started to climb up  your arm, stopping at your elbow, staring at your mouth.

“I’m fine, little guys,” you breathed out. You’ll survive. Sure, food doesn’t exactly sound appetizing at the moment, but you’ll get your hunger back in time. Certainly better than yesterday. “See, not puking anymore.”

Poor things, you probably frightened them with all the sounds you were making on the toilet. Hopefully they don’t have to witness that again.

Faintly, you could hear a knocking at your door.

“Are you awake and decent yet?”

Oh, Crowley. Did he even go home?

“In the bathroom.” It wasn’t a shout, but it was loud enough, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

More like you’ll be there in half an hour. You can see the rest of the pets making their way towards your bathroom. You’re going to be here a while.

You should get up. You’re awake, you’re here and your eyes are open, but you really didn’t feel like getting up. It’s too cold, the sheets are heavy, and you don’t feel truly rested. The clock told you it was 6, even though you went to sleep at 4 AM, so you can afford to lay there. You can’t sleep now, but zoning out should be good for your eyes. Besides, as hungry as you are, you don’t really crave anything. Nothing sounds appealing, so the only thing you can really do is just let your mind fog over for a bit.

One hour turned to two, two turned to four, and eventually it was 11 AM. The numbers stared at you, and when it tick off another minute, you decided to get up at 11:30. You’re finally starting to get sleepy again. You could go for a quick nap.

You blinked once, twice, then heard a familiar chuff. You looked over the edge of the bed, finding Leona, his arms crossed. Behind him, towards the door, you see left over sand leading to the gap under it. While your fingers can’t fit under there, it’s enough for Leona to sneak through.

“Mornin,” you sighed out, finally finding enough strength to push yourself up, “you hungry? You should be hungry by now.”

Leona huffed, walking back over to the door, before looking back to you expectantly. You looked at the door knob, remembering you locked it. Right right, the rest of his pack was too polite for their own good. Wherever he goes, Ruggie and Jack follow, but not inside your room when the door was closed.

“Hang on a sec,” you reached over, unplugging your phone to check up on your texts and emails and whatever you needed to see. You only put it down when you heard Leona growl. “Hold up. I’ll be there.”

When you unlocked the door, Ruggie and Jack tumbled inside. Jack kept his balance, but Ruggie managed to turn his stumble into a front flip. You smiled at them as best you could. Your eyes were very dry and your mouth just as much. Still though, it’s nothing you can’t handle. You have eyes drops. And water.

“Come on,” your tone hasn’t changed, still carrying the weight of weariness, but that’s fine. You’ll get the hang of it. Just gotta push yourself a bit.

The three followed you into the kitchen. You bent down, opened a drawer and grabbed their food packets. The curtains were still drawn, so not much light was leaking in. Whatever sun that did slip through made you recoil, a thin prick of pain lacing through your brain.

“Ow,” the pain was more annoying than horrific. You put the food on their special plates and handed it to the three spirits. Rather than spread themselves apart to their respective eating places, they went to your chair in the dining room and sat near its legs. Leona was already digging in along with Ruggie, but Jack was the only one waiting, watching you.

“Eat,” you waved as you leaned against the counter. He tilted his head, but still refused to eat. Leona and Ruggie looked at him, turned to you, then they too stopped eating.

You sighed. You can’t exactly force them to eat. No point in trying when they don’t want to. Besides, they had a perfectly healthy appetite yesterday, so they should be fine right now if they skipped a meal. If they skip another one, then you’ll be concerned.

You went to the fridge, opening it just as you heard something slide and push against the cereal boxes. You looked up, finding Jamil staring down at you.

“Hey, Jamil,” you greeted before continuing your futile search for a meal or snack that won’t make you want to spit it out. Your tongue really didn’t want anything solid. Your jaw didn’t have the energy to chew on anything. You didn’t even want anything liquid going down. You didn’t feel hungry anymore, so there’s not really much of a point in keeping the fridge open.

You tried to close it, but Jamil draped his tail between the doors. You stopped the fridge before you couldn’t injure Jamil.

“You want something, Jamil?” Perhaps he craved something besides his usual diet of meat and spices?

Jamil looked behind you, giving an incredibly loud hiss that made your head lightly throb, then picked up his tail to slide across the door, down it, and across your arm until he was resting along your neck.

“Something wrong?” He didn’t seem angry. Annoyed at best, but he was willing to touch you, so you assumed he wasn’t hissing at you.

Behind you, you heard flapping.

Vil flew over your head, reflective feathers trailing behind him before he landed inside the fridge. He turned around, ruffling his feathers around before they settled impeccably back in place. His face was stiff, eyes more narrow than usual. Well, you’re not surprised. Vil follows a strict schedule so the fact you were late would only irritate him.

“Mornin,” you shamelessly greeted. You snorted when his feathers started to puff up, his wings getting ready to flap and possibly slap them against your face before you said, “what do you want?”

You’ll apologize later. You don’t have the energy to put anything sincere in your words. Saying sorry right now would make him angrier.

Though Vil looked a few seconds from launching himself at you, a hiss from Jamil caught his attention. The siren visibly calmed down with a sigh. He turned around and jumped a few steps up the fridge, digging deeper until he pushed a container into your view.

“What the?” You don’t remember putting this in. Jamil slid onto your arm, exploring the fridge doors until he pushed a bottle that should contain water, but actually had a weirdly red color to it. You grabbed them both when they started to make their noises. “Okay okay.”

Vil flew and landed on your head. You shouldered the fridge door closed and went over to the dining room, where Leona, Ruggie and Jack still were, still not eating. Nudging the seat back, you plopped yourself and your items of interest down.

You know you didn’t put these things in there. How did they even open the fridge in the first place? Though, you had to push the question aside. You needed to know what was inside this container.

Popping open the lid, you saw an assortment of different shaped apples. Some were heart shaped, others perfect spheres, there was even one in the shape of a star.

“Epel?” Really, there was no other creature that could make these. As though summoning him, you felt a tap on your ankle. Looking down, you saw the dryad with his hands on your skin. You bent down, letting him hop in your hand before setting him next to Vil, who flew to land on the bottle. “Did you make these?”

As though to answer you, Epel’s apple blossoms shifted about to make a diamond shaped apple. He plucked it off and dropped it into the container.

“They’re in very nice shapes, thank you.” Praise should be given when it’s needed.

Vil grabbed your attention with his tapping against the bottle cap. Jamil hissed as well, this time you can tell he was starting to lose his patience. You unscrewed the bottle cap off when Vil flew up in the air. Next, Vil tapped his foot against the bottle.

“Okay, okay,” you grabbed it and gave it a small gulp. The taste was, something. “huh, that’s weird.”

It’s not a bad taste. Savory would be more the word, but even that wouldn’t be quite enough to describe the feeling of summer going through your body. Well, at least your head didn’t hurt as much anymore. Sunlight was just a bit more tolerable. This drink was probably another one of these pets enchantment thingies. Probably Jamil’s, actually. You can’t imagine Vil making a drink like this.  You took another sip.

Below you, next to your feet, you can hear Leona, Ruggie and finally Jack eating. They were never the quietest eaters.

You grabbed a mini apple when you noticed Epel’s growing expression of irritation. Little attention seeker. You popped it into your mouth, munching down on it and letting the sweetness spread over your tongue. You weren’t exactly craving it, but the taste was soft enough to not make you want to spit it out. You did have to sip on the drink to help get the apples down.

Vil flew over and sat on the railing of the chair next to you. In tones that embraced your ears, blanketing your house as though Vil’s voice was imbued in the walls themselves, Vil started to sing. How rare.

You sat back, letting your tense muscles go. Somehow, it was the slightest bit easier to eat. Just a bit.

“There we go.” You grunted as you let go of the indoor dog house, placing it in a nice snug corner. It was delivered this morning by a rather eager delivery person. Probably wanted to spot the plant nymphs or the spirits in your house. “Cat tree is in place,” it was against the wall, one of the platforms making a perfect bridge to the window sill, “nest, stuffed in the cave,” ripped up cloth, various old blankets and cotton are all inside one of the hiding places that came with the cat tree, “and now you have your own dog house, Jack.”

You clapped your hands, rubbing at the seams the edges of the dog house made. You leaned your head down, trying to guide Jack to jump off and land on his house. He did so using your scalp as his platform. Jack angled himself, sniffing a corner of the house, moved to the other side, then suddenly began to sprint circles around it.

“Oh you like it, don’t you?” You smirked when Jack launched himself inside the house. He peeked out, lightly glaring at you with darkened cheeks before shyly walking deeper inside. You looked behind you, “How you doing, Ruggie?”

One after another, puffs of cotton bounced out of the cat cave. Ruggie reach out his little hand and grabbed a polka dotted fabric before it started to float down. He popped his head out, ears perked up and gave a delighted laugh. He pounced back inside and continued his digging and rearranging. Won’t be long before he starts hiding his things in there.

“And what about you, Leo—” though you expected him to be sleeping on the window, he wasn’t there, “Leona?”

Luckily, you only had to take a few steps forward before your roof came into view. Leona was resting right on the edge of it, taunting gravity by letting his leg hang over the edge.

“Well, I guess everyone’s enjoying themselves.” Well, at least Ruggie is using the cat tree. Leona might use it later, or use it never. “Don’t let your dumb ass fall off, alright?”

Leona’s ears twitched up, but that’s all the acknowledgment he gave you. Well, good enough.

You swiped off the sand from the sill when a hot gust of air shot right over your shoulder. Shaking your head, you looked down to see Ruggie standing still for only a split second before pouncing right on top of Leona. You snorted when Leona gave a puff of sand in his surprise, but Ruggie merely twirled out of the way. The wind spirit’s laughter has gotten rather high pitched, and poor Leona’s ears were flat with irritation.

You didn’t miss the way Leona’s pupils started to blow out when Ruggie made a mad dash away from him, nor did you miss the way he laid down and did his positioning wiggles. He wasn’t even paying attention to you anymore. When his calibrations were finished, Leona dashed off to chase Ruggie.

You crossed your arms, finding light laughter spilling over your lips. Jack walked up next to you, leaping from the floor and onto the window sill. His full attention was on the running pair. His tail was wagging, clearly interested in this game Ruggie started.

“You can join them,” Jack whipped his head towards you, gazing at you before his ears went flat. He crossed his arms as well, taking on his little tough guy act, “Go on. Leona looks like he could use some help getting Ruggie. He’s a fast little thing, but I’m sure you can get him before he can cause too much trouble.” You nudged Jack with a finger, “Come on.”

Only two nudges were enough to break his spirit. When Ruggie came around to do another lap, Jack bound off, locking onto the target. Ruggie wasn’t even panting, but he did yelp when he saw the gold eyes trained on him. Off he dashed, with two other spirits following him, ready to chase him to the ends of the earth.

Let’s hope they don’t break any of your roof tiles. You like your house looking uniform.

It was a blanket given to you as a gift. This fancy gold and silver thing. Rarely do you bring it out, if only to keep Crowley from being overly sappy, but you never had the heart to give it away. Even when you were in the worst of your apathetic episodes and had the blanket in your hand, you could never stuff it in a trash back and leave it for Vargas to pick up.

It’s a heavy blanket, the kind that rarely leaves air pockets when you draped it over yourself. It’s nice, and did wonders for you poor legs. Really, you were on your feet for too long. Oh well, it’s on you for taking a detour just to avoid a massive crowd. At least the couch is comfortable.

Worn as it was, the colors still remained vibrant to this day. You don’t know how Crowley finds these things. Actually, does he make them himself? You wouldn’t put it past him. Fickle minded he may be, his magic was something that reminded you of why people like him are so sought after.

It’s funny, how fiercely bitter you once were, intensely so that he gave you this blanket as an apology that he didn’t have to make. The fault was entirely on you.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered clothes,

He wasn’t a good singer, not at all.

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

And yet, this song, low and mellow as it tumbled from your lips…

I’d spread the cloths beneath your feet,

…it was the exact thing that made you feel better.

Before you could breathe for the next verse, a small weight settled itself right on your stomach. Leona stared at you with sleepy eyes, no annoyance to be found. Just mild interest. He chuffed before laying down with you.

“So, I’m your napping spot for the day, huh?”

However he didn’t go to sleep. He gazed at you, ears perked up high towards you.

With Leona taking the first step, Ruggie followed. Your stomach was claimed by Leona, but your chest was free and there he appeared in a gust of wind. He was curled up, pretending as though he was always there, but his ears were also turned to you.

“You too huh? Jack, you around here?”

And you were right on the money. Jack jumped over the arm of the couch and landed on your shoulder. He huffed, responding to you back before laying down himself. Unlike Ruggie, Jack was giving you a wide eyed look of expectation. His tail was lightly wagging, waiting for something.

The rest of the song, perhaps? Singing wasn’t something you did often, at least not before. You suppose it’s another new thing you did that they were interested in.

Well, what’s the harm in it? You can only hope Crowley suddenly doesn’t pop in. When he gets sentimental, you end up feeling off all day, like someone replaced your marrow with putty. Weird, squishy and just…mushy. It’s not a bad feeling, it’s just you get too much of it in one dose.

You’re not used to being sentimental…or emotionally vulnerable in general.

But, just this once, you’ll ignore that and just, sing.

Ruggie loves his face massages. Just, cradle his head in your palm and rub all you want, you can even squish it if you want to. The harder, the better. Sometimes he’ll get a little carried away and try to shove his head right onto your nails. It doesn’t hurt him, if anything he melts even more and releases these little growls that would cause all dog owners to clutch their pups in fear.

One time he even fell asleep with his face flat against your palm. It was a deep sleep too, complete with leg twitches and everything. You suspect that Ruggie often dreams of running, since that’s what his legs usually do while sleeping. A kicker. It’s funny and adorable.

Jack is a bit of a moody boy. Often he hates to touched in some spots, such as his back and ears, other times he wants you lather all your affection onto them. It really depends on what Jack wants. He usually makes it clear without any miscommunication.

His favorite spot that always gets the okay is the place between his shoulder blades. You don’t scratch it hard like you do Ruggie, you massage it as best you can. While Jack is bigger than most of the others, he still isn’t bigger than your hands. Usually a finger will do against his back. If Jack is feeling particularly huffy, you dig the pad of your finger right in that spot, circling it without end. Still no nails, it’s all pressure.

Jack doesn’t growl so much as he releases a very low, very long groan.

Leona is…surprisingly predictable, provided he wants you to get close. He’s not a pet that makes much noise. In fact, you seldom remember the last time he made any noise at all beyond the annoyed growls. So when you do get the chance to pet him, it’s usually a quiet affair.

Well, quiet, save for the firm smacks of your fingertips on Leona’s lower back. No head scratches unless he’s sleepy, and absolutely no belly rubs. Only fast and firm butt smacks. Anytime he wants them, he’s usually within comfortable smacking distance, laying on his belly with his tail facing you.

One time you tried to go light, just to tease Leona and he actually swiped at your hand, ears flat against his head. He really doesn’t know when to take a joke. Grumpy little thing, thinks he’s the boss of your house.

The best part about smacking Leona’s back was when he raised his butt higher. The base of his tail would fluff up, but other than that, nothing about Leona’s face would change. Though, his eyes are thinned to a comfortable glare. It’s one of the way to both lull him to sleep or wake him up. Really depends on what mood Leona is in.