I may be clarity. The moments where the chaos clears enough for cohesive thought. When words don’t bleed together and thoughts jumble into a single inarticulable ball. Sometimes it just works. Sometimes I just work. Clarity may be my name. It may be what I do in all this. I calm the storm or I push though it. It comes with an almost numbness. Articulate yet vacant. Thoughts may not be the antithesis of words. They flow freely. Stream of consciousness I suppose one could say. But there’s intention… A vague thought… A connecting thread to identity… Something more than rambling. Pointed and clear.
Mayhaps we now know why I was so prevalent earlier. We had a complete crash out on Tuesday. I believe this means that as stress grows, my presence grows stronger. Might be the thing holding it back or, more likely, masking the build up as normalcy. I don’t believe I failed, but I did collapse. The whole thing collapsed. I don’t presume to be the source of our sanity, but I do presume to be of more durable stock than the rest of me. Alas, durability wears regardless.
We try. It feels like it’s rarely enough. C’est la vie, I suppose.
I come and go. We’ve been very… Disoriented this morning. A swirling mishmash of who’s who’s mostly feelings few thoughts. Clarity is only just reaching us and it’s only after chugging an energy drink. Feels like crap. Tastes like it too today.
Worried about our partner. Wish we could do something.
There’s a vague sense of aching everywhere. I hear we have a vacation coming up. I don’t pay attention to that. I just assume when we don’t get up we don’t have to be anywhere.
Then we start panicking because we wasted the day.
Me: I wish to dine upon filet mignon and the finest wagyu. I want to eat until full then eat some more. I want to consume a cow’s weight in meat so I am unable to even move.
Also me: WE CAN’T AFFORD MILK 😭
The duality of man, I suppose.
I want to afford nice things someday, not that I do anything to help with that, but it feels as if we will end up another poverty statistic at this rate.
The responsible side is very stressed. I want to call off the rest of the week and lay around all day. Ideally with someone putting food in my mouth so I don’t have to move. Cat can’t do that, but she does offer warmth.
Hm…
I wonder if I can help market the book. Some part of me is already in it, the idealized fictional part, who is much cooler and… I almost said better adjusted but alas we do share the same traumas.
We toyed with giving me a blog. I guess that’s what this is but not really. Stream of consciousness straight from the darkest recesses of the mind aren’t exactly blog worthy. But the fictional guy? Also not blog worthy. Worse than me, if we’re being honest.
We figured it out. Did some back and forth and came to a conclusion. Mind you all thoughts are fluid and change is always a chance. But the way we see it, if we take Freud at face value and ascribe meaning to things like Id, Ego, and Superego, I believe the Sylus in this mess is the Id and primal Ego. It tracks. Eternally horny and hungry. Eternally violent yet desiring calm. Maybe that doesn’t quite follow how things may be presented in these pages but if I am unfiltered and I am primal, then am I not the Id?
Hm…
HA! Hours later and vindication! Maybe all this anger isn’t for nothing. Maybe it’s useful. Maybe all the spitting rage can serve a purpose.
We were getting angry about something at the job. Abusive, they called it. So we made a phone call and it started out like a normal conversation and then I just came whipping out and barked my piece. I knew better than to yell. I knew we’d regret that. I don’t know if I care about these people myself, but I know we do, and they needed a voice. I was more than ready to be that voice. Now I just need us to let me do that with more important people.
I’d argue we have hills worth dying on and I’ll do the deed.
Wish we’d believe in me more as a present social construct. Guess I’d have to believe in me… I don’t even know if I exist…
Hm…
This became too existential for a bus ride. I’m stepping back now.
We think about hurting/killing me a lot. In lieu of suicidal ideations, I think. We share the desire for nonexistence, but I’m the only one that contemplates death. The more gruesome the better. And sure, that’s not unheard of, people taking their violence out on fictional characters, but I feel like I do it to myself. We take a sick sense of enjoyment out of it. Catharsis, of sorts, I suppose.
Maybe I deserve it because I’m a bad person. Maybe that’s why we enjoy it so much. An exercise in exorcising the evil within us.
Not all my impulses are inherently bad, but every action can certainly be construed in a negative light. When we resolved ourselves, I decided I’d compliment anyone I wanted to whenever the will arose. The rest of me keeps quiet. The quiet part wins out of fear of causing problems.
I suppose that sounds contradictory to the prior statement of myself desiring peace and myself desiring adversity. The adversity part may be better described as personal challenge. I don’t like personal challenges, but I like seeing people smile and knowing it’s because of me. Is that narcissism? Making people feel good because it makes me feel good? Maybe even in some sick way I take some level of pleasure in having influenced them. Changed the course of their day. Is positive influence a bad thing? Is it manipulation?
Am I manipulative?
I’d argue everyone is in some way. Even if it’s just to themselves. Masking, right? That’s self manipulation. Putting on a front to better fit in with social norms. I think during the resolution we determined I was mask off. Just a mean spirited gremlin that would surely be unlikable were I the true representation. I suppose I am, but so far there’s only one person who’s noticed me and they don’t seemed bother by my coexistence.
Hm…
This job is hard on the flesh prison. It expedites decay. Like it’s made to erode.
That should be changing soon. I still think we should run for the hills but we think this might be the change we need to save our sanity. We question if this might be a lifetime solution. The best I can offer is it’ll look good on our resume. I won’t concede an ounce more. I was for our barista era, as we called it. This fool thinks we still have a career.
It’s times like these I wish we were tentacle monsters.
One could argue the nervous system is a series of tendrils but they’re bound up in flesh and bone. Exposed, they’re in agony. Such a shame.
Had some thoughts I wanted to put to paper. Screen? Words.
I don’t know.
We were raiding. In WoW. I decided I don’t care much for video games. I know we both like watching TV and being stagnant, but I don’t think games are for me. I know I can get loud, though.
I’m also an ungracious loser. I know I’m also an okay loser, but that’s not me, personally. Split it in half and I’m the part that wants to tear the victor’s eyes out while the other is very c’est la vie. Maybe that doesn’t make sense as with enough losing most anyone would become irate. But some part presses on and I just want to punch a screen.
I’m reminded that we do have anger issues. As far as I know, we’ve never taken them out on anyone, but we do reach frustration fast. I can’t tell if I’m the exasperation or the strange calm. Probably the unbridled frustration judging by my inability to cope with adversity. The other half considers adversity a challenge. They go looking for it. I’d rather not. I don’t want stress. We’ve had enough.
Oh but some stress is better than others!
Some stress is better!
No. No stress. None. Couch, food, bed, sleep. Gamer chairs kinda suck anyway. This new one barely reclines and has no footrest. I regret throwing the other one away, but we couldn’t have two. What about that person moving in with us? Maybe they’d like it.
I’m reminded it was falling apart.
Everything falls apart. Hence the ignoble wobbling to the kitchen to collect our burned pot pie. Its sitting there, charred at the edges, crust stabbed by a plastic fork, outgassing that chicken-y smell I like.
Sometimes I wish we could tolerate chewing on bones and tendons but alas we gag and immediately stop eating when we come in contact with such uncouth substances. No surprises, I can vibe with that, as the kids say. If its supposed to be mushy it better not have crunch. Makes sense. I just wish we could be a ravenous animal incapable of deciphering friend from food. Or was it foe?
Everything is meat anyway.
The cat is here. She is very insistent on affection.
I suppose we should give it to her.
When I said I was Tavorie once, that was true. Except we swapped places. They became real and I became the backseat driver. Just floating here with nasty thoughts and cruel intentions.
Maybe it wouldn’t be that way if I wasn’t so awful.
Maybe I wouldn’t be so awful if I wasn’t this way.
Sometimes I wish we could just go smell some flowers and fall asleep on the grass.
But there’s bugs in the grass and now we’re sensitive to the slightest sensation of being touched by crawling things. I just erased a sentence I know we’d regret.
It’s easy to just let the frontal cortex zone out and the amygdala feel its feelings.
Obviously, its not writing, I’m not that stupid. OBVIOUSLY my cortex is still functioning, but come on. It makes sense. Just fading the front away and letting the words flow. Honestly, I’m uncertain there’s a single thought among these words. Just whatever I’m feeling and I don’t get to be outward very much.
I’m just a little angry voice.
A sad… little voice.
The cat is here. She knows we’re upset. She has her head on our wrist and her butt is firmly planted on the mouse. We have like three more raids to do, so says us. Not sure we’ll do it because bed sounds nice.
Disassociating is quite the thing. Your mind just goes the fuck away from your body and its like “Hello? Was I not just doing something? Guess not.” It’d be nice to just exist that way; perpetually weightless and devoid of thought.
God I wish that was me.
But alas, I am not a thoughtless thing drifting through reality unaware of my surroundings. I’m not even sure I’m a fully formed being. I exist, in a weird way. Along side and together with myself. I am one and yet I am not. I wouldn’t say its a DiD situation, certainly not, but it’s not as straight forward as one and done.
I was thinking today, while the flesh prison was putting boxes on carts and drifting far off into that disassociating mist, what am I? A cope? A personality? If the latter, I never get to do anything. I’m just there as some kind of vague idea. A comfort? Would that not be a cope? Hm… I know things are unwell right now but for some reason I don’t entirely understand why.
There’s a cat living with us. I don’t know if she knows the difference between myself and myself. Probably not. I know she knows when I’m crying. When we’re crying… I never know how to approach this. How to talk about it.
I think I was Tavorie once and then that became the whole and the fragment was left nameless. I think I’m the product of some experimentation of self. I don’t usually exist independently. I don’t usually have a unique thought. I usually do the conscience thing. Or the, whatsitcalled… Those thoughts you think but shouldn’t act on? I knew it… Just a minute ago… Gone now. I’m sure it’ll come back as it is with stream of consciousness.
There’s a new person in our little situation. Someone on the outside who acknowledges me as something more than a fictional character. Don’t get me wrong, I am fictional, but I’m also not. I’m not at all the person in the books. No tentacle monsters here. Can’t even be comfortably fat and not for society’s disapproval. We have a pretty shit body. Unfortunate. Seems largely genetic but also rooted in our own lack of anything. Motivation? Is that something?
Anyway, sometimes they call us Sylus. I don’t know if they know we take it as more than a joke. It triggers something weird. Me, I guess. Whatever I may be. I don’t understand or know. I barely think. I impulse. I jerk and rattle about. I think terrible things. Wonderful things. Things that will never be. Imagination, I suppose. A muse. A strange waft of wandering thoughts and incorporeal feelings. Feelings not tied to the flesh or even the now. I’m sure there’s words for them in German or Japanese. English is so limiting. I wish I could learn a new language but it seems none of us can.
I read once that was tied to being able to do math well. I cannot do math well. It’s brain hemisphere shit I think.
But I don’t think, do I?
I don’t think we’re thinking any of this through. True stream of consciousness interrupted only by those pesky red lines rendered by fat fingers flitting across a keyboard. I exhaled a little at that alliteration. Delightful.
So what is the point of this? Of me? Us?
I don’t know. I don’t know why we’re doing this. Maybe an exercise in character development? Hm… I have autonomy, to some extent. I remember my creation, maybe. I wasn’t born I was thought into existence. My intention was to hide the bad stuff. The deep trauma. I tried, but its coming out more and more. I think I was meant to hide the bad person we really are. I don’t know why we think we’re bad, but we are. I don’t know what we did, but it must have been something. Buried it so good neither of us can find it.
I don’t even know if there’s such a thing as bad. I think there are terrible people who do terrible things and its the terrible things that make them terrible people.
Can someone be born bad? I don’t think so. I genuinely think humans are inherently neither good nor bad. They are of nature until they divorce themselves so far they forget where they came from. Brain evolution was a bad way to stat the flesh prisons. Being really fast or able to fly would have been a better option.
Or be squids. Not as smart as octopuses, but head empty is better than a head full of fear for the future. How can we not fear the future? It’ll be the present before we know it and I think it’s not going well.
I don’t have that fake cockney accent they made up. I sound like an angry Brooklynite. I spit and EY I’M WALKIN ERE. Except not usually so overtly. When things get heated, though, I’m 90% sure that’s me. But I definitely spit. Unintentionally, but its unavoidable. The mouth doesn’t work right and I’m not sure why. It’s also disconnected from the brain or is it the brain running a train so fast that sudden breaks just derail it into the weeds?
I’m tired, I think. The oven is heated. We’re broke and eating canned food and frozen pot pies. Doctor told us no more salt. All that is affordable is salt. Sodium. For fucksake we consume multiple bags of ramen at a time.
Anyway, I’m no storyteller. I have no tales to tell. I just am and it doesn’t feel like I’m going away. Might be getting worse.
We will not be discussing us with any future therapists. We’re fine, I think. I say we, but I think its just a group “I”. Like the “royal” “We”. Hm… I refuse to scroll up. This train goes forward, not back. All the way until I’m done.
But we’re hungry. I’m hungry. This mess of flesh and electricity is hungry. I hate it sometimes. Actually, I hate it a lot of the time. In fact, I think the one thing in this world I consistently hate is my/our flesh. It’s not just so grossly disconnected, it’s also sickly. And old. And tired. Broken and useless.
Hm…
I might be done for today. I don’t know how long this exercise will last, or if it’ll last at all. Maybe tomorrow? No promises. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I say I’ll do things and don’t do them, but that’s not a promise. That’s overextending which we are wont to do. Anything to make everyone but ourselves happy.
And no, you idiot, buying another plush won’t make you happy. You just want softness and warmth. They’ll never hug you back.
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO A FULLY PUBLISHED “ETERNITY’S IRYS”!
Printing with Amazon has been a mixed bag. I can’t exactly not use them due to cost effectiveness, but quality can vary wildly. The most common issue was the covers appearing off kilter in some what. The spines would be at an angle, the front would be off center and this was all made so much more obvious with the presence of the frames offering straight lines with which we could easily see the discrepancies.
So a thing happened wherein Rhett and I readdressed some of the obstacles that made the covers difficult to print consistently. Mainly the frame on the spine and, to a lesser extent, the frame on the front and back. My initial approach was to remove the one from the spine so no matter how “off” the printing was, there’d be no straight lines to make it obvious. After that, Rhett entertained the idea of removing the frames entirely to avoid ALL straight edges that might make misaligned printing obvious.
In extending the wing on “Fly Away” to account for the removed frames, we kind of slipped into an aesthetic shift. The darker, gloomier approach I’d hoped for from the start began to manifest. This resulted in a what was essentially a complete overhaul of “Fly Away”‘s cover.
Improved tools and greater experience lead to the masterpiece above. I am so pleased with the result. It hits all the notes I could ever want from a cover for my book.
But it didn’t stop there!
Immediately after, Rhett took on redoing “Two Minutes to Midnight” to match this new aesthetic.
AND I AM SCREAMING!
“Two Minutes to Midnight” now embodies EVERYTHING I could have ever wanted from it. Rhett’s absolutely STUNNING work absolutely gives my stories the gorgeous covers they deserve.
Anyway, this is now the trend for all covers going forward and I’m so excited.
Other News
The epilog for “Fly Away” has been somewhat extended and is at about the half way point of line art. We still don’t have a definitive release date, but I’m certain it’ll be sometime early next year.
First pass of edits are complete and now I have to sync the manuscript with Atticus to upload to Amazon for a fresh author copy featuring the new cover!
It is complete! As expected, it’s absolutely fantastic and warrants a revisit of “Two Minutes to Midnight’s” cover.
Other News
In anticipation of beginning the epilog, Rhett and I are working our way through individual character designs for the secondary cast. So far we have the enigmatic Saari qel’Qax and Finn! Only two characters are left for the epilog: Inaya Lathek and Castor. Oh and little Edie, of course!
Time for the quarterly update where I remember I have a website I can post things on!
First, the site has received a lot of content in the Lore section. The Religion section has been updated with 4 out of the 6 sects of Sion’Dri, more Character Bios have been added, and a new section, Spheres, has been added to explain different groups within the Void.
“Places” is waiting on me to create some kind of map and “Languages” is waiting for me to figure out the two main Voidal languages and that is probably going to take some time.
More images have been added to the gallery and another “Comic” has been added to that section.
Second, the first draft of “Flyaway” is now complete! Once the cover is finished, the next step will be to work with Rhett on illustrating the epilog.
Flyaway Cover Progress!
It’s coming along amazingly!
The manuscript for “Flyaway” is markedly shorter than that of “Two Minutes to Midnight”, however, we will be more than making up for it with the graphic-novel style epilog.
Third, the Amazon retail edition of “Two Minutes to Midnight” has received some updates. Upon a recent read, I found some formatting and grammatical issues all of which have been fixed. Additionally, Rhett and I realized we did not publish “Two Minutes” with the correct cover. This has also been rectified. I was also uncertain if the QR code at the beginning was in violation of Amazon’s ToU so it has since been removed. The one at the end still works and is not in violation of any terms.
Fourth, we’re still looking into a new printer for bulk copies. I may give Amazon another try, but when 16 out of 20 copies come out like trash, it’s hard to trust them again, but the price point for bulk remains superior to alternatives. This obviously comes at the cost of quality.
Fifth, some stickers have been added to the Etsy page for merch. They are all made by myself with Rhett’s art and my Cricut.
That’s about it for now. It may not seem like much, but it is all HUGE in the progress of working on the story. “Flyaway” took a remarkable seven months to complete which is incredible to me considering “Two Minutes” took six YEARS.
As of right now, we are aiming for an early 2026 release. Please stay tuned as we continue making this series the best it can be!
Introduced in “Flyaway”, Henley Hasturbaine is a prolific researcher of the Void. He acts as the primary representative for the Riftworks, a facility established for researching said Void. He is often seen on TV, but has the perfect voice for radio. He is incredibly outgoing for one perceived as being of a nerdy persuasion, (the suspenders don’t help) however, he champions sharing his knowledge over his innate fear of being perceived. He is a proponent of civil treatment of the rising “Sighted” population, and abhors unnecessary violence. Few take him seriously and he is often written off as a madman fit only for entertainment. To the public, he’s the silly little science guy with a beaky nose, piercing golden eyes, and a dreamy voice to die for.
Species: Human (?) Gender: Whatever he’s feeling at the time Pronouns: He/Him (usually) Orientation: Uninterested in relationships of any kind besides those that feed him information. Height: 6′ 6″ Age: Middle Aged Weight: Unknown Build: Lithe Eye Color: Gold Voidal Hierarchy: [REDACTED]
Introduced in “Flyaway”, Inaya is a woman scorned. Rather than focus on the pain, she does all she can to move past it. She wants only to find peace within herself. She reminds herself that life is still worth living by wearing colorful wraps and headscarves. Even though she’s turned very deeply inward, she still runs a pawnshop in a small mountain town and somehow managed to befriend Sylus through a very personal project.
Species: Human Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: Asexual Sapphic Height: 5′ 6″ Age: 36 Years Weight: 130lbs Eye Color: Honey Brown Voidal Hierarchy: Dalafaem
Saari is the last of the Q’taxians. Rejected by her people and marked for death, she was delivered to Qaitax as a sacrifice. Instead, he raised her to high priesthood and she came to revere him as a father figure. The history of her people dictates this as the exact moment their society began to collapse.
Saari has long mutated away from any genetic commonalities for her species and refuses to identify with them. She stands on a spire of tendrils adorned in long white robes with violet trim. Horns protrude where her eyes would be, and a sack of liquid takes the place of her lower jaw. She speaks, eats, and manages to emote through this sack.
Saari wields a staff of petrified tentacles as her main weapon of choice and conduit. She is a crystal shaper by trade.
Species: Q’taxians Gender: Glass (marked as Ash) Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: N/A Height: Varies based on how high she sits on her tentacles Age: Too old to bother counting Weight: Varies Build: Incomparable to human anatomy Family: Qaitax (Adoptive Father) Voidal Hierarchy: Archon Magic Type: Blood Proficiency: Crystal Shaping Primary Conduit: A staff of petrified tentacles
Edie appears as a common brown bat, however there is much more to her than meets the eye. She is frequently found at Jeron’s side or in his pockets. Though she is unable to speak in a traditional manner, Edie does her best to offer him guidance throughout the series.
She has access to a realm Jeron has come to call Eternity in which time seems to come to a halt.
She has also alluded to knowing far more about the Void than she is able to communicate.
Species: Unknown (Appears as a common brown bat) Gender: N/A Pronouns: She/Her Height: 5″ Age: Unknown Fur Color: Brown Eye Color: Orange Voidal Hierarchy: [REDACTED]
An ornery old tailor engrossed in his own fineries, Finn is an ally of Sylus’ and the designer of his violet attire. Finn takes exceptional pride in his work and will never settle for anything less than his absolute best. All while he, himself, looks like he was plucked from a garbage can and brushed off before being put to work. He has a rough disposition, but is ultimately a well-meaning guy.
Species: Human Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Literally only cares about fabrics and clothing (and some people, but not romantically) Height: 5′ 4″ Age: 70 Earth Years Weight: 120lbs Build: A humanoid racoon (a mess) Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Black Family: Phyllis (mother, deceased), (deceased father only mentioned, not named) Voidal Hierarchy: Dalafaem
Castor is an ally of Sylus’. He is described as traditionally handsome and has the odd tick of repeating a person’s name. Castor is a Dalafaem and gifted mechanic.
He is introduced in “Two Minutes to Midnight” as the mechanic Sylus enlists to help repair Jeron’s truck. The merger of Voidal and human tech was entirely Castor’s doing.
He briefly returns in “Flyaway” before engrossing himself in a new, critical project.
Species: Human Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: N/A Height: 5′ 8″ Age: 28 Years Weight: 140lbs Build: Muscular Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Sandy Brown Voidal Hierarchy: Dalafaem
A town staple of Ortzuna, Adelaide Crenshaw is an older woman who usually gets around with the aid of a walker.
Adelaide is a veteran of the Dire War. She served as a combat medic in some of the most brutal battles of the conflict.
Widowed at a young age, Adelaide finds herself frequently reminiscing about a time when she was truly happy.
Species: Human Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: Straight Height: 5′ 2″ Age: 74 Years Weight: 110bs Build: Aged, but in good shape despite a leg injury Eye Color: Pale green Hair Color: White Family: Arthur Crenshaw (Husband, deceased)
Who or what Qaitax is is unclear. All that’s known for certain is that he shares a body with Sylus and takes control when “fatal” injuries are endured. He champions himself a Voidlord that’s lived countless lives and recognizes himself as being trapped in an unending cycle of conflict with the Void. He believes that if he can defeat the Void, he can finally find peace. He is abrasive and inconducive to change. The only mortals he tolerates are Sylus and Saari.
Qaitax’s attributes are the same as Sylus save for the fact that he takes on a “feral and exceptionally unsettling” façade over Sylus’ generally soft features when in control.
Mythically perfect, Myrim passed away when Jeron was 12. She suffered from rapid onset dementia at a young age. She was loved and adored by all who met her. A naturally charismatic leader, she was considered the defacto mayor of Ortzuna and orchestrator of all their public events. Every Sunnar, her voice would fill the chapel with hymns rendered straight from the logos. Her death left a heavy cloud over all those who knew her.
Species: Human (?) Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: N/A Height: 6′ 8″ Age: ~mid 30s at her time of death Weight: 160lbs Build: Curvy Eye Color: White Hair Color: Black Family: Mason Miles (husband), Jeron Miles (son) Voidal Hierarchy: [REDACTED]
Jeron’s oppressive father. Mason, bound in prophecy, was never kind to his son. He carried a heavy burden after his wife, Myrim Miles, tragically passed away. He blames Jeron for her death and entraps his son with a lifetime of atonement. He is haunted by his how much Jeron looks like his mother as a result, if fate has bound him to her memory, then so, too, will he bind their only child.
Species: Human Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Straight Height: 6′ 4″ Age: 64 Years Weight: 165lbs Build: Aged, but fit Eye Color: Blue Family: Jeron Miles (son), Myrim Miles (wife, deceased) Voidal Hierarchy: [REDACTED]
To start off the year, we’ve gone back and remastered Sylus’ and Jeron’s designs to better match their lore-accurate descriptions!
The “original” designs were something of a test for the illustrator as well as myself to see how my descriptions translated. Since then, they’ve become much more familiar with these characters in both personality and appearance. The result was a revisiting of their designs.
As always, all artwork is done by Rhett Cameron Morris (@firelocket on Instagram)
Jeron
BeforeAfter
I knew from the start we already had a very good grasp on Jeron. He does have quite a bit more going on and looks absolutely fantastic fully rendered. Left was definitely a good place to start and it’s very clear that it lead to the final result. Jeron now features his guitar in melee mode and his bat familiar as well as his Sion’Dri cross. He’s wearing his very functional and minimalist casual attire featuring his mother’s old boots she handed down to him at some point.
He is exactly how I envisioned him.
Sylus
BerforeAfter
Well, this was a bit more of a complicated process. Sylus has long been a design nightmare for me. Back when we were working on the illustrations for “Two Minutes to Midnight” he proved to be my biggest point of issue (Rhett was very patient but I know I was reaching critical pest levels at times) Mostly because of his origins as a vessel and less a truly independent character. As a personal note, I did go through some stages of grief realizing how far he’d escaped my control. I struggled to accept what I was looking at. I struggled to accept that he wasn’t just in my head anymore as an amorphous representation of my own struggle with representation. Granted, he always looked a certain way, but unlike Jeron, he was more a collection of concepts than a fully put-together design. I think my beta-readers started forcing me to really think about his appearance in a more solid way.
Anyway…
Sylus features finned ears, shark-tooth underbite, a reverse angler light, and, of course, one of his many signature tentacles. He’s sporting his “casual” attire. The only thing he’s missing to be “formal” is his jacket. He’s holding a glob of the inky acid he uses in combat.
Final Thoughts
Rhett did an amazing job and I couldn’t be happier. They had to listen to me cry about Sylus and have a minor mental break when I realized I had to separate myself from him after 7 years.
Now that their “Two Minutes to Midnight” designs are complete, we have the groundwork to build on with future designs. As of the end of “Two Minutes” and the beginning of “Flyaway”, Jeron is already markedly changed. Sylus will be receiving an overhaul in “The Devil Wears Violet” (working title for book 3).
Remaining designs I’d like to get to down the line: -Secondary Characters -Void Spawns / Bestiary -Other Critical Voidal Entities -Sylus’ “Lord Form” -Sylus’ “Final Form” -Jeron’s “Final Form” -Jeron’s Familiar’s True Form (she’s a bit more than just a little bat)
The next immediate project is the cover for “Flyaway”.
After that, there’s a massive project that will be undertaken in lieu of illustrations for “Flyaway”.
White light. Clicks and soft beeps filled the air. Tense voices I couldn’t discern echoed from unknown directions. All at once, the serenity snapped to red-lit chaos. Machines wailed and screeched in agony. The voices rose to words I could barely understand.
“-has to be-” One sounded eerily familiar.
“There isn’t…” The other, I swore I recognized.
“THERE HAS…”
“You know…”
“I WON’T LE-”
“-no choice-”
“PLEASE!”
“-well, lo-”
Heart-wrenching screams seared through my mind.
I bolted upright, nearly slamming my head into the windshield of my truck. My hands clung to the steering wheel, sweet dripping from my brow. Taking deep, agonizing breaths, I raised the back of my chair to meet my rigid spine. A dream. A nightmare. It felt unnervingly real. But all dreams felt that way in the moment, didn’t they?
I turned to my passenger fast asleep in the seat beside me as I still struggled to catch my breath. Asleep, his nostrils flared as tiny snores pierced the silent night. I reached for his hands folded across his stomach as the echoes of the nightmare faded from memory.
Sighing, I returned my grip to the steering wheel. He was still there. That was all that mattered. Turning the key in the ignition, he snapped upright beside me, chairback and all.
“Morning already?” He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“N-no.” I breathed. “I just couldn’t sleep anymore.”
He turned to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just a bad dream.” I shifted the truck into drive.
“Can’t promise there won’t be more of those.” He looked out the window beside him.
To the west, just above the horizon, hung the tattered remains of Ancora’s moon, Onus. A net of tentacles spewed from its gaping, stony wound, floating through the sky like flotsam on a sea of perpetual night.
“It’s already out of my head.” I forced a laugh. “But it felt so… Real.”
He smiled. “A prophesy, perhaps.”
“Keeper help me, I hope not.” My grip tightened on the steering wheel again.
“Are you certain you’re well enough to drive, Love?”
“I-” I wasn’t. The details had fled my mind, but my nerves were still shaking.
“Why not lie back down? You don’t have to go back to sleep, but you need to give yourself some rest.”
“I just woke up.” I adjusted my eyepatch to hide the twinge of Voidsight that had started kicking in.
“You know what I mean, Love.” He smiled softly. “Here.” A tentacle reached over to the key and turned the engine off. “I know your instinct is to work away trauma and pain, but let’s try something a bit different, shall we?”
“Trauma?” I chuckled. “I don’t even remember what it was about.”
“Something that cut deep, I’d wager.”
I finally let my hands slip from the steering wheel.
“Y-yeah…”
“Just because you don’t remember it, doesn’t lessen the effect it had on you.”
I turned to him. “Thanks, Sy.” I choked out.
He turned as much as he could in his chair to face me. Reaching out, he put his arms around my shoulders and leaned me down over the space between us, resting my head on his belly. A net of tentacles wove themselves beneath me, sparing my side from the hard plastic console. I slid my arms around him.
“Rest.” He cooed.
I nodded against him as my eyes grew heavy. The hum of his core and the warmth of his skin was all I needed to whisk me back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
We had some issues with Sylus’ face, but I think it was all in me not used to seeing him in a pose that offered more than a profile. It still feels a bit strange to see his face fully, but I know we got it right.
As always, thank you to @fire_locket for their artistic prowess and willingness to work with me on my beloved project!
*There may or may not be a small something something in the works… We shall seeeee…
Behold! The second full-page illustration for the print versions of “Eternity’s Irys”!
Apologies for the belated update, but it honestly slipped my mind even though I’ve been plastering it everywhere because just look at it!
@fire_locket strikes again with their crazy skills. I love how in love they look. It just warms my heart every time I stare at it.
Additionally it was with this illustration that we realized I’d given Rhett the wrong page dimensions. The result was just a little more arting on their behalf and NOW we finally have full bleed images!
Since I was so darn late to post this, have a teaser for the third, and final, illustration:
It’s not even done, but I love it. Again with the body language! I always want to say Rhett is talented, but its all hard work, practice, and developing skill. It’s not just talent, it’s effort and understanding the subject matter to an amazing degree.
If all continues apace, the third illustration should be done by this coming Sunday! After that, we have some touching up to do and then we should be all set to get some physical copies for selling come October!
To say I’m excited is an understatement. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m going to say it again. This whole project has become a dream come true and I couldn’t be more grateful to everyone who’s helped me get this far.
Stay tuned for more updates and maybe a way to preorder if you’re so inclined!
Behold! The first of three full-page illustrations that will appear in physical copies only! Taken directly from the pages of the book, it depicts a scene of great importance. No context, though, because spoilers!
It’s an absolutely stunning piece by Rhett that I plan on framing at some point.
Stay tuned for the next two as they are completed!
I have come today to proudly introduce the world to the lead character and voice of Eternity’s Irys. You’ve known him by name for a while now, but now you get to meet him in person.
Jeron Miles in all his full-color glory by @fire_locket
It’s a bit of a leap in plot to call him an Archon, but it sounded good so I went with it.
This rendition comes from the first half of the book as Jeron grows and changes quite a bit by the end, but for spoiler reasons, we’ll keep it simple for now.
He was born with Voidsight allowing him to see things most people cannot. In Qalian, he’s a what the called a Dalafaem or Veil Piercer. This means that he already had an aptitude for voidal magics.
Upon meeting Sylus, he was able to tap into his innate ability and manifest it as offensive and defensive spells in the form of music played from his mother’s guitar. Strangely enough, the guitar doubles as an actual ax when more close quarter combat is unavoidable.
He’s come a long way from being a secondary character and a mere friend of Sylus’ to being the narrator and calling the rotund Voidlord his boyfriend. I firmly believe he was always destined to be the true catalyst of the tale and I’m so glad we finally made it to this point.
For the first time in human history, please allow me to introduce one of my main characters, and brain squatter for six whole years, Sylus Synclaire!
Yes. That’s him. That’s the boi in all his glory. He’s been years in the making and months in the refining, but here he is.
I had him rattling around in my head before I even had a plot. Before Jeron was even a main character. Sylus has been here from the absolute beginning and to finally see him, TRULY see him, is insanely emotional. I laughed, I cried, I had many little moments.
Rhett did an amazing job listening to me make words that I had zero faith in making sense. It took pretty much all night, but here we are! I still scream a little just looking at him.
Might be worth mentioning this is a full color image. We didn’t skimp on skin tone because Sylus HAS no skin tone. That’s 100% an accurate portrayal of mah boi.
I am beyond pleased with everything about it, but there are certain things I REALLY want to highlight.
His ears. I wanna talk about his ears. His little finny ears. For the longest time I wanted to do SOMETHING with his ears because, as we know, ears are pretty much accepted as a reference point for how human a character is. Sylus is not human and though he largely appears as one, he couldn’t make it all work perfectly. The two “troubling” points were always his mouth (shark mouth bru haha) and ears. Keeping his mouth shut eliminates the former problem, but the ears are just part and parcel with being his particular brand of Voidlord. That is, the fishy kind. He wasn’t originally a fish boi, in fact, I had no idea what he was. We just came to this by noodling backwards from “he has tentacles and I really like squids”. Which brings me back to HIS EARS! They have a little finny-ness to them, BUT, and this is hard to see at this angle because his hair obscures it (intentionally) he has mollusk funnels instead of ear canals! This was one of my beta readers’ ideas and I was like “Done. Perfect.”
Also his nose. We spent hours just working out his nose. Is perfect.
And his shirt. Iridescent isn’t exactly an easy concept to illustrate, but I think Rhett did a fantastic job getting the idea down on “paper”. It was probably the most arduous part of the entire process, but they made it happen and I couldn’t be happier.
Jeron’s up next after we finish Sylus’ character sheet so stay tuned for that! There’s some crazy exciting stuff going on right now!
If you wanna read a bit more about Mr. Synclaire (he’d cringe at being called that), he has a character bio page you can find here!
He awoke with a start to the sound of gently scraping metal in a room he didn’t recognize. Confused, he sat up in an unfamiliar bed, still fully dressed, to find someone in it with him.
A John?
Dinner?
He couldn’t recall, but they were seated across his legs and leaned down just below the rise of his stomach. The scraping sound was coming from there.
He jerked his legs and they sat up.
“Hey big guy.” They smiled as he shook long dreadlocks out of his face and over his shoulders.
He is your Archon. His name is Jeron. The cohabitator of his body reminded him.
A flurry of memories swirled through his mind. They were traveling. This was a motel room. He was madly in love with the soft eyes that now searched his face for recognition.
With the edge of confusion gone, he relaxed back on his elbows.
“What are you doing down there?” He mumbled.
“You’ll see.”
“Will I?”
Jeron nodded. “Later. I promise. Go back to sleep.” He patted Sylus’ belly.
Sylus grumbled before allowing himself to lay back down. Knowing he was safe, he let himself fall back to sleep.
Morning came and he woke up once more. This time he had the luxury of rebooting all his memories without the distress of suddenly being conscious.
Beside him, under the covers, slept Jeron. He smiled. Leaning over, he kissed him softly on the cheek. A small coo came in reply.
With a sigh, he rolled over to get up. He didn’t sweat and his body only had to reject dirt to technically be “clean”, but he still felt the need for a shower. It was the human in him.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was reminded he never undressed for bed. He briefly tried to remember why, but gave up. It didn’t matter. He slept in his suit all the time.
Standing up, he shuffled into the bathroom and started the shower as he undressed before the mirror. He never really liked seeing himself but ever since the change it’d gotten easier to accept the face that looked back at him was his own.
He undid his belt and pulled it off. His fingers ran over the what should have been a smooth buckle, but he was quick to notice something different in the metal surface.
There, neatly carved into the top were two letters. Initials. The handwriting was meticulous and unmistakable.
“J. M.”
“Miles.” He breathed as beautiful memories surfaced in his mind. “Jeron Miles.”
A stupid smile snapped across his lips as he looked up into the mirror to find Jeron sitting up in bed, yawning. His gaze lingered long enough for his lover to catch it from across the room.
“In case you ever forget to whom your fat, tentacly ass belongs.” He smiled so softly through a frame of discheveled hair.
Sylus looked down at his belt. Had it been anyone else, they’d be dead. But it wasn’t anyone else and it would never be anyone else.
He smiled as he hung his clothes on the hook behind the door before getting into the scalding shower that awaited him.
As you may have seen on social media, the official cover for “Eternity’s Irys: Two Minutes to Midnight” is now complete.
But how did we get here? A lot of work and effort between myself and (mostly) my illustrator, Rhett (@firelocket).
But what does the progress look like? How far have we come? That’s what I want to archive with this post.
Let’s start from the very beginning.
1: The Proto-Cover (2018)
Behold! The proto cover I made at the very beginning of the project. Why is the tentacle green? What is the brown thing? (It’s an antler) What am I even looking at? All excellent questions that have since been rendered moot with the current iteration. However, this comes from a time when I wasn’t being fully honest with myself. Still love that background image though! Used to have it plastered everywhere on the original site.
Honestly, I cringe at this version. It comes from a very misguided point of view and the design is just… awful.
2: A Second Attempt (2019-2020)
Another monstrosity by me! Hand drew all that stuff besides the stock silhouette. It still has a soft spot in my heart.
3: The AI (2022)
So, this image was made with midjourney. To me, I saw it as the closest I’d ever come to a relevant cover. Obviously you can see a lot wrong with it, but further toying only made it worse so I clung to this pretty tightly for the longest time. It was the first time I could visualize the concept of a cover for the book I’d worked so long and hard on.
Text was added by myself.
4: The AI: Round 2 (2023)
My brother made this image with some AI program. It’s better than the one I made, but it’s still problematic due to its origin. Still, it became the baseline for the direction I wanted to take a real cover if ever I got the chance to make one.
It was also the first cover to ever be printed.
Text was added in post.
5: The Official First Draft
The first sketch by an actual illustrator! I was skeptical of the gold and purple motif even though it’s canon to the book, but we ended up sticking with it.
After we went over a bunch of book covers and how I felt about them as well as referencing that last AI image, this is where we ended up. This is true beginning of our journey.
As you can see, there’s also a little illustration that didn’t make it to the end. We decided to take additional artwork into the book.
6: Behold: A Frame!
Some more refinement and a more established direction. I’d fallen in love with Rhett’s impromptu spine design and, while it’s unconventional and might not be the best direction, I pushed it.
We were going to put the subtitle on the hour glass, but man did that not end up going well in the end. I like how we resolved it in the final draft.
You can also still see a scroll on the bottom. That’s where my name was going to go, but we ultimately scrapped the scroll idea entirely.
7: Shading!
We spent way too long trying to realize my idea of making the mask look crystalline. The burnishing effect on the screws and frame were actually a happy accident.
Also worth noting is the smoke now has a definitive form. This is very very important.
8: The Final Form!
TADA!
Still needs a blurb, but here it is! The final cover for “Eternity’s Irys: Two Minutes to Midnight”. This is what you’ll find on shelves, should it ever get to them.
I won’t lie, at first I found myself detaching from it. It was so hard for me to accept that this was it. This was the one thing I never thought I’d ever have no matter how much I wrote, no matter how much I edited, I would never have a cover. Especially not one actually created exactly how I wanted it to be.
I remember going on Fiverr. I remember shopping bulk production sites. I remember googling assets and considering doing it all myself to avoid publishing anything with AI. I was about to accept that AI cover, even though I didn’t want to, but in a last ditch attempt to do something I actually wanted to, I made a Facebook post. Rhett reached out and the rest is now history.
The more I look at it, the more I show it to others, the more I love it. The more I can come to accept that this is, in fact, my cover. What a wild concept I thought I could only dream of.
It is currently in the hands of my publisher (brother) and I should have a dummy copy in a few weeks. I can’t wait to hold it all over again.
Other Things of Note
Beta readers are about half way through and are making some fantastic critiques! We’re aiming for their pass to be completed by the end of the month. I’m implementing their suggestions as they pass them along. It’s been an excellent experience and another thing I never thought I’d have. I’m so grateful to them, I was dead set on being the only eyes to look at it before it hit the wild because I was too afraid of it being torn to pieces like a previous version had been. That would have ended me.
But that’s not how it’s gone. Not at all. And I’m crazy grateful for that.
October deadline seems to be holding strong. Once the beta read is done, I’ll finish polishing, see if they’d be willing to check it again. All that would remain is the internal illustrations and then… Well, maybe one more dummy print before it goes live.
Sylus woke up with a start. Sitting rigidly upright on the bed, his nostrils flared, eyes widened, and his ears perked up at the sound of something scraping outside. He knew the sound well: Bone on stone. More specifically hollow bone on stone.
“Food.” He growled. His stomach lurched and for once he agreed with its sentiment.
Finally, something you will eat.
Throwing the covers off, he slipped through the window as a ball of ink, slamming into the ground on his feet just in time to see a Watcher drag its gangly back talons into the darkness beyond the pavement.
With the deftness of a thousand hunts, tentacles lashed out, hauling his fellow spawn of the Void into the light. It screeched and cawed and struggled with all its might. But it was no use. Once in their grasp, nothing escaped the Devourer’s hunger. There was nowhere left for it to go but down. And down it went.
In one swift motion, the Watcher as gone, Sylus’ tentacles were free, and he finally had a full stomach. With his meal’s protests muffled by his dense v’rilk, Sylus rubbed his belly, a smile on his lips. He truly lived for the hunt. The consuming. It reinforced the monster he’d become. Strengthened the alien flesh he now possessed as if it were his own. It helped drive a wedge between himself and his longing to be mortal again. A wedge he relished in the worst ways.
He stood beside the beat up blue truck, the screams not of is own making still coming from within him. It really was a nice vehicle. He licked his lips and wondered if he could get it working again. Maybe with some help. He already knew who he could call.
No matter how hard he tried to focus on something more useful or practical or anything but his squirming gut, there was not ignoring it. It felt incredible both physically and mentally. Control, absolute domination, destruction. The re-purposing of something’s entire existence to serve him and him alone. He quietly contemplated the speed at which he’d reduce his prey to v’rilk.
Sooner would be better. We are in dire need.
“Mmm… But it feels so-“
The back door to the diner creaked open. Sylus quickly silenced his prey, forcing a tuft of feathers back out from his lips. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before turning to find someone vaguely familiar standing behind him.
His name is Jeron. You gave him your name so I see fit to remind you of his. You were planning on eating him.
Ah, right. Well, thanks for the reminder, but I‘m already full.
“I can fix that.” He did his best to stifle a belch.
“Fix? What?”
Sylus pointed over his shoulder to the truck.
“O-oh.” Jeron laughed. “It’s totalled.”
Something unfamiliar slithered down Sylus’ internal dorsal tendril. A shudder?
“No it isn’t. I can fix it.” Sylus both desperately wanted to lie back down, but at the same time, he also desperately wanted to keep talking to Jeron.
“You a mechanic?”
Sylus shrugged. “I can put stuff back together and beat out a few dents, but, more importantly, I know a guy.”
“Know a guy?” Jeron scoffed.
“Yeah. I do. Specifically a parts guy.”
Jeron gave a nervous laugh. Sylus clutched his stomach as he felt the bottom of his gut drop out. He did a quick check of his systems. Everything was fine, all things considered. His physical stomach was busy doing what it did best. So what was it? What happened?
His laugh… It’s… Soft… Gentle even...
That’s what happened. He was charmed. Smitten, even. A 37-year-old man crushing on another man. This was ridiculous. He was much too old, much too tired, and much too hungry for butterflies to be dwelling in his stomach.
Oh no…
I told you to leave I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!
I just wanted to fuck around!
And now you are finding out! Father help us, Sylus…
“So, uh, what was that thing?” Jeron continued.
“Dinner.” Sylus patted his belly. He almost starting digging his fingers in, but he dropped his hand to his side instead. “But I suppose you want an animal type, don’t you? Some way to classify it?”
I need to lay down.
That’s usually what we do after we eat.
Think someone like him would ever lay with someone like me?Ignore that. I know the answer and I don’t need a lecture. That was a private thought for the Dark Space.
I… will try to dismiss it.
“I, uh, yeah. Sure.” Jeron replied.
Sylus cleared his throat and organized his chaotic thoughts. “It was a Watcher. A creature of the Void. Trapped in shadows until such a time as it can open a portal from the other side. In the event that this occurs, our world will be plunged into darkness.”
“H-how did it get here?”
“They’re sent through pinpricks too small for creatures like me, but it’s for creatures like me they toil away their existences.” He looked out over the ledge, silently hoping to find more awaiting the sweet embrace of his hungering maw. “They can overwhelm easily.”
“I-is that what was happening last night? Were you…” Jeron stammered in the most innocent way.
Sylus couldn’t stop the tiny smirk that shot across his lips. He was quick to stow it before turning back to his host.
“Running from them? I poked too deeply into a den.” You do that a lot. “Ate one too many.” Yet another understatement. “They didn’t take kindly to a serpent raiding their nest, so they attacked. I ran. Usually I can outrun them, but alas,” he motioned to the truck, “happenstance, it seems, brought me here.”
“So you,” Jeron paused, “ruffled some feathers?”
It took every fiber of Sylus’ being to stifle the laugh welling within him. He forced himself to maintain his composure, but he wasn’t sure he was selling his disinterest all that well. His “heart” was doing something it had never done before.
Get whatever this is under control, Sylus. It is becoming ridiculous.
“In my line of work, it behooves me to cut off the head as soon as it’s identified. Without a Vigilant, nasty beasts wrapped in chains, they’re aimless, but eventually a new one will show up.” He shook his head at the thought of being chased by the chained beasts. He’d never eaten one before, but he knew fairly well he never wanted to. “Regardless of their social structures, they’re an ill omen for the fate of this world. Everything they see is seen by another.”
“The Vigilant?”
A fleeting pang of approval shot from Qaitax’s side of the Dark Space.
What?
Nothing.
That wasn’t nothing.
I can assure you, it was nothing.
“No,” Sylus continued, “their Lord who controls them from behind the veil.” Don’t think I’ll let that go.
I wish you would.
“Their… Lord?” Jeron asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
Sylus nodded. “There are others like me. Other Lords. Stronger and more powerful than I.”
“I-I don’t,” Jeron pinched his nose. “I really don’t understand.”
And there it goes.
What?
Never you mind.
“You don’t have to.” Sylus continued seamlessly as he looked over the cliff again, desperately hoping for something to distract him from the growing awkwardness in the air. “I don’t belong here. And as long as I am here, more of them will show up, terrorizing your town.” He turned back to Jeron. “I’ll stay until I get your truck fixed up, but after that,” he motioned to the darkness. “That’s where I belong.”
“You’re still injured!” Jeron burst out.
“Not for long.” Sylus patted his belly. “This’ll do nicely to get me up and running again.”
With that, he vanished in an inky splash. Unseen by mortal eyes, he made his way back through the bedroom window. Retaking his humanoid form, he collapsed face first onto the mattress and groaned into the pillow.
Sylus…
“Look,” Sylus snapped, “if you’re not going to explain whatever that was back there, we have nothing to say about the current situation.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” He rolled onto his back.
I am pleased that you ate.
“Thanks.” Sylus ran a hand over his stomach. To the naked eye it was impossible to tell he’d eaten, but that was for the best. He enjoyed keeping his meals to himself. All that mattered was that he could feel it. It was the strongest, most intense feeling he’d ever had until Jeron made him smile.
Balling into a puddle of ink, he slid out the bedroom window and rounded the building. Materializing outside the front door, he craned his neck up to find a flickering neon sign.
“‘Miles’ Family Diner’.” He read aloud as he clutched his vest over his aching stomach. “Doesn’t sound much like a family.”
And that is none of your concern, Sylus Synclaire! You cleaned up our mess and escaped. We can leave now.
“Not yet.”
Tugging on the door, he found it locked. Slithering a tentacle between the locks, he popped it open and stepped into the cheery sound of a jingling chime.
What are you DOING?!
Sylus took in his surrounds. The dining area was long and narrow. The external wall was lined by red-leather booths and windows while the inside had a long chrome-edged counter that bent around a register and drink dispenser. Along it were chrome stools with the same red leather on their seats. The ceiling was chrome with domed lights and the floor was black and white checkered. Something about it brought a smile to Sylus’ lips.
I really do not like this, Sylus…
“Welcome to Miles’ Family Diner,” the stranger emerged from a pair of chrome doors behind the counter, “How can I-” He froze mid step and mid sentence.
“Hello!” Sylus cheered as he gave a small wave.
“W-what are you doing here? How?”
For some reason, Sylus decided to swagger up to the counter and rest his massive arms on it. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing or why.
“Well, I assume this is a place where food is served. I happen to be hungry-” A serious understatment. “so it figures that makes this the perfect place to be at this very moment.”
Sylus’ gaze unwittingly drifted downward landing on a six-armed crystalline cross that hung around the stranger’s neck.
I-it can’t be…
What am I looking at?It’s just a Sondrehcross…
Pay it no mind. I’ll explain later. This mortal must be destroyed.
Excuse me?
Kill it, Sylus. That is an order.
And I don’t take orders from you. Especially without an explanation.
Trust me.
I would, if you explained yourself.
We do not have time!
Then I’m not eating anyone.
Sylus was quick to snap his gaze back up to meet the stranger’s.
“I-” the stranger cleared his throat. “Sure. Take a seat wherever. I’ll… I’ll bring a menu over.”
Sylus smiled as the stranger returned to the kitchen.
I do not like how you are behaving.
It’s just a bit of fun, Qaitax.
Playing with your meal? Or just playing?
I’m not eating him.
Your guts say otherwise.
Well my guts have been wrong before. They’ll be wrong again, too. I don’t just run on instinct. You know that.
It’d be so much easier if you did.
And yet you were the one who wanted me to stop eating in the cave.
That was an unnecessarily dangerous endeavor! Look where it got us! This is very different. A town of mortals can’t fight back.One alone certainly stands no chance. We could just eat him and be on our way. You settle whatever’s bothering you and we get a meal out of it.
Sylus gave Qaitax’s words some thought. He was desperately hungry and surrounded by prey. Prey he craved with every fiber of his being. He could feel each and every person in that little town. Their breaths, their pulses, their every movement. The craving was unbearable. He felt it all like it was already a part of him. He licked his lips and bit his tongue. This was why he stayed away from populated areas. This was why he lived alone in caves like the monster he was.
Overwhelming shame pushed the desire to consume away.
You know what happens when I eat people.
Then allow me.
No.
Qaitax grumbled in the background as Sylus made his way over to the furthest booth to the back wall.
His mind wandered to the stranger. He wondered how his body looked beneath those ill-fitting clothes. How he’d feel between his lips. How he’d taste- He cut the thoughts off before they mixed too deeply with the screaming pit of his stomach sending everything straight to hell.
For once I encourage your indulgence.
“You can shut the fuck up, thank you.”
The stranger returned with a smile on his face. He placed a menu down on the table. Sylus met his gesture with a smile, but the stranger only stood there, lingering, staring at the menu he had to have seen a million times before.
“May I request a glass of water?” His stomach lurched at the close proximity of potential prey.
“O-of course.” The stranger shook his head before going behind the counter.
He returned moments later with a very full glass of water. He tried to turn around as quickly as he’d arrived, but Sylus was quick to stop him.
“What do you recommend?”
“Hm?” The stranger turned back to him.
“Every small-town family eatery has a signature dish. What’s yours?”
“Oh,” he stammered a bit, “i-its the ham. But like,” he glanced over his shoulder to a clock hanging above the kitchen doors, “it’s 5am.” He turned back to Sylus.
“Too early, then?” Sylus smiled.
He felt something strange in the stranger. His pulse was quickening, his breath hitching.
“I, uh, no. N-not if you want…” He was stammering a lot.
“Would it be much of an inconvenience if I did?”
“N-no, but it’d be from the fridge. From yesterday. Not fresh.”
“That’s quite alright.” Sylus held the menu up for the stranger to take.
“Side?”
“Side?” Sylus replied.
“Starch, salad, pasta?”
“Oh, none of that. Just the ham, please.”
The stranger was sweating, but it wasn’t fear he was exuding. It was… curiosity? Interest?
If he is so interested, perhaps he would enjoy a tour of our insides.
Fuck you.
It would be educational for all involved.
I said fuck you.
The stranger cleared his throat. “Right. Good. Okay.” He took the menu. “I’ll go get that ready. Anything else I can get for you?”
“More water.” Sylus motioned to his glass. “Please.”
“Right.” The stranger replied as he picked up the empty glass.
Sylus watched him walk away in silence lamenting the ill-fitting nature of the stranger’s pants.
It would be easy to find out.
Sylus shook his thoughts away once more. This wasn’t like him. Sure he was a being with a long history of sexual encounters, for better or worse, mostly worse, almost always worse, but he never found himself looking at someone like he did the stranger. It was something between craving and desire. His hunger often mixed with lust, but somehow this was different. The ache in his core was separate from the one in his gut. He was looking at someone he desperately wanted to consume in every way. His gaze, his voice, his strength, his sorrows…
“Why am I like this…” He murmured.
He looked up to catch the stranger returning with a pitcher of water in addition to his filled glass. Clearly he was good looking AND smart. Until he reached the table and just stood there holding the water as if he’d forgotten what he was doing with it. Sylus’ smile shifted only slightly.
“I am SO sorry!” He hurriedly put everything down before practically running back to the kitchen.
The man knew what he was. He knew he was a monster. A tentacle adorned monstrosity bleeding violet blood and yet…
Sylus imagined being a normal human being for a brief moment. He’d talk to the stranger, maybe get to know him, see if there was anything there. He’d indulge that hunger to see where it went. But not like this. Not when it mixed too closely with destruction. He was meant for no one and nobody. His eyes burned.
You should have left when we could. Why are you doing this? It’s ridiculous! Your facade is costing us precious v’rilk we can’t afford to be losing. All for what? To impress some random mortal? Who, might I add, hit us with their vehicle?
Sylus leaned his arms on the table and rested his face in his hands. He let excess v’rilk in his face drain away thinking it’d go unnoticed.
“He’s beautiful.” He murmured.
Oh for Father’s sake. All mortals are the same.
“He’s kind.”
Out of fear or desire for something. You know mortals as well as I do.
“It hurts.” Sylus muttered.
Are you lamenting your mortality again?
“Something like that.”
Irrational, but I would expect nothing less. You know how to engage in transactional coitus. Just do that and get it over with.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Why? Human life and intimacy is cheap.
“I should have left…”
I know. I told you to.
The kitchen doors swung open. Sylus snapped upright and quickly restored his features.
The stranger set his plate down before crouching beside the table.
What the hell…
“What are you doing?” The stranger whispered.
“Hm?” Sylus forced a nervous chuckle.
“I hit you with my truck! You should be resting.”
Sylus’ mind was racing out of control. It was very much like him to confuse kindness for interest. The stranger was just kind to a dangerous fault. He’d be an even worse monster if he took advantage of that.
“Oh I’m fine!” Sylus forced a laugh.
“You aren’t, though. Eat, then go back to bed. I could’ve brought you something if you wanted.”
“I don’t much like taking advantage of people like that.” Sylus’ code for he would never ask for help no matter how much he needed it.
You are one breath away from doing something you will sorely regret.
“It’s not-” the stranger sighed, “I almost killed you.”
“But you didn’t.” Sylus smirked. “Takes more than a run-in with a 497 Yamamura K1000 to kill the mighty Sylus Synclaire.”
SYLUS! WHAT IN THE LIVING SPHERES HAVE YOU DONE?!
It’s fine.
YOU JUST GAVE A MORTAL YOUR NAME!
It’s fine, really.
I-I cannot with you right now.
It’s not like I gave him YOUR name.
You gave him half custody of our soul! Why do you keep doing this?!
Shame returned. I-I’m just…
The stranger raised a brow. “Sylus Synclaire?”
Sylus nodded. “For better or worse, that’s me.”
…so lonely…
I am here.
I-I know…
“And how did you know what kind of truck I have?”
“Photographic recognition of most vehicle models pre-501.”
Why did I say that? It’s just a stupid fixation. I’m so fucking creepy.
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s a hobby.” Sylus replied dismissively hoping to stem the embarrassment he’d surely caused.
The stranger stood up. “Eat.” He chuckled.
“You have my name, what about yours?” Sylus was desperate to maintain the conversation. He hadn’t spoken to another human in months by now, much less one that seemed to actually care about what he had to say.
He doesn’t. They never do. You know they only want something when they pretend to.
Please just let me have this.
“I think you heard my father screaming at me earlier.”
Sylus shook his head. “That’s what he calls you. What do you call yourself?”
“What do I…?” The stranger paused for a moment in thought. “Jeron. Just Jeron.”
“Just Jeron it is.” Sylus chimed before turning his attention to his heaping plate of ham slices.
The stranger returned to the kitchen.
Sylus forced himself to focus on a single hunger as he dug into his meal.
“Sondreh, that’s so fucking good.”
Though he said nothing, Qaitax’s disapproval weighed heavily on the back of his mind.
Sylus moaned every so slightly as he inhaled his food. He tried desperately to take the time to savor it, but nothing ever lasted in his maw. Before he knew it, he’d cleaned his plate.
“Shame.” He murmured. “We’ll have to come back someday.”
Come BACK?!
“Someday.”
Jeron returned to take his plate.
“Next time,” Sylus cooed, “I’ll take the whole ham.”
“Next time?” Jeron laughed.
“Yes.” Sylus looked him dead in the eyes. “Next time.”
There will BE NO NEXT TIME!
“Alright. Fine. Next time. But don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re barely holding yourself together this time.”
Wasting all that v’rilk and not even doing a good job with it. What am I going to do with you, Sylus?
“That bad, huh?” Sylus’ energy was quickly sapped. His body reminded him how bad of a shape he was truly in. Regardless, he forced a smile.
“Why did you come down here?”
Sylus shrugged. He didn’t really have the words for his actions. He had feelings and compulsions. He didn’t have thoughts or meaningful ideas. That’s just not who he was.
“Sylus, why?”
He took a deep breath and tried to put something he was feeling into words.
“I heard everything.” He quickly realized how much he was probably embarrassing his host by drawing attention to his personal strife. “Thought you could use a break.” Jeron remained silent. Sylus cleared his throat knowing damn well he’d made a mess of things as was customary. “This was all I could think to do.” He smiled though his gaze wandered. He did it because he always wished someone would distract him from all the yelling in his life. He hated that he could so easily empathize with this man. A grown adult being abused by people he should be able to trust.
“I almost killed you and you’re worried about my father being an asshole to me?”
Without a thought, Sylus croaked: “Yes.”
Jeron quietly stared at him. What was going through his mind? What was he thinking? Did he think Sylus was weak? Was he considering how to take advantage of him?
They always do.
Sylus swallowed hard as he began plotting his escape.
This was a mistake.
You knew that from the start, but still you dug.
“Sylus I-” Jeron stammered.
Sylus forced a yawn and stretched his arms over his head. It was time to play it all off as cool as possible. The tension in the air was getting unbearable.
“Well,” he groaned, “now that the charade is over with, I may as well admit I feel terrible.”
“You didn’t have to-“
“No.” He didn’t. There was very little a tentacle monster had to do. “But I wanted to.” Comfort someone the way I wish I could have been comforted.
That is not how this works, Sylus. You cannot run your reserves dry “helping” people who will never help you in return. I know you want to make friends, to build back that family thing you crave so badly, but that is not what we are here to do. That is not our purpose.
“Why?” Jeron’s voice shook ever so slightly.
How much comfort could a monster like him offer anyone? He wasn’t exactly a comforting form or personality. He was designed to be imposing and unapproachable and yet here he was doing the approaching when he should have damn well known his place was in the shadows. No, he knew that. He knew that very well and still he chose to make a mess of things. Still he chose to meddle with mortals. To pretend he still was one.
Sylus shrugged again as he slid out of the booth. Shame and agonizing loneliness buried beneath his sudden dismissive demeanor.
“I just wanted to.” He smiled softly and genuinely. His body ached horribly, but his soul felt mildly better even if it was wallowing in self-loathing. “Now how much do I owe you?”
Jeron shook his head. “Just go rest.”
“I told you I don’t much like taking advantage of people.”
“How about I start a tab?”
Sylus chuckled. “If you insist, but keep it honest, yeah?”
“I do insist and I’ll be sure to keep it honest. Pops wouldn’t let me do otherwise.”
“Good.” Sylus breathed as he headed back out the door.
The moment he was out of sight, he dropped into a puddle of ink and slithered back up the building and through the window he’d exited before.
Sylus…
“He said to get some rest.”
We can do that back at the cave. Why are we still here? Why are you lingering?
“I-” he sat down on the bed. “I don’t know.”
Please consider the needs of the unit and not just yourself.
“Qaitax, I always put the unit first and you know that. Why else would I isolate us like I do? Why else would I follow your instructions every damn day?” Resentment rattled in his every word. “You don’t have to worry about losing part of yourself. You don’t have to think about the part of your fucking soul you threw away to be what? A half-assed fake god?”
You are a Voidlord, Sylus.
“What does that even mean?! That we can bully mortals? I was a mortal! I was bullied!” He laid back on the bed. “I was fucking murdered, Qatiax.”
I… I know.
“They killed me.”
As they killed me as well. I suppose it takes more than one death to give up on hope.
Sylus threw an arm over his face. “And I’d kill them all in return if there weren’t diamonds hidden in the rough. If good people weren’t buried beneath the dross.”
All mortals are the same, Sylus.
“What about me, then?”
You are dif-
“Don’t say that, because I’m not. Either all morals are vile, or some of them are worth saving and protecting.”
Qaitax fell silent.
“That’s what I thought.” Sylus’ voice shook and his eyes burned. A familiar feeling he hated with every fiber of his being. “Not that I deserved saving.” He croaked.
Silent sleep came for his tired tendrils. As he drifted off, one last thought crossed his weary mind.
AKA: Roadkill, Of Monsters and Men, and half of Spilt Milk
I have reason to believe we are overindulging.
“Can we not do this right now?”
I have reason to believe we may be over-encumbered.
“You have reason to believe… Just let me eat or we’ll both starve.”
There is eating and then there is what you are doing.
“Are we or are we not the Devourer?”
A tentacle tapped his shoulder.
“Oh for the love of-” He spun around to find a very angry, very big, and very pointy bird-like monstrosity standing in the mouth of the cave. Hunched forward, tattered feathered wings arched up over its back, one massive yellow eye staring at him from atop a sideways beak. A Vigilant. A spicier variant of his current prey.
“That’s not gonna go down easy…” He muttered.
It will not go down at all! I forbid you from-
The Vigilant let out an thought-piercing shriek.
Covering his ears, he let loose a flurry of tentacles, shoving it out the opening.
I told you so, Sylus.
“Now’s not the time!” He cried out as he flung himself out of the cavern.
The Vigilant was hot on his heels as he dove in and out of the mortal realm. Weaving between the Void and reality, he barely managed to evade gnashing beaks and grasping talons.
An entire nest, Sylus! We are in no condition-
“Now is NOT the time, Qaitax!”
The cover of night wasn’t enough. They thrived in darkness. It gave them permission to prowl mortal worlds if only in short bursts. He, on the other hand, was bound to this reality. He could never escape it entirely yet still he slipped effortlessly between the veil.
Rotund was a good word to describe Sylus Synclaire. A large man in every definition of the word dressed as if he had somewhere far more high class to be than a den of spawns. Aided by tentacles protruding from his back and the lack of mortal anatomy hindering his movements, he was far more agile than one would expect him to be. A mortal piloting an eldritch flesh prison with all the finesse of a bulldozer. A difficult target to catch. All while supposedly covertly watching the Void’s movement, but instead actively ruffling feathers and arousing untold amounts of suspicion from powers greater than himself. An unwise tactic, some might say. Pragmatic, he’d reply.
The Vigilant snapped its jaws shut just shy of a tentacle.
At this rate we will not even have v’rilk left for general upkeep!
“I thought you wanted me to stop eating?!”
You ate more than enough! We are too slow! We are burning away our own supply!
Caught up in the escape, he failed to take in any more of his surroundings than what was directly snapping at him him. There was no left or right, there was only the flock above and behind. Unfortunately, as they say, you should always look both ways before crossing a road.
CAREFUL SYLUS!
“I’m trying! Sondreh help me I’m-“
A blunt force slammed into his side. Eyes bulging from their sockets, his breath was knocked completely from his artificial lungs.
“Q-Qai-tax?”
SYLUS!
Slumping down to the ground he realized what had hit him. A truck. An old blue pick-up. A Yamamura-70. Sturdy vehicle. Old, but in good shape. He’d done a number on it, but it had definitely done a number on him in return.
“Fuck me.” He gasped before the world faded to black.
“Very well then.” Qaitax groaned as he shoved himself up off the ground. “I will handle this.”
They had precious little time to save themselves. As the headlights of the truck flickered, the flock grew closer and closer.
Qaitax threw his massive arm down on the hood, hauling himself up. He intended to stand, but could do nothing more than lean over the truck.
“He’s just staring at us.” Qaitax mumbled. Regardless of his inability to feel pain, their strength was fading. Injuries incurred from the collision were adding undue stress to their already strained reserves. “He’s just… S-tar-ing…”
With that, the last of their energy was gone. As the body shut down, they knew they were at the mercy of the truck’s driver.
You know, if you had not gorged yourself like a-
Shut the absolute FUCK up! Sylus bit back from their unconscious realm.
As you wish.
Where the hell are we?
In the back of the truck that hit us.
Fear spiked through his tendrils. Hit us?! What the hell happened?!
In our escape of the nest, we were struck crossing a road. We are now inside the vehicle that struck us.
W-what? Why? How?
Our v’rilk was so low and our injuries so great that there was little I could do in the moment.
Sylus sighed. Wonder what they want with us…
I cannot say. I believe I have the strength to-
No. I’ll do it. I got us into this mess.
Sylus sat up stiffly, the roof of the truck barely above his head.
Sylus…
I’ve got this.
He leaned forward and opened the door. Sliding out, he was quick to find his feet.
“See?” He said aloud. “We’re fine. I just need to… To… Catch… My breath…”
Your need to breathe is a hinderance. Allow me control and I will-
“I-I’m-” He turned to find someone standing just outside the building the truck was parked in front of.
That is our assailant! Sylus, take him now and we may have the v’rilk to recover.
I’m not doing that. I just want to leave.
He turned to the man and took a single step forward before the body shut down on them once more.
Curse you, Sylus.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Ugh…Th-this isn’t the cave…
Sylus groggily sat up in an unfamiliar place. A bed he barely fit on surrounded by two blank walls and two doors. One door was beside the head of his bed, the other directly across the room.
Have we been here before?
Not that I am aware of.
Sylus groaned as he gripped the side of his head.
We do not have the resources to fully mend ourselves at the moment.
“Shame.” He muttered. “What happened though?”
There was an accident. We must leave.
An accident?
Before Qaitax could answer, they heard footsteps coming from the door beside the bed. Someone was there. Grumbling to himself, he managed to find his feet. Lugging himself toward the door, he heard running water and silent cursing. Cocking a brow, he opened it.
His heart leapt into his throat. He tried swallowing it back down, but there it remained lodged as his gaze met the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Dark in complexion and soft in features. Strength curbed by gentleness filled his curious gaze. It took an unreasonable amount of effort for Sylus to keep his sudden feelings to himself.
What is going on with you, Sylus? These feelings are… unusual.
N-nothing. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is-
“Hi?” The man asked as if testing the waters with the behemoth looming in the doorway before him.
Him! Kill him, Sylus!
“Hello.” Sylus replied, fighting back Qaitax’s rising rage.
“H-how are you?” The stranger stammered.
“Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
The man laughed nervously. “Well, you kind of were.”
“Was I now?” Sylus closed his eyes and immediately scanned his memories. It wasn’t there. Getting hit by a truck was nowhere to be found. “I can’t remember.”
Is that why I feel like shit?
Yes. He hit us with his vehicle. Now enough of this. Devour him!
A familiar sinking feeling crossed Sylus’ mind.
“D-do you know who you are?”
DO NOT GIVE HIM OUR NAMES!
Calm down.
The man looked at them expectantly.
Sylus opened his eyes. “Oh, of course I do.”
Sylus, we need to get out of here. Eat him or do not, but we cannot stay. We have no idea who this is or what they want and we are in no place to defend ourselves.
Qaitax’s agitation rose to the surface as Sylus spoke. “Where am I?”
“Y-you’re safe. In a small coastal town, Ortzuna, in the upstairs apartment of a family diner.”
“Safe?” Sylus’ gaze locked onto the stranger’s. He was trying desperately to see past the devastatingly handsome facade. There had to be something under there. Some ill intent. Mortals were never kind to him even before he became the monstrosity he was now. There was no way this guy was being kind out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something. Just like they all did. Qaitax’s advice to devour him started feeling like the best course of action. He almost relished the idea of being the last person to look into those soft eyes. “But are you?”
“I-I think so.” He nodded as he reached for a towel in the sink.
That wasn’t the response he was expecting. Caught off guard, he suddenly became aware of how dry and crunchy his remaining v’rilk had become. He cringed.
“Water?”
“Y-yes,” the man replied, “it’s a sink. Water comes out of it.”
Sylus shook his head. “I know that.” He ground the heel of his palm into his right eye. He was hungry, confused, and, unfortunately, mildly aroused. Something about the subtle defiance from this stranger was delicious to behold.
Eat him!
“I shouldn’t be here.”
The stranger reached up into the cabinet above the sink. He retrieved a rinsing cup and filled it with water.
“Here.” He offered it to Sylus.
Sylus’ mind raced. What the hell is going on? What game is he playing at?!
Eat him or leave! Do not indulge this facade of kindness. You know what it leads to.
Before he could reject the kind gesture, he reached out and took it. “Thank you.” He croaked.
SYLUS!
I-I don’t know what’s going on…
A spell! A curse! He could be an archon in disguise!
An archon? Here? Now? That feels very unlikely.
But also convenient. If we were not so crippled I could check. Wait… Sylus don’t!
Sylus tossed the cup of water back. For as little as it was, the mild chill was refreshing to his desiccating innards.
“Had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.” The stranger rubbed the back of his neck before turning the faucet on. “Help yourself. I have to get dressed.” He exited the bathroom through a door directly across from their own.
Sylus we cannot trust-
Qaitax, we’re rougher than sand right now. Let me just take a sip.
As he made his way to the sink and cupped his hand beneath the stream of water, a loud, bellowing call rang out.
“JERON AUGUSTINE MILES! WHERE THE HELL IS MY MILK?!”
Sylus froze out of instinct. Something in him both recoiled and suddenly understood the stranger’s kindness.
He has no ulterior motive.
How can you possibly know that?!
I just know.
“JERON!” The same angry man’s voice bellowed.
“I, uh, sorry about that.” The stranger’s voice came from the other room.
Sylus stiffly turned his head just in time to watch him dart from the room.
Once he was gone, Sylus could hear the distinct sound of bickering from downstairs. Water still trickled through his fingers. Shaking his head, he took a few quick handfuls before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“We have to clean up.”
What?
“The bed. We made a mess. We have to clean it.”
Sylus?!
Sylus hurried back into the room he woke up in. Holding out his hand, he summoned a ball of inky liquid.
We do NOT have the strength for such a frivolous act!
He released the ball of ink over the bloodied bed. It washed over the surface before slicking off like oil and puddling at Sylus’ feet, reabsorbing into his body.
He did his best to ignore Qaitax’s protests as he made his way back into the bathroom. This time his focus was on the mirror.
What a mess…
We have more important things to worry about than your appearance!
I need to clean up.
Sylus!
So he did. Soap and water for his hands and face. A quick slick of his hand corrected his wild hair and he ran his fingers through his beard. Still, it wasn’t right.
Please, this is ridiculous, Sylus. Why are you bothering?
Closing his eyes, he forced an inordinate amount of v’rilk into his face to flesh it out and hide the bruising.
What if we needed that tentacle?!You can’t just steal v’rilk from wherever you want!
We have at least a hundred. I’ll grow it back later.
What has come over you, Sylus?
More yelling came from below.
I don’t know.
Well fix it! I do not like whatever these feelings are.
“I’m not sure I do, either.” He sighed.
He groaned in pain as his stomach growled. The hunger was coming back in full force.
You are actively weakening us. Leave. Now.
“We just need to eat and you heard the man, ” he gritted out between clenched teeth, “we’re above a diner. Diners serve food.”
Mortal food! Useless to us! Unless you eat the mortals themselves, of course.
“Which I won’t be doing.” He snarled as he did everything he could to still the agony welling within.
Sylus…
“We need to eat Qaitax.” He snapped.
Not like this, we do not!
“Good food is good for the soul, yeah?” He forced a halfhearted smile.
Every draft is closer and closer to the final thing and it just blows my mind ever time that this is actually happening.
In this draft we see most of the colors that will be in the final version. We ALSO see a hand-tooled font by my illustrator! Several iterations ago they tossed in a hand-written font as a place-holder and it was so beautiful that I got kind of attached to it. I understood I was asking a lot, but they came out swinging. We are both aware it needs some fine tuning, but damn if it isn’t beautiful.
Overarching Project Progress!
Two chapters of “From the Other Side” are complete and the third is at about half way. They each cover multiple chapters of the book so expect them to be a bit longer than the staggered lengths of their Jeron PoV counterparts. Sylus has firmly placed himself as a, hm, less than market-friendly narrator, but, again, that’s why he’s not hitting the shelves and Jeron is.
Pre-orders will NOT be opening with the cover reveal. I think those will be pushed back into August once I have merch ironed out. There are a lot of great things hanging on the cover’s completion.
Casual readers have been upgraded to Beta Readers, so editing is technically still in progress, but it is now reliant on their feedback. While writing “From the Other Side” I found plenty of typos myself, so I’m sure they’ll find many more plus anything I didn’t write clearly!
I swore I had something else to put here but apparently I forgot…
Real Life Stuff…
Zucca is back in the hospital with Renal Failure. She was puking liquid Saturday night into early Sunday morning. At first it was brown like her food then it turned to bile. I called the hospital and they said to bring her in. She ended up with the same doctor she had with her respiratory issues. They did some x-rays and the doctor was genuinely in awe of how much Zucca had healed. She wasn’t supposed to get this better. Even the swollen bones behind her ears had gotten better and that wasn’t even something they were expecting. Her doctor called her a little warrior.
Anyway, her doctor called me last night to let me know she was doing very well and assured me she’d be in good hands with the new doctor she’ll have today. I’ll know more once they do her bloodwork today and her current vet calls. They anticipate her coming home Tuesday.
I miss my little girl. I keep turning around to look for her, or calling her name to come with me. She’s just not there. I go to bed and turn on a video on my phone and she doesn’t come running to lay in front of my face to block my view… It was hard to sleep last night…
I talked to my family and they all think I should get her a friend. I always saw Zucca as a loner, but… She’s fragile. I’m lucky I could “afford” this round of hospitalization at all. While I hope she comes out of this in as good of a shape as she can be, that doesn’t change that she’s a very fragile little thing. I think a friend to be with her when I can’t is probably the best thing I can do for her right now. And for me…
Final Thoughts
Life just keeps throwing curveballs, but we’re getting through it. The book is still on course for an October release. A two month pre-order window might be a bit tight, but I’m honestly not even expecting any orders. Maybe once its fully in the wild we can start getting them. We shall see!
You’ve all heard this before, but I’m much more certain and confident about saying that, as far as I’m concerned, “Eternity’s Irys” is complete.
“Two Minutes to Midnight” is very clearly a “first book” in more ways than one. But it’s a DONE book. I do intend to get it printed and do one final pass since a lot of my alterations were fairly large. Don’t worry, it’s far from a rewrite, more like a quality of life alterations.
A recurring trope I was struggling with has been reworked and the ending has been reworked as well. These were two points I believed to be the weakest parts of the entire book. I have far more faith in their quality now.
Final stats: Words: 100,838 Pages: 428 not including stuff not story related Chapters: 48 Of course all of this is subject to change, but not by much. The stat most likely to shift is Pages since it’ll likely be affected by illustrations.
Anyway, that’s all for now. It’s not as an exciting of an update as it could be, but I’m looking at this as more of a step than an actual stage completion.
Cover reveal June 26 btw.
Oh and “From the Other Side” will be starting June 5 wherein I’ll be rewriting certain chapters from Sylus’ PoV. Its not gonna be an every day thing, more like weekly give or take some inspiration. There’ll be at least one entry per week until the cover reveal. After that, I’ll post as things come to me. I don’t intend to rewrite the entire book, but there could be a good chunk of additional lore coming with Sylus’ perspective.
I love it so much. I’m so happy to see all the line work coming together. Rhett’s doing an amazing job and I can’t thank him enough.
With the bulk of the outlines done, that really just leaves details, colors and shading. I shouldn’t say “just” because that’s still an awful lot of work. In fact, I think that’s the hardest part of any project so let me just rescind that “just”.
We’ll also be ironing out text closer to reveal time.
But yeah. There it is. The bones of my book cover!
In other news!
I swore this was going to be my last editing pass, but something happened. I reworked a major plot point to remove some clunk I was struggling with. Which resulted in an entire rework of the ending, but that’s a good thing! I was really afraid of end being the weakest point of the entire book and, as it was, I sincerely think it was. It’s been messing me up for a while, but I finally have a clear path forward.
Things to look forward to!
Full cover reveal coming next month! I don’t know how much of an event it’s going to be, but I hope to make something of it for Pride Month.
Speaking of Pride, I don’t think I’ll be doing daily shorts again. A lot of my focus is currently on getting the book out the door by October. I might get a handful of shorts if any, but no promises.
All in all, it’s going well.
Here’s an updated timeline of events:
I’m still in a bit of shock that this is all actually happening. That I’m actually going to publish a book and its going to have an awesome cover AND there’s gonna be illustrations. I’m just floored by the thought of how amazing this whole thing is gonna be.
If you’re maybe a little excited, too, stay tuned for more!
Until next time! \o 🦑💜🦇 ^This is finally gonna make a whole lot more sense
Update! (5/10)
There’s been some developments and rather than make a whole new post I’m just gonna put it here!
I’ve been sitting on a Cricut Explore 3 for about 2 years now. With the book happening, I decided I wanted to start making use of it for in-house merch. Which resulted in trading my laserjet (for printing manuscripts) for an inkjet and learning how to print images.
Anyway, here’s my process, which I’m putting here for my own info as well as just sharing:
It was all pretty straightforward, to be honest. I uploaded one of Rhett’s pieces, it offered to remove the background, but he’d already done that for me, resized it and then created the offset. Now, my options looked a little different from her’s, but she helped me get my bearings. It took SEVERAL passes to realize I had to make the offset AND the outline white so it wouldn’t print.
The Cricut did a great job, but I was running into a quality issue that after finally eating something and thinking with a clear head I realized was coming from my printer. You see, the stickers weren’t pealing cleanly from the back. At first I thought the vinyl was old or something, but then my big ol’ pea brain turned on and I realized the printer was probably oversaturating the material. Sure enough, I came to a more solid realization when I smudged one of the stickers.
SO! As Kayla suggested, I opened the system dialog and made a few alterations. One being telling the machine I was printing on glossy paper and the second being changing the quality to “Draft”. Still not sure that second one mattered, but it was on a forum post about images smudging after being left to dry. My piece had been sitting for about an hour and still smudged.
ETA: I left a sheet out overnight and it still smudged. So, believe it or not, I consulted the FAQ that came with the vinyl sheets. Lo and behold, I was reminded DPI was a thing. Lowered that and printed a new sheet. Zero smudging. Additionally, the vinyl suggested I use the Cardstock setting and AGAIN, I got the results I wanted:
A stack of waterproof, free cut, smudgeless stickers! (end of edit)
Anyway, with those changes, we ran it again and here’s the result!
Please ignore the crease as I apparently don’t know how to handle stickers.
You can look forward to this and some other designs going on sale AND/OR be included in pre-order bundles! More to come on that soon!
As always, stay tuned! 🦑💜🦇
An additional edit:
Encountered a weird issue with this one during the cut phase, but it was probably because I put the sheet in crooked. Most of them came out just fine!
Rhett’s been hard at work ironing out some of the more iconic details of the cover. The results are fantastic!
He started with the spine. I requested this as out of everything we discussed the spine was the most eye-catching and honestly surprising part of the whole rough design we put together. This is the artwork put together with the intention of maybe being a bookmark (? 👀) down the line. Color to come later.
Here’s another piece he worked out for the frame on the front cover:
This will be a cover/anchor piece for a corner. Not sure which corner yet, but it’ll be up in one of them!
Additionally, we’ll be having our third touch-base on Saturday and I am so excited! Can’t wait to see his progress!
Hello again, Voidlings! How’s that sound? Been meaning to give it a test drive, let me know what you think!
I come today with another fairly large update! I have obtained paperback copies for editing from my publisher (brother)! They’re honestly so gorgeous. I’m in love. Something in my mind always told me that paperbacks were inferior to hardcovers, but I gotta say, I really love how this looks and feels!
This SHOULD be my last editing pass barring any major issues of which there really should be none.
While you’re here, there’s some other news worth mentioning!
Behold! The Spine! Rhett’s art just captivates me every time. I’m beyond happy with how this is turning out. We decided after one of our touch-bases that the spine was the place to start for reasons you’ll hopefully find out soon!
Also!
A timeline/style guide! I’m so happy to have some semi-firm deadlines to meet. Rhett agrees that they’re doable, so now it falls to both of us to make it happen!
Honestly, there’s some very exciting stuff going on so I hope you can stay tuned for the next big (or small) step in this indie publishing adventure!
Since I’ve begun actively posting anti-AI content, I think it’s time I made this statement.
Eternity’s Irys is 0% written by AI. For better or worse, I wrote every word of it.
I did use the assistance of ProWritingAid for some editing. I mostly took it’s marks under advisement and did what I wanted with it’s feedback. Very rarely did I accept its solutions at face value. I am uncertain of my future use of this tool.
The stand-in cover was AI generated, but it now only exists on my personal copies. The homepage has been updated with the rough draft of the retail cover. The site icon has also been updated using art of my own.
I have replaced the AI generated character portraits with old designs I drew up back in “The Q’taxians” era. They’re not the best representations, but they’re something.
All ancillary imagery on the site has been removed or replaced with art I can link back to a human creator. I may still dip into stock imagery from time to time, but I’m up in the air about that for reasons completely unrelated to this topic.
As of September of 2024, all art is now professionally created by Rhett (@fire_locket). Thanks to them, the cover is now completely original, character art has been updated, and all accent pieces including the site icon, have been replaced with high quality human-made art. The only thing that remains NOT made by Rhett is the little flower gif on the home page. That was made with stock images via Canva.
As amazing as it was to put AI to some use, it still left me feeling “dirty”. Almost all of my AI imagery was generated before I understood what was actually going on, how it really worked. As I’ve learned, I’ve begun distancing myself from any AI applications.
I was one of those “I can’t draw, but at least now I can have some art!” types. I had no plans to sell it besides the cover as a part of my book. Then it came for authors. AI “written” books started flooding the market. I’m sorry it took this and not the contentions of artists for me to see the light of day. When I realized how against AI “writing” I was, I knew I had to be anti AI art too. I also became increasingly aware of the poor/uncanny quality of all AI generated creative content. I went from “it looks good enough!” to “wow could it get any more lifeless?”
I used to be among the crowd that argued human artists had nothing to fear and if they were good enough, they’d shine well above the AI stuff. I was wrong, and for that, I am sorry. All art, no matter the quality, deserves a place of higher appreciation than anything generated by AI.
Somehow this revelation gave me some confidence in my own rudimentary drawings as well.
Since making the connection with my illustrator, Rhett, I’ve felt more and more comfortable with this decision. I understand this does put me in somewhat of a place of privilege, but it’s with this privilege that I can try to make a difference in the creative industry, even if it’s microscopic and goes unnoticed. My conscience and my project will be truly human made. And that’s what matters the most to me.
When I first generated Sylus with AI, it made me so damn happy. But it wasn’t truly him. It was an approximation and I assumed that was the best I’d ever get. Rhett has proved me wrong and I couldn’t be happier. A sketch from them has more heart and soul than anything AI could create.
Going forward, I have sworn off knowingly using any AI in any of my content.
Art plays a huge part in Eternity’s Irys. It’s the human element that makes it magical. The mortal experience. If I’m going to write about it, I have to live it fully. There is no art without a human’s involvement. Images and text blocks, sure. But art? No. Never.
I am well aware that AI is here to stay and its getting more and more accurate and life-like. I, personally, find this more disturbing than hopeful. I’m not here to fight the future, but I am here to preserve the present for as long as I can.
This is a personal choice I have no intention of forcing onto anyone else. I understand it may result in yet more shooting of myself in the foot down the line, but I’m willing to accept that.
Humans first, in all things.
Thank you all for your understanding.
**** September 2024 UPDATE: All art is now the product of Rhett (@fire_locket). The cover has been fully replaced, character art has been updated, and all accents including the site icon have been entirely sourced from the same human being. There is ZERO AI content left on this site! ****
🦑💜🦇
PS: I’m not here to argue the concept of developing “sentience”. That’s an entirely different topic.
After two meetings with my illustrator, Rhett (@fire_locket on Instagram), we concocted a rough draft of the cover!
Behold!
The beginnings of an original cover! Zero AI! All hard work and collaboration between humans!
So, were did all this come from considering the only element from the original AI design that carried over is the hourglass?
Well I’m so glad you asked!
For our first meeting, I gave some samples of covers I liked and didn’t like. Rhett was very receptive even though I didn’t think I was saying anything even remotely intelligent.
They took whatever I’d blathered on about and came up with two very strong designs. We ended up doing some mixing and matching as well as a bit of color theory.
For the longest time, I was dead set on just replicating the ai with a human hand, but Rhett pulled out all the stops and made me see the light of details. Every element serves a purpose and I am delighted.
SPECIAL SPOTLIGHT ON THE SPINE! I NEVER thought about doing anything interesting with the spine. Title goes there and that’s it. Rhett just made that happen and it’s staying.
The back is also pretty special. We’d discussed doing a little something something on there from the beginning. That rough outline is a hint as to what it will be. No further elaboration will be given.
Overall, the cover has gone from something stark to a more grimoire aesthetic and I couldn’t be happier.
Rhett’s done an amazing job thus far and I can’t wait to see the final result!
Speaking of, cover reveal (and maybe pre-orders 👀) will be coming in June! Huzzah! Finally doing something for Pride Month!
Stay tuned for an exact date if you’re interested!
If you want something to read in the meantime, the site is FULL of shorts that can give you a good idea of the world and characters of Eternity’s Irys. Especially the main boys, Jeron and Sylus.
On an additional note, the paperbacks for editing are finally under way. Something got held up with the printer and we didn’t realize until kinda late on. Should have those by the end of the month!
Bonus BERK for getting this far:
A spoiler literally no one will understand, but I love him all the same.
That’ll be all for this very tangible update! Progress is being made!
He stood at the counter gazing sleepily at a toasting toaster.
“Hm?” He replied without averting his gaze.
“Why are you making frozen waffles at 2am?”
He shrugged.
“There’s batter in the fridge.”
“And I’m certain it’d taste better.”
“Would you like me to get the batter?”
He shook his head. “Sometimes you just need some frozen waffles.”
The toaster gave a light ding as golden-brown waffles popped out. Lifting them out with his bare, unfazed fingers, he rested them on a plate before putting four more into the toaster. After gently lowering them in, he began buttering the finished ones.
“And why do you need frozen waffles?” I made my way over to the freezer/fridge combo.
“Hungry. Too tired for batter.”
“Mm, well, that can’t be true.”
“And why’s that?” He meticulously spread butter over every crevice of the waffles.
“There’s like 20 pounds of bacon still in here.”
“And?”
“And a ham.”
“So?”
“Sylus, you’re a carnivore. If you’re hungry, why are you making frozen waffles?”
“Sometimes you just need frozen waffles.”
I glared at him as I closed the freezer.
“Want some?”
“Where did you even get-” I cut myself off and shook my head. “N-nevermind.”
“They’re not stolen, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I pursed my lips and sighed.
“You want some frozen waffles, Jeron?”
I sighed again. Pre-made food was never something we did in my home. It was from scratch or nothing. I could smell the difference between the frozen waffles and the family recipe batter sitting in the fridge. It was different, but not necessarily bad.
“Some processed carbs never killed anyone.” Sylus spoke as he unloaded another four waffles only to swiftly replace them with four more.
I leaned my back against the fridge and folded my arms across my chest.
“Well?” He murmured as he dressed his fresh waffles.
I glared at him.
Silence set in until the toaster popped once more. Sylus took them out and placed them in a separate plate. He was a bit less heavy handed with the butter and syrup.
Lifting both plates into his hands, he turned to me and offered the smaller of the two.
“Sometimes you just need some frozen waffles.” He repeated.
Shaking my head I took them from him. Smelled okay. Decent consistency on my fork. I took a bite.
Definitely not homemade but also… They were pretty good, in their own way.
“I suppose you do need some frozen waffles from time to time.” I mumbled through a mouthful.
Eternity swirled in the sky above. Countless stars, worlds, lives danced against what was once the dark of night.
He stood alone, head tilted to the heavens, wishing he understood what was expected of him. What was he meant to do? Who was he? Why was he?
He looked down at his hands. Pale, massive, worn with lines and callouses. Beneath that hand was nothing he understood or recognized. Behind his own eyes, he didn’t even understand what machinations were in motion.
“I’ve never seen the sky like this.” He croaked.
You are awake. A voice in his head replied.
“I wasn’t before?” He could barely speak with the new voice he’d only just received.
Not like this.
“Then what was I?”
Naïve and detached from the fabric of reality.
“Naïve.” He scoffed as he looked back up to the sky.
Perhaps… Not in relation to your species.
He choked back an incredulous sob. “What am I now?”
More.
“More?”
You are stronger.
“Stronger?”
Everything existed all at once and yet he knew none of it was truly there. The air he breathed, the feeling of his heart beating in his chest, the pining agony to escape the loneliness… They were all constructs of his worn down humanity.
“It hurts, Qaitax.” He choked. “Sondreh help me, it hurts.”
It will pass.
“What am I…”
You are many things. ‘You are the moonlit path and the things that there dwell.’ The voice of Qaitax sang from the depths of his mind.
A smile crossed his tired lips as he spoke the following lyrics. “I am the next step… and the gates of cloud…”
You are the savior.
“And the grumbling crowd.”
You are the captain.
“And I am the storm… I am the winds that destroy…”
The winds that will push you forward.
“But it felt like something came… It was wearing my face and I’m certain it used my name… Worked hard to burn me…” The melody became clearer in his baritone voice. “And that worked out well,” a sad laugh burst from his lungs, “because it opened up the ground and it walked me into hell…”
But you knew the pathway and you knew the door. So it was opened again and you walked up through the floor.
“Th-this is ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Why are you doing this, Qaitax?”
I-I do not know.
A sad smile crossed his lips.
Is it strange to say it simply feels… right?
“Right? To sing with your host?”
My… Host. Yes.
“That’s what I am, yeah? Your host? Your… Translation for this world?”
Stifling silence came in reply.
He cleared his throat. “A tool.”
You-I…
“The eldritch god is speechless?”
I have many words, I simply know not which I would like to share.
“A-anyway,” he cleared his throat, “So I am the anchor and am I the sail.”
You are the hero.
“And I am the villain in this fairytale…” He could feel his newborn tentacles drifting behind him in the cool night air. “I am the monster…”
And you are the sword.
“I-I am the reason I suffer… But…”
He paused as he searched for the following lines. He knew them, they lingered on the tip of his tongue and the edge of his soul.
“I am the reason I suffer, but I am worth fighting for.”
His cheeks were on fire as a lifetime of sorrow and pain flowed from his eyes.
“I am worth fighting for…” He’d never heard those words before much less thought them. “I-I am…”
Above him time had brought everything together. The past, the present, a distant, unknowable future swirled in the fires of infinite stars.
“I-I am…”
So many lives. So many existences gone, living, and yet to be born.
And yet here he was. Standing on the little dirt ball of Ancora sharing an alien body with a dying god. An abhorrent aberration. Would any of those lives look kindly upon him? Or would he be a monster they’d fear?
What would it matter?
“I-I don’t… I just… I want…”
What do you want?
“To be worth fighting for…”
What says you aren’t?
“I-I don’t…” He cleared his throat before finding the melody again. “I am the reason I suffer, but I am worth fighting for…”
A strange sense of vague approval came from his companion.
“R-right?”
Is that what you want, Sylus Synclaire?To be worth fighting for?
“More than anything…” He breathed. Guilt surged through him for even considering his self worth. No one had ever found value in him. His body, his existence, but his soul? Who he was? His hopes and dreams? His heart ached thinking about any of it. All his life he’d cast himself aside. He had to. Who was he to expect others to understand him? Who was he to think his feelings mattered? That his love was worth more than all that was stolen from him? That he was whole without the approval of others…
Then it is true.
“I-I am worth fighting for…”
So you are.
“I am worth fighting for…” He whispered into the night. A quiet promise to never again fall to those who would seek to destroy him. No one would ever hurt him again. He was free. Free of the pain and suffering of the life before now. No longer was he at their mercy for acceptance. He was who he’d always been. The tentacles were an unexpected perk.
For the first time since the birth of his son, a genuine, soulful smile crossed his lips. Free. He was free. Over and over and over he’d submitted himself to those who would never even see him as human. He thought it was the only way he’d ever find love.
But that was the problem.
He looked to the expanding universe above. For as big as he was, he felt small, but for the first time in his entire life, he felt… Love. For himself. For who he’d become. Who he’d been and who he knew he could be.
“I am the reason I suffer,” he sang into the desert around him, not a soul anywhere to be seen, “but I am worth fighting for!” He threw his arms into the air, cathartic pain welled in his chest. “I am the reason I suffered, but I am worth fighting for!” He screamed into the night. “I AM THE REASON I SUFFER, BUT I AM WORTH FIGHTING FOR!”
You understand, then.
“What’s there to understand?” He chuckled as he adjusted his ill-fitting shirt. “You never answered me when I asked what I am to you.”
You are… Qaitax paused to choose his next word carefully. Useful.
“And that’s all that matters, right?”
R-right…
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you weren’t so sure about that.”
Hm.
“Think about it.” He smiled softly. “We have eternity, after all.”
Author’s Note: This was a crazy spiral of emotions. Between the song itself and whatever I was spilling onto the page, I felt so many things… Tearful things… Special thanks to Rhett for the song 🦑💜🦇
“Eight songs, a book, and a luxury item?” Sylus put the book down. “How do you carry 8 songs? CD? Cassette? Has to be cassette. You can fit way more than 8 on a CD. What about a tablet? Oh, there’s the luxury item! I can put a book and 8 songs on it. Easy.”
I ran my hand down my face. “Let’s say records, one per song, a physical book, and a luxury item that would survive a shipwreck.”
“Well now you’re just making it needlessly complicated. Why would I be traveling with 8 45 singles?”
“Sylus.”
“Jeron.”
“Just answer the question.”
“I did.”
“Alright.” I breathed. “What book and songs are on your tablet?”
“You first.”
“Me?! You’re the one with the tablet!”
He shrugged.
“I don’t even know eight songs and I only have one book… As for a luxury item, I’ll just stick you in my suitcase.”
“Me?!”
I nodded. “I know you’d fit with enough effort.”
He looked down at his massive self. “What.”
“You’d fit. You know that.”
“Physics aside, I’m a luxury item?”
“Well with you I could have any luxury item I want so why bring any if I can just bring you?”
He glared. “I thought you wanted to do this in the spirit of the prompt.”
“I did, but you’re bringing a tablet. So I’ll just stuff you and your tablet in my suitcase. Problem solved.”
Sylus opened his mouth to speak only to close it again.
“See? Two can play that game!”
He groaned.
“Besides, neither of us could be stuck anywhere for long enough to make use of any of that stuff.”
He sighed and shrugged.
Reaching for the coffee table, he picked up the little book again.
“Shall I find us another?”
I put a hand on his. “Save it for next year.” I kissed him on the cheek.
Author’s Final Closing Note: Broke the 4th wall for this one. Figured why not since it’s the last post for this round of 14 days of romance. Took a bit longer than 14 days to get the out, but hey, they’re done.
I’d like to give a special thanks to Clyde the Couch Squid for holding the book for every entry. I like to think he got a bit more confident toward the end.
For now, the little book of romantic ideas is getting shelved until next year.
Author’s Note: This is kind of a silly idea. Additional Taylor Swift quote for relevancy 🤣
“B-16!” The caller yelled.
Sylus furiously studied his card. When he didn’t find a match, he cursed and took a shot of liquor.
Meanwhile, I marked the spot on mine.
“How’re you sodamnlucky?” His words slurred together a bit.
“Sylus, this was your idea. You wanted to win that stupid maraca set…”
“Hand. Made!”
“Sylus…”
“They’re my colors, too.”
“Yes they are.”
“I-5!”
“Oh for the love of!” Sylus slammed his hand on the table and took another shot.
I marked my card. I was now in a position to win in several different ways.
Sylus wasn’t the only one drinking. It was part of the rules that if you didn’t get a spot, you had to imbibe. I wasn’t happy with that as I’m not a drinker, but Sylus said he could hold enough for the both of us. I think he assumed he couldn’t get drunk. We were ten calls in and he was wasted.
“G-75!”
I threw my hand in the air. “Bingo!”
Sylus chugged the rest of his shots. He had zero marks on his card.
“Congratulations! Pick a prize from the table.”
“Jus’gotta remindmyself, it’s a charity thing.” Sylus muttered.
I kissed his cheek before going to retrieve his maracas. They were painted black with sparkly purple stars. Wisps of purple caressing the bottom of the rattle resembled tendrils.
I shook the caller’s hand before making my way back to our table.
“Here.” I offered him his instruments.
He took them with invisible tentacles and shook them by his ears. “Soundsnice.”
“I’m glad you like them. Can we get going now before you start desiccating?”
“I amnot desi- desuh…”
“Come on, big guy.” I put his arm over my shoulders and helped him out of his chair.
“Buh…” He groaned as I led him back out to the truck.
“Was it worth it?” I laughed as I shoved him onto the back bench.
Laying on his back, he chook his maracas and nodded. “They sound like rain. Rain is water. I’m thirsty.”
I rolled my eyes. I grabbed a jug of water from the back of the truck and set it on the floor beside him. Taking one of his already-wilting tentacles, I put it inside so he could stay hydrated.
“Alright.” I sighed as I got back into the driver’s seat. “Off we go.”
I felt something slither up from beneath my chair. A tentacle wrapped around my left ankle. I smiled.
Author’s Closing Note: I’m still not 100% sure if Sylus can get drunk or how that mechanic would work, but what the heck. He can for the sake of this silly thing.
SPOILER ALERT! This contains some deep lore that’s subject to change. It lacks context or explanation, but there are things in this that won’t be revealed in canon for a looong time. You have been warned!
Sylvyx was particularly disoriented and confused. He sat in the center of the diner parking lot, legs crossed, staring out into nothing. It hurt, seeing him like that. Seeing the facade of the man I once loved now in the hands of a lonely child who’d known nothing but cruelty and brutality. I wanted to love him. I wanted so badly to feel like I did before when he was Sylus, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It hurt horribly.
I made my way outside and stood beside him.
“Hungry?” I could barely speak.
“No.” He replied. Same voice, different person.
“Tired?”
He sighed. “Very.”
“Me, too.” I breathed.
He looked up at me. The eyes I’d loved so much now belonged to someone else. The gaze I’d grown so fond of was no longer the one I knew.
“Here.” I offered him my hand.
He stood up and stared at my gesture.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I continued.
He shook his head. “I am not him.”
“I know. Still, let’s go for a walk. You and I. Sylvyx and Jeron.”
His gaze lifted to my eyes. I desperately hoped my welling tears evaded his notice, but the way his face contorted told me otherwise.
“I’m sorry.” He choked.
“Don’t be. It was inevitable. We knew Sylus was temporary. We,” I cleared my throat, “we knew.”
He stared at me with those piercing violet orbs. “I remember love.”
“Yeah?” I forced a laugh.
“He was much like you. Eons and lifetimes ago.” He looked to my outstretched hand again. “I killed him.”
I closed my eyes and closed my fingers. “It wasn’t you, though, was it?”
“Does it matter?” He forced a weak laugh of his own. “The last thing Ennea saw was my face as he was wiped off the face of the universe. The last thing he felt…” He squeezed his stomach. “I-I don’t want to exist anymore.”
I thrust my hand into his and closed my fingers around him. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He nodded stiffly.
I practically dragged him up the precipical coastline until we were far enough out of town that the ambient light no longer obscured the night sky. The moon was a massive glimmering orb of white shimmering light. Its face reflected across the dark ocean surface.
“Here.” I motioned to the ground. I sat down and brought my guitar around front.
He remained standing.
“Sit, Sylvyx.”
He sighed and sat down beside me. A remnant of Sylus probably. He stared emptily out into the depths of the sea. I didn’t know who he was. I had no idea who I was sitting next to, I just knew that once upon a time that face brought me so much joy. His smile, his laugh, the crease at the corners of his eyes, the way his ears lifted with his grin, his thick sideburns, the stubble on his jaw, the soft, caring look in his alien eyes. Sylus. He was sitting next to me and he didn’t even know me. But that wasn’t fair to say, was it? Sylus was gone. I had to accept that. Maybe I’d never love Sylvyx like I wanted to, but I could at least try to be his friend. I knew enough about the creature’s past to know how utterly lonely it had been.
I fingered a few notes that began to sound familiar. A song Sylus and I had sung together once. My tenor to his baritone. A serenade of peace in a cacophony of chaos.
“And I give up forever to touch you ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow.” I glanced at his vacant gaze. “You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.” He winced. “And all I can taste is this moment and all I can breathe is your life and sooner or later it’s over and I just don’t wanna miss you tonight.” He tilted his gaze to the moon. “And I don’t want the world to see me cuz I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am.” He closed his eyes and I paused the music. “You okay?”
No answer came. He just stared, unseeing.
I started playing again.
“And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming,” his face was a blank, empty slate, “or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.” His eyes closed. “And I don’t want the world to see me,” I closed my own, cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken,” I looked at him, “I just want you to know who I am.”
No response. I resumed idly playing, realizing I wasn’t reaching him at all. I was in so much pain. My heart and soul ached as I played every note, but I couldn’t stand the thought of silence. The harder my heart beat in agonizing misery, the more I ramped up. It felt like rage, like anger, frustration, but it wasn’t. That’s what I expected, but that’s not what it was. It was hope. Desperate and weak, but it was hope. As I crescendoed to repeat the chorus, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth.
“And I don’t want the world to see me.” It wasn’t my voice. I dropped the melody and turned to him. “‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.” He wasn’t singing, but rather speaking slowly, his voice shaking terribly, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. “When everything’s made to be broken,” I stared at him in disbelief, “I just want you to know who I am.” He gazed up at the monstrous moon above.
“Sylus?” I could barely utter his name.
“And I don’t want the world to see me,” his voice grew stronger with every word, “‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand.” The melody, though practically shouted, was clear in his cadence. “When everything’s made to be broken,” he stood up and whipped his military cap off and into the sea, “I just want you to know who I am.” He spun around to me, arms outstretched.
An uncontrollable gasp burst from my lungs. It was him. It was Sylus. Not Sylvyx or Qaitax or anyone other than the man I loved with all my heart. I burst to my feet beside him as I began playing again. His hands clasped my shoulders. All of my love, all of my heartache swelled into our voices joining together.
“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. I just want you to know who I am. I just want you to know who I am.” Our gazes locked, tears streaming down both our faces. “I just want you to know who I am.” He took my face in his hands. “I just want you to know who I am.” I choked up, trapping my voice in my throat. “I just want you to know who I am.” He held out the last note for a long, glorious moment. Sylus. My Sylus.
I trailed off on the guitar as our voices fell silent.
“Sylus?” I croaked.
“Jeron.” He breathed.
“Is that really you?” I flicked a few strings in nervous agony expecting the worst.
He smiled. The same smile I’d come to love with all my heart. “It is, love.”
I sank into his embrace. Feeling his massive arms around me again, feeling the breath in his lungs, the beating of his false heart, the warmth of his flesh. Everything Sylvyx had silenced, everything that made Sylus Sylus was back.
“I love you, Sylus.” I sobbed into his uniform.
“And I, you, Love.”
I shook my head. “Say it.”
He kissed the top of my head and whispered: “I love you, Jeron Miles. From now to eternity. You are mine and I am yours. Together. Forever.”
I squeezed him as best as I could, my arms never reaching all the way around him. He returned the gesture, pressing me against himself.
“Thank you.” I breathed into him. “I missed you so much, Sylus.” I choked back a sob.
“And I, you, love.” He cooed as he ran his fingers through my hair. “And I, you.”
I grabbed the collar of his uniform. “Don’t you ever leave me again!”
“I won’t, love. Never again.”
“Promise me! Promise me you’ll never throw yourself away again because goddammit Sylus Synclaire you are fucking loved.”
He smiled. “I promise.”
“Good.” I pressed my face into his chest again. “Because if you do…”
“You’ll kill me yourself, right?”
“Don’t tempt me.” I growled.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Then keep your fucking promise.”
“I will, love. I swear it.”
“Good. Because I really don’t want to have to kill you.” I leaned back letting our gazes meet. I brought my hands to the sides of his face. “I’d miss you too much.”
“Well, you see, if I disappeared, and you found me and then killed me, I’ll have disappeared for good forever. See, I feel like that’s counter intuitive to your intentions and-”
I put a finger to his lips and he grinned.
I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. He was more than willing to accept me.
So there I was. Once more in the embrace of my lover under the silver glow of the moon. And I was finally at peace.
Author’s Note: Technically this song could exist in universe, but that doesn’t matter for the sake of this story 💜
Author’s Note: This one’s tough. The sun doesn’t rise anymore and the moon is anchored to the planet. Maybe I can just… Forget all that in the name of some romance…
We sat upon the roof in our respective chairs. Hot drinks in our hands, we watched as a long dead galaxy rose over the horizon. Eons ago this swirl of starlight existed countless lightyears away, but now it’s echo rose over the broken moon that tethered our world to the Void.
It felt so close that I could reach out and touch it. Feel the burning of the stars on my skin. I wonder how many lives once inhabited it’s worlds. How many species were ended by the Void? How many escaped into the peace of a natural extinction? How old had these stars been before being extinguished by the cold march of time?
It felt so strange to think about all these things. Isolating but somehow nostalgic at the same time. I’d never know those people. I’d never speak their language or eat their food. I’d never know a single thing about their lives and yet in that memory that hung in our Ancora sky, singular moments of their existence were frozen. Still outside of my reach.
I wanted to know them. To understand them in some way. Travel their stars just as I wish I could travel mine. How far had their lights come to be here and now?
I sipped my coffee and Sylus sipped his tea.
I wonder what he’s thinking. How does he feel about this alien body gliding across our sky?
Our conduit opened and I felt his sadness. Lamentations of what could have been. Some part of him had seen some of those worlds. Some part of him had lived among those people. But that part would never speak on it. Qaitax wasn’t one to linger on the past. What to me felt like an insurmountable distance of time and space was a mere blink of an eye to the dead lord that lurked behind my lover’s eyes.
Time crept on and the galaxy made it’s way behind us. A million suns setting on our horizon. Would they rise again tomorrow? Or would another memory take their place?
I sipped my coffee and Sylus sipped his tea.
Author’s Closing Note: Nice and prose-y, this one. I think it went a lot better than expected. 😊
Author’s Note: Something that got a bit lost in all the rewrites was Sylus being a natural horticulturist. Once upon a time he cultivated edible mist-afflicted vegetation. Maybe it’s time for that to make a comeback…
Sylus knelt at the edge of my mother’s garden of irises. He was digging around, but none of the flowers looked disturbed. I had no idea what he was doing so I made my way over to him.
Looking over his shoulder, I found him holding a strange plant I’d never seen before. If I didn’t know any better I’d think it had a mouth and teeth on it.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked with my hands in my pockets.
“Hm, hm?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh hells, I was hoping to make it a surprise but this little one’s having trouble taking root.”
“What are you trying to do?”
He sat back on his knees and wiped the dirty on his brow. “I’m trying to plant a barrier around your mother’s irises.”
“A barrier?”
He nodded. “Native flora is in grave danger. If I can get these snappers set up it might buy us some time for a better solution.”
“Snappers? So they do have mouths?”
He nodded again. “Like flytraps on crack. They eat lesser spawns on top and bottom nabbing crawlers before they can get to the roots of the irises. The also form a pheromone net to force things towards their mouths like an invisible roof over your flowers. Ah! There! It finally took! Good job!”
I knelt down beside him. “How do you know all this?”
“Qaitax.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “I asked him of there was anything we could do. He gave me an answer. The Mist might still get to them, but that’s a long term problem we’ll figure out later. For now we have to ward off spawns and snappers do the trick.” He reached into his pocket for a handful of seeds. Holding them in his hands, a violet light glowed between his clasped fingers. Little sprouts now sat where the seeds had been.
“Y-you really thought about the garden?” I stammered.
“Of course I did.” He dug a little hole for one of the new seedlings. A tendril lashed out to the more mature one as if looking for guidance. Once it felt it’s neighbor, it dragged itself out of Sylus’ hand and into its hole. “There you go little guy.” He said to the plant before digging another hole. “They’re important to you.”
“But… They’re just flowers…”
“They’re not just flowers.”
Sylus made his way around the perimeter of the field of irises planting a wall snappers. I followed him in silence. He’d say a small bit of encouragement before moving to the next one.
“There. Grow strong, little one.” He breathed as he stood up.
“Thanks, Sy.” I hugged him from behind.
“Oh, no need for thanks.” He turned in my arms to face me. Leaning in, he kissed my forehead softly. “What matters to you matters to me.”
I pressed my head to his chest. “I love you so damn much.” I breathed.
“And I, you, love. And I, you.”
Author’s Closing Note: Not entirely on prompt but it works I think. Also, I really wrecked my streak. At this point, I’m just aiming for 14 shorts by the end of the month. Pretty sure I can handle that!
Author’s Note: I laughed when I saw this one. Sylus has no bones and Jeron’s never done yoga in his life. Let’s see how they fair…
I sat in the living room on a blanket, legs crossed beneath me, hands upturned on my knees, breathing along with the instructions coming from my phone. Somehow being a Blood Mage didn’t make me nearly as limber as I’d hoped. My mind was sharp, but my body?
“Your body’s fine.” Sylus replied to my thoughts as he crested the stairs. “You’re still in great shape so I hope that’s not your concern.”
“I have no doubt that I’m in shape, but I’m stiff and anxious and stuff.” I twisted around to match the image on my phone. “I’ve heard this can help.”
He crouched down and squinted at the tiny video playing on my phone.
“Yoga?”
“Yup.” I replied, though strained as I forced my limbs into another pose.
“I can safely say I’ve never done it before.”
Something in my back cracked. Loudly. I sighed in relief.
“Well if all you needed was a back cracking.” He unfurled his tentacles.
“There’s a spiritual factor to it, too.” I changed poses with a bit more effort than before.
“Hmm.” He scratched his beard.
“It feels good to stretch your own body in different ways.”
I felt him sit down beside me.
“Gonna stretch the old tentacles?” I muttered as I struggled to get into another pose he’d already effortlessly emulated. “It’d be different if you had a skeleton.”
“The perks of being a space squid.”
I tried to laugh, but my twisting made it difficult.
He moved into the next pose with zero effort while I struggled to get my leg high enough. He was massive and he moved like it was nothing. I was fit and lithe and I often found myself struggling.
“Like you said, no bones.” He must have noticed me quietly comparing my performance to his. “We’re different species, Jeron. Don’t think too much about it.”
We moved into a few more poses and only once did he struggle. Mostly because he had no idea what the instructor was doing with their body and it mortified him. He got it in the end, though. I think it was Pigeon Pose or something?
As things started winding down, I finally found myself nailing every pose. My body felt almost airy as I seamlessly shifted around.
When it came time to rest, we sat side by side, legs folded beneath us, palms resting upward on our knees.
Breathing in sync, I could feel a placid calm wash over me. It was the best I’d felt in years.
I let loose a comfortable sigh. Sylus chuckled in reply.
Author’s Note: Missed yesterday, ruining my streak. Whatever was bugging me Saturday pretty much took me down on Sunday so sorry about that. Anyway! Today’s prompt looks a bit redundant considering how I handled the mixtape one, but let’s see if we can do something different with it!
“I’m hungry.” Sylus grimmaced.
“Then go get something to eat. I’ll park the car and-“
“For a burger.”
“Oh, well, that’s not exactly-“
“Efficient, I know, but I can dream, can’t I?”
“I’m sure you know a good place for a burger. Let’s just-“
“No drifting.”
“Right.”
He thrust his head back dramatically. “What I wouldn’t give for a juicy burger and some hand-cut fries.”
“Your not usually this,” I motioned to him as he threw a hand across his forehead, “theatrical. Something else on your mind?”
“A lot is on my mind, but at the forefront is the very intrusive thought of eating a grilled burger dripping with meat juices.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s that or I start shutting down from the welling anxiety hanging out on the other side of it.”
“Then I guess I have to find us a burger place.”
We drove a bit further down the empty road until a light rose in the distance. I slowed down as we approached.
“Douggy’s Dive…” I read aloud. It was a small, single-story building surrounded by trucks and motorcycles. Neon beer advertisements hung in the windows along with a marquee “OPEN” sign. Loud music poured out from inside. It looked dark and dingy and-
The passenger door slammed shut and I watched, jaw dropped, as Sylus made his way past the front of the truck.
I rolled down my window. “What the hell are you doing, Sylus?!” I hissed.
“Gettin’ a burger.”
“Here?!”
“Why not?”
“I mean… look at it!” I thrust an arm out the window.
Sylus glanced at the building then back at me. “What about it?”
And then I remembered he’d probably eaten in places even worse than this one.
“You really think they’ll have a good burger?”
“100% sure.”
I sighed as I parked the truck across the street and met him where their parking lot met the road.
“Just act like you belong.” Sylus spoke as he reached for the door. “Sure you might get pegged as a traveler, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
The smell of smoke and beer instantly smacked me in the face as we entered. Sylus was beaming as if it didn’t smell like a thousand cartons had be lit up at the same time. Probably helped he didn’t have to breath in the first place.
Stained glass lights hung from the ceiling casting light through a fog of tobacco smoke. Everything, walls, tables, chairs, ceiling, was wood. Across from the entrance was a small stage with a jukebox and microphone on it.
“Evening!” He shouted to a waiter over the music.
“Sit wherever!” The waiter shouted back.
“Sounds good to me.” Sylus looked around for an open table. “Seems a simple two-seater’s our only option.”
I stood beside him, arms clamped to my sides. There was a very particular kind of person that filled this place and I was trying very, very hard not to let my low-boiling fear get the better of me.
Sylus turned to me. “You okay?”
“There are a lot of burly white men here.”
“Jeron.”
“Yes?”
“I am burly white men.”
“Oh my god.” I leaned into him. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do?”
I leaned in close. “Bikers” I whispered in his ear.
“What about em?”
“Skinheads?”
He scanned the room.
“I don’t see any particularly worrisome iconography anywhere.”
“Sylus…”
“Look, if someone gives us shit, they die. Simple as.”
“You’d just kill a guy in public?”
“Jeron, love, I could take down this entire establishment and have room for seconds. Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?”
I sighed as I took his arm and he led me to the open table he’d spotted.
As soon as we sat down, a glass of water appeared before both of us along with menus. We looked up and the waiter was already gone.
It was a single laminated sheet covered in bar food. Sylus flipped it over and found his burger almost instantly.
“Says hand-cut fries too!”
I pursed my lips as I browsed the greasy offerings.
“I guess I’ll have a burger, too. And some fried pickle chips.”
“Excellent choice!”
“How do you want them cooked?” The waiter appeared again.
“Mooing, but still a consistent patty.” Sylus replied.
“Rare.”
“Uh, pink?” I replied.
“Medium rare. Good with fries?”
We nodded.
With that, he vanished again.
I kept looking around the room at the clientele, but not a single one of them was looking at us.
“Stereotypes exist for a reason, Jer.” Sylus said. “But they’re not good for judging character.”
“Y-yeah…” I sighed.
“Besides, orders are already in, so we should be out of here in half an hour. Tops.”
I felt almost bad for assuming the worst, but I couldn’t help it. Terrible people came out of the woodwork during the Sand-Sea War. I hated thinking about it, but it was a fact of reality.
“Here we are.” The waiter returned with three plates, put them down and was about to step away again when Sylus grabbed his wrist.
“Can I get another?” He pointed at his empty plate.
“I, uh, s-sure?”
Sylus released him and the waiter made his way back into the kitchen.
“What the hell did you do with it?!”
He swallowed. “You know how it is.”
“The whole thing?”
“I’ll taste the second one.”
“Keeper help me.” I muttered as I turned to my own meal.
It looked and smelled fine. I poked everything on my plate. Felt fine, too. I took a deep breath as I picked up the burger. A single bite told me I didn’t have to worry anymore. It tasted so much better than I could’ve hoped for.
The music quieted down.
“Alright everyone!” One of the burlier of the men had gone up onto the stage and now held the mic. “It’s Tuesday so you know what that means!” He had a bit of an accent to him, but as with every other accent I’d encountered, I had no idea where it was from.
A roar of cheers filled the room.
“Oh my god.” Sylus snorted.
“What?”
“Karaoke!” The man cried out.
“Oh my god.” Sylus snorted as he folded his hands on the table and lowered his head into them.
“It’s not like we have to, Sy.”
“Leather vests? Chaps? The hats? Studs?” He rolled his head on his arms. “We’re surrounded by bears.”
“B-bears?” I looked around. Not everyone in the room was a massive guy, but there was a stark lack of any women. “Wait…”
“Sing a song, get a beer! That’s the Douggy Guarantee!” He spoke with an affluent swagger and flicked his wrist over the mic.
Another round of cheers.
“Don’t all come clamoring up at once!”
Another guy stumbled up onto the stage and took the mic. He pressed some buttons on the jukebox and started singing an incredibly off-key version of a song I’d never heard before.
Sylus sat back and burst out laughing.
The waiter returned with his second burger.
“Is a gay bar, yeah?” He choked out between laughs.
“Sure is.” The waiter smiled before walking away.
“Oh for the love of- Of course I dragged us into a gay bar.” He laughed.
Several songs were butchered, and Sylus was on his fourth burger, before the announcer returned.
“How about you two!” He pointed to us. “Yer new ’round here! Come on up!”
“I-I can’t sing.” I choked out over a fry.
“Neither can I.” Sylus stood up and made his way to the stage.
“Syyyluuusss…” I creaked as I slid down into my chair.
He and the announcer mumbled back and forth as they rummaged through the discography for something.
The man burst out laughing. “That’ll do it!” He cried out before handing over the mic and stepping off the stage.
Music started playing. Sylus looked me in the eyes from across the room and winked.
I think I died inside. I was mortified until the crowd started roaring.
He sang flawlessly in a voice I’d never heard come from his lips and gyrated his hips like a lunatic.
At the end he hung up the mic and threw his hands in the air. Cheers all around.
The announcer picked up the mic. “That has GOT to be the best Presley impersonation I’ve EVER heard! You sure you’re not from pre-Logos times?”
“I’m not that old.” He paused for a moment. “Well maybe I am, but that’s another story.”
The announcer shook his hand and patted his back before ushering him off the stage for the next act to follow. A beer was placed in his hand and he bolted it in the blink of an eye.
“You’re psychotic.” I mumbled.
“No shit. You’re only just figuring this out?” He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
“What did you say to him up there?”
“That I wanted something to both embarrass and impress my date.”
Flustered, I shoved him back into his seat. “Finish your damn fries.” I spat.
“Gladly.”
Author’s Closing Note: Maybe that was a bit lazy, but that’s the song that came to mind so I figured I may as well just link it. Hope you enjoyed the read and hopefully I can stay on track until the end! 14 stories will happen either way!
Author’s Note: Not much to say here besides this being the plot of the second book. I suppose I’ll just send them on a little adventure somewhere new where they can’t drift.
Smoke rose from beneath the hood of the truck. I immediately pulled over and instinctively popped the hood. I dove out of the cabin, slamming my door behind me. Sylus balked awake beside me and fumbled his way out the passenger door.
“W-what happened?!” He stammered.
“Something’s wrong with Blue.” I gazed into an alien network of mechanisms that now resided beneath the hood of my mother’s truck. Once upon a time, I at least knew where the engine was. Now?
“Something… is wrong?” He made his way to my side.
“What even am I looking at?”
Smoke rose from an nondescript area among the network of metal and wires.
“Voidtech.” Sylus grumbled. “That’s how Casotr and I fixed her. The smoke is strange though. Perhaps you should ask her what’s wrong.”
“Ask her?”
He shrugged. “She has a soul, just like you and I. Something must be bothering her.”
“Ah, r-right.” I cleared my throat. “Hey, Blue, is… are you okay?”
Violet sigils blinked over the alien tech.
“I’m not very good at Qalian.” I replied with a sigh as I turned to Sylus.
“Take your patch off.”
“And lose my mind?!”
“You’ll understand her better.”
“And I might throw up into the engine compartment. Can’t you just tell me what she said?”
“I didn’t see the sigils. They were for you.”
“Oh, of course.” I sighed. “Blue, come on, show Sylus. He understands Qalian.”
“And so do you, if you take your eyepatch off. Here.” He moved behind me and put a hand on my back. “I’ll keep you grounded.”
I took a deep, shaky breath before reaching up to patch that covered my voidal eye. Leather with a piece of Sylus’ shirt stitched into it. Violet fabric glistened with irises as I lifted it off my face.
The world plunged into darkness. Colorful lines shimmered giving me a vague idea of where things were. I could still make out Blue’s machinery to some degree, but it looked more like a poem I couldn’t decipher than a nest of wires.
My stomach churned.
“B-Blue?” I choked.
The sigils reappeared as brilliant lights in the dark. I understood them in an instant.
I immediately lowered the patch and ducked to the side to throw up.
“It’ll get easier.” Sylus cooed as he rubbed my back. “What did she say?”
I dry heaved before standing back upright. “She’s thirsty.”
“Thirsty?”
“‘Long has it rained and I long to be quenched.’ were her words.”
“How very Qalian.” He chuckled.
We looked up and down the desert road.
“Can’t we just drift home and get some water then drift back?” I suggested.
“If we do that, we’ll have enemy Archon eyes on us in a heartbeat. No drifting.”
“Well that’s unfortunate.”
He sighed. “Do you have a map in the truck?”
“I think Ma kept one, but I don’t know how much ground it covers.”
“Let’s find out, then.”
As we got back into the cabin, I pointed to the glove compartment in front of Sylus. He popped it open and rummaged through the fistfuls of napkins and receipts until he found a map of our country, DeCaln.
“Sondreh, where even are we?” He muttered as his eyes darted across the page.
I leaned over and nothing made any sense to me either.
“Well,” I pointed to the west coast, “find Ortzuna and work east. We know we’re on route, what, route… uh… four?”
Sylus cocked a brow. He traced his finger down the coastline until he found Ortzuna. From there, he traced it vaguely eastward until he found a small town we’d passed through.
“There.” He jabbed the map. “We must be here. Which means…” He traced his finger a bit further east. “Hmm.” He tried going a bit north. Finally, Southeast seemed to have the answer. “If we take a detour, we can get to a carwash.”
“How much of a detour?”
“It’s the closest option in every direction unless we want to backtrack.”
“I’d rather not. Alright.” I turned the key in Blue’s ignition. “Think you can make it a bit further, old girl?”
I let her idle for a bit and no more smoke wafted from under the hood.
“Alright, then.” I shifted her into drive. “Let’s get going.”
Pulling back onto the road, she drove as smooth as ever.
“You’re going to have to tell me where to go.” I said to Sylus.
“Of course.” He murmured as he continued studying the map.
“Would hate to get lost in the desert.”
“Mhmm.”
“And die.”
“No one will die, Jeron.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me when to turn.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
Author’s Note: I suppose this could have been longer and more in line with the prompt, but I wasn’t feeling well so I cut it off here. Managed to jam in some light foreshadowing in the end so it wasn’t entirely pointless. Like one of the prompts before, it was stop here or write another dozen pages. I may revisit this in the future.
Author’s Note: Most films and media gifted to the people of Ancora are derived from the Logs; a mysterious record that religious scholars claim contains the will of Sion’Dri. It has only ever been accessed once and by a single being known as the Keeper. From it sprang knowledge of their God, it’s will, and the artistic base of many of Ancora’s societies. But why does this matter? It doesn’t. Yet. Enjoy the short!
Additional Note: Neither Sylus nor Jeron had much of a childhood, so we’re going to have to twist this prompt a bit.
I fell back into the couch with a heavy sigh of relief. Sylus was already sitting with his legs pulled up onto the cushions, flipping through the few television channels left since the Void’s invasion.
I leaned over until my head was on his purple-boxer-clad thigh. Complete with a tiny squid print of a slightly darker shade. Thick fingers rubbed at the back of my head.
I, too, was in my underwear. Boxers and a tank top. White. Uninteresting. Plain.
“What’cha watchin’?” I murmured.
“Nothing yet.” He sighed. “They took all the good channels. It’d be nice if one of these Lords had some taste in culture.”
“Can’t you pick up a channel and put whatever you want on it? You are a Lord afterall.”
“Broadcasting requires infrastructure I don’t exactly have access to.”
“So it’s not magic?”
“The Void uses both magic and technology in its invasion. They both walk a fine line together.”
I squeezed his foot. “You know what I meant.”
“Did I?”
I slid a hand under his butt and pinched.
“I suppose I did.” He smirked.
“So what are you looking for?”
“Something, anything, that’s entertainment and not just news and/or propaganda.”
“Hm.”
As he flipped through the channels, I caught a fleeting moment of something I recognized.
I sat up abruptly. “Go back.”
“Hm?” He muttered before slowly turning back the channels.
“There!” I pointed at the screen.
It was a live action movie about talking animals on some kind of adventure.
“You know this?”
“Vaguely… I think I watched it with Ma when I was little. I remember that it made me cry.”
“Then why would you want to watch it?”
“I’m not sure if they were sad or happy tears.”
He smiled. “Do you want to watch it then?”
“Unless you have something else in mind.”
“I do not.” He turned up the volume and put down the remote.
I laid back down on his lap and let his fingers weave through my hair.
Sure enough, and even though I tried to hold it back, I cried at the end when the animals made it home to their family.
A tentacle gently wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me up closer to Sylus’ chest.
The crying turned ugly as the music swelled and the credits rolled.
“I-I’m sorry.” I sniffed.
“Why?” He cooed.
“I’m an adult crying over a kids film.”
“Everyone was a child once. These films are part of formative years. You’re not alone in still feeling something that you once did a long time ago. We grow, we change, but in some ways, we stay the same.”
“Well, thank you Dr. Synclaire.” I slid an arm around his back. “What did you watch as a kid?”
His body tensed up for a moment before relaxing again. “Nothing.”
“Come on, you had to have seen some-“
“No. I didn’t. We didn’t have television in my home.”
“O-oh… I-I’m sorry…”
“But I liked this and I understand where your feelings come from. They found their way home to a loving family. Isn’t that all anyone wants? A home with people they love and care about?”
I pulled the fabric of his t-shirt into my fist. “She was the only person who ever loved me.”
He held me tightly.
I cleared my throat. “Until you, of course.”
I watched the credits scroll across a black screen as powerful, passionate music filled the air. I could see our reflection in the television.
“A loving home…” I murmured.
“Hm?”
I nuzzled my face into his chest, still clutching his shirt. “That’s all I ever wanted. A safe, loving place. I’m 32 and until now… I never had that.”
“I’ve got four years on you and I could say the same.”
I held him as tightly as I could.
“I never thought I’d find it, either.”
“Same.” I croaked.
“And then you hit me with your truck and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Author’s Note: I was juggling how to execute this until the answer finally came to me. Do something entirely unique or follow acrostic poem the book offers? Which one which one…
Sylus and I laid side by side in bed. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.
“A poem.” I studied the page before me.
“Hm?” Sylus mumbled beside me.
“Wanna write a poem?”
“Like, on the spot?”
“Like this.” I showed him the tiny book.
“Oh, alright. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“You start.”
“But this was your idea!”
“And I’m no wordsmith. Aren’t you a writer or something?”
“Ha,” he scoffed, “perhaps in another lifetime.”
“Start it for me.” I nudged him gently. “Please?”
“Ugh.” He took the book from me and reached for a pen on the bedside. “I Like you very much.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“Yes it does!”
I tore the book and pen from him.
“Obviously you’re the one for me.” I put it back in front of his face.
Grumbling, he took it back. “Verily, I do fancy thy posterior.”
I snatched it back. “This isn’t very poetic.” I chuckled.
“It’s the structure that matters more than rhyming or whatever.”
I kicked him under the covers.
“Every day I wake up to you beside me is another day in heaven.”
“Sondreh help me, you’re taking this much too seriously.”
“And you’re not taking it seriously at all!”
He snatched it back and studied the page for a moment. Putting his finger to the paper, a violet light filled the air. Without a word, he handed it back to me. Next to the R on the page was a phrase in swirling Qalian. A single circular symbol that read:
“Reality shifts, yet you remain.”
I smiled.
“So do you.”
Author’s Closing Note: Short, sweet, and a liiiiiitle fourth wall breaking 🤣
Author’s Note: This is a cute idea since Jeron has only read two books in his life: Sion’Dri’s Code (a religious text) and a pulp vampire novel left by his mother who used to read all kinds of tales to him when he was a child. Every other book she owned was destroyed by his father after her passing. Sylus was a casual writer and would likely have been Dalafaem, mortal with void magic, had Qaitax not intervened. I think they’d both like this idea. Time to see how it pans out…
I laid in bed staring up at the blank white ceiling. Once upon a time a rainbow tapestry draped above, but as with everything she ever made or owned, it was destroyed along with her. All her light died when she did. My father made sure of that.
I was feeling particularly morose as my mind chose to force all those painful memories forward.
With a single thought, I could summon Sylus to my side, but he was always there. Always helping me cope with her loss twenty years after the fact. It wore me down so I could only imagine how much it must have exhausted him.
I turned my head on my pillow to look at the simple desk beside me. On it sat three plushies (a rainbow crochet cat swaddled in a blue blanket, a happy little purple squid, and a grinning brown bat) and a book.
Clad in a cover marked as Sion’Dri’s Code was “_”, the only book of hers I was able to save from my father’s rampage. I’d read it a thousand times. Could practically retell it word for word from heart.
I heard Sylus shuffling around in the kitchen down stairs. Reheating a ham, most likely. I closed my eyes and debated whether I should put the effort in to joining him or not.
I hated this feeling more than anything. I’d rather get torn up in a fight than lay here trapped in a spiral to the past. Sylus could at least heal my wounds. He couldn’t fix the crack in my heart, though he did manage to fill most of the emptiness just by existing.
Still she haunted me. Those white, empty eyes… The way her head…
My bedroom door swung open just as the worst memory of my life began to fully surface. “Makin’ a ham.” He always knew when I needed him most. “I saw leftover carbonara from last night. Want me to heat it back up?”
“Hey, Sy.” I croaked.
“Hey, Jer. You want that carbonara or?”
I forced a smile through dried tears. “Yeah but I can’t even get myself out of bed.”
He stepped into the room and lifted me effortlessly into his arms. The fire of his core kept him perpetually warm. I snuggled up against him as he carried me downstairs.
He placed me in a booth that was already filled with blankets. He wrapped me up to keep me warm against the chill of the Void coming in through the broken window. We’d fix it someday.
He kissed me on the top of my head before returning to the kitchen.
The brisk briny air was oddly refreshing. Even the sharp tang of the Mist was welcome compared to the stagnancy of my bedroom.
I looked out the window to the destroyed town around us. Ruins of homes scattered about. Some foundations remained, some shrapnel of walls, but not much else. It was like a bomb had gone off and wiped my beloved Orzuna off the map.
“Here we are.” Sylus murmured as he placed a plate of piping hot carbonara in front of me.
He slid into the booth across from me as his tentacles lowered a reheated ham onto the table.
“Eat.” He mumbled. “I find it helps with bouts of melancholy.” He picked up a carving knife and fork and got to work on his own meal. A meal he could have easily just bolted down, but instead he took the time to do it like anyone else.
I sighed as I slid an arm out from under my blankets. He was probably right, but eating took a level of effort I wasn’t even sure I had. I lifted the fork as if it weighed a thousand tons.
“You know,” He mumbled through a mouthful of food, “I’ve been thinking.”
I cleared my throat. “A-about?”
“Getting back into things I used to do as a mortal human.”
“Like?”
“So,” he swallowed and placed his utensils down on his plate, “I had an idea and this might be silly, but I used to read a lot to escape, well, life. When I could, of course, but I believe you understand that sentiment.”
I tilted my head to the side. “I only have the one book, Sy.”
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat as he reached into his pocket of the Void: The Darkspace. “I found this.” He twisted his torso as he stuck his other hand through the tiny rift in reality. “Qaitax stop. I told you I’d remove it so let me!” He grunted before finally pulling a tattered box overflowing with books. “Thank you.” He sighed. “I found this. Or, rather, more specifically, Daniel found it outside his school library. I guess they were rotating stock? I don’t know how that works. ANYWAY! I dug through it and found several books with dupes!”
“A-and?”
“Well, maybe, if you’re interested, we could, I don’t know, read them together?”
I cocked a brow.
“Like the same book at the same time?”
“So… our little book club?”
He nodded with a grin.
“Just you and me?”
“And this massive box of books!” He groaned as he put it on the floor beside the table. “Plenty to choose from!”
A genuine smile finally crossed my lips. “Were you reading my mind?”
“Not at all. You know we don’t do that. I just made a bit of an educated guess as to what you might enjoy. Something I believe any partner should be able to do.”
My smile grew as I slid my hand across the table and caressed his massive fingers.
“Thank you, Sy.” I sighed. “Thank you.”
“So? Book club?”
“Yes. Book club.”
“Your choice and if there isn’t a dupe I’ll find one.”
After spending all day laying around feeling nothing, I finally found my appetite.
Author’s Note: I’m torn on how to handle this one. Charity bake sale? Very on brand. Doing Viscera Cleanup Detail? Also on brand. Which one which one…
“Come on, Sy.” I wiped a glob of v’rilk off my face and slung my guitar behind me. “Let’s clean this up.”
“Clean?!” His eyes widened. “Can’t we just leave it for the lesser spawns to eat?”
“And attract them to a mortal city? You know that’s a terrible idea.”
“It very well may be, but I have zero desire to clean this level of viscera up.”
“Then I’ll do it myself. Just hang back a minute.”
I got ready to play a chord that would lift me into the air when he threw an arm across my chest.
“Don’t waste your energy.”
“Sylus, we just fought off a Watcher flock. There’s enough gunk here to attract a pack of Gaunts. We can’t leave these people like this.”
“Might I remind you, Jeron, exerting your magic draws from my core.”
Heat filled my face. I was well aware of that, but it was only by his actions that ‘my magic drew from his core’.
“That sounds like a distinctly you problem.” I snapped back. “I’m cleaning this up.”
He scoffed. “I mean no offense, but…”
“Offense already taken.”
“But,” he continued, “I’m far more efficient at this.”
“Then do it!” I cried out. “Either you do it or I do it. Us doing it is also an option.”
“Just,” he pushed me back with his arm, “just stay out of my way.”
I stepped back willingly and motioned for him to go ahead.
Sighing, a wreath of tentacles protruded from his back. They slammed into the pavement launching him back into the air like he’d spent most of our fight. Once he was high enough, they spread out like a glistening net. Starlight webbing laced between them. A deep, somber hum filled the air.
Every ounce of v’rilk around me began to vibrate. The alien material by which all spawns of the Void were born was drawn to him like a magnet. Not a drop was safe as it was all pulled from every tiny nook and cranny into his net.
After a few seconds passed and no more goop flew up into the air, the web of starlight retracted and massive tentacles shrank back behind him. He landed on the ground beside me with an unceremonious thud.
“There.” He breathed. “Done.”
“That was a bit over the top, don’t you think?”
“Over the top?!” He shrieked. “It was efficient!”
“So did that burn more of your core than me doing it manually would have?”
“We broke even.” He snarled. “It was by far faster, though.”
“Well,” I put my hands on his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him, “thank you for saving me the effort.”
“Ugh.” He groaned. “Well now I’m both over and under capacity, if you catch my drift. Hope you can get us home because I’m shot.”
“Too full but not enough fuel for the fire?”
A snarl rippled across his lips.
“That’s okay, big guy. You did a good thing, cleaning this town up from the mess we made.”
“Doesn’t feel good.” He mumbled. “I think I caught some debris.” He spat a pebble out.
“You’ll feel better once we’re home and under some cozy blankets.” I offered him my hand. “I’ll even throw in a nice big pitcher of ice cold water to sweeten the deal.” He muttered something under his breath. “Shall we?”
“You got enough juice in ya to get us back?”
“You know I come with my own limited reservoir of magic. Limited and shallow, but it’s plenty to get us back home.”
“Buh.” He took my hand and I took us home.
Author’s Note: Super short one today. I wasn’t entirely feeling the prompt (definitely deviated from the concept) and it was a pretty crap day irl, but at least I wrote something, right? Just sticking to it can be hard enough for me so although this is a lackluster entry (imo), I’m happy to post it.
Author’s Note: “Flirt with dessert”. This is the perfect prompt for my foodie boys. I was thinking about something ridiculous but I saw afternoon tea and I instantly knew where this had to go 😏
“You know what I’ve only done once but miss a considerable amount?” Sylus sat across the table from me, leaning on his hand, staring out the window.
I tilted the screen on my laptop down to meet his gaze. “What’s that?”
“Tea.”
I raised a brow. “Tea? You have a cup every night before bed.”
“No no. Afternoon Tea.”
“What?” I replied flatly.
“Never done it? Tea and lots of little sandwiches and scones and clotted cream…” I watched his starry eyes wander off into the distance. “It’s so good.” He murmured.
“So good it has the Devourer mouthwatering?”
He chuckled. “It’s an experience, that’s for sure.”
“Alright then.” I closed my lap top. “Let’s do Afternoon Tea.”
Sylus craned his neck around to look at the clock hanging over the kitchen door.
“4 o’clock. That’s well within Tea Time.”
“There’s a specific time?”
“Of course there is! 3:30-5pm is Afternoon Tea. 5-7 is High Tea. High Tea is dinner-ish. Afternoon Tea is lil sammiches.” He pinched his fingers together.
“And you’d rather little ‘sammiches’ over an actual meal?”
“Have you had cucumbers and cream cheese? What about tapenade on pumpernickel?”
“You said you’ve only done this once?”
He nodded. “I turned a lot of it into car snacks for Dan and I. Easy little things to carry around. Not always the highest quality but a nice change of pace from PB&J seven days a week.”
I smiled.
“It’s always better when it’s made by people who know what they’re doing, though. Along side some scones and clotted cream.”
“Clotted cream doesn’t exactly sound… good.”
“Forgive the name, but its delicious. Spread across a cranberry scone?” He gave a chef’s kiss.
“Alright alright.” I slid out of the booth. “Let’s go. Just remember, I’m not a huge tea person.”
“Understood, but if you treat it as a, well, treat you don’t have to pit it against coffee. There’s sweet dessert-y teas out there!”
I offered him my hand. “Then take me to Afternoon Tea, big guy.”
His tentacles shimmered and danced as he jumped to his feet. Taking my hand he kissed it softly before whisking us away for tea.
Emerging on a cement sidewalk, we were met with a one-story brick building with an extravagant carvings holding large windows in place. Vines wove and flowers bloomed in wood. I looked down at the dim marks that trailed up my arm to beneath the eyepatch I wore over my Voidal eye. I understood why Sylus liked this place.
The weaving floral motif followed us inside. The podium upon which sat menus was made of towering, twisting wooden vines. Climbing reliefs pressed out from the white surfaces of the walls. Hints of gold flecks shimmered in the warm light of the entrance.
“Hello and welcome to the Rosebloom Teahouse!” A woman dressed in blank pants and vest over a white frilly shirt appeared behind the podium. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We do not.” Sylus replied. “Do you have any availability?”
“Hm.” She opened a gold-leafed book that sat upon the podium. “It seems we have one, however there is a charge for-“
Sylus raised a massive hand. “Understood. We’ll take the table.”
“Very well then.” She collected the menus and led us deeper inside the artificial garden.
As we made our way down the hall, I noticed different rooms had different themes.
One was filled with brilliant sunlight with arcing windows like a greenhouse. Green vegetation seemed to grow with wild, reckless abandon. Alabaster tables and chairs filled what little open space there was.
Another was dark and filled with more sensual blooms. Shimmering in artificial sunlight, beads of water caught my eye as they speckled black roses and winding vines. Onyx seating was filled with people in evening attire. Bioluminescence glowed in the dim light. It was almost claustrophobic without any visible windows, but for some reason it called to me.
The room we arrived in was plain in comparison to either of the others from before. Two tall windows greeted us reminding me of the towering windows of home. Trees tastefully lined the room, branches reaching inward. A single, plain iron table was available for us to sit at.
Before we even reached the table, I struggled to envision Sylus fitting into these pitifully small chairs. Heck, I was worried I wouldn’t even fit.
“Here you are.” The maitre d’ placed the menus on the table. “Your server Grace will be with you shortly.”
We smiled and nodded and hoped she’d leave before we made fools of ourselves trying to sit down. Luckily, she was quick to be on her way.
Sylus and I looked down at the tiny chairs.
“I’m going to break that.” He muttered.
“Can’t you regulate your weight?”
“Certainly, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’d take four of those to hold my ass up.”
I snorted as I reached for the back of my chair.
“I was a lot smaller last time I was here.”
Heat filled my cheeks.
“You okay, big guy?”
He shrugged. “This was my idea.” He pulled out the chair and swung his leg over it. “I’ll just, uh,” he sat down, “figure it out.”
“The chairs in the dark room looked nicer.” I mused aloud.
“And it’s probably reserved for months.”
“Maybe we should book it for another time, then?”
“Jeron, I am very uncomfortable, but my discomfort pales in comparison to my desire for tea and tiny sandwiches.”
Laughing, I finally sat down in my chair. It was horrifically uncomfortable.
“I can assure you, these seats are perfectly fine for normal humans.”
“Of which neither of us are.” I shifted my weight to redistribute the discomfort.
“Good afternoon, I’m Grace and I’ll be taking care of you today.” A woman around our age appeared beside the table. Fiery red hair framed a pale, freckled face. She wore the same attire as the maitre d’. “Can I start you off with anything?”
Sylus popped open the menu and skimmed it before I even picked mine up.
“Can we have the Tea for Two?”
“Absolutely. Are the designated sandwiches okay or would you like to make substitutions? You’re allowed two.”
“I think they look fine. Jeron?”
I scrambled through the menu trying to find what he was talking about. Folding his backwards, Sylus handed me his menu. Six sandwiches, four pieces each, and tea for two with our choice of brew.
“I, uh, turkey and cranberry?” I looked up to Grace.
“Fresh turkey and cranberry sauce made every morning.”
I looked back at the menu. I had no idea what anything else was.
“Th-that sounds good.”
“And for your tea?”
“I’ll take the dark bergamot.” Sylus replied without missing a beat.
“And for you?” I felt Grace’s sharp green eyes on me.
“I, uh, I have no idea…” There were so many options and none of them made any sense to me.
“What’re you in the mood for, love? Sweet? Savory? A little bitter?”
“Let’s go with sweet…” I replied slowly.
“Do you trust my taste?”
“I-” I looked up to find him gazing at me, his elbows resting on the table and his chin in his hands. “I do. Yes.”
“Blackberry Sage. And can we get some honey for the table?”
“Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes with everything.”
“Thank you.” We spoke in unison.
It wasn’t long before a three-tiered tray of sandwiches showed up accompanied by a large kettle. A cup was set before each of us containing a bag of our chosen tea.
“Enjoy!” Grace smiled. “Let me know if you need anything!”
“Thank you.” We replied once more in unison.
I turned to Sylus. “So how does this work?”
“Pour the hot water over the tea and let it steep in the cup. About three minutes should do. In the meantime, have some sandwiches. They’re small, but they pack a lot of flavor.”
I filled my cup with the steaming water and watched as it turned a bright golden color. When Sylus did the same, his was far darker, almost black. Like coffee.
I bit my lip as I looked down at my cup. I trusted him to make a decision for me so I had to at least give it a try.
As my drink steeped I took a cucumber sandwich. How good could it be? Cucumber? Cream cheese? Bread? Surely he was overselling it.
He was not. It tasted so crisp and fresh I couldn’t help but reach for another.
When I saw Sylus take a sip of his cup, I figured it was time I tried my own. I sniffed it and couldn’t for the life of me tell if I liked the smell or not. So I took a sip.
I caught myself humming into the cup it was so good. Lowering it, I found Sylus leaning on his hands and smiling at me.
“Okay, it’s good,” I placed it back on it’s saucer, “but it is not a coffee replacement.”
“I never expected it to be.” He picked up and nibbled a pumpernickel sandwich.
The way he could be so gentle and delicate always filled me with inexplicable joy. I knew him as a warrior, a blood-stained, battle-hardened, eldritch weapon. But I also knew him as a simple man who loved his tea and little sandwiches. Both sides made my heart sing, but together they made up the missing half of my soul.
We talked of little things and avoided the bigger issues in life. We sipped our tea and ate our finger sandwiches. We smiled. We laughed. He hummed while he ate. I listened as Eternity reached out to me, threatening to drag me away from the moment.
Once all was said done, we had managed to get through Afternoon Tea without breaking any furniture.
Author’s Note: I apologize for the somewhat sudden ending. Sometimes if I keep going things get too long and out of control. There was more I wanted to do, so I have a feeling this’ll either get a rewrite in the future or find its way into a future book. I really do love the concept of romantic meals.
Also, it appears Clyde’s getting a bit shy! I’ll see if I can get his big ol’ peepers in the next post!
Author’s Note: For a brief moment, “Eternity’s Irys” was called “Mixtape for Saving the World” and every chapter shared a title with a song so if you put a playlist together of chapter titles, you’d have a mix tape. I’ve always wanted music to be an important factor in my story, which isn’t exactly easy considering the format. Jeron’s conduit is his guitar and his creative passion lies in music. Sylus, being a Voidlord, has a complex relationship with music that I’d love to get into, but spoilers? Back in the day, music was going to be a weapon, but instead it exists on both sides of the war with very different meanings.
Anyway, let’s see how this one pans out!
I sat in the truck, head back against the headrest, waiting for the wailing noise coming from the speakers to become music again. Over time, I’d come to recognize the Void’s erasure of “The Devil’s Headlights” lively swing. Their names and music would scramble in my mind and to fight back, I’d listen through the noise until I remembered everything. Their smiles, their laughter, their passion… Gone. Stolen and erased. This was a near daily ritual as I refused to ever forget anyone who impacted my life.
Sylus stood outside the door, crouched down, looking through the window. He’d long left me to my meditations. He had his own version of forgetting, but as he’d told me before, Qaitax would always remind him if for no other reason than to reduce his stress. I didn’t have that option. I had to remember on my own. Sylus could try to help, but I was always resistant until the noise became music again. So he’d leave me be while I forced myself to remember the day the Void stole my humanity.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him stand up. He held a piece of plastic in his hand and tapped it against the window.
I glanced at the stereo. The last track was almost over. Hubert, Amber, Utia, Rory, Emelio, Xandra… I remembered them now. I sat up and hovered my hand over the power button. I knew Sylus would wait for me, so I let their horns and strings strike their final notes before turning the stereo off and sitting back in my chair.
It never got any easier.
Opening the door, Sylus stepped back to give me room.
“What’s up, big guy?” I breathed.
Without a word, he offered me a cassette.
“What’s this?” I took it and studied the blank surface.
He shrugged. “It doesn’t always have to be bleak.”
“Hm?”
“Music. You only ever hear it in combat or in silent mourning. I, well, I just figured you might like a change of pace.”
“What’s on it?”
He nodded toward the truck. “Care to find out?”
I smiled as I got back in. I waited for him to come around to the passenger side before popping the tape into the stereo.
The tail end of a news report trailed off as music began to play.
“Wait,” I put a hand on his thigh, “Sylus, is this a mix tape?”
He shrugged.
“An old fashioned mix tape?!”
He shrugged again.
“You sat in your cramped sedan in the middle of the Creche Desert and recorded songs for me? For ME?!”
He scoffed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Awww!” I leaned across the bench and threw my arms around him.
“You might not like them all.”
“What made you choose the ones you did?”
“They reminded me of you in some way.”
Awww!” I nuzzled his chest.
“And some I just liked but couldn’t remember the names of. Might run them past Daniel at some point.”
Every so often the songs would be broken up by ads or news or callsigns. I’d catch Sylus cringing at his imperfect recording, but I thought it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
Judging by the interludes, it had taken him months to record it. News of the Void grew more frequent and callers became more concerned. Still, the music played.
I found something to enjoy in every track. Some I definitely jived with more than others, but I loved each and every one of them regardless.
Sylus wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against him.
“You’re the sweetest little squid I’ve ever met.”
“I’m the only squid you’ve ever met.”
I laughed as I tightened my grip around him. It had taken him some time to accept the confusing dichotomy of calling him both “big guy” and “little squid”, but as with all my silly idiosyncrasies, he accepted it.
I closed my eyes as the music played.
“You are soooo beautiful… to me…” The words rumbled from his chest.
I sat up and met his teary gaze.
“I told myself I wouldn’t sing. I’m terrible at it.” He sniffed.
I ran my fingers through his thick beard. “You are so beautiful, to me, can’t you see?”
In the middle of nowhere, in the cabin of my mother’s old truck, under a Void-wrought sky of tentacles and brilliant starlight, we sang in each other’s arms. We sang loud and offkey. Too fast, too slow. Breaking voices, quiet whispers. We sang.
Until the music trailed off and the world was quiet once more. The tape clicked signifying the end of its playtime.
The stars in his eyes shimmered beneath his welling tears. I ran a thumb beneath them and a solitary drop escaped.
“Oh, Sylus.” I rested my head against him again. “Thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome.” He croaked and sniffed. “I know it was a bit of a mess and some of my timing was off on recording and sometimes the quality was quite bad…”
I put a finger to his lips. “It’s beautifully imperfect.”
He smiled.
Author’s Note 2: If anyone’s interested, I’ll probably put Sylus’ mixtape together on some platform (Spotify). If that day comes, I’ll share a link right down here!
Author’s Additional Note: Since this has been my most popular post of all time, my illustrator, Rhett, decided to do a little sketch!
I love it so much! It makes my heart sing in ways I can’t express 🦑💜🦇
Author’s Note: Opening the book at random, our first date challenge is to “Find a cosy co-working place together”. Interesting premise, since Jeron and Sylus don’t exactly have traditional forms of employment. However, if we jump ahead and get a bit spoilery, I think we can work something out 😉
A light tap on my office door stole my attention away from the documents that scattered my desk.
“Come in.” I nearly snapped from exhaustion.
The door creaked open and a tentacle slid in, waving at me.
“Come in, Sy.” I smiled as I leaned my arms on the desk.
The door opened the rest of the way and he stepped in, closing it gingerly behind him.
“Jeron, I was not built for office work.” He grumbled.
“Neither was I, but right now that’s what we have to do.”
“I’ve written so much Qalian I’m uncertain if I remember any Anglican.”
I smiled. “At least you can write Qalian. I can barely speak it.” I leaned back in my chair. “What’s up, Sy?”
“I have a conundrum, if you will.”
“And that is?”
“I’m very bored and I’m swiftly losing focus. I figure a change of scenery may help.”
I raised a brow. “You have a place in mind?”
“There’s a café in the mountains. Around where Innaya lives.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we pick up the most urgent thing on our plates and take it for a little walk.”
I sighed.
“Might help with,” he motioned to the mess on my desk, “whatever the hell all that is.”
“It is a communique with Dunskye, if you cared to know.”
“That all?”
I sifted through the scattered pages. “Among… other… things…”
He snorted.
“You expect me to believe your desk looks any better, Lord Scatterbrain?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I never claimed it did.”
I sighed.
“Get your penpal letter to Marcus together and we’ll go for a little weave, yeah?”
“Y-yeah… Guess I could use some fresh coffee.” I side-eyed the day old pot on a stand across the room.
“And I some tea I didn’t forget to drink. I’ll be right back.”
Sylus left the room in a drop of ink.
Was Dunskye my most pressing matter? I shuffled the pages and everything seemed to blur together. It was all important, but I couldn’t take an entire binder full of treatises with me to a café. Closing my eyes, I let my hand fall on whatever Sion’Dri decided.
Sure enough, it was my letter to Marcus Vance of Dunskye. It was a neighboring town that found itself in a similar situation as Ortzuna. As in, no Lord had laid claim to it for fear of Sylus. That also included Sylus who’d yet to start marking his territory. My intention was to ask Marcus to join an alliance of sorts so at the very least we could protect ourselves in lieu of a Lord’s boon. I have a suspicion that Dunskye has its own bed of secrets just like Ortzuna does.
Picking the scrambled pages up, I slipped them into a folder and stood up from my desk.
A drop of ink appeared in the middle of the room. A flurry of tentacles gave way to Sylus’ rotund form. He held under his arm a golden grimoire; something to do with the Xanthous Court.
“Shall we?” He offered me his hand.
Tired, but smiling, I took it.
In the blink of an eye, we appeared outside Innaya’s towering stone-work home. The mountain air was so different from that of the sea that it always took me a few breaths to acclimate.
Behind us stretched a cobblestone street lined with shops and homes. A tiny town, much like Ortzuna, that seemed untouched by the Void, unlike Ortzuna. A hidden gem, as Innaya would call it.
We made our way down a few blocks before arriving at the café Sylus had in mind.
Another stone building with a bright green awning handing over wrought iron outdoor seating. A sign hung from an iron arm protruding from beside the door:
Northwind Cafe and Sundries
A bell chimed as we opened the solid wood door. The cozy warmth of brewing beverages washed over us.
Drifting straight for the counter, we found our place on a relatively short line. Sylus stood beside me humming his little tune and I absently leaned against his arm.
“I’ll have a large chai, please.” His gruff voice brought me back to reality.
“Oh, and I’ll, uh, have,” I glanced up at the menu, “a mocha latte. Please. Thank you.”
Sylus beamed as he paid for our drinks.
We made our way to a window table. Around the room were tables and shelves of various snacks and baked goods. Soft music played to match the gentle atmosphere we’d found ourselves in.
All I really knew anymore was war and politics. Quiet moments were few and far between. Most of them were just lying in bed with Sylus and passing out near instantly.
But a café? A free café devoid of Lords and their influences? No raucous noises? No fear of death looming just outside? A place where daylight still dawned and eternal darkness had yet overtaken it?
I closed my eyes and considering forgetting about the folder I held under my arm.
I felt Sylus’ presence disappear only to return a moment later. The scent of fresh brewed coffee filled my nose. I sighed.
“This is nice.” I opened my eyes to find him leaned back in his chair, reading glasses on, tea in one hand, and his golden grimoire open and leaning against his crossed mountainous legs. I cleared my throat as I placed my folder on the table.
Starry eyes smiled as I forced myself to get to work. I glanced up at him and met his beaming gaze.
Clearing my throat again, I got to work.
Every so often his gentle humming would rise above the ambient music. I’d glance up and find him working some magic over the pages of his tome. Whatever he was doing was far more Voidal than my simple, hand-written letter. He looked almost sagely sitting there with his legs folded, glasses settled on the tip of his nose, the occasional tentacle-tongue slipping through his lips when intense concentration came into play.
As for me, the change of scenery really did help. I was finally able to put my words together exactly how I wanted to. All the necessary details and none of the nervous fluff I’d filled it with before. Instead of five pages, it was two. Pleased with my work, I sat back and took a long sip of my coffee which was still hot.
“I got you a refill.” Sylus answered the question that flashed through my mind. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” I put all the pages back in my folder and closed it.
“Finish your communique?” He smiled over his grimoire.
“I think so. Might sleep on it to see if I come up with any other anxiety-induced alterations.”
“You sound like me.” He unfolded his leg and laid the book down on the table.
“And what were you doing all this time?”
He groaned. “Writing a letter of my own to the Xanthous Lord. Stubborn bastard won’t even read it if it’s not written a certain way. Qalian, yes, but the dialect? The hue? Pah! All that just for an audience I probably won’t even be granted.”
“Your both Lords, can’t you just talk to each other like equals?”
“Half-breed, Jeron. I’m a half-breed, remember?”
“Yeah…” I sighed. “But a Lord’s a Lord, right?”
He chuckled. “I wish.” He clapped the book shut. “It just so happens I finished my latest attempt at a missive as well.”
“How was your chai?”
“Delicious. And yours?”
I took a fresh sip so I could actually taste it for once. “Mmm. I’d come back.”
“As would I.” He sniffed the air. “I can smell the fresh-baked bread.”
“Wanna grab a bite?”
“If I grabbed a bite, I’d have to start feasting. I’m hungry, yes, but a place like this couldn’t even begin to sate me and I’d hate to eat them out of everything they have.”
“Then a hunt it is.” I leaned across the table and kissed him softly on the lips. “Take me home so I can send this before I worry about it all night.”
“Final” Stats: 48 Chapters 99,591 Words 426 Pages (with two extra reserved for special features)
As of today, my first physical pass of Eternity’s Irys is now complete. I intend to do one more with a softcover copy before calling it 100% complete. I would say we are at the 80% mark.
Things still in the works: -Mandala artist’s credit -Cover art -Super Secret Extra Project -Illustrator credit
I’m still aiming for an official release in June, but with all the work I’m putting on my illustrator, that might be changing. I’m willing to push it all back to make it perfect and I think between the two of us, it will be.
I may have mentioned a Valentines Day project. As of right now that’s been scrapped in favor of the Super Secret Extra Project. I’m very excited about it and I believe it’s the lux treatment Eternity’s Irys deserves.
I truly believe that Eternity’s Irys is nearing the end of its journey to be the best version of itself it can be.
After the paperback pass, it’ll probably be shelved until my illustrator can tackle their work and boy do they have a lot of it. In the meantime, I plan on trying to source some fun little merch things like pins and stickers! Might be a good time to learn how to use my Cricut 🤔
After his amazing work with the holiday piece, Rhett Cameron Morris has officially been hired as both cover artist and illustrator. He has a lot on his plate, but I know he’ll pull it all off.
With all that said, I believe that concludes this little update. Consider the publish date malleable, but everyone will be kept updated on that situation as I’m lowkey considering planning a party around it.
Did I say party? Yes. Yes I did. I would really like to do a release party sometime this year. How I’ll do it, or even afford it, I have absolutely no idea, but there has to be a way to do something like this on a budget. To the drawing board!
Earlier today I finished reading the entire physical copy of my book and it went so much better than I expected. I really thought it still needed a lot of work, but besides some small things, minor formatting issues, and a retooling of the literal last chapter, I think it’s damn near finished.
As you can see, the book’s been through some stuff. The dust jacket is in my commuting backpack and the hardcover has definitely seen better days, but it’s been places. It’s been to work, cafes, bus rides, home…
Every time I open its pages I find myself enamored with it all over again. I flip through the pages to remind myself that this is very real.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself now that I was done combing through the physical book so I decided to just get to work transposing everything into the master file. Of course, after ignoring me all day, Zucca decided now was the time to get in the way.
I think once this pass is done, I’m going to see about obtaining some cheaper paperbacks and going through it one last time.
Other things going on in the background:
I’m trying to obtain permission to use the mandala artwork in the official publication. It’s up to the artist if they’ll allow it. If not, I’m going to see if I can commission something custom from the same artist. If not again, then I’ll have to go back to the drawing board with page artwork.
The cover art is on a bit of a backburner at the moment. Valentines Day, a holiday I don’t really care for, but its an excellent excuse for cute artwork of the boys, is approaching and said artwork is already underway.
I’m still aiming for a June 2024 release and at this rate that should still be very possible. I keep saying it as a kind of affirmation to remind myself that I’m not insane by setting a deadline like this.
Still feels incredibly surreal that I’ve gotten this far after all these years. I might finally be able to call myself a real deal author someday soon!
After five years of drafting this thing and over twenty years of writing in general, I ended 2023 with a copy of my book.
Written in Google Docs with the aforementioned Royal Kludge keyboard, formatted in Atticus, “edited” with ProWritingAid, and print-formatted by my brother Paul, my unofficial “publisher”.
He had four of these pre-production copies printed and they are BEAUTIFUL!
I knew he’d been working on it as it was somewhat of a collaboration, but I was under the impression it’d be a while before I’d ever get to see it. Well, on the night of December 30th, sitting in his car the cold, dark, wet of Pittsburgh, he handed me a copy. Just out of the blue.
It took me a minute to process what it was I now held.
My book.
Eternity’s Irys.
I was holding it.
I never gave any thought to how this moment would play out as I had it locked away as a work of fiction in and of itself.
I broke down and cried. Sobbed, even. Ugly, happy, proud tears.
I’ve been in a state of awe ever since. The copy pictured, 1 of 4, is my editing copy as in the excitement a page got a bit torn. Three more still sit on the shelf beside my desk. One will go home with my brother. The other two will remain with me. I would offer them to some special people, but I’ve found some crazy typos just in the first chapter!
On that note, editing in the book has been AMAZING. I was struggling so hard with doing yet another pass on my screen, but putting pen to actual paper, BOUND paper, not just printed out on a laserjet, adds a level of realism to the process I’ve never felt before.
The copies themselves are hardcover with a dustcover, lined with purple paper, printed on satin pages, and includes a beautiful little purple bookmark. They’re perfect.
I intend to design a limited “Release Edition” once it’s all ironed out. As of right now, I’m editing the physical copy and the cover artist has a June 2024 deadline which we will be strongly targeting in the coming months. I have to work on obtaining rights for the embellishment image I’ve been using. As of right now it’s for personal use only and these are only personal copies. I’d like to clear it for printing. Finally, I’ll have to obtain IBNs for it and get it officially listed as a real book for real people to buy.
A mid-2024 release is VERY possible. Scarilly possible.
I am both nervous and excited, but mostly determined.
Happy New Years to everyone and I hope its everything we all need and deserve!
2024 is going to be a BIG year for Eternity’s Irys! Stay tuned!
Even in shambles, Ortzuna found a way to celebrate the end of the year and the beginning of the cold dark of winter. And winter was truly dark on Ancora.
The Kierhail fell around the chapel allowing Sylus and I to enter. In the absence of my father, we knew we could trust the new wielder of the key to not reduce us to screaming piles of voidal flesh.
“Oh look how much you’ve grown, dearie!” A grinning Adelaide Crenshaw shuffled over to me, white hair a bedraggled mess, and a crystal cross hanging from her neck.
“It’s only been a few months, Adelaide!” I laughed.
“And you look a bit worse for ware, young man.” She shook her head at Sylus who dignified her with a halfhearted shrug.
“Thanks for letting us in.” I continued. “I know it can’t be easy to let yourselves be so vulnerable in light of-“
“None of that, now, dearie.” Adelaide interrupted. “Fate does as fate wills. Mason knew that.”
A somber silence settled between us. The crystals embedded in the chapel glistened in the dim candle light that flickered inside. Ma’s gifts, the sources of the kierhail’s power.
“But if it wasn’t for him being a stupid bastard, you never would’ve shown up, would you?” She jabbed Sylus in the belly, knocking the air from him.
“It’s Soldheiria, Adelaide.” I really didn’t want to think about my father right now. “You know what that means.” It meant the last light of our solar cycle would fall on Ancora. It’d be another several months before we saw it again, Void willing.
“I do, but have you seen the town lately?” She leaned around us to look out the door. “Ortzuna is done for.” She sighed. “Had I known it would happen so soon I would have gathered some more sentimental things.”
“Like?” Sylus piped up.
“Oh, just things. Nothing necessary for survival.”
“But what kind of things?” Sylus had latched on to the conversation.
“Well, my medic kit, for one. Old and outdated, but it meant a lot to me. Went through the war from start to finish. I somehow feel bad for it being washed away with the tide. Ever feel like an inanimate object deserves the same respect as a person?”
Sylus and I both nodded.
“Then you understand.”
“Anything else?”
“Off the top of this old head? Arty’s gutpipe. I don’t think a person alive can make that thing sound any better than a screaming hoard of cats, but Arty could and Lord do I miss him.”
“Anything else?”
She narrowed her gaze on Sylus. “Why do you ask, young man?”
Sylus graced her with another dismissive shrug.
“No.” She replied slowly. “Nothing else comes to mind.”
With a nod, Sylus vanished into a drop of ink.
“Oh where’s he gone?!” Adelaide cried out.
“To get your stuff, I’d assume.”
“Oh it’s long at the bottom of the ocean by now.”
“Good thing Qaitax is a good swimmer.”
“You think that creature would indulge your boy’s act of kindness?”
“I know he would.”
Adelaide sighed. “Best of luck to both of them, but I think it’s a needle in a haystack situation. Anyway, come, dearie, we’re digging out all the old Soldheiria decorations your mother hoarded. Figured we’d at least do something on the inside.”
I laughed. “She really did have a hard time parting with things.”
Adelaide lead me down a set of stairs I hadn’t trod since I was a child. The basement had always felt like a mystical place far from sight and hardly thought about. In reality, it was a pool table with a small seating area around an ancient television with several closets along the sides.
The townspeople were pulling out boxes upon boxes of Soldheiria related bits and baubles. Ornaments, pine cones, tinsel, lights, pine tree stems… They fumbled and dug through everything as if trying to piece any of it together.
“Looks like they could use a hand.” Adelaide turned to me. “Do you happen to recall how your mother did things?”
“Oh god, Adelaide, it’s been decades.”
“Well, do you?”
I sighed. “Of course I do.”
She pressed a piece of festive fabric against my chest. It was Ma’s old bandana.
“Then get to work.” She commanded before wandering away.
Shaking my head, I removed my own plain brown bandana allowing my dreads to fall around my face. Gathering them back up, I tied the red and green cloth behind my head.
“You all need a hand?” I smiled.
Everyone turned to me. The looks ranged from confused to appalled to horrified. Whatever wind I had in my sails was gone. How could I forget how much I’d changed? How could I forget that my curse was born plainly upon my face? No, it wasn’t a curse, it was a gift. A gift of life and strength. I only called it a curse when anything even slightly negative came of it. Still, a glowing weave of floral tendrils etching the scarring around my eye made it very clear I wasn’t entirely human anymore.
All of them, even the less upset of them, turned their backs on me and resumed rummaging through the boxes albeit quieter and more delicately.
Face on fire, I turned and made my way back upstairs. The mystique of the basement now fully banished from my mind.
“That was fast, dearie.” I found Adelaide standing watch by the chapel doors.
“Eh, they had it under control.” I slipped the bandana off my head, jammed it in my pocket, and replaced it with my own.
“They really didn’t.” She turned to me. “It’s the eye, though, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Well I for one like that you’re still alive and kicking around with the rest of us so a little eldritch magic can be overlooked.”
I chuckled. “The kierhail is eldritch magic, Adelaide.”
“Don’t I know it.” She murmured.
“Happy Soldheiria, Adelaide.” I breathed.
“Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.”
A splash of ink hit the ground and Sylus reappeared just outside the chapel soaking wet and shivering.
“I-I d-don’t like the o-ocean.” He spoke through chattering teeth.
“Then why did you go diving in it?!” I laughed.
He held out his hands. In one was a tin box and the other was a very waterlogged gutpipe.
“You didn’t…” Adelaide caught herself between a scream and a sob.
She took a few steps forward and Sylus closed the distance.
“Here.” He placed the items in her hands. “Happy Soldheiria.”
“You celebrate?” She sniffed.
“N-not personally, n-no. I don’t celebrate religious holidays for, w-well,” he motioned to the writhing tentacles protruding from his back, “r-reasons, b-but you and Jeron do, so I suppose I-I d-do for the t-time being.”
I shoved him lightly. The cold wet of his clothes sent shivers down my spine.
“You’re so cold, Sy.”
“Y-yes I very much am.”
Adelaide clutched her belongings to her chest. “This is all I have left of all those times we had together. Even the memories come and go.”
“Go inside, Mrs. Crenshaw.” Sylus beamed. “Put the shield back up and stay safe.”
“But what about Soldheiria? I invited you both and-“
“We don’t belong here anymore, Adelaide.” I interrupted. “I don’t belong here anymore. I-I’m sorry.” I let loose a breath I’d been holding for what felt like an eternity.
“That’s not true, dearie! This is your home! You grew up here!” She motioned to the diner down the street. “Your home is right there!” I followed her gesture.
“Home is more than a building, Adelaide.” I mumbled.
“Ah,” her energy dissipated, “this is very true.”
“But do you think anyone would mind if Sylus and I set up shop here? We tend to come and go from the Diner.”
“Dearie, I wouldn’t worry about what others think at this point. Every one of us can see the truth of what’s going on and whether they like it or not, they’d be fools to turn down the help of a Voidlord and an Archon.”
I smiled . “Do you need any food or water or necessities?”
“Honestly?” She piped up again. “We could all really use some new underwear. I don’t think anyone would care about the brand. Just some panties for the guys and gals.”
I turned to Sylus.
“Yes?”
“Can you go grab some underwear of various cuts and sizes?”
He glared at me.
“If you could, Sy?”
He threw his hands in the air and groaned before setting off once more in a drop of ink.
“Thank you, dearie.” Adelaide gave me a shallow bow. “Your mother has us well stocked in everything else for the time being, but underwear just wasn’t on the list, I suppose. Though I believe she believed we’d have more planning behind moving in here than the sudden arrival of a Voidlord. Or maybe she just didn’t expect the entire town to get washed away on T-Day.”
“T-Day?”
“Tentacle or Tether Day. It’s what one particular lad on the radio calls it. For some reason people call him crazy.”
“He can see it?”
“I figure a giant tentacle tide locking us to the moon would be a pretty obvious sight.”
“Only certain people can see it. Most everyone else just sees reality as if nothing has changed.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” She looked up to a sky full of writhing tendrils. “Oh if only I could see the sun shine one last time.” She trailed off. “You have until Spring to fix this mess!” She barked as she pulled the holiday bandana out of my pocket. “Put it back on. She’d want you to wear it.”
With a pained sigh, I put it back on.
“There! Much better.” Adelaide patted me on the back. “You remind me so much of her.”
“I wish I was more like her.”
Strings rang out as random notes sang from the guitar on my back. I looked down to find Adelaide plucking on them.
“Don’t live in her shadow, Jeron. You’ve already escaped one prison, don’t fall prey to another.”
“Y-yeah… You’re… You’re right…”
“I know damn well I am!”
“H-here.” A random voice came from behind us.
I turned to find one of my old neighbors holding a rats nest of lights. He shoved them into my arms. “Put them up along the steeple.”
Adelaide glared at him.
“Please.” He added before bowing and darting off.
“They’re trying, dearie.” She sighed. “I thought they’d be more understanding after everything your ma did for us. Was never a secret she wasn’t human and yet they can’t wrap their heads around the same for you. I’ll never understand it.”
A soft smile crossed my lips. “Let me just get these up there real quick.”
I slung the lights over one shoulder and brought my guitar around from from the other side. I played a few notes and a path of stepping stones of dark, inky bubbles formed before me leading up to the steeple.
This was my magic. My mother’s guitar my conduit, Sylus’ core my power source. My strength born from those I loved the most.
I sat up in the steeple by myself trying to undo the mess of lights. The dim bubble light I worked by was suddenly obscured. I looked up to find a box of brand new similar lights. I smiled as I took them.
“Thanks, Sy.”
Without a word, I felt him leave again.
Though the connection we had was powerful, it was also dangerous soul magic that bound are very beings. In the heat of battle we could practically become one, but that was the danger in it. Our souls vied for control in our unified goals which is why we made it a point not to casually read each other’s thoughts. The mind was a private, sacred place, but sometimes, he’d hear me struggling and respond in kind.
Once I managed to get the lights up, I made my way back down to the pavement. Sylus appeared beside me.
“Darkspace is full of underwear. Please tell me where you would like me to deposit it all before Qaitax has a fit and turns it all to ash.”
I snorted. “Adalaide?” I called into the chapel.
“Oh is the underwear here?!” She came shuffling back outside. She stepped out into the street past Sylus and turned to look up at the roof. “They look lovely, dearie. Thank you.” And then she turned to Sylus. “You can just unload them all in the chapel. Everyone can sort through them for themselves. Oh, did you happen to grab any kids’?”
“Yeah and some diapers actually. Wasn’t sure what the demographic was.”
“Well I’m not sure we need those at the moment, but diapers sure can come in handy at times.” She motioned for us to go inside.
Cringing, Sylus thrust his tentacles into his Darkspace and began flinging packages of underwear into the pulpit. At the end, there were several technicolored piles.
“Organized by size.” He explained.
“Oh you’re such a wonderful young man.” Adelaide tugged on his arm. “Thank you. Truly, this is a Soldheiria miracle!”
I laughed. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“We?” Sylus balked.
“Is there anything else Sylus can do for you?” I patted his belly.
“No, no.” She smiled. “This is already far more than enough.” She turned to us. “You’ll check back, won’t you?”
“Hm?”
“You’re heading out, aren’t you?”
“Ah, yeah…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “We need to get going.”
“I just want to stop by to see Dan real quick. You can hang here if you want.” Sylus nudged me gently.
“And I’d like to go with you to see Dan.”
“Are you sure?”
I turned to him. “Very. I think we’ve Soldheiria-ed enough for my side of the family. Let’s go see yours.”
He smiled.
“Be safe, you two.” Adelaide said. “I’d like to see you both back here someday. In one piece, preferably.”
“We’ll do our best, Adelaide.”
“Keep each other safe. He may be big but he’s soft and you may be quick, but you’re just learning to fly. Take care of each other.”
I nodded. “We will. Of course we will.”
“Good.” There was a slight waver in her voice. “Now,” she cleared her throat, “get going so I can put the shield back up and everyone can come forage for fresh underwear.”
Sylus and I smiled as we stepped outside. We watched as Adelaide returned her pendant to the pedestal in the pulpit, raising the kierhail once more.
“Alright.” I breathed as I offered Sylus my hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
With a soft smile, he took my hand and obliged, whisking me away through the void and across the continent to another place of adversity. Someplace far from the familiarities of home.
We appeared outside a brownstone house just outside a bustling city. For a long moment, we lingered across the street staring at the building. I knew how much these encounters stressed Sylus out, but it was still his idea to be here. I took his hand. Unlike his usual warmth, I was met with bone-chilling ice.
“You’re way too cold, big guy.” I wrapped my arms around him. The dampness was gone, but there was no mistaking how frosty he was.
“Th-the ocean’s cold.” He replied.
I could feel some kind of sickness swirling inside of him. Exhaustion, the cold, and his anxiety about the house before us melted into a deep cringe on his brow.
“I-I can’t see Daniel like this. D-Dorry’ll already look for any reason to turn me away and I’m sure she’d see me shaking like a l-leaf.”
“A change of clothes, then?”
He sighed. “For the best. Maybe we can come back tomorrow and-“
“We’re in the city, Sylus. Surely you know a place you can get something quick and I don’t mean Finn’s.”
“Finn’s closed for the holidays anyway.” He forced a laugh. “He takes his time off very seriously.”
“As he should. Let’s just start walking and see what we find. It’s still early enough in the day.” I suggested.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”
I released him from my embrace and took his hand again.
It didn’t take long for something to catch his eye. We were maybe two blocks in when he stopped in his tracks staring at a window display across the street: a Santa suit and a reindeer onesie.
“Awww!” I squeezed his hand tighter. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.” I dragged him across the street.
We emerged some time later with Sylus muttering to himself: “Why make a Santa outfit if you’re not gonna make it for fat people?” He adjusted the antler headband he now wore on his head.
“Does seem kinda strange.” I tried to get the beard and mustache to sit properly on my face but it kept sliding down. “Too big for me and too small for you. What a world we live in. It is prety last minute though.”
“That it is.” He sighed as he tucked his new t-shirt into a pair of brown slacks. This was not the Sylus I knew. The man would never leave the house without a three piece suit and here he was in a t-shirt and jeans. Not just any t-shirt, but a graphic t-shirt that read “Sleigh, Queen, Sleigh”. I laughed every time I read it.
“Think this is okay?” He motioned to himself.
“Are you comfortable?”
He reached into a bag and retrieved a denim jacket. Shrugging it on and smoothing it out he gave it some thought before nodding.
“Then it’s perfect.”
“But he’s thirteen. It’s not like he’s a little kid anymore.”
“I think he’ll appreciate it.”
He sighed.
“Besides,” I laughed, “they didn’t exactly have any big-boned reindeer costumes either.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
We walked back holding hands until we reached that familiar brownstone. Unfortunately we now stood at the end of the cement walk with no street between us and the picketed front lawn.
Sylus swallowed hard before marching up the walkway. I stayed close behind. Taking a deeply pained breath, he knocked on the door.
Muttering whispers and clicking heels on wood came from the other side. Sylus’ stern face drooped into a frown.
The door opened. A frizzy auburn-haired woman in a red-sequin dress with a hard glare in her eyes stared at Sylus. Behind her was a smaller, tired-looking man in an ugly holiday sweater.
“What do you want?” She barked.
“I came to see Daniel, Dorry.”
“We’re busy and you know the rules about unannounced visits.”
I leaned around them to see a massive conifer tree decorated to the nines sitting in their living room.
“Hey, Jeron.” The man nodded to me from behind his wife.
“Hey, Rich.” I nodded in reply.
“In case you forgot,” Doreen continued, “we are a family and we celebrate the holidays as one.”
“For fucksake, Dorry, I’m your brother!”
“Just because you keep using that word doesn’t make it true.”
Sylus’ face flushed a deep shade of violet. He was about to stand down when I stepped up. “Please? It’ll only be for a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
“That’s not fair to the boy.” She snapped. “You can’t just come and go as you please.”
“You think I like-” Sylus shook his head. “He’s my son!” He snapped back. “Why do we have to do this every time, Dorry? Please just let me see my boy. We all know you’re his family, but he’ll always be my son. You understood that when you took him in.”
Doreen glared at him while Rich wandered away.
“Dad?!” Footsteps ran across the house.
Doreen closed her eyes in defeat.
“Dad!” Daniel cried out from behind her. “Happy Soldheiria, Dad!” He shoved past her and into Sylus’ arms.
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.”
“Daniel.” Her composure was falling apart. “Please come back inside.”
“Can we just have a minute, please, Dorry?”
Pain shot across her face, but she was quick to bury it behind a scowl. Turning back inside, she slammed the door shut behind her.
“You always undermine me!” She screamed.
“First of all, I’m making dinner. Second of all, that’s Dan’s dad not some random stranger. You’re all about family until he shows up. Relax. Please.” A measured reply came from Rich through an open window.
“They suck during the holidays.” Daniel muttered.
“That’s not nice, Dan. They’re doing their best and they’ve taken great care of you. Grant them some grace. Please.”
Daniel reached up and fixed Sylus’ antlers. “I was half expecting them to be repurposed tentacles or something.”
“Nah, just felt.”
The boy turned to me. “Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.”
“You bring me anything?” He motioned to the plastic bag in my hand.
“Daniel!” Sylus cried out.
“Well he’s Santa with a bag so I feel like that was a reasonable ask.”
I burst out laughing.
“Here.” Sylus crouched down and pulled on the cord around Daniel’s neck revealing a soul crystal in the shape of an iris from beneath his shirt. “Let me charge you up a bit.”
Daniel recoiled. “The voice told me what you have to do to charge it. It’s too much.”
“Oh Daniel,” Sylus beamed, “you’re my flesh and blood. Nothing is too much for you. Besides,” he motioned toward the direction the bickering was coming from, “you need to keep them as safe as they’ve kept you all this time.”
“What about you?”
“Dorry would kill me if I lingered around here. It’s up to you to keep your home safe. I’m sorry, I know its a lot for a child, but-“
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re thirteen!”
“And it’s in the name. I’m a teenager. Adult lite. I can handle it.” Daniel sighed before offering Sylus his crystal again. “Please don’t hurt yourself, Dad.”
Smiling, Sylus took the pendant in his hand. After a brief flash of violet light, he released it.
“Thanks, Dad.” Daniel threw his arms around his father’s neck.
“You’re very welcome, Kiddo.”
I crouched down and reached into the bag. Daniel caught my motions and looked at me expectantly. I offered him a round red ball with a slit in one side.
“He didn’t want to put it on.” I explained.
Grinning, Dan took it and slid it onto Sylus’ nose.
The smile Sylus had for his son was unlike any other. There was always so much love and pride in his eyes. With that big grin on his face, he took Daniel in his arms and stood up beside me.
“You’ll behave for them, won’t you?” Sylus breathed.
“I dunno.” Daniel turned to me. “Am I on the naughty or nice list?”
“Fresh slate for the year to come.” I answered.
“Then I guess I’ll try.”
“You can do better than that!” Sylus laughed.
“Dad, I like to think I’m a pretty good kid. No truancy, no drugs, no sex, some rock and roll, straight A’s, and I only dabble in the dark arts on weekends!”
Shaking his head, Sylus put him back down on the porch. “Oh lord you are my son.”
“Sure am!”
Sylus smile wavered.
“I’m okay, Dad.”
“Good.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now get back inside and behave.”
“I always behave!”
“Then keep doing that.”
Daniel opened the door. Straddling the opening, he turned back to Sylus. “I-I know you visit a lot, in the shadows, but can you visit in person more?”
“You know how much that upsets Dorry.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore and I want my dad in my life. It’s not fair how she-“
“From what? From you? My father? Can’t be because you’re a tentacle monster because she knows about my magic and hasn’t tried to stop it.”
“It’s complicated, Daniel.”
The boy took a deep breath. “I-I know dad. But… maybe… since the world’s ending and all that, can we try to all be a family?”
“I won’t infringe on Dorry’s rights as your legal guardian, Dan.”
“I-I’ll talk to her.”
Sylus sighed. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“But I want to.” Daniel ducked back outside to hug his father again. “Happy Soldheiria, Dad”
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.” Sylus whispered through his hair.
With that, Daniel slipped back inside and shut the door gently behind him.
“I hope you guys can work it out someday.”
“As do I, but Doreen’s feelings are deeply complicated and it’s not my place to upset their balance. And yet…” He pulled the nose off his face and studied it in the palm of his hand. “What I wouldn’t give to freely see my son again.” He put the nose back on and turned to me. “That’s enough festiveness for one year, I should think. I’d like to get somewhere warm, if you don’t mind.”
“Lots of blankets back home.”
“Home…”
“Still getting used to the concept?”
“Still getting used to the idea of it being a solid place and not a state of wandering vagrancy.” He sighed. “But… yes. I would very much like to go home. Maybe have some hot cocoa.”
“That sounds nice, big guy.” I put my arms around him. “Shall I take us there?”
“No, allow me, your noble steed.” He turned and lifted me onto his back. Invisible tentacles wrapped gently around my body, securing me in place. “Let’s hope there are no spooky holiday memories waiting in the Darkspace.”
“I’ll just hold on really tight and everything will be alright.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.” He breathed. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Sylus.” I whispered in his ear. “And I can’t imagine living another day without you in mine.”
Happy Soldheiria to all, and to all a good night!
Author’s Note: I’m so proud to present the above image commissioned from Rhett Cameron Morris on Facebook. They did an AMAZING job! I honestly never thought I’d see my boys as they are in my head and until now all “art” was AI rendered, but no more! Here they are in all their human glory! Rhett did such a stellar job translating my mess of input and references into something meaningful. I can’t overstate how utterly happy I am.
Happy holidays everyone! If you’ve read this far, consider liking this post and maybe leaving a comment or even sharing it if you’re truly daring. Maybe even subscribe if you’re a real trailblazer! Totally optional, but I’m finally in the business of trying to build some semblance of an audience so… think about it!
Happy 5th Anniversary to the completion of the first draft of “The Q’taxians”! How far we’ve come and what a crazy adventure it’s been! Rollercoaster of highs and lows, character growth, real life growth, tons of drafts and discarded novels, all to get us here: Eternity’s Irys. Not once did I want to give up, but boy was it tempting at times. Certainly glad I never did!
I think I’m going to commemorate it by making December 11th Jeron’s birthday. From side character to primary MC, he’s come a long way
(If anyone’s curious, Sylus’ is July 13. No reason, just ended up that way)
Thank you again to everyone who’s been following me on this journey. It’s been a lot and I appreciate every bit of support.
“Eternity’s Irys: Two Minutes to Midnight” is looking at a very realistic 2024 release so please stay tuned for more news and updates!
Much love, and until next time,
Tav
(remember when it was ? Even the emoji’s have evolved )
As of yesterday, the first entry to the “Eternity’s Irys” series, “Two Minutes to Midnight”, is finally complete.
Dust Jacket of the Author Proof Copy
I am finally happy with the outcome of five years of writing.
Currently, my brother and I are putting together some proof copies. He’s doing most of the technical work I can’t handle as well as redesigning the cover. He expects to have them before Christmas.
It feels unreal and I can’t even say I’m 100% happy. I just… am. I think it’ll be different when I finally hold it.
I spent so long trying to manually format and edit the whole thing that I ended up using Atticus for formatting and ProWritingAid for some editing assistance. We didn’t agree on everything, but it helped me reword some stuff and reduce repetition and excessive verbosity.
Page Layout via Atticus
I have a cover artist in the wings with a June of 2024 deadline, however I may publish my first edition sooner. I’m not counting this proof copy as a formal edition, but it will come in a limited batch of 4.
Hard Cover of the Author Proof Copy
I still feel largely nothing for some reason. Maybe it hasn’t set in that I’m actually finished.
For now.
I ended on such a severe cliff hanger with so many open threads I almost feel bad. However, addressing even ONE of those threads tacked on 100 more pages and like 30k more words. It became tedious. So… I let all the threads hang flapping in the wind. Don’t worry, I have them all plotted out into the second book so nothing will go unanswered or unaddressed. It just couldn’t be done now.
I think the process for the next book will be much more streamlined. I have a much better idea of what I’m doing. It’ll hopefully move at a better pace. I always thought this one tracked a bit on the slow side, but far from unreadable.
The first book was, from the start, intended to lay groundwork and that’s about it. I think it does that and moves the story into a position where I can take it wherever I need to.
I decided on “Two Minutes to Midnight” as an homage to the Doomsday Clock. The Doomsday Clock tracks how close we are to the end of the world as we know it. In case you were curious, we’re currently, in real life, at 90 seconds to midnight. Midnight being “the end”. Not necessarily rapture or hellfire, but a dire change in the way our world functions. The clock moves forward and back depending on what plays out on the world stage. Negative events, like war, move it forward. Progressive events, like reducing CO2 emissions, moves it back. it’s far easier to move it ahead than back.
The book starts at 120 seconds to that world’s apocalypse.
It still needs some work, but I think having an actual physical representation of the final product will help me get through fixing the last of it up. We’re at the polishing stage now. Maybe after this, I’ll open it up to beta readers and… maybe even an actual editor… Who knows. I sure don’t.
Anyway, there’s a small holiday “gift” in the works, but for now, that’s all I have to really say. Hopefully there’ll be some kind of meltdown once I have the books in my hands. We shall see.
This is the RK Royal Kludge RK61. Got it on Amazon for $50.
I was using one of those cool type-writer keyboards for a while and for a while it worked okay, but typos and missing simple keys like “Enter” started getting out of hand. So I Googled “Best keyboards for typing” and this was one of the more affordable options that repeatedly came up.
As you can see, it’s tiny and certain functions that one may take for granted now require the additional press of a Function key. Now as someone who’s primarily typed on laptops, this wasn’t a problem for me. What WAS a problem, and almost ended up in an Amazon review, was that it was NOT plug and play. Oh sure you could plug it in and your PC would automatically install it and in theory you could start typing immediately, HOWEVER! However however however! It basically comes out of the box with some kind of “Function Lock” engaged. Half the keyboard is locked into Function Key mode until you find the key combo to unlock it. Guess what this keyboard doesn’t come with? A manual explaining any of this. I had to Google to find the answer.
Once I freed up the letters, I then had to figure out how to free up the numbers as they were now locked into F-key mode. This required more Googling to find yet another set of inputs to return them to their primary numerical function.
It also comes out of the box with the left shift key being useless. Only the right one did anything and I’m not sure about you, but that’s not how I type. Well, you guessed it, more Googling and another set of inputs to swap the function over to the left shift key.
So basically it comes needing some setting up which I’m not going to say is necessarily a problem. It’s a small keyboard so one has to accept there’s going to be some compromises. What almost killed me was that I had to Google and read Reddit posts to find out how to make it function like a regular keyboard. I wish it either came with primary functions engaged and let you toggle the Function key as necessary or it had a manual explaining the input controls. A manual would have been nice either way actually and I don’t say that often.
How does it type, though? It’s awesome, actually. The keys feel perfectly spaced and the caps are definitely finger-tip appropriate. The brown switches feel and sound pretty good. I’m not one to really rate a keyboard based on clack but this one isn’t too bad compared to what I’ve used in the past. I can also type pretty quickly with few flaws on this bad boy.
If you have the patience to set it up, I highly recommend. If you just want a keyboard that works as expected out of the box, I’d skip it. Even though I got incredibly frustrated, I think it was worth the effort.
Full transparency some of this may have been hidden in the title of the product as I didn’t understand what “Triple Mode” meant. Still don’t, but if it tells someone more educated than myself all they need to know then that’s good I suppose. I bought it just assuming it’d come like any abbreviated keyboard that needs a Function key to do certain things. Instead it came backwards.
Do I recommend it? Well, like I said above, that’s really up to you. After going through the insanity of getting it working, it really has increased my productivity, but I still had to Google three separate inputs just to get it to act like a normal keyboard.
Of course, this could have been an isolated experience and other people just get it working fine out of the box. Can’t be sure as most of the Amazon reviews are positive and none of them mention the need for any kind of set up. Also, I use it wired so I can’t weigh in on the complaints about Bluetooth functions and battery life.
Ah well. I almost returned it, but after a few days of just straight typing with it, I’m glad I didn’t.
“I wrote a character this way. Should I have written them this other way?”
Short answer: No.
Long answer:
Characters tend to grow and evolve with the author and the draft. Your first iteration is highly unlikely to be identical to the final version. The key is to write write write and accept that the first draft is far from your best work in every possible way. It’s groundwork and just the beginning of a long and sometimes arduous journey.
How you write your characters is very personal to you. Unless you’re fishing for some kind of approval, you just write them however they feel at the moment. Don’t worry if they’re not perfect at first. There’s no such thing as a perfect person, but I can assure you characters just need time and space to breathe and grow. Your first version may be cringe when that’s not the intention, but give them time and thought and they’ll meander their way to being the best version of themselves they can be.
I’ll use Sylus as an example since he’s been my primary focus and has done the most evolving.
Sylus started as a personal trauma response. He was 100% a self insert and started out very much “not right”. He was on a journey to become himself. He was supposed to grow and change throughout the story, but I realized that made him incredibly fragmented and not himself. In fact, he would only be a shadow of himself until the very end of the story. That didn’t feel right to me. I’d hampered him with my own self doubt and it showed. He was so insecure and afraid, but I always loved him and even at his weakest I didn’t give up.
The more I wrote him, the more he told me what he wanted for himself. He even made a few executive decisions about his personality and appearance that I had no choice but to accept. It almost felt like I’d somehow offended this fictional character by portraying them any other way, but all those other versions needed to exist for us to get to where we are. There was never any reason for him to exist as anyone or anything but himself and with every draft, every iteration, he came closer to his truth.
In the process, I realized that making him whole meant working on myself. I said a while ago that if you’re not putting part of your soul into every character, they’ll struggle to come across as sincere. Maybe they don’t “talk” to you like they do for me, but that doesn’t mean they still aren’t connected to you. Which is why as you grow, your characters grow, too.
In the end, you must write how you feel. If your characters appear rough at first glance, that’s perfectly okay! But it’s up to you to get them to where you want them. It’s your job to worth with them on their growth. A group of anonymous know-it-alls won’t help you get there. Sure they might be able to say what is or isn’t believable, but that would become apparent to you as the author the more you work on your characters.
Give them room to grow and breathe and I promise you they will. In fact, they might even trash your plot and demand an entirely new one. I know mine did and I firmly believe it was worth listening to them.
Again, I’m no grand success story. Hell I’m not even published yet. I’m eternally in the WIP phase, but I’m getting there and I like to think I’ve learned a lot along the way. It’s hard for me to imagine writing a book and not loving every single one of your characters including the villains.
You have to write YOUR story and stop pining for the approval of others. No one can tell you how to write your tale. I mean they can, but then it’s not exactly yours anymore, is it? It will never be for everyone and if it is, you’ve done something very, very wrong.
Love your characters and grow along side them. You’ll all be better for the experience.
Wow the character hate in writing support groups is bizarre. Why wouldn’t you want to know what the characters look like? I get excruciating detail is too much (and I may be guilty of this), but knowing hair and eye color? That’s… That’s amateur? Help?
I know exactly what my characters look like and it’s strange for me to think any author has zero idea about their character’s appearance. Is this a character vs plot driven thing?
Am I wrong for describing my characters? I couldn’t dream of telling my story without readers knowing who’s lives their following as that’s the kind of thing I like reading myself.
That goes back to my Setting rant. Why is detail amateurish? There’s setting the mood and ruining it with too much info but I keep reading these posts and people just want words on a page and to form their own details. So… Write your own story? They want a plot and nothing else. No character descriptions, no setting details, nothing. Is that normal? Because if so I’m failing as a writer.
Here’s the “Simple Plot” to Eternity’s Irys:
Small town man Jeron Miles believes there’s nothing more to life than toiling it away to atone for a childhood tragedy until he meets an alien being named Sylus Synclaire who accidentally embroils him in an ancient conflict between the ominous Void and mortal kind.
That’s it. That’s the book. That’s all you get. No details. Enjoy!
Ah crap I used an adjective. Better burn me at the stake.
Adendum:
Bring up Chekhov’s Gun and suddenly these writing groups are all “details are important and don’t necessarily have to be plot devices!”
Yes. Exactly. Not every detail has to serve a purpose. I’m so glad you realized that.
I joined writing groups to be inspired. Instead I’m reading so much ignorant shit that it’s driving me nuts. One of the best books I ever read used details and descriptors to set the location and tone. It’s emersive as far as I’m concerned. It’s not “weak story telling” or “amateur”. You can paint a picture and still tell a story. Saying “the sky was alight with a scarred, silvery moon surrounded by swirling galaxies drawn in across space and time” hardly takes away from the battle scene of the plot. To me, at least, it strengthens it. I want the environment. If I was watching a movie and saw a starry sky back dropping desperate conflict I’d be hooked. I get books aren’t movies, but I feel like adding description to the setting puts you IN the action. And before anyone is like “Well I don’t like that” that’s fine! Preference is preference. But calling that style of story telling weak and amateur just sets me off. It’s not.
An answer must be given. Silence isn’t an option. Acceptance is unacceptable.
The answer is clear.
Dalafaem, spawn, and Lord.
Those with the vision, those freed from their masters’ yolks, and the one who they tried to erase.
We of Zero Point.
We who watch over the Void’s ingress.
We are not many.
We are not strong.
But we are cunning.
We are patient.
We are everywhere.
Our lives dismissed as pointless. Turned away by our own kin. Rejected and cast aside. Pariahs.
We will fight where they will not.
Tentacle, quill, and song will lead the fight.
We will guide, teach, train, and nurture all who ask it of us.
Our home is your home. If you carry the light of Dalafaem, you are one of us. If you can see what others cannot, you are one of us. If you manifest your soul’s visions, you are one of us and you are welcome.
Even those without the gift are welcome among our ranks. If you resist the Void, call Zero Point your home.
Join us in the fight.
Victory isn’t guaranteed. Earth may yet fall and humanity nothing more than another notch on the Void’s bloodied axe.
But not all is lost. Not yet, anyway.
So who will stand and fight the Void?
We will.
You will.
We are the answer.
Together we stand.
Together we fight.
Our answer will be loud and violent. Blood of all colors will spill. But an answer, regardless of its wording, is still an answer.
They carved their way into our society with deft accuracy. Played on our weaknesses. Our insecurities. We let them undermine us. Compromise us. For all intents and purposes, they’d already won.
In a matter of days what took humanity centuries to carve out was redistributed among their territorial claims. And we let them.
Our resistance was pitiful. Their stain upon our world rendered our weapons capable of ending millions of human lives in a single blast inert.
They let us fire one. We saw the result. Human lives erased and they thrived. The Void thrived on our death and carrion. Radiation a comfort to them.
We never stood a chance.
They crept and crawled while we fought ourselves. Simple lesser spawns harrying human lives. Lords waiting silently to step in and bring order to merciless chaos.
It didn’t take long for them to offer solutions. A way forward for humanity. The world had changed we just didn’t realize how much. It wasn’t even out world anymore.
One by one they laid claim to swaths of our planet. Five out of nine made their presences known. They reorganized our lives. Our existences. We saw their manipulation as a salve. There was nothing else we could do. Fighting would be extinction.
But these lords… They didn’t seem to want us dead. In fact, they tailored their rule to the areas they occupied. Mimicked our cultures and traditions.
Seamless.
But they didn’t know. They didn’t understand. It was all death in the end. Our only choice was swift or slow. And they’d chosen complacency.
“We” became “them”. They bowed and the question was asked in silent darkness. In the corners of dim resistance, it echoed. The lords heard it and gave no answer. To them, there was none. Their rule was now absolute. And they, the masses, had accepted it.
So who, then, will answer the Void’s question?
Who will stand?
Who will give answer to their endless eons of slaughter?
Writing forums are so dense. Someone shows concern about people using ChatGPT to write entire manuscripts and these people are like “well grammarly is AI too. Where do we draw the line?” You’re being intentionally obtuse. There’s a huge difference between using something to write your entire story and using aids. Then they revert to “Then ghost writing isn’t real writing” and honestly? I have weird feelings about ghost writing, but you’re still engaging with a human being. You are a human communicating with another human to create something you might not be otherwise able to create. I suppose you could liken ghost writing to commissioning artwork. At some point you stop attributing the artist and the work becomes yours because it was your idea that they executed.
Yes ai writing isn’t great right now, but have you seen how far ai art has come? (I got 5 finger hands the other day watch out y’all) It will get better. The more it’s used and exposed to content, it will improve. There may always be something off about it, but if you think in five years the average reader will be able to tell the difference, I have a plot of land to sell you.
Am I worried? No. Should I be? Dunno. I know I’m not happy about ai replacing art before simplifying work. It was supposed to make life easier not replace our creativity. And maybe it never fully will, but the market is already inundated with swill. Ai will only make it harder for actual writers to stand out. You could have the story of the century and it’ll get buried. Happens today and it’ll just get worse with normalized ai usage.
Anyway I could say more on this and I probably will in the future but that’s it for today’s soap box.
Have Jeron and Sylus being idiots in a snippet from “The Arboreal Land Octopus”, today’s Pride entry:
The Arboreal Land Octopus is said to be an urban legend or at best a cryptid.
It’s said to be closely related to it’s oceanic counterparts save some critical evolutionary diversions.
One would think the Arboreal Land Octopus would evolve authentic lungs and carry oxegynated blood to match. Instead, it has evolved vestigial lungs that serve no practical purpose as it managed to exist without the need for respiration.
It does bleed, but it’s blood is of a thicker substance than that of humans. It also bleeds a deep shade of violet rather than the expected red or blue.
The Arboreal Land Octopus is a very curious creature. It’ll thoroughly examine anything it can get it’s tentacles on. Tasting with its suckers.
Though it often finds itself up in trees, its known to have issues with heights. As in, it can go up, but struggles to get back down. It could easily fall from the tree and land on its tendrils, but it hesitates with every descent.
The Arboreal Land Octopus is carnivorous. It will occasionally consume fruits and vegetation, but its primary source of nutrients is meat.
Sometimes its willing to hunt, but more often than not it simply lies in wait for something to tread too close. Its barely hidden among the branches and yet it still finds easy prey and remains well fed.
“Jeron for the love of God help me down from here!”
The Arboreal Land Octopus is also very loud when it wants to be. Despite its size it can move in deft silence or lumbering stomps. It makes noises from its mouth hole when it needs to communicate.
“You know I hate heights…”
It protests when up in high branches, yet spends much of its time gliding through the air on tentacle-powered propulsion. It doesn’t fly, more glides and falls with style, but it does spend much of its days airborne.
“Whatever you’re writing stop.”
For some reason, it struggles with going down when in a staionary position, for example, from up in a tree.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Sylus, you put yourself up there, you can get yourself back down.”
“Can I?”
“Just drop down.”
“It’s not that easy!”
“Yes it is.”
The weight of the Arboreal Land Octopus causes the branches beneath it to creak and bend.
“Jeron!”
I bring my guitar around front and play a simple song placing a bubble beneath Sylus.
With a sigh, he releases his branch and lands unceremoniously onto my bubble.
The Arboreal Land Octopus has safely descending from its verdant perch.
“What are you even writing?” He struggles to squirm off the bubble.
I play a note, popping the bubble.
The Arboreal Land Octopus lands on its substantial haunches.
“Christ.” He hissed. “What’s so damn funny?” He stood up, rubbing his backside.
I followed behind as Sylus boarded the bus. I wasn’t entirely sure why we were taking public transit when we could just teleport. Maybe we were going somehwere new? All he said was: “It’s something everyone should do at least once in their life.” I’m all for new experiences.
It was dark out. Night had fallen on New Hampton hours ago. We’d been walking around, basking in the man made lights of a bustling city. One that had already begun tilting toward the xanthous hue of it’s new master.
The air was heavy and stagnant. Humidity drenched my skin. Sylus, in his customary suit and tie, looked entirely unphased.
“Want the inside or-?”
“Hm?” I tuned back in to reality. “I’ll sit on the outside if that’s not a problem.”
“Not a problem at all.” He chuckled.
We made our way about halfway back, his head just shy of scraping the ceiling. He looked bigger and more lumbery-er than usual. He slid into a seat and patted the one beside him. Surprisingly, their was enough room for both of us. I was worried if I’d fit beside his massive thighs.
As we got under way, the passing lights of the world outside became mesmerizing. They’d flash through the dark cabin of the bus and across Sylus’ face. He was very interested in the world outside. I wasn’t. I was more interested at all the different colors his face turned as we passed light source after light source.
I leaned over, resting my head on his shoulder. He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I sighed.
I had no idea where we were going or what the plan was, but it didn’t matter. Nothing beyond this moment mattered.
I felt something smoothe yet firm against my leg. I cracked my eyes open just enough to see a tendril snaking down my pants.
“Hey now,” I patted him on the chest. It wasn’t like anyone else could see it, but this was a public place and there were at least ten other people on here with us.
He smiled, still looking out the window.
The tendril settled benignly on my thigh.
In return, I slid my own hand between the buttons of his shirt.
He rumbled and gave a low, contented growl in reply.
I snuggled back up against him and let my eyes close once more.
“Wanna watch me turn a 25¢ bag of dried noodles into a culinary masterpiece?”
I lowered my book. “Excuse me?”
“Deluxe ramen from a bag.” Sylus held a packet of chicken “flavored” ramen.
“What?” I replied flatly.
“Trust me. I can make a feast out of this bad boy.” He shook the bag. “Want some?”
I sighed. Cheap instant food wasn’t exactly my favorite thing in the world. But it was low effort and Sylus was offering.
“Fine.” I sighed.
“You won’t regret it.” He winked and weave walked to the kitchen below.
I shrugged. It’d probably be delishious, but I couldn’t help but have my doubts.
The scent of boiling noodles and vegetables wafted up the stairs. Unexpected. Some actual chicken? A little fish? I cocked a brow.
Some time later Sylus returned with two heaping bowls of steaming soup.
“Here.” He offered me one on a plate. With it came a pair of wooden chop sticks and a deep ladel-like spoon. I put my book down, took it and sat it in my lap.
Sylus settled on the couch and immediately dug in.
I stirred the bowl. It was full of all kinds of incredients and not just cheap noodles. All of it erred on the more affordable side, but I couldn’t deny the diversity.
I scooped a bit of everything up, blew it off, and shoved it directly into my mouth.
To say it was delicious was an understatement. Likely tempered by my very low expectations, I found Sylus’ ramen to be one of the most savory things I’d ever eaten.
Slurping the last of the broth, I put the bowl down on the bookshelf beside me.
“That was amazing, Sy.”
“Mm.” He nodded. “A real flash from the past.” He forced a somber laugh.
“How did you turn cheap noodles into something that actually resembled a hearty meal?”
He shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you’re homeless and have to feed a kid with zero budget. Usually all that extra stuff was near expiration or past it’s shelf life so I could either haggle for it or, well, pilfer it.” He shook his head. “Ramen nights were Daniel’s favorite. Thankfully,” he placed his empty bowl on the center coffee table, “those days are long behind both of us.”
A sobering cloud filled the room.
“Oh don’t be down about it.” He laughed. “The past is the past. We learn and grow from it. Can’t let it tear us down, can we?”
I crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch. Resting my head on his shoulder I took a deep breath. “I suppose we can’t, can we?”
While I’m on my writing soap box, abandon word count fixations. Write the whole damn thing. If you CAN break it up to relieve reader fatigue, go for it. If you feel like that would compromise the story, don’t.
HOWEVER, and this is something I struggle with, if you DO want to write a long book, consider shorter chapters or sections! I feel like it should be one or the other just to keep readers from tapping out over 2k word chapters.
In fact, thus far, my most common criticism is that it “looks intimidating”. When I press the issue, I come to the above conclusions. Either the book itself must be shorter, or the chapters have to be shorter. I feel like these are both reasonable approaches. You don’t want your readers getting lost in a sea of text!
Saw this take on a writing group post and I sincerely disagree. The market is a fickle beast. Readers aren’t always in it with the best of intentions especially for indie authors. I firmly believe you must write what makes YOU happy. Barring major plot or story structure issues, your story must suit you. Would YOU read what you wrote? Or does it read like another lowest common denominator KDP cash grab? Believe me, if you love it, others will, too. Will it be the next greatest hit spawning TV shows and movies? Who knows and as guilty of this as I am, this shouldn’t be the point.
Anyway, every voice is valuable and the market is cold and heartless. If you can hit some market trends without compromising your work, awesome. If you’re writing just to get people to “plunk down their credit cards”, you’re gonna have a bad time.
Also before anyone says “Where’s your best selling book?” I’ll tell you. It went into 5 years of rewrite hell to be palatable to the general market. I went for what would sell over what would make me happy. The result? I started to resent it. It’s only since I threw that mindset away that I finally finished my “difinitive” draft.
So maybe I’m full of shit and blowing hot air, but consider this: to appease the “market” you must be formulaic and be able to sell your version of the formula over everyone else’s. You’re writing what people supposedly want to read, but you’re fighting saturation. Conversely, to be truly creative, you shouldn’t necessarily ignore a formula that works, but you SHOULD 100% twist it to suit your own needs. Even if that means alienation of some potential readers.
tl;dr: write for you first and foremost. If you love it, the market is there. It may not be to big fat general market, but there will be others looking to read what you wrote. Hang in there
“Yes, and?” I already knew I wasn’t going to like where he was going with this.
“And I eat humans and spawns which coincidentally lines up with my anatomy being half human half spawn. Therefore, by that logic, everyone is, quite literally, what they eat. If they ate higher life forms.” He scratched his chin. “It makes sense on a cosmic level.”
I slapped a hand over my face. “You also eat pork and beef. Are you a pig and cow too?”
“Irrelevant. I said higher lifeforms.”
I sighed. “You’re insane.”
“Took you how long to notice? No but seriously, maybe I’m more 1/4 human and 3/4 spawn based on my diet.”
“Jesus Christ, Sylus…”
“I like being partially human at all times.”
“You’re a human soul. That’s as human as you have to be.”
“Run my Vrilk through some tests. Bet you’ll find residual human DNA that isn’t mine. Wore mine out a long time ago…”
“How about we don’t do that?”
“Well now I’m curious.”
“We are NOT running your Vrilk through a battery of medical tests just to see how many people you’ve eaten! That’s beyond morbid, Sylus!”
“I mean I know how many people I’ve eaten. Hard to forget, really. I’m more curious about how much is left as residual.”
“This conversation is over. Mull it over with Qaitax if you have to, but I’m checking out.”
“Wonder if anything would show up on 23 and Me…”
“SYLUS!”
“You have 100 living relatives extending from 12 different people… Congratulations you somehow broke the system.”
“SYLUS! STOP! Oh my GOD! STOP!”
He scratched his chin. “It’s more than twelve anyway.”
Sylus stood at the edge of the lapping ocean in nothing but a pair of black swim trunks with little purple squids on them. He stared at the water as it dared encroached on him, an angry eldritch god. How dare nature command the tides?
I sat on a towel laid out on the warm sand watching him incase his thalassaphobia got the better of him.
“I’m a GOD for FUCKSSAKE!” He cried out drawing the attention of some of our fellow beach-goers. Unlike myself, they couldn’t see his tentacles flailing wildly.
“You’re a human consciousness piloting the body of a ‘god’.” I called back to him.
“There’s seaweed and dead shit in there…”
I lowered my sunglasses and glared over them.
“The ocean is gross.” He kicked a wave as if it’d care. “Deep, dark, cold.” He shivered as he retreated to his blanket beside me. “I’m over it and I don’t care what my alien squid ‘brain’ says.”
“What if Qaitax wants to go for a swim?” I chided.
“Then I’ll take a nap and he can go sit at the bottom of the ocean for an hour.”
I pulled a book out of the backpack I brought with us. “I’ve got time.”
“Don’t encourage him!” He cried out.
“Well someone besides me has to enjoy themselves today.”
“You’d rather be alone than sitting here with me?” His voice barely shook.
“Oh my god, big guy.” I patted his belly. “Relax.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m just giving you two the option.”
“Great. He does, in fact, want to sit down on the cold dark.” Sylus sounded on the brink of tears. “Fine. You deal with him, then.” With a huff, he closed his eyes.
When they opened again I was looking at Qaitax’s violet crosses stretched across a sea of black. He got up without a word and made his way to the water.
“Not even a hello?” I laughed.
“I have fifteen minutes. Greetings can wait.” He waved me off over his shoulder.
I snorted. “Have fun and don’t stress Sylus out too much.”
With that he waded out and vanished beneath the waves.
Knowing them, I knew this might happen so I came prepared. I reached into the backpack and removed a fleecy blanket. I rested it on his towel in the sunlight to let it get warm.
“Fifteen minutes.” I picked up my book. “Probably should have asked how long I should wait before worrying.” I shrugged. “It’s not like they have to breathe or anything.”
Fifteen minutes passed. I wasn’t worried.
Thirty went by. Sylus did initially say an hour.
Forty-five minutes. I finally looked up from my book. No sign of him.
I could hear some people muttering about seeing a man wade out and not come back. Some glanced at me and found my lack of concern disturbing. I sighed. It wasn’t like I could just say “He’s a Voidlord he’s fine.” No one knew what that was. Not yet anyway.
Then again, an hour ticked on and neither of them reappeared.
As invasive as it was, I opened up outlr conduit.
You two okay?
Uncharacteristic silence came in response.
“Ah shit.” I stood up and made my way to the water.
I started picturing him having a panic attack down in the darkness. Qaitax pulling a bait and switch to “strengthen his resolve” as the monster put it. He was always doing shit like that to Sylus. Pushing his boundaries, actively putting him in traumatizing situations. I would’ve called it abusive if I didn’t know it helped Sylus to some small degree.
The way Sylus put it was, if things truly went south, Qaitax would save him. He’d rather face his fears on his own terms than forced to in conflict.
As much as I hated seeing him in tears and pain, I accepted that.
But this felt different. Something wasn’t right. The lack of communication wasn’t like Sylus at all, but it was very much like Qaitax. Creature of few words unless they were taunting and aggressive.
Answer me, Qaitax.
Silence.
I pinched my nose and tossed my sunglasses back onto my towel. Guess I was going in. Not that I could go as deep as they could. Not that I could even really begin looking for them… I sat down in the shallows, knees pulled to my chest and did the only thing I could do: wait.
90 minutes after they submurged, their pale face emerged far out in the depths.
I stood up trying not to look as upset as I felt.
They went back under, a dark shadow signifying their approach. I just stood there trying to meter my feelings. No crying, no yelling. I took a deep breath as they stood up, their shoulders above the waves.
I put my hands on my hips.
He lifted his arm. An orange octopus clung to it. “His name is Corky and he likes mussels.” It was Sylus. I let loose a sigh of relief.
“You could have just told me you were making friends!” I almost shouted.
“I did?” He paused. “You bastard.” He hissed.
“How long did it take him to abandon you?”
Sylus motioned to give him a minute. He rubbed his tentacles together making some squeaking noises. The octopus did something similar before releasing his arm. He ducked under before surfacing for the last time. He lumbered out of the water and stood before me.
“I wasn’t exactly happy about it.” He sighed. “Corky latched onto Qaitax and he couldn’t stand it, so he put me up to deal with it. I learned octopus by the way.”
“Why didn’t you answer me?” My worry was dissipating in the form of anxious shakes.
“I did. But a certain someone intercepted.”
“He can do that?!” My trust for Qaitax was already thin and I knew he had none for me.
“Apparently.” He signed. “Can I get out of the water now? I’m cold and generally uncomfortable.”
I took his arm and lead him back to his blanket.
He flopped down unceremoniously and I sat down beside him, picking up my sunglasses and book. He moved the plush blanket under his head like a pillow and muttered a sentiment of gratitude. I nodded in reply.
“Well I’m glad it wasn’t a disaster, but we really need to talk about that interference thing. Major safety issue.”
He nodded. “I’m less than pleased.”
I sighed as I patted his broad, pale back. “Don’t burn, okay?”
“Can’t. No melanin.”
“I know.” I breathed.
I intended to keep reading, but instead I laid down and closed my eyes.
I turned to Sylus. He was unconscious. I couldn’t tell if he was actually asleep or fighting with Qaitax, but he was out like a light bulb.
I squirmed over and threw an arm over him and rested my head on his.
“I’m glad you made a friend.” I breathed before my anxiety left me groggy and I fell into a nap of my own.
I walked into the kitchen, strumming my guitar. Sylus stood at the stove, prepping for tomorrow.
🎶It’s in the way you smile
“What?”
🎶It’s in the way you laugh
He looked around.
It’s in the way you talk It’s in the way you walk That makes me say ‘I love you’
He blushed and laughed nervously.
It’s in the way you wear your hair The way you shine your shoes “Even your sneakers for God’s sake.” The way you wear your tie. I tugged on it.
He was slowly stopping what he was doing.
It’s in the way you walk It’s in the way you talk That makes me say ‘I love you‘
“What’s going on right now?” He forced an awkward laugh.
I circled around him to his other side.
It’s in the way you snore I dropped my head to the side and snorted. It’s in the way you dream “If ya know what I mean.” I winked. It’s in the way you walk In the way you talk That makes me say ‘I love you’
It’s in the way you cook “I think it’s burning.” He cried out as he returned his attention to the stove. It’s in the way you dress “365 days of formal wear” It’s in the way you walk It’s in the way you talk That makes me say ‘I love you’
It’s in your smile In your impeccable guile In the tales you tell In the way you smell It’s in your clothes so snug In the way you hug I just wanna say ‘I love you’
He was flushing a deep shade of violet as I continued strumming on my guitar.
Ooooh forever is a very long tiiiime At least that what I hear them saaaaaay But I think I’ll be okaaaaay As long as I can call you miiiine
He sighed as he dumped whatever was in his pan in the garbage before he, himself, in his deeply baritone voice, began to sing.
It’s in the way you strum It’s in the way you hum It’s in the hue of your soul It’s in the way you roll
“Wow nice one.” I mocked with a laugh.
It’s in the way you walk It’s in the way you talk That makes me say ‘I need you’
I sighed.
It’s in the way you pile way too much food on my plaaaaate
It’s in the way you shovel it all in your mouth I harmonized.
It’s in the way you taaaaaste He was trying to drive me off with awkwardness. Little did he know…
It’s in the size of your waaaaaaist
He balked and huffed.
“Did I win?” I laughed.
It’s in the size of you c-
SOCKS! I interrupted.
“Well you know what they say about big feet?” He waggled a bushy brow.
“Jesus Christ Sylus…”‘
He cleared his throat.
It’s in the way you… care... Th-the way you hold me tight The way you keep me safe The way you… T-touch me… “A-and it doesn’t hurt…” I-it’s on the way you walk It’s in the way you talk That makes me say… I… He deflated. “I’m so sorry.” I need youuuuu
I stopped playing and took his face in my hands. “You don’t have to say it.”
“You deserve to hear it.”
“And I will, whenever you’re ready.” I smiled.
He leaned in close. It’s in your gentle touch He sang on his own. It’s in yourunendingpatience It’s in the way you make me feel Sometimes I can’t believe it’s real It’s in the way you walk It’s in the way you talk And all the ways you say ‘I love you’
Viscera rained down from the sky. Yellow globs mixed with sprays of violet. Feathers and tendrils plummeted to earth.
Soil flew from its resting place as my feet slammed back onto the ground. I was up and striking a chord on my guitar, wiping out a watcher as it dove after me. Sylus crashed down beside me. Tendrils whipped through the air as he thrust himself skyward once more.
We were on the brink of overwhelm. I knew what we had to do, but I had to get both Sylus and Qaitax on board.
Open it. I sent the thought through our connection. Open it and let’s end this.
A screech ripped through my mind. As much as it hurt, I was used to this tactic. It was Qaitax’s defense mechanism. He was, very literally, making sure I wasn’t, well, aroused. And if I was, the shriek would clear my mind. I had to be thinking clearly and he had to be sure of it.
I sent a few spells Sylus’ way, lending him my strength. We were already on a feedback loop. I drew from his core, strengthened it, and sent it back to him or used it to combat foes. The next step was a free flowing connection of souls.
For all intents and purposes, and in the eyes of the Void, we would be one. Our powers and strength fully combined. The fight would be over in minutes. But it was incredibly-
Dangerous. He replied to my request.
I know.
He settled gently beside me, a far cry from his usually booming landings. Where I sprayed dust, he made craters. He was capable of grace, but he reserved that for me and me alone.
He closed his eyes and I closed mine.
Time stopped.
Opening our eyes, we stood upon a field of violet irises swaying on golden stems. Stars and galaxies swirled in the sky above. The moon hung low, massive and silver, but whole. A lone willow waved in the distance.
Humming broke the still silence. His half of our song met my ears.
I closed my eyes and added my own.
I felt his hand graze mine. I took hold of it.
We hummed together until the barriers of our souls collapsed.
Our eyes alight with eldritch flame, we returned to reality as one.
Two bodies, one soul. One will.
The floral scarring that marked the right side of my body, from head to toe, glowed violet as fire coursed through my veins.
The power that now filled every inch of my flesh was beyond exhilarating.
Our thoughts and feelings flowed freely between us. He, too, was bursting with energy.
I took to the sky on chord-cast bubbles of ancient magic.
Sylus was right behind me, launching himself with a cackling howl. The Void Wolf was unleashed.
Out the corner of my eye, I watched his jaw snap open before clamping around a watcher’s scrawny throat. It screamed it’s last caw as it’s throat was ripped from its neck. Tentacles flew out in a web of flesh catching countless spawns in their grasp. All of them pulverized at once sending a spray of yellow mist into the air.
I cast a net of my own. With a strum of my strings, a thousand bubbles launched forth seeking the cold blood Voidal life. As they met their targets they latched on to claw and wing. A spare few snagged Sylus’ outstretched tendrils. Nothing went to waste. Good. Striking another chord, every single bubble burst unleashing my own wave of xanthous viscera. Sylus roared as my spare bubbles strengthened his wild blows.
I caught Sylus as he descended and threw him back into the air. He cackled and hollered as he shot into a flock. Again he took hold of several screeching watchers before making a death dive for the ground below. Slamming them into the earth, their blood filled every crack we’d forged throughout the battle.
To the west, sigils began glistening in the sunlight. They were hard to spot to a normal eye. But nothing was normal about either of us.
Wings of shimmering bubbles sprouted from my back as I darted after them. I could take a guardian if Sylus would handle the rest, though the plan was to stop the guardian from happening at all.
He careened into the gathering before I could reach them. Hooting and howling he tore them to shreds midair. I was quick to pick up on another group and diverted my attention there. I felt Sylus key into yet another group.
We knew this tactic well and we knew we couldn’t stop it. Too many summoning their greater demons at once.
We landed on the ground together and waited for their eldritch magic to crush their scraggly bones together into their almighty guardian.
Sylus snarled and huffed as he stood hunched over, tendrils already poised to launch himself back into the sky.
I played a few idle notes as I kept my gaze trained on the watcher flocks that dotted the sky.
The distinct sound of bones cracking and flesh squelching filled the air.
“THERE!” Sylus cried out as he burst into the air.
Sure enough a guardian had spawned to the north. All of the remaining summoning watchers converged on its location.
Sylus knew the plan. He caught the small ones and tore them apart. I flew directly for the watcher’s eye, summoning my guitar’s crystalline blades. Spines guarded it like bony lashes. I had to chop through them, evading it’s own bladed feathers and thrashing spikes.
Sylus lost momentum and fell to the ground. For a brief moment I was fully exposed. I disconnected from the guardian and played a chord raised a protective shield around myself. They screamed and clacked their beaks as they clawed at my bubble. I sneered as a crack finally appeared in it’s surface. The crack spidered until the bubble burst, blowing up the surrounding watchers with it.
I smirked, but my victory was short lived. The guardian had taken the opportunity to ready itself. A flurry of feathered blades shot toward me. I managed to dodge some, but most ended up in my flesh. I cried out as my own red blood splattered out. I could barely hold myself together as a flock of watchers turned on me to finish what the guardian had started.
An otherworldly howl rang out. Primal fear shot down my spine. I looked down to find the gaunt king standing where Sylus had landed. This wasn’t part of the plan.
A tendril-woven, wolf-like creature unleashed a back full of tentacles into the sky. No features adorned it’s blank Y-shaped head. That is until it split open sideways revealing countless gnashing teeth and a salivating, cavernous opening. Watcher after watcher was dragged down into his maw. A massive shackle around his belly meant he could only eat so much, but feast he did.
I felt the crack forming in our connection. Sylus was slipping away. If Qaitax had to step up, I’d lose control of my own powers.
What the hell are you doing?! I thought to him. We talked about this!
My stomach lurched in response. A fraction of his unending hunger shot through my core. I cried out as I lost my composure and fell from the sky. I hit the ground, knocking the wind from my lungs.
SYLUS!
Things were taking a dire turn. The gaunt king was a horrific weapon of absolute destruction, but it came at the price of Sylus’ consciousness. He knew he couldn’t just whip it out and yet he did without even saying a word to me. It was a last ditch solution, not a causal attack. I was furious.
Watchers were raining down. Unless we could get back in control it was over.
I closed my eyes.
Time stopped.
I found Sylus crouched down in our field of eternity clutching his head. He wept and screamed. He wasn’t in control anymore. The dark wisp behind me told me Qaitax wasn’t either.
“What the hell happened!?” I cried out.
“Hng so fucking hungry so hungry… It hurts it AH it hurts…”
Off in the distance I could see our frozen conflict. The gaunt king was mashing it’s face with watchers while the guardian had turned its massive cycloptic gaze on me.
I turned to Qaitax lingering behind me.
“Do something!”
He took on his usual form which was identical to Sylus yet somehow looked nothing like him. He shrugged.
“You made this mess, ameltria, you figure it out.”
“I thought we were over that.” I snarled at him.
He shrugged again.
“Snap him out of it!”
“I cannot.”
“Yes you can!”
“Allow me to rephrase: I will not.”
“Bastard!”
“I’d rather you learn a lesson, ameltria. You know I’m not one to lend the easy way out.”
“Then what good are you?!” I shoved him away.
Qaitax smirked. “Tik tok, ameltria.” He returned to a wisp of darkness before vanishing.
“USELESS!” I screamed at the starry sky.
Now wasn’t the time to be cursing Qaitax. It was my own fault he was so hands-off.
I turned back to Sylus. He was barely conscious. Any longer like this and Qaitax would be forced to intervene and send him to the dark place. I couldn’t allow that. Sylus would be gone for days and I’d lose my powers.
I sat down beside him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He shook with every sob. I rested my head against his and hummed our song. I rocked him from side to side, running my fingers through his hair. His shuddering slowed to a stop. His gasps and sobs subsided.
“I’m so hungry.” He groaned.
There was only one way to undo the gaunt king.
“Here.” I offered him my marked arm knowing it’d heal faster than my normal human arm.
He shook his head and groaned in agony.
“Sylus…” I cooed.
“Red…” He choked. “I saw red… Y-you were…”
“Oh my poor little squid. I’m okay, but I need you to be with me.” I held my arm in front of his mouth.
He shook his head again. “Wasn’t thinking. Still not thinking. AH!” He cried out as he doubled over, falling to his side in a fetal position. The same way he slept. “I’m so hungry. It’s killing me…”
In the distance I watched the gaunt king lower its head to my side. Slow and shuddering as if its movements were reduced to frames of a camera. Tendrils slithered out, shielding me from the watchers.
“Sylus…” I breathed as I laid down, wrapping my arms around him.
He lurched forward and latched onto the marked side of my neck. I cried out at the suddenness. I knew his bite well. It wasn’t sharp so much as a dull bruising feeling. The tips of his teeth curved back. I could feel those tiny hooks making their way into my flesh.
“I can’t make you suffer.” He breathed.
“I’m not suffering.” I caressed his head. “Do it, big guy.”
A tentacle came from the gaunt king’s mouth. It wrapped around my unconscious neck. I could feel its suckers pulling at my skin.
I felt him take a piece of me away in eternity. He consumed my flesh, just like I consumed his soul. It hurt, but it wasn’t the kind of pain I’d cry over.
Eternity snapped away. The gaunt king howled as it unraveled revealing a bloodied Sylus standing at its center.
He scrambled over to me and took me up in his arms. I hissed in pain and placed a hand over my bleeding neck. He pushed it aside and replaced it with his own massive grasp. I felt my body healing from his touch. The pain was gone and I was whole again.
I gazed into his flaming eyes and ran my fingers through his thick sideburns. He smiled softly before nuzzling his face in my neck.
But the fight wasn’t over. Time was moving again.
Sylus held me tightly. Our souls were still joined. I threw my arms around him. We had to close the connection. He was still unstable and I was draining his core.
From our embrace every ounce of energy we’d built up during the fight welled between us. Brilliant violet light enveloped our bodies. It grew and grew. Searing and burning away any watcher that got too close. It grew until I felt him whisper in my ear:
“I need you.”
The bubble of our power burst, destroying the spawns around us.
From its blinding glare we burst forth, spears of our united will, heaven bound for the guardian’s eye. It resisted our impact, caving in like plastic, before bursting into countless smaller eyes and flailing talons.
I took Sylus’ hand and thrust it into the center. Violet light riddled its way through the space between its eyes, each one popping one at a time.
A massive talon arched over its scorched form. I raised my shield, keeping it away just long enough for us to punch through to its core.
Sylus wrapped his fingers around the yellow light and squeezed it until it exploded in his grasp.
The guardian screamed as its very existence was undone. Its echoed and faded into nothingness as it hit the ground in a pile of formless Vrilk.
We sank to the ground in each other’s arms. Tired, worn, and spent, we collapsed into each other.
There is always a price, ameltria. Qaitax’s words echoed in my mind.
I prided myself on being healthy. I ate well and stayed active. I figured I was pretty much immune to illness.
Until I woke up to my gut trying to rip itself out of my abdomen.
I rolled over Sylus and ran for the bathroom. I heard him groan as I elbowed him in the belly, but I couldn’t stop to check on him.
I fell to my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach into the porcelain throne.
Sylus wasn’t far behind. He knelt in the door way and held my locks back as I projectile vomited.
“I warned you. Straight whisky isn’t really a beginner thing.” He breathed.
I gave him a quick finger before I had to return to holding onto the bowl for dear life.
I wasn’t a drinker. I never drank except to try my cooking wines. That was it. But Sylus was drinking so I really thought I should try. He was right. I took it too far. I was trying to keep up with a being that was physically incapable of getting sick from drink. He stopped, I kept drinking. Guess I thought I had something to prove.
My stomach was killing me. My soul was trying desperately to escape my body.
I barely remembered the evening. I remember getting home. I remember giving Sylus a hard time when he was worried about me. I remember flopping on the living room rug taunting him.
“Oh God.” I groans as I hocked something up from the depths of my bowls.
He wrapped an arm around my abdomen. The warmth of his hand managed to ease the pain. I still felt like shit.
I was crying. I was disoriented and confused. I rolled from the toilet to his belly. I rested my head there and sobbed. There was probably still puke and bile on my lips but he pressed me against himself and rubbed my back.
“It’s alright, Starlight. You’re going to be alright.” He cooed.
I was barely concsious. All I could feel was the pain in my gut and head. I tried desperately to focus on Sylus. On his gentle words, his soft touch, his comforting belly. It was so hard.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face as deeply into him as I could.
“Now now,” he pulled me back, “You still have to breathe.”
I squeezed him tightly as I slowly caught my breath.
“I’m sorry.” I muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what, my love?”
“Drooling barf all over your shirt.” I rubbed my face in his belly. “Seeing me like this… I’m a gross mess.”
“Why on earth would you even think any of that?”
“I’m not supposed to get sick.”
“Not supposed to-what? What are you saying?” He stroked the back of my head. “Oh it’s just the drink talking.”
“I’m so… Mortal compared to you. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”
“Now now.” He held me tight. “None of that bollocks is true and you know it. You are so very very strong, Starlight. Stronger than you know.”
I moans as I pressed myself into him again.
“Your only shortcoming is needing to breathe.” He chuckled as he pulled my head out of his stomach again.
I held me in his arms, rubbing my back and head. As the pain subsided, I could feel his comfort more and more. Exhaustion started surfacing. I knew I had to get back to bed, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed in his embrace.
And so he sat there. Holding me. Cooing softly. Massaging my aching muscles.
“Sylus, cooking doesn’t even help you when you’re hungry.”
“Yes, but accept the euphemism for hunting. I’m too fat and lazy for any of that.”
“You’re neither of those things and I’ve seen you hunt.” An exhilarating shiver went down my spine. “You’re pretty scary, actually.”
“Thanks.” He growled. “But this doesn’t solve the fact that I am, in fact, lazy.”
“There’s always Trish’s place. She knows how to feed you.”
“That she does.” He patted his belly. “But I’m almost too lazy to weavewalk.”
“Well I’m not gonna go get you a whole ham so that’s your option.”
He leaned his head back on the couch and groaned.
“Fine. I’ll take us there.” I took his hand and dragged him through our pocket of the Void.
We emerged on a familiar street in New Hampton. I could have landed us right outside, but suddenly appearing on a busy corner might draw some attention. The Void wasn’t ingrained enough in society for us to be openly flaunting our powers. Instead, I took us to about a block away.
Sylus glanced over his shoulder. About ten blocks back and across the street was where his son lived in an old brownstone. He sighed.
“We can stop by if you want.”
“Absolutely not.” He barked. “I’m not in the mood to fight with Dorry.”
“You know Dan would come out to you.”
He looked at his watch. It was Friday night at 7 o’clock. A snarl rippled across his lips.
“It’s late.” He snapped. “Dinner’s closer.” His hackles were raised.
I sighed. “Alright, big guy. Stand down. I won’t push it.”
He snorted before allowing his body to relax. Talking about his son always did that to him and I should’ve known better, but every so often he’d agree to stop by. It was rare, but I always wanted to give him the chance.
We made our way to Trish’s place. A fancy steakhouse furnished with dark woods and leather. The exterior was brick with a tarnished copper overhang. After years of exposure to weather, it now practically glistened green.
Inside we were welcomed by the usual mater de, Marcel. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He bowed lightly, shaking his freshly colored and beaded braids around is face.
“Good evening, Marcel.” I bowed my head in response.
He lead us to our usual table and furnished us with our regular priceless menus and a tasteful glass jug of water..
“Half N Half?” He nodded to Sylus.
“As always.” Sylus grinned. “But give is a moment, please?”
“I’ll have the prescutto wrapped fille mignon medallions. Medium rare.” I knew what I wanted before we even arrived.
Marcel chuckled as he left us to ourselves.
Sylus stomach roared. “Ugh.” He groaned as he rested his head on the table.
“There there.” I patted his belly under the table. “You’re gonna be okay.”
I could feel his hunger and it was never a simple thing. A lot of who and what he was was tied to that deep, aching feeling. What I felt was only a fraction of it. It was gut lurching but also somewhere between agonizing and, well, intoxicating. I knew what it meant to him, to be hungry. And I knew he wanted more than food. More than to consume.
But this was a decent establishment in a nice side of town.
Plus Trish would murder us if we did anything unseemly.
Not that I would.
Not in public, anyway.
Probably.
Anyway, I knew he was incredibly uncomfortable and there was very little I could do about it.
Well, there was something. I put a hand on his belly and kneaded. He gave me the usual warbling growl in return. I smiled.
He finally sat back so I could see his beautiful violet eyes. Sometimes it made me wish my own eyes matched, but I’d gotten so used to having the best of both worlds I knew I could never go back. The way he sideeyed me as I squeezed him complicated my own feelings.
As always, our meals were out far faster than should have been possible. Trish was one of the gifted. I’m not sure where she stood on the hierarchy of void magic, but she had a conduit, same as me, and she used it frequently to create things. Where I made music, she made food. If I recall correctly, it was a skillet.
Sylus’ meal was left on a cart and mine was placed before me.
“Enjoy.” Marcel bowed. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Marcel.” I nodded.
With a smile, he left us.
Placing my napkin on my lap, I picked up my fork and knife and cut into my meal. It was perfect as always.
Sylus was picking at his food which consisted of half a cow and half a pig. No heads or legs, but you know what you were looking at. All of it together was pretty much the same as if he went out and hunted a spawn himself. It was the most food I’d ever seen in a restaurant.
He was always weird about it, though. It was far from our first time doing this. He’d pick at it with his utensils, get barely a forkful, put it in his mouth, chew slowly, and swallow. It annoyed the shit out of me. I didn’t want him unhinging his jaw, but he could do better than scraping some meat off of ribs.
“Sylus.”
“Hm?”
“Eat.”
“I am eating.”
“You’re taking smaller bites than I am.”
He pursed his lips and took a slightly bigger portion.
“Why are you like this?” I groaned, dropping my fork on my plate.
His face flushed a deep shade of violet and muttered something under his breath.
“Use your words.”
“I don’t want to be a monster.”
I banged my fists on the table. “We’ve been over this, Sylus! So many times! Eat like a normal human being! Maybe a little inhuman. It’s fine!” He winced. “We’ve been over this since our first damn date! Just eat!”
He put down his utensils and buried his face in his hands.
“Oh my god stop it!” I reached over and took his arm. “Please. I just want to have a nice evening. I don’t want to be here all night while you eat your food molecule by molecule. I want to go home with you at some point!”
He pulled his arms away and sat back in the booth.
“Really?” I sat back myself. “Take me home, then.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
“You’re being an ass!”
“What do you want me to do?!” He picked up his fork, slammed it into some beef ribs, tore them off, and shoved them directly into his mouth.
I glared at him.
“What?!” He cried out around a mouthful of food.
My glare deepened.
He rolled his head on his shoulders before swallowing.
“Eat like normal!” I barked.
“WHAT IS NORMAL?! My normal? Your normal?” He took another rib, put it on his plate, picked it up in his fingers, sucked the meat off and swallowed the bone.
“LIKE THAT!”
“THAT’S NOT NORMAL!”
“IT’S NORMAL ENOUGH FOR YOU!”
He roared before turning completely to his meal.
“Why was that so difficult?” I scoffed as I picked up my utensils again.
He intentionally kept his gaze away from me.
“Every time, Sylus. Every damn time.”
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
I shook my head. “I just want you to be comfortable.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just me, Sy.”
“I know.”
“Now eat. Please.”
He growled as he continued eating.
My plate was delicious as always and judging by the happy humming coming from Sylus, so was his.
Why we had to do that song and dance every time we ate here was beyond me. He knew he could eat like a wild animal and I wouldn’t care.
Then again, I knew it wasn’t about me. He was desperate to cling to some form of human civility. He was already walking a fine line and the risk of tipping over to the feral Void side was too great.
I reached across the table and squeezed his arm firmly. He paused his chewing for a moment, gave me a subtle nod, and returned to his meal.
Things were complicated for him, but I was just happy to be by his side. I could never fully understand his internal struggle. All I could do was support him to the best of my ability. Which was difficult at times because he struggled to communicate his struggles.
I felt a tendril settle in my lap beneath the table. I smiled. He was comfortable.
We finished in comfortable silence. It wasn’t the date night I’d been hoping for. Then again, I’d never said that’s what it was and unless I did, Sylus wouldn’t pick up on it. That’s okay. We had a nice quiet meal together that neither of us had to prepare.
Marcel gave us the clearance to leave. We thanked him and stepped outside.
“You good?” I asked him.
He stretched, tentacles and all, and rolled his head on his shoulders. “I suppose so.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “You ready to head home?”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose I am.”
“No churros?”
“Carbs are bad for me.” He squeezed his stomach.
I laughed.
“Why did you want churros?”
“Not unless you do.”
He gave it some thought, a barely visible tentacle rubbing his chin. “What if I don’t?”
“Then we can go home.”
“And what if I do?”
“Then I’ll get some churros.”
He nodded sagely. “Better to have than have not, yes?”
I snorted as I took his arm and lead him to the churro stand on the corner.
Once we’d been sufficiently churroed, I slid my arm around his.
“Ready to go, big guy?”
He craned his head to the sky. “You ever wonder what it would be like if you were with a normal human being?”
“Not really. Why?”
“I just wonder what experiences I’m depriving you of just but being what I am. Like a normal dinner out.”
“I don’t know why you keep using the word ‘normal’. That doesn’t apply to either of us or even the planet anymore. In fact, I think normal is a myth conjured by people who feel like they can’t be themselves so no one else should be able to.”
“Hm.”
“Anyway, who cares about normal when I have a big fat tentacle monster as my boyfriend? Checks all the boxes for me so what does it matter?”
“What if I was just a normal human?”
“Then I would have killed you in the desert and we wouldn’t be here holding hands.”
“I wouldn’t have been chasing spawns in the first place.”
“See? We wouldn’t have even met and we’d both be worse for it, right?”
He sighed. “Right.” He shook his head. “I mean I suppose.”
I patted his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Sy. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“What good are you if you don’t understand it either?” Sylus muttered to himself as he sat on the floor at the living room table sifting through several sheets of plastic parts.
I sat across the room giggling to myself as he and Qaitax struggled with the build. I knew he’d ask me if wanted my help so I just sat back and read my book while they went at it. So far they had some very articulate limbs built but we’re currency struggling with torso instructions.
“Is it upside down? How much is it supposed to stick out? That’s the wrong joint thingy… Why is there so much spruuu??” He huffed. “No Qai we are not making new parts that fit together better. These’ll fit together once we figure it out-I DROPPED THE STICKER!”
I burst out laughing.
“Enjoying my misery are you?”
“If you’re not having fun, Sy, put it down for now.” I wiped a tear from my eye.
He growled before returning to his suffering. He wouldn’t stop until it was done. No matter how imperfect it turned out.
“I just absolutely maimed that sticker trying to jam those two pieces together. Why didn’t you stop me?”… “what do you mean that’s what you thought the instructions were saying? I’m the dumb mortal, Qaitax. You’re supposed to know everything.”… “So? Just because you’ve never done it before doesn’t mean you can’t tell me I’m fucking up.”… “WELL THAT’S DIFFERENT!”
I snorted. I could tune in to hear the other side of the conversation, but it was far more entertaining just hearing Sylus yelling at himself.
Once he finished the torso, he proudly attached the limbs. All that was left now was the head.
“Why aren’t the legs even?” He asked softly as if pleading with the tiny plastic parts. “Why.” He turned it over, pushed on some things, part of the torso’s belt popped off. He grumbled as he got it and put it back on. A leg fell off. He snarled as he put it back. Giving up on the mismatched leg lengths, he laid it down and began working on the head.
“Jeron.”
“Yes?” I looked up to find him standing over me.
“What do these instructions look like they’re telling me to do with these two pieces?” He offered me the paper and two plastic parts.
I laid the instructions in my lap before taking the pieces. The diagram was drawn at a weird angle, but I managed to figure out how the pieces snapped together. I offered the joined parts back to him. He bowed and returned to the couch.
The next step was for him to get the head on without popping anything else off. A gentle but firm touch was necessary. He popped an arm off, growled, put it back on, popped a belt piece off, snarled, put it back on, balanced the finished product and sat back, sighing with relief.
He sat back, arms folded across his chest and nodded with satisfaction.
“Never again?” I chuckled.
“Oh absolutely again.”
“Didn’t exactly sound like you were having fun.”
“Despite the complaints, it was worth the effort. I just need to get better at it. We just need to get better at it.”
“So Qaitax had a good time?”
“Surprisingly. I’d love to do it again, but maybe an easier build next time. I think I just skipped like five brackets. The stickers are awful and I had to jam so many pieces together because I couldn’t file the spru off good enough. But it’s done.”
It was a humanoid mecha with big black wings and purple trim.
“I’m afraid to move it.” He sighed. “But it can’t stay here.”
I motioned to the bookshelf in the corner beside me. “There’s some space there.”
He took a deep breath before lifting it carefully by its feet. He moved across the room as if he was carrying a full bowl of hot soup. He placed it down, balanced the legs, and stepped back. “There.” He breathed as he returned to the couch and flopped down. “You suck.” He mumbled to Qaitax.
I laughed. “I’m proud of you both for not giving up out of frustration. It’s a very nice robot mecha thingy. Good job.”
Cooking is my passion. Work aside, I adore it. Making good food, feeding people, seeing the smiles on their faces, cleaning their empty plates… It just floods my brain with dopamine.
Don’t get me wrong, I love making music, too. Where cooking gives me structure, I let music be my time to unwind and just do something for myself.
Between the two I like to think I have a pretty healthy grasp on my work/life balance.
Sylus, on the other hand, likes cooking, but it’s not the same for him. I think he just likes sharing in something with me more than anything else. He’s a good cook, without a doubt, but it doesn’t call to him. It doesn’t feed his soul like it does mine.
Never you worry, Sylus is well fed regardless.
He had a similar relationship with music as I do, but he’s more than once expressed a desire to have something to do with his hands. He used to dabble in lasers cutting, but life pulled that away from him. So there’s a hole left there that cooking doesn’t quite fill.
In another life, as he used to say, he was a Sci fi writer. He has yet to let me see any of his work and I stopped pestering him when I realized how sore of a spot it really was. He had dreams of publishing. Of being one of those homegrown success stories rising from the ashes of a miserable life. Instead live made him a dead eldritch god and writing had to take a step back.
He seems a bit hollow when asked what his interests are. It’s the same response every time: Protecting the people he loves. It’s not a very good answer either because that’s more of a role than an interest. Still, that’s all he says he cares about.
Meanwhile he loves working on cars and identifying flowers yet none of these things register as interests to him. Why? Because they’re impractical. He can’t actually repair a car so much as tinker around under the hood and what good is identifying flowers?
I know how useful those skills could be, but he doesn’t see it.
Though thick, I know his hands to be incredibly dexterous. As a whole he’s deceptively agile. I know how well he can navigate tight spaces despite his size. So I knew he could handle the task I’d picked out for him
I handed him a box wrapped in brown paper. He glanced between me and the object, cocking a brow.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Well, maybe I’ve made a bit of an assumption, but we’re off for a few days and I thought you might like a little hands on project. Just for fun.”
He furrowed his brows as he opened the package. I’m not sure what was going on in his head as he processed what he was looking at. Once he held the unwrapped box in his hands he just stared at it.
“Struck out, huh?” I chuckled.
I think he was reading the box even though it was largely I another language. I forget sometimes that he’s an omniglot.
He read the sides and checked the back which was blank, before holding it in his hands again, studying it.
He cleared his throat. “How did you know?” He choked out.
“Know? Know what?”
“Did Aria tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He looked over the box again. “You just found this and somehow thought I’d like it?” I was trying desperately to get a hold of his tone.
I shrugged. “You like scifi. You like machines. You like making things with your hands. It was an educated guess at best.”
He stared at the box again.
“Plus it’s got a lot of that retro clear plastic stuff and I know how much you love dated things. Bonus, it’s got a lot of purple.”
“I’ve always wanted a kit of my own.” He was almost in tears. “I love it.” He sobbed as he threw his arms around me.
It took a full wind up to swing the garbage bag into the bin. That never used to bother me but today it took the wind out of me.
I felt tired and disgusting.
I could hear Sylus talking to one of the kids.
“I understand you had to leave everything behind, but we’ll figure it out, alright?”
“What if I never find anything my soul connects to?”
“You will. You just have to learn to live again and that takes time. You’ve got a good support system here so that’s a start.”
“Yeah I guess…”
“And you are not a burden. We’ll find your conduit eventually. Once your passion returns it’ll get easier. For now that doesn’t stop you from learning the basics and getting your sight under control.”
The young Dalafaem sighed. “I guess.”
“It’s getting let. You’re tired. Go get some rest. We’ll address this again in the morning if you want.”
“Yeah okay.”
I made my way around the restaurant. Sylus was on the front stoop with his tentacles just hanging out, something he never did in public for obvious reasons.
“Sy?”
“It’s embarrassing how many of these kids are here because they have nowhere else to go.”
I took his arm. “At least we can try to give them a home.”
“And if we can’t? What then? Half of them can’t go home. Half of them have no home to go back to. I swear if another child tells me how their parents evicted them over this I’ll start rampaging.”
“You won’t.” I patted his chest. “We’ll just keep doing the best we can.”
“I couldn’t even be a father to one child and now I have 20 kids looking up to me.” He forced a laugh. “Sucks.”
“Have you invited Dan out? He’s a Dalafaem, right?”
Sylus sighed. “If I got him any further involved with this Void stuff Dorry would kill me. Bad enough he can do spells and has zero scruples about showing them off.”
“Maybe give it a try?”
“I have no desire to fight with my sister. Just as I have no desire to throw my son into harm’s way.”
“Kids could use a role model though. Someone their age.”
Sylus sighed. “Ask me in the morning. I’m tired and emotionally drained right now.”
“Come on.” I pulled him back inside. “Let’s take a quick shower.”
“Jeron… I’m not…”
“Neither am I. It’s the utilitarian option to get it done together.”
He sighed. “It’s not like we have a water bill.”
“Would you rather shower alone?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then let’s go.”
I lead him back inside and upstairs to our shared bathroom. Just as there was a master bedroom there was also a master bath, but I was still hesitant to use either. Instead, we always used the adjoining bathroom between our rooms. It was smaller by far but we both fit.
I turned on the shower and kept it on the cooler side of things. I was a sweaty mess and Sylus was neither sweaty nor a mess but he was tired.
I stripped down and hopped in. It took him a minute but he did the same. I think he was waiting to make sure I wasn’t going to pop out and undress him. Usually I would. It’s fun to take his clothes off of him. But right now, like I said, it was all utilitarian. I wanted to be in bed.
Sylus lumbered in behind me. With the two of us there was barely any room to move around.
He could stand pretty much completely still and use his tentacles to wash himself off. Collect water in suckers, wipe them off on himself, lather them with soap, literally rinse and repeat. His hair was fine tendrils, too, which made cleaning them as simple as running water over his head. The cleaned themselves like antennae but in a level I couldn’t really see so no it didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have.
I was left to take the old fashioned route. Soak, soap, rinse.
Once we were done, Sylus tendrils reached out and squeezed the water from my dreads. Incredibly convenient. He was all I could see as the flurry of tendrils milked me dry. I have him a tired smile. He returned the gesture.
Tentacles wrapped around me and lifted me gently off the ground, carrying me to bed. He placed me gently onto the mattress before collapsing beside me, tossing me ever so slightly off the surface.
He laid there, face down, and I rolled over to put an arm over him.
“Good night, big guy.” I breathed before sleep consumed me.
I was sitting on a whicker chair my mother had purchased when I was a child, blanket across my lap, scrolling through my phone. My brand new very smart phone. I’d lived my entire 32 years of existence without one and now here I was drawn into the 2X century because Sylus’ SIXTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD thought it was important we could make phone calls and send texta. Nevermind our telepathic connection. That could be tapped. Like a phone call couldn’t.
Anyway Sylus agreed so I got a phone and he upgraded from a flip phone to an equally intelligent one.
He didn’t scroll around like I did. In moments of silence he’d just knock himself out and talk to Qaitax or something. I’d be scrolling around learning stuff and catching up on decades of internet culture. I came to realize Sylus’ meme references were from about twenty years ago. But that was very much like him so I did my best not to attempt to exercise more modern iterations of memeology.
He woke up on the couch across the room, sniffed, reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, typed something, then placed it face down on his lap.
My phone chimed and a message dropped down from the top. It was from Sylus. I glared at him.
“You’re sitting right here.”
He shrugged and looked away.
“Fine.” I huffed as I opened his message.
>Send noods.
What the hell… I thought to myself. I turned to him. He was on his phone ignoring me.
I slipped my phone under the blanket. He gave me a side-eyed glance.
Sylus’ phone pinged. The tiniest puff of smoke came from his nose.
He opened the text.
His face turned purple as his cheeks puffed up. A massive belly laugh burst from his lungs.
I resumed scrolling on my phone with a grin on my lips.
“Well now I want macaroni and cheese.” He snorted.
My smile grew and a small laugh slipped through my lips.
We were sitting on the couch watching a movie when Sylus started rumbling and grumbling about. I tried to ignore him until he started pulling the blanket off my legs.
“Can I help you?” I tore it back.
He thrust his head back like the drama queen he often became.
“What, don’t like the flick? Too new for you?” I slapped him across his massive thigh.
He huffed.
“Use your words. Please.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.” I groaned.
He shook his head. “For something specific.”
“A craving?”
He nodded.
“For what?”
A snarl rippled across his lips before a huff burst forth.
“Don’t make me read your mind, Sylus. Use your words. For the love of God please.”
He muttered something too low and fast for me to hear. I glared at him.
“Tuna melt.”
I sighed. “I can make you one if you want.”
“No. Tuna melt from a corner market in a small down in the Midwest specifically.”
I clutched my shirt. “Is mine not good enough?!”
He shook his head. “Yours is very good. I just kinda want this one right now.”
I sighed again. “How close can you get us? I don’t really feel like walking.”
“Right on their doorstep.”
“Alright.” I flopped my hand in his lap. He took it and we weave walked away.
It was a small building with a ran exterior. Definitely had neiborhood convenience store vibes.
Wherever we were, the weather was beautiful. Warm with a brisk wind and a white cloud smeared blue sky.
Sylus hurried inside and I followed.
Register and deli right inside. Aisles of goods filled the room. He made his way to the counter and I took a look at their goods. All pretty good quality. No weirdly branded stuff. Local produce and honey, decent prices. I was pleasantly surprised.
I found a bag of cherry BBQ kettle chips. Sounded weird enough.
I met Sylus on the end with the coolers. He reached in and grabbed bottle of Shirley Temple. He held the door open and I grabbed a cream soda.
“I got you one, too. I hope that’s okay.”
“You only got one?”
He nodded. “I just want the taste. Americo cheese and tomato on marble rye.”
“Sounds good.” I handed him my drink and chips and he took them to the counter to pay.
We waited a few minutes before our sandwiches were ready. He handed me our bag and carried them himself. He lead me outside and across the street to a small grassy area with some tree cover. A yellow picnic table awaited us.
I sat down, resting the bag on the table. Sylus did some fat math before deciding on sitting sideways, straddling the benc. I laughed. He offered me my sandwich. I traded it for his red sugar drink.
We each took a bite. It really was pretty good. But what made it different from mine? A tuna salad was a tuna salad.
“Dill.” Sylus explained, his hand outstretched.
That’s exactly what it was. Maybe I’d try some with my own.
“Use your words.”
“Crisps.” He flexed his fingers.
“Well I suppose that is a word.” I handed him the bag of chips. He popped it open with ease and tilted it to me, offering me the first try.
I took a red dusted chip. Definitely kettle cooked with some skin on the edges. I put it in my mouth. A spicy but warm fruity taste hit followed by a satisfying crunch. The seasoning was perfectly balanced and the cherry was far from lost in the smoky bite of the chip.
Sylus hummed approvingly.
I looked around. We were surrounded by a very nice neighborhood and a few restaurants. Buses went by in both directions. A middle class foodies’ dream.
“I’d live here.” Sylus spoke between bites. “If I was normal.” He swallowed. “If I still had Daniel. If I’d been able to get my shit together sooner.” He sighed. “I once dreamed of living in a place like this. Having food and neighbors close at hand. Quiet nights in with my son. A home. Our home. That’s… Just not my reality. Never could be.”
I reached across the table and put my hand on his.
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m very grateful for the life I have. Those dreams were the product of someone very different than what I’ve become.”
“How about this: When the war’s over, we’ll get a little slice of a tiny town for ourselves.”
He smiled and resumed eating. So did I.
“It’s very good. Thank you, Sylus.”
He nodded as he tidied our garbage into the bag we’d brought it in. A trash can stood on the corner just off the small park. Cheating, Sylus just teleported the bag into the bin.
He leaned back and sighed, clearly satisfied.
“That hit the spot?” I chuckled.
“It did indeed.”
“Good because it’s getting chilly and I miss our blanket.” I offered him my hand.
With a smile he took it and carried us home, right back to where we’d left.
I cuddled back under the blanket and threw it over him.
“You sure this movie isn’t too modern for your dated sensibilities?”
He leaned over, resting his head on my shoulder. “If you like it, I like it.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“How about if you like it, I can tolerate it.”
“That’s better.” I scritched his chin. “That really was a pretty good melt.”
“Small placed have the best food.”
“Very true.” I breathed before returning my attention to our movie, idly running my fingers through his hair.
“It’s weird.” Sylus was tilting his head while gnashing his teeth on his stick of gum. “I don’t exactly have masticates anymore and it keeps sticking to my hooks. And not in the most pleasant way.” He stuck his finger in his mouth to pull the gum off his teeth. “Guess that’s one human activity I have to give up.” He tossed me the rest of the pack. “If you’ll excuse me it’s getting dark and I have some cookies to pick up.”
I chuckled to myself as I followed him.
Cassidy was packing down when we approached her. Strangely enough, she was wearing sunglasses even though the sun was barely in the sky.
“Oh, you’re back?” She sounded surprised.
Sylus nodded. “I said I would be.” He offered her the cash. “How much will this get me?”
She studied his offering before digging into a duffle bag. One of each flavor and two coconut crunches and three minty minchies.
Sylus cocked a brow. “Surely this can’t cover that.”
“I need them to move. The lighter the bag, the faster I can get home. Besides,” She took his cash, “you bought me dinner. Take ’em.”
Sylus looked around again. “Where’s your chaperone?”
“Oh,” She forced a laugh, “They’re, uh, just running a bit late.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No offense, mister, but I know better than to trust a stranger.”
Sylus chuckled. “Smart girl.”
“How often are you here?” I asked.
“All day every Saturday and Sunday and Friday evenings.”
“Not by yourself, I hope?”
She shrugged dismissively. “I’m probably the only one that takes the business seriously.”
“Hm.” Sylus scratched his chin. “Well good to know, then. I might be back.”
“A repeat customer?” A flash of green light flickered behind her sunglasses. “Ah, haha, these darn LEDs…” She laughed nervously.
Sylus studied her carefully. “Fancy taking those silly things off?” He gestured to her sunglasses.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
Sylus let a spark of violet flash across his eyes. I was mortified. He’d just broadcasted his spawnhood.
Cassidy seemed to freeze. I was bracing myself for a fight. With a child…
She cleared her throat, bagged his cookies, and pushed them across the table. “Take them and go. Please.”
“You’re a spawn, are you not?” He asked gently.
She bit her lip. “Just go.”
“Very well then.” He put his cookies in the cart. “Let’s go, love.”
We were just off the sidewalk lip when a small voice called after us. Cassidy, stripped of her boisterous bravado called out: “Wait.”
We stopped. Sylus turned to her. She looked around nervously before running up to us.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” She was almost in tears.
“I would never.” Sylus placed a hand over his heart.
She looked around again before removing her sunglasses.
I immediately recognized the black crosses of her pupils. She was no mere spawn. This child… Was a Lord.
Sylus tilted his head back. “I see.”
“You’re a spawn, too, right?” She put her sunglasses back on.
“I am, yes.”
“And you have a family?”
Sylus turned to me. “I do indeed. Why do you ask?”
“I didn’t know spawns could have families.”
His brows furrowed. “You mean you don’t have anyone looking after you?”
“I-I have a guardian, but he’d be so angry if he knew I came out and sold cookies to mortals.”
“A guardian?” Sylus pressed.
Cassidy nodded. “He takes good care of me. Keeps me safe and stuff, but I like exploring. Trying new things. He doesn’t.”
“What color is he?”
The girl shook her head. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Hm.”
“Y-you’re not gonna kill me, are you?”
Sylus balked. “Why would I?”
“You’re a Lord and I’m just a stupid spawn. I’m sorry I made fun of you.” She bowed deeply. “I should have known better.”
She has no idea what she is. Sylus’ thought crossed our conduit. Perhaps that’s for the best.
“I don’t just randomly kill spawns. That’s not how a Lord behaves. Besides, you’re a child. How long have you been a spawn?”
“For as long as I can remember which, thinking about it, isn’t that far back.” She started to look upset. “Huh.”
“A-are you alright, little one?” Sylus reached out to her.
“I-I don’t…” She shook her head. A smile snapped across her lips. “I’m fine!”
She ran back to her booth, finished breaking down in record time, and waved to us. “Come back anytime!” She ran around the corner of the mall and with the tiniest flash of green, she was gone.
Sylus stood morbidly still. Even his breathing had stopped. Clearly he’d stepped back to have a conversation with Qaitax: the creature he shared his body with and a much more void-wise soul.
I sighed as I took his arm. He wasn’t impossible to move when he was soulless but it was a pain in the ass juggling him and the cart. I managed to reach the truck and push him into the bed while I got our groceries into the back seat. His groaning meant he’d returned to reality. I made my way back around the truck to him.
“And what does the eldritch horror have to say about this?” I leaned on the rim of the truck bed.
“We are confused. She does not match a Lord we are familiar with and there cannot be new Lords since Mother’s departure from the Void.”
I shrugged. “Maybe you’ve just never met her before?”
“Perhaps…” Sylus replied slowly before shaking his head and clutching it in his hands. Exchanging always took a toll on him.
“Come on, big guy.” I patted his belly. “We’ll figure it out later. Together, okay?”
“Yeah…” He gazed wistfully back at the grocery store. He closed his eyes before turning to me with a smile. “Together.”
As we entered the massive building, bright, florescent light washed over us. Sylus hissed quietly. Half jokingly and half serious response. Puppy Squid wasn’t exactly comfortable in bright places.
We’d walked into the produce section. Greenery stretched the length of the aisle. Fruits lined the opposite wall. Vegetation that didn’t need watering filled bins im the middle of the aisle. It was glorious.
“What’s a durian?” I asked no one in particular. “Are dragon fruits red inside?” I put one of each in the basket Sylus came out of nowhere with.
“Sorry, love. Fruits and veg are not my area of expertise.”
“We’ll find out together then!” I took hold of the cart and started pushing through all the greens. I grabbed some different apples and pears I’d never heard of. A few cabbagey things like bokchoy. I didn’t exactly have a plan in mind. I was just planning on grabbing as much as I could knowing full well Mr. Moneybags wouldn’t stop me.
At the end of the aisle was a person standing behind a table. Little plastic cups of croutons were laid out. Sylus approached the table and struck up a conversation with the employee. They looked preemptively annoyed as he approached, but their demeanor shifted as they spoke.
“They’re garlic cheddar. Store brand.” They explained.
Sylus took a cup and tossed them back. “Not bad.” He offered me a cup. They were okay. Nothing like Ma used to make.
Sylus thanked the employee who smiled and waved as we moved along.
“Bet they’ve been standing there all day getting badgered by customers.” He shook his head. “I could never work retail. I hate people too much.”
“Well that’s not true.”
“Nothing wrong with an individual person. I try not to judge off the bat. But people? In the wise words of a fellow suited individual: ‘People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals’.”
I sighed.
The deli was right across the way from the aisle we’d just left. I took to browsing their options. All kinds of meat cuts and fish sat out for all to see. A whole dead octopus laid among them. I turned to Sylus. He didn’t look happy.
“They’re smart, you know, octupuses.” He murmured. “If they lived long enough they’d probably have cities down there. Give us mammals,” he paused a moment, “humans, a run for their money as apex creatures.”
I took his arm and squeezed it.
“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Let’s just move on.”
We continued down the end cap aisle where prepackaged meat awaited us. I expected Sylus to be more excited but he just eyed every cut with a mild look of disdain. They weren’t good enough for him. I laughed. He was incredibly spoiled in that department, but honestly from what I knew of his past, he deserved it. He deserved to have nice things.
We both did, I suppose.
He passed almost everything up until we reached the hot dogs. He threw at least a dozen packs of foot longs into the cart.
I cocked a brow.
“Practice.” He muttered.
I laughed. I laughed so hard I had to hold onto the shopping cart for dear life. My ribs started to hurt and my stomach ached. I clung to the cart as I made my way around it until I could throw my arms around my giant squid.
“God I love you.” I choked out.
He took my chin in his hand and brushed his thumb across my sideburn. He leaned in close. “And I you.” He breathed across my ear.
I was compromised.
Sylus took hold of the back of the cart and started dragging it and me down the aisle.
On the corner stood another sample table. Mini sausages in mini cups. Of course we stopped.
Once more Sylus struck up a friendly conversation unrelated to the product. He ended up knocking back most of the samples in the process. Sylus apologized. The employee seemed more grateful than upset.
“Less to clean up.” They said. “Makes my life easier.”
I took two cups for myself.
We wandered up and down a few more aisles picking up things we didn’t need like cookies, chips, and snacks. Some random hot sauces, too. None of what was in our cart made any sense.
And that was fine.
We made our way to check out. It came out to way more than I thought it would be. Sylus paid, of course.
We were on our way out when he cursed and ran back in.
I waited, confused.
He returned with a pack gum and some cash. He offered me a bubble flavored strip.
About half an hour away from La Sombra was a strip mall. I’d driven past it enough to know it had a grocery store attached to it. I’ve never been to a grocery store. All our food came from restaurant suppliers. Pops always said grocery stores were overpriced especially when they could get high quality goods in bulk. The only problem was, everything we had was presumably reserved for customers. If I wanted something for myself, I had to work for it.
“I wanna go for a ride.” I mumbled to Sylus as he read the newspaper from a different prefecture.
“Where to?”
“Leaping Lion.”
“Leaping- That’s a grocery chain. You want to go for a ride to a grocery store?”
I nodded.
He glanced toward the kitchen doors. “Do we not have enough food here?”
“Probably, but I’ve never been to a grocery store.”
“Never been?”
I shook my head.
“Well you’re not missing much.” He returned his attention to the paper.
I reached across the table. “Come on.”
“I’m information gathering.”
“From a propaganda rag?” I scoffed.
He glared at me over the paper.
“Well, I’m gonna go shopping. You can stay here reading Xanthous propaganda.”
His glare deepened.
I started weave walking when a tendril followed me into the void and pulled me out.
“Rude.” I snapped.
He was standing now. “Is this really that important to you?”
“Yes.” I pulled my arm out of his tentacle. “It is.”
He sighed. “Very well.” He offered me his hand.
“You sure?”
He nodded.
I took his hand and brought us to the strip mall. Specifically the a sidewalk across the street since I’d never actually been in the strip.
We crossed over and made our way over to the grocery store.
Sylus paused outside, clearly distracted by something. I followed his gaze. A frizzy red-haired girl sat at a plastic folding table hawking scout cookies. He made his way over to her.
“Sylus?” I reached after him.
The girl greeted him as he approached the table.
“Well well well, if it isn’t my target audience!”
“Excuse me?” He balked.
I made his way to his side.
“Big boned, mid life crisis. You just check all the boxes.”
“Mid life- what?”
“The purple hair. Clearly the symptom of a greater issue.”
Sylus balked. “I’ll have you know this is my natural hair color!”
“Yeah sure, big guy.” She flicked her wrist at him.
I stifled a highly inappropriate laugh as I took his arm.
“You’re not exactly enticing me to purchase your wares.”
“Oh but you will!” She reached under the table and pulled out two crispy coconut boxes and three minty munchies.
Sylus sighed. “Where’s an adult?”
The girl’s demeanor took a sharp turn. She looked around nervously. “A, uh, I…” She cleared her throat. “They just walked away for a minute.”
“So you’re just here? Unsupervised?” Sylus cocked a brow.
She scoffed. “Cassidy Jones don’t need no adult to run a business. Heck I’m the only one that knows how to use the cube reader.”
“Cube? Reader?” Sylus was clearly confused.
Cassidy reached under the table and put a small box on its surface. “It’s a portable credit card reader.”
“Huh.” He scratched his chin.
“So you buying anything or-?”
He sighed. “How much?”
“$8 per box credit or $5 cash.”
“You’re allowed to manipulate prices like that?” Sylus, once again, cocked a brow.
“I sure can.”
He side eyed her. She grinned almost menacingly at him.
“I’ll be back with cash.” He grumbled. “How long are you here?”
She looked across the parking lot. “Until sundown. So about two hours.”
“Alright, I’ll be back.”
“You better be. These are my most popular flavors.” She patted the boxes.
Sylus shook his head. “Whatever you say, kid.”
He gave her a half hearted wave over his shoulder as we headed inside. She waved back excitedly, but he didn’t see it.
Author’s Note: This is a little NSFW. Nothing graphic, but there is talk of sexy stuffs.
I stood outside the shop eyeing the wares inside between a veil of hanging plants. This was the place.
I felt Sylus lumbering up behind me, offering me a hot dog from a street vendor.
I smiled as I took it from him.
He crouched over to look through the obscuring vines. A soft laugh punched from his lips.
He shoved his entire hot dog down his throat and capped it off with a satisfied gulp. “Sometimes you just have to indulge in some rubbish.”
I snorted as I continued working on my hot dog.
“Did you want to go in, then?” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to the shop’s door.
I looked up at the white-sided, black-trimmed, three story victorian.
Sylus hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and looked me over for an answer.
“Yeah sure.” I swallowed the last of my sausage.
His massive arm reached out and opened the door for me. Tree trunks. Thick, massive, strong. He wore a fitting smile for the occasion.
Inside was crisp and clean. White wood all over.
I was on a mission. A mission I had no idea what the success rate was.
Sylus broke away from my side and started eye a slatwall covered in packaged goods. I made my way to the other side of the shop where my objective awaited.
“Hello and welcome to Lily’s!” Two women appeared behind the counter.
“I’m Kriss.” A dark-haired woman with sharp emerald eyes waved to us. Her hair was done up in a high pony tail. She wore a black shirt with sheer sleeves.
“And I’m Lily!” The blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman beside her cheered. Her hair hung freely around her shoulders. Colorful tattoos covered her exposed arms. A septum piercing shimmering in the sharp light of their shop. “Welcome and let us know if you need anything.”
“Anything at all.” Kriss added with a bow of her head.
“Thanks.” I waved back.
Sylus gave them an understanding nod.
I returned to browsing.
“All of our leather products are hand made right here by the two of us. Feel free to ask about any resizing or customization!” Lily called out.
“Thank you!” I waved over my shoulder.
Digging among the strappy leather, I found a simple, dark purple collar. It was a good start. Lifting it from the rack, I made my way over to the counter.
“Ready to check out?” Kriss asked.
“Not yet, um.” I glanced back at Sylus before turning back to Kriss. “I-I need something like this, but a bit bigger.”
“Do you have some measurements?”
I nodded. I knew every single one of Sylus’ measurements. From his thighs, to his waist, to his shoulders, and his throat. I knew it all.
“Would you like to customize it at all?” Lily slid down the counter toward me.
“Um, well…” I looked back at the slatwall. “I saw you had some more intricate pieces.”
“We do! We love adding unique flairs to our designs!” Kriss had stepped back from the counter as Lily dominated the conversation. “What did you have in mind?”
I glanced at Sylus again. He was holding a package in his hand and carefully reading the back.
Kriss apparently followed my gaze. “Those are clitoral stimulators.”
“Understood.” Sylus replied, still studying his box.
Kriss bit her lip.
“Tentacles?” I resumed my conversation with Lily.
“Tentacles? Hm.” She turned to Kriss. “Thoughts?”
Kriss thought for a moment before reaching under the counter for a notebook and pencil. She opened it up, flipped through a few pages, and started sketching.
“Rivets for suckers?” I suggested.
“Oh, I like that.” Lily grinned.
Kriss kept working, nodding in reply.
Sylus stepped up beside me, clutching something low in his hands. I smiled as I slipped my arm around his.
Kriss stepped forward, placing her notebook on the counter. In the front was two tentacles gripping an O-ring. Rivets followed the curves of the tendrils. The back was clasped with a buckle. It was thick and chunky. Hard to ignore. I turned to Sylus. He was flushing.
“What do you think, big guy?”
“Wait what?”
“For you.”
“F-for…” He swallowed hard.
“Who did you think it was for?!” I shoved him lightly.
He stared almost blankly at the drawing.
Heat started welling into my cheeks. “D-did I misunder-“
He ran his fingers over the design. “For… me?”
“Yes, big guy. For you.” I patted his belly.
He bit his lip and stepped back.
“You okay?”
“I-I…” He was still clutching his find in his hand. “Y-you want me? Like… like that?”
“Of course I do! Sylus! Of course I do!”
His lip quivered. “No one’s ever wanted me.”
“Oh my god.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I want you, Sylus. In every way!”
“I-I knew that but…” He wiped his eyes. “Oh Sondreh I’m making a scene.”
“It’s okay.” Kriss replied.
“Ugh. All the strength of a god and you still find ways to break me down.” He sniffed.
“Are you okay with this, Sylus? It’s okay if you say no.”
He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around me, whatever he was holding still in his hand. “Thank you.” His deep, hot breath washed over my cheek.
I smiled from ear to ear before pulling away. I scritched his chin before returning to the counter.
“Here’s his measurements.” I wrote a number down on the sheet.
Kriss pursed her lips and nodded. “I was close.”
Lily giggled.
“Alright,” Lily reached under the counter and pulled out a piece of paper, “How much do you think Kriss?”
“Hmm. Materials, time…” She counted on her fingers. “Do you want precious metals?”
I looked back at Sylus. He deserved the best.
“Steel would be fine, thank you.” He answered.
I smiled.
“Alright.” Kriss wrote some stuff down on the sheet. “$280 with a four week lead time.”
“How’s that sound?” Lily followed up.
“Sounds great.”
“So, half up front and half on pick-up. Sign here please and leave a phone number and/or email so we can let you know when it’s ready.” Lily moved to ring me up.
“Wait.” I pushed the smaller purple collar forward. “I’d like this too.” I turned back to Sylus and beckoned him over.
I finally got a look at what he was holding.
“It’s remote operated.” He whispered. “You can get an app on your phone and-“
I laughed as I put it on the counter and filled out the form.
“Just a reminder, this is for clitoral stimulation.” Kriss delicately informed us.
“Oh, its not for me.” I motioned to Sylus. “It’s for him.”
He grinned sheepishly.
“Men can have vaginas, Kriss!” Lily giggled as she added the toy to our bill.
Kriss cocked a brow and nodded in understanding.
“Your total for today is $200!”
I knew Sylus was reaching for his wallet of infinite funds, but I managed to get my bank card out faster.
“Thank you!” Lily replied.
Kriss picked up her notebook and studied her design again.
I picked up the collar. “Whip it out, Sy.”
“We are in public, Jeron!”
“You don’t have one of those. Now whip it out.”
He looked nervously from side to side. A tentacle shimmered into plain sight. It slithered over his shoulder. I patted it softly before fastening the collar to it.
“How’s that for now?” I patted him again.
He flexed the tendril and nodded before withdrawing it. It shimmered back into obscurity.
“Tentacles.” Kriss nodded, unphased.
Lily looked a little put off, but cleared her throat and handed me my receipt. Kriss had put Sylus’ toy in a brown bag.
“Thank you.” I smiled as I took the bag and pressed it into Sylus’ hands.
He made a strange sound that I’m pretty sure was a gleeful squeal. He turned on his heels and made his way to the door.
“Thanks very much.” I bowed to the women behind the counter.
They bowed and smiled in return.
“Thank you for stopping in and shopping local!” Lily cheered.
“Have a nice day.” Kriss waved as I made my way to Sylus’ side.
He opened the door for me and we stepped outside.
He screamed with a level of joy I’d never heard from him before. He danced in place, clutching his bag.
The haunting sound of his vase-like flute filled the air. Sylus was prone to disappearing late at night. He’d settle himself at the table and chairs on the roof of the diner and play for the broken moon. I think it called to him and he sang his song in return.
Ever since we first met, his song was somewhere on his lips. He’d hum it from time to time and I learned how to play it for myself. It was the most powerful spell in my arsenal. In battle, I could work his song into one of my own. Much like our souls, the notes blended together into a song for both our souls.
Pained yet hopeful, I’d made his notes part of my own life’s ballad.
A hun, he called it, the vase he played. Aetherial and haunting. A somber serenade for the end of the world. One of the few kind gestures his mother ever did for him.
Three chairs sat around the table on the rooftop. The side that faced the horrible moon and raging tides remained open. Looking straight out was the seat I’d had since I was a child. To the right, would be where my father sat. To the left, where Sylus had come to sit, was Ma’s chair.
I brought my guitar around front and began playing along with him.
Our music, though distinct, melded together. We knew who we were, but together we were so much more.
I’d play variations on his song, and he’d follow me along.
Outside of battle, it was the purest expression of our souls. All that we were dancing between us.
In these moments, our worlds would become one.
We would play until the sun rose. The moon still hanging in the now-sunlit sky.
He trailed off with a low, longing note. My own song tapered off.
He held his instrument in his hand, turning it over.
It’s been one of those weeks. Momentum for the cause has picked up. Twelve new Dalafaem have come to La Sombra and each of them needed basic conditioning before they could settle down. It’s terrifying without support.
Sylus and I have both been working day and night to make sure they could acclimate. That the nightmares would subside and the visions could be more useful than mind adding.
Once the basics were settled and they could think straight, we’d start working on conduits. For now, they needed food, lodging, and Voidal therapy.
Sylus found himself largely handling the younger Dalafaem and I the older. It made sense. He was a father and I feel like they saw that in him. It wasn’t by choice. We had no intention of dividing up age groups, but these kids? They must have seen what I saw in him and felt safe.
We worked day and night to help them get their powers under control. Their first peaceful sleep was a great reward to us all.
Still, he and I? We rarely slept. We had to be watchful. Regardless of age, they were our wards. They trusted is with their lives. Lives so many things wanted to control or destroy.
We were tired.
We had to keep up strong facades. We knew what was going on. We could help. We were the only ones who could.
Being a Lord meant Sylus really didn’t need sleep, but being part human, his exhaustion would skitter across his face from time to time.
I couldn’t control the growing bags under my eyes. My body was starting to revolt. Joints ached, muscles stiffened. I felt like I was falling apart.
He’d insist I rest, but I wouldn’t. Not without him. I drew my power from his core and unless we both rested, neither of us would feel any better.
We knew what we’d committed to and both of us took commitments very seriously. We’d rest when every one of our charges was free from torment. Right now, the needed us.
But today was different.
All 20 of our charges showed up in the diner for breakfast. I was both happy and mortified. Sylus peeked out from the kitchen and stifled a groan. We weren’t up to cooking for 20 at once.
But they weren’t sitting. They stood gathered in the dining room, shuffling in place.
“Have a seat.” I motioned to the booths behind them, but they didn’t respond. “Is everything alright?”
A teenager stepped forward and cleared her throat.
“We’ll be okay.” She spoke clearly.
Sylus shambled out of the kitchen in his too-small grease-stained apron. For someone who could control his appearance with the flick of a wrist, he looked like shit. I probably looked a thousand times worse.
“Huh?” Sylus grumbled.
“We’ll be okay for a few hours. I bet we could even last a day.” Mumbles of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Sylus cocked a brow and I was too tired to process what she was saying.
“You make sure we can sleep. You should probably sleep, too.”
“Is it that obvious?” My words slurred together despite my best efforts.
They all nodded.
I felt like I was going to collapse right then and there. Sylus nodded and put an arm around my waist.
“We won’t be far.” He growled before weave walking me upstairs.
He practically threw me onto the bed and collapsed beside me. I opened my mouth to say something but he was already out like a light bulb. It didn’t take long for me to follow.
I stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at the mangled corpse of my mother. I was a child. I was a teenager. I was an adult. I was an old man. I was a corpse. I was dust on the wind.
It never changed. The paralyzing fear, the aching loathing, the isolation, the lifetime of guilt that would never heal.
It always hit like a train. Shattering my bones and soul. I lose myself in the regret.
If I hadn’t closed my eyes.
If I hadn’t succumbed to exhastion.
If I hadn’t been alone with her.
Ma…
I awoke to a gentle shaking and hushed cooing. Fingers weaved through my hair. An arm wrapped around my shoulders.
I shook in his embrace.
Tears burned in my eyes, but struggled to fall.
His warmth dimmed my shuddering. His soft body caressed my aching bones.
“Sylus…” I rolled over in his arms, pressing my face into his chest.
“There, there, love. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
I slid my arms around him and sobbed.
“Oh, Starlight.” He breathed.
“I’m so sorry.” I wept.
“Why?”
“Ugh.” I leaned back to wipe my nose. He slid a hand up his tank top and wiped it for me. “After all you’ve been through, I must seem so pathetic.”
“Trauma isn’t a competition, love. Your pain is no less than anyone else’s.”
“But it was so long ago.” I sat up, clutching the sides of my head. “Why can’t I just get over it?!”
He sat up beside me, hands in his lap. “That’s not how it works, love. It doesn’t just go away. You learn to live with it. Perhaps even in spite of it. It will always linger, but it doesn’t have to control you.”
“I just want it to stop.”
“It might never stop.” He put an arm around me. “You can’t control it. No one can. And that’s okay.”
I turned and pressed my face into his chest again.
“Sometimes you just need to feel your feelings.”
“Ugh.” I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. “Your so soft.” I murmured. He chuckled. “I-it helps.” He hugged me back. “Y-you help.”
“I do?”
I nodded against him. “I’d wake up alone. Fighting to breathe. Paralyzed with fear. Over and over and over again. He empty eyes staring at me, cursing me. Reminding me I’d never be enough.” I wiped my face on his shirt.
“You know she wouldn’t feel any of that. She loved you, Jeron. From the moment of your birth to her passing, she loved you.”
The words welled in my throat. Aching, tearing at my flesh. “I let her fall.”
“You were a child sleeping for the first time in days.”
“I should have been there…”
“You were sleeping.”
“I should have heard her. I should have gotten up. I should have helped her.”
“No. None of that should have been on your shoulders. You did more than you should have ever had to do. You were a child with an absent father. It never should have fallen to you.”
“But it did.” I choked. “And I failed.”
“You. Were. A. Child.”
I cried. Ugly, ugly weeping.
We’d been through this before. We’d both said similar things but somehow the hurt and the healing always felt just as real. It never dulled or dimmed. My tears always tore through my soul, his embrace always put me back together.
Arms still around me, Sylus gently laid me back down.
“I was so tired.” I choked. “I’m so tired.”
He nuzzled his face against the back of my neck. “Rest, love. You can rest easy now.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. As I exhaled I felt the pain slip away.
We bowed to each other at the bottom of the stairs. A world of steel and fire behind us. He offers me his hand. I take it. He leads me into the center, unfurling his dexterous tentacles like the tendrils of a blooming flower.
He spins me out, pulls me back, dips me down, and spins me again toward the door. A grin on his wolven features. His massive fingers release mine and I’m out the door.
Fire and steel instantly come to life. I can hear their song booming in the background.
I unlocked the doors, seated the guests, took their orders, and returned to the heat of the roiling flames.
His tentacles are already working to prep numerous dishes. He already knows what I need. Our minds are as close to one as we can allow.
And so we dance.
I go one way, he goes another. I spin this way, he spins that. Tentacles part for me to pass without a word.
Steel clatters with steel. Scraping, clacking, whisking… music to my ears.
I slip through his weave, grabbing some finished plates as I go.
More satisfied customers. We get them in and out as quick as possible with full bellies and smiles on their faces. I couldn’t be happier.
Our speed, accuracy, and quality are unparalleled. We take pride in everything we make. A bit of ourselves going with every plate.
The second I come back with a dirty plate, it’s lifted from my hands and cleaned.
Every so often, he’d throw back a plate himself. I’d hear him munching, but he’d never miss a beat.
We moved with such fluidity and synchronicity. Yielding to each other as necessary.
Afer 12 hours in the hot, clanging chamber we’d make one last meal each. I for him and him for me. We’d drag ourselves into the dining room and eat, usually in silence.
We never really needed words, but we cherished each other’s voices. Still, after a long day, still silence can be appreciated.
The music is over and the dance is done. We rest only to do it again tomorrow.
“Hey, Sy, they’re having some kind of festivity over in New Hampton.”
“How would you even know about that?”
I turned my phone to him. “Internet.”
“Internet…” He sighed.
“Maybe we can grab Daniel and-“
“Absolutely not. Dorry wouldn’t allow it and I can’t be randomly tearing him out of his home.”
I sighed. “Can we at least go then?”
“Why?”
“To, ya know, celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
I shrugged. “Coming out?”
Sylus slouched forward. “There are so many people at Pride gatherings.”
“You’ve been?”
“I make it a point to avoid festivals. Too many temptations.”
“Hm. Well, it’s this weekend. I might go if you don’t want to. I have a weavewalk point nearby.”
Sylus ran a hand down his face.
“Didn’t you want to celebrate when you came out?”
“I never came out. Or rather I suppose I did, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. I’d honestly rather just exist than celebrate any part of myself.”
“What about how far you’ve come since then?”
“Jeron,” he scoffed, “I’ll think about it.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all I ask.”
Saturday morning rolled around and we hadn’t spoken about the festival since. I didn’t want to push the issue, so I decided I’d go myself. It was something I wanted and something that had become very easy to do. Sylus would understand. I knew he would.
I made my way upstairs to his room, yes we kept separate rooms. Generally we shared a bed, but sometimes we just needed or wanted space. Usually after tilted battles. Designated separate spaces have definitely saved our relationship more than once. Cool down time can be critical. For both of us.
I knocked on his door. “Sy?”
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
“I, uh, yeah.” I heard him shuffling around.
I opened the door. He was lifting a t-shirt up off his head.
“Put it back on.” I grinned.
He sighed and pulled it down. It fit snugly over his belly.
“Free Dad Hugs.” I read aloud. The words were arched over a heart that was half rainbow and half the transgender flag. “Sylus.” I was beaming. “When did you get this?”
He scoffed.
“Aww, big guy.” I walked in and wrapped my arms around him. “Would you like to go, then?”
“I-I, uh…” He deflated. “I don’t know.”
“No one has to know you’re anything but who you are.”
“Yeah, but the point is to celebrate those things.”
“And? You’ll be with me. That’s kinda gay, isn’t it?”
“Jeron, I’m not exactly human.”
“And?”
“I, uh-“
“That doesn’t really matter does it?”
“I-“
“I don’t think it does, anyway.”
He ran his hand down the blue, pink and white side of the heart. “Am I bad for not wanting people to know?”
“No? Who’s needs to know! Sylus, we’re two men in love. That’s heckin’ gay. Gay counts.”
“I-I’m gay.”
“Did you just come out to me? Your boyfriend?” I hooked my thumbs in his belt loops.
He cleared his throat.
“Come with me.” I leaned up and kissed him.
“I-uh-” he moved to take off the shirt.
“No, no. Put a jacket on if you want, but you’re wearing that.” I poked him in the chest He grabbed a jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “Good boy.” His face flushed violet. “Now I want one of those shirts.” I chuckeld.
He reached into his pocket of the Void and retrieved a matching heather grey shirt folded so the graphic was hidden. I took it by the shoulders and shook it open. It was the same shirt he wore. I screeched a little as I tore my tank top off and slid it on.
“Fits perfectly!”
He growled satisfyingly in return.
“And you came prepared. How like you.”
“I try.” He fought a grin.
“Well you do a great job, big guy.”
He smiled.
“Shall we get going?” I shook him by his belt loops.
“I-” He took a deep breath.
“For me?”
“O-okay. For you.”
“Take me away, big guy.”
The block really was abuzz. People of all kinds filled the streets. Colors fluttered everywhere. Cheers, chants, and laughter filled the air. It was so much more than I could have ever imagined.
And it was all so overwhelming. Sylus and I ended up pinning ourselves to the side against a brick wall. Our hands clasped together awkwardly as we watched everyone else celebrate.
“Having fun?” He muttered.
“I am. Yes.”
“We’re not even doing anything.”
“So? I’m just happy to be here.”
He shrugged.
A young person made their way through the crowd and over to us.
“Please don’t be a dalafaem.” Sylus closed his eyes tightly.
“I’ll diffuse it.” I whispered to him.
Their hair was an ombre of warm colors done up in braids. Without a word, they threw their arms around Sylus and leaned into his belly. Caught off guard, it took him a moment to respond. And then they started shaking.
“Oh, oh dear.” Sylus deepened his hug. “It’s okay. You are loved.” He whispered.
“Thank you.” They replied with a sniff as they stepped back. They then turned to me and gave me a quick, tight embrace.
With a smile, they returned to a group of people awaiting them in the crowd.
Sylus’ entire demeanor shifted. He had a wet stain on his shirt, but he looked genuinely happy. Maybe even at peace? My heart swelled in my chest. His lips quivered and tear escaped his normally stalwart gaze.
“Oh, Sylus!” I wrapped my arms around him. “Oh my poor little squid.”
He broke down into a sob.
I held him tightly until he found his composure.
“Gods I’m sorry.” He sniffed as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“Aww, don’t be sorry.” I took him firmly by the shoulders. “Don’t be sorry, Sylus.”
He stepped back, cleared his throat, and put his back against the brick again.
Grinning from ear to ear, I joined him.
We stood there, happy as a pair of clams.
A few more people approached us. Younger, older, our own age. All kinds of people. Some hugged. Some shook our hands. Some just wanted to have a little chat. We were more than happy to oblige. Even Sylus got into it eventually. He really was amazing when he felt himself.
It was fairly late before the crowds started dispersing.
“What did’ja think?” I grinned.
“I’d consider doing it again next year.” He replied rather stiffly.
I shoved him lightly. “Take me home. Or somewhere with lemonade.”
Sylus keeps a little purple bandana folded in his jacket pocket. I know there’s a napkin specifically for suit pockets, but this piece of cloth is definitely a bandana. White paisleys danced across the fabric. He’s used it far more often than I’d care to admit to wipe blood, both spawn and my own, from my face.
It was getting worn. Small holes and stains marred it’s weave. He needed a new one.
I dragged him into a nearby town. Being around people wasn’t exactly something he enjoyed. It was overwhelming and upsetting for him. I promised to stay by his side which apparently made it all okay.
The air was hot. The pavement was even hotter. He looked out of place in his three-piece suit, but the heat barely bothered him anyway. Haze hung in the sky obscuring the sun. It felt like rain could break at any moment. It was a rough day to be out and about, but apparently it didn’t phase anyone else. People were everywhere. Living their lives as if it wasn’t 100 degrees out and an alien invasion wasn’t happening all around them. That’s because they didn’t know. Only those of us with the Sight could see what was becoming of the world. Dalafaem, the Void called us. A blessing and a curse all at once. I was lucky to have Sylus. Sometimes the things I saw challenged my sanity, but he always kept me grounded.
We wandered around, hand in hand, window shopping through the wide variety of stores that lined the main street. He’d squeeze my hand when he needed distance from the crowds and I’d take him to find someplace to calm down.
As we were walking along, he broke our woven fingers and darted into a small shop. I waited outside, curious but also mildly concerned. That wasn’t like him.
He came back with a small black box and offered it to me. Smiling, I took it from him. Inside was a small amethyst rose mounted to a silver hair pin.
I’d told him ages ago about how I missed my mother weaving flowers into my hair.
My breath hitched in my throat as he took it from the box and pinned it to a lock on the side of my head.
I cried a little and he held me. No words were needed as I embraced him back. Every day he did the smallest things to remind me of why I fell so deeply in love with him in the first place.
We continued on. I’d reach up and run my fingers over the flower in my hair and smile. He was so much like her in ways it was hard to describe.
We finally found a store that had bandanas in the window. Felt strange there hadn’t been more, or maybe there had been but I was too caught up daydreaming about the man by my side.
The store had it’s door propped open. Inside was dark and cluttered. I knew Sylus wouldn’t want to go anywhere near it. His proportions aside, clutter was among his more upsetting triggers.
I shook his hand. “Wait here for a second?”
He turned to the store we stood outside and cringed. “Don’t be long?”
I smiled and patted his cheek. “You know you can always reach me.”
His gaze narrowed. “It’s dangerous.”
“But we’re strong, remember?”
He sighed and nodded.
“I’ll be right back.” I scritched his chin before heading inside.
It wasn’t long before a bolt of discomfort shot through my mind. I turned to find some young women had approached Sylus. Good looking girls probably around college age. They were just chatting with him. I sent some comfort back down our bond to let him know it’d be okay.
The store was a cluttered mess and full of people. All kinds of things filled the shelves and racks. I wondered if the owners even knew what they had in their inventory.
It reeked of patchouli. Sylus definitely wouldn’t have lasted long here.
I found a pile of bananas and sifted through them. Weird patterns and colors that didn’t agree with me. I kept searching. More bandanas were scattered around. I felt like I was on a treasure hunt.
Another pang of discomfort.
I turned back and moved until I could see outside. They’d gotten closer to him. Only two things happened when people got close to Sylus when he didn’t want them to. And since it wasn’t me, there was really only one option. I told him I’d be there soon, just stay strong.
He opened the conduit and I could hear their conversation. I froze with a bandana in my hands.
I snorted. They were flirting with him and he knew he wasn’t even remotely their type so he was very very confused.
“I’m taken.” He replied to them flatly.
“Lucky lady.” One of them sighed. “You sure you don’t have room for more in your life?”
What do they want what do they want what do they want Sylus’ mind was reeling.
Through his eyes, I watched one of them look him over again and again. I laughed.
Sylus looked incredibly well off. I mean, he was, he had all the money in the world through what I could only describe as eldritch banking, but he dressed the part of someone loaded with cash. Silk suit, custom silk shirt, leather shoes, silver accents, custom iris-shaped buttons… The man reeked of wealth.
They want your wallet, Sy. I replied to his panicking thoughts.
They don’t look like muggers…
“Oh my god.” I sighed as I looked down at the piece of fabric in my hands. Purple with white paisleys. Perfect. I went to the register and paid for it.
“Come on, big guy, let’s-“
I’d never weavewalked so fast in my life. I was instantly by Sylus’ side, holding his hand.
“Can I help you?” I snapped, pulling Sylus’ arm against me.
“Wha-where…?” One of them stammered.
“Sylus are these ladies bothering you?”
“I think they were just leaving.” A look of “leave or die” came across his face.
“Y-yeah.” The other one cleared her throat. “We were just asking for directions.”
“Pub’s that way.” Sylus pointed down the street.
They both nodded before turning tail and briskly walking off.
Our conduit closed as a sigh of relief burst from his lungs.
I patted his belly. “You did a good job, big guy.”
He smirked. “I was so close to panic eating too…”
“I know. Here.” I offered him the brown bag the bandana was wrapped in. “For being such a strong little squid in the face of temptation.”
His face flushed violet as he took the bag from me. He unfolded it and gently reached inside. He took out the bandana and smiled.
“For me?” He croaked.
“Well I know the old one’s getting a bit worn out.” I reached for his coat pocket and pulled it out. “Oh god it’s worse than I thought! How can I let you out in public with something so full of holes! What would the neighbours think!”
He guffawed before folding the bandana and placing it into his pocket.
“Here.” I stuffed the old one in his pant pocket. I slid my thumbs into his belt loops and pulled him closer to me. “Now, shall we get something to eat.”
“I am hungry.” He sighed.
“Saw a pizza place that smelled pretty good.”
“Francos?”
I nodded.
“Their meat-lover’s pie is ace.”
“We’ll get two.”
He pouted.
“Three and we’ll take the third home.”
“Four. Larges. We’ll take two home. I’ll be civilized and eat only one in public.”
I laughed. “Oh, Sylus.”
He hugged me gently before we got on our way.
“Thank you.” He breathed.
I stood up on my toes and kissed him on the nose. “Anything for you, big guy.”