“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.
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.”
Eternity's Irys 