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Barely half a day had crossed the sky after the Warrior of Light and G’raha Tia returned from the World of Darkness, the Void itself. Nero tol Scaeva had been found, rescued despite argument to the contrary. The clones, Doga and Unei unflinchingly faced the Cloud of Darkness, breaking the ages-old pact with Emperor Xande and sealing the giant voidsent away. Before that, G’raha Tia had been given the gift of the blood of the Allagans, completing his birthright with two crimson eyes.
The entire camp of The Sons of Saint Coinach breathed easier, all taking a muchly needed and earned respite before the last of the strings to the Crystal Tower were tied. Ilios Shroudglint had arrived to visit G’raha Tia in his tent and to finally explain about his balls.
****** ******
“The name of the spell is Sneak. These globes appear, I tread quietly and not noticed,” Ilios rolled his eyes, smirking a touch, “...well, usually. If something is stronger than the spell, I’m definitely seen.”
G’raha nodded, eyes following the slowly rotating, glowing orbs around Ilios’ body. “Most definitely different than a Sharlayan gleaner. A full explanation, thank you, Ilios.” He smiled, meeting moongold eyes. “I truly appreciate it, and without excessive japery.”
Ilios chuckled softly. “Welcome. I know I can get a bit much.” There was a soft *fssp* sound as his harvesting gear and globes vanished to be replaced by his usual Far Eastern traveling coat with the rest of his ensemble. “I do apologize for my antics those moons ago.” Another giggle-cackle as long strands of sycamore-orange hair were tossed from his face. “Harassing morbols and mudpuppies I really shouldn’t do but the look on your face!”
The redhead Miqo’te snorted, rolling his newly crimson eyes. “Hilarious, I’m sure. I suppose I should apologize for beating on your shoulder.” He leaned back on his cot, back braced against the tent wall. “I truly just, well, reacted.”
The larger Miqo’te’s laughter became hearty. “No, no! Don’t apologize! I earned each and every one of those throws!” Ilios’ fangs were stark against his skin in the shadows of the tent. “I even have a bit of bruising. Kept that.”
G’raha stared at Ilios, then groaned as he buried face in hands. Ilios’ laughter filled the tent.
“If Rammbroes finds out…”
“He won’t. Besides, I always have a bruise or three somewhere.”
Ilios sat on the cot next to G’raha, nudging the smaller man. G’raha lowered his hands, faced Ilios, then sighed, shaking his head. Ilios chuckled.
G’raha stood up with a stretch, grunted, then sighed. He began to remove his bracers. “Did you have any plans for tonight?” The furlined forearm pieces were tossed onto a small chair, then he sat down on the edge of the cot to remove his boots.
Ilios stretched as well, his long frame easily hanging partially off the width of the cot. “Mmmmnhh...not really, umff. The Scions are supposed to be guests of honour at a banquet set by the Sultana this evening.” Moongold eyes watched the back of G’raha’s head, a slow smirk on his lips. “Why? You have something in mind? Haste may be in order.”
“Ah. I had wanted to speak to you of the Tower and what I wished to remember after gaining royal blood and witnessing true bravery. I was reminded of my forebears’ dearest wish.”
G’raha paused, then turned to eye Ilios, who met him with a fanged grin.
*smak*
“No!”
Ilios laughed, holding his hands up defensively as G’raha suddenly pounced onto his legs, slapping first one shoulder, then the other, then the other side for a sharp follow up. “Gods, what is wrong with you?!” Ilios laughed harder.
G’raha suddenly yelped as fingers found his ribs. He doubled over, arms around himself to guard against Ilios’ hands, then began his own assault. Ilios squealed, twisting as he tried to shimmy from beneath G’raha but the smaller man’s legs weren’t budging. The tent filled with yelps, laughs, squeals, and other sounds of mirth and mischief. The cot creaked, squeaked, heaved with their movement.
*THDD*
They landed on the floor in a laughing heap, limbs entwined. Their heavy panting mixed with breathy laughs slowly eased to soft chuckles and normal breaths. Ilios lay beneath G’raha, arms loosely around him. G’raha’s head lay on his chest, his arms relaxed. The tips of their tails idly curled, relaxed, curled around each other, relaxed...
****** ******
mmRRRH
G’raha’s ear flicked, then swiveled in the direction of the sound.
RRHHmnh*whimper*
G’raha inhaled slowly, deeply as he woke, dimly becoming aware of laying on something solid yet comfortable. It was warm beneath him as well as around his sides and atop his back. A steady deep beat could be felt, it along with another rhythm picked up in speed against G’raha’s chest and belly. His tail curled around what felt like another tail.
*whimper*rrrhhhHHH
G’raha’s eyes snapped open at the growl, instantly tensing. He looked about with just his eyes, not sure where he was. In the dim light from the Crystal Tower and the setting sun ghosting through the partially open flap he saw he was on the floor, the cot next to him.
Well, not exactly on the floor. He inhaled sharply; woodsy, citrus, spicy, air of a thunderstorm. Ilios was his mattress.
Oh Twelve, he will never let go of this!
“RRHHwhimpermmnnh…”
G’raha lifted his head slowly, looking at Ilios’ sleeping face. Or would if Ilios’ hair wasn’t covering it as it was turned to the side. The rest of his hair was braided as usual, the long strands on the sides loose. Gently, G’raha moved off Ilios to lie at his side, then slowly moved his hand to move the hair aside. He paused, hand partially withdrawing. Mayhaps I should go. Leave him to his rest.
Ilios inhaled sharply, head rolling to the other side, an intense grimace on his face revealed as the hair fell away. “mmnh...emm..emm..n-no...mmn…” His head tossed the other way, hair falling to cover his face again.
G’raha chewed his lip, torn.
****** ******
The city burned. The people screamed...begged...prayed. The disfigured creatures formed immediately began their rampage across the large plaza. Trees were ripped up. Doors ripped away. More screams inside.
He ran. All he could do. Just run. Run. RUN. No one he came for could be found. They were gone. Gone.
****** ******
“AAA!”
“Ilios!”
The Warrior of Light sat up with a deep snarling cough, backing up into the cot, his boots sliding on the carpet. Eyes were wide, not quite seeing G’raha Tia. Hair hid his face as he turned this way and that, searching. “noNONONO!”
G’raha caught Ilios by the shoulders, attempting to comfort and keep him from hurting himself. “Ilios! Ilios...it’s okay, it’s okay, wake up, wake up!” Hands cupped Ilios’ face, turning him to face G’raha. Wide crimson eyes searched moongold. “Ilios!”
Panting heavily, Ilios blinked, then again, staring at G’raha. “Wh-who are you?! I don’t...I don’t know you!” Strong arms grabbed the cot’s frame, flexed, then he was on the cot itself, backing away from G’raha. Fangs glistened in the shadows around his face by hair. Moongold eyes held the promise of danger.
G’raha showed his hands in a soothing manner. “Hey...hey...Ilios...Ilios...ssshhh, shhhh...you are safe, safe!” A deep snarling growl rumbled from the shadows as Ilios’ head dipped slightly, hands curved as if they were claws. Ears were pinned back against his skull, tail thumping hard on the cot, giving more warning.
Slowly, he sat at the head of the cot opposite Ilios. “G’raha...I am G’raha Tia...your friend...remember?” G’raha’s voice dropped in tone, lower than usual, soothing. “Ssshhh, ssshh...it is safe, you are safe. Wake up, Ilios, you’re in a nightmare…”
No good, he isn’t hearing me! What then? What?!
G’raha blinked. The idea which hit him was dangerous, foolhardy, outright dumb! His eyes went to the cornered large Miqo’te at the head of the cot who had not stopped in the warning cough-snarls and hard tail thumps. By the Twelve, he sounds and looks like a furious coeurl! The more he looked at Ilios, the more a steady warmth spread in his chest, up to this throat, making him swallow hard. It...hurt...to see him like this...he realized he’d do anything, anything, to ease that hurt, to help him wake up...wake up to him.
“...ilios…” G’raha whispered.
Pinned back ears quivered, one slowly swiveling towards him. The voice which answered was deep, rumbling, not at all sounding like Ilios. “Hhhoooow d’youuu know m’nnnammme?” Moongold eyes still narrowed but they had an interest now, a curiosity alongside the terrified fury.
G’raha took at chance, heart hammering, hands becoming slick with sweat. Slowly he moved towards Ilios, moving closer to his feet. Moongold eyes followed his movements, but this time the warning cough-snarl wasn’t as deep. “I know you, because we are friends. We have been for nearly a year.” The cot creaked as he shifted a bit closer; Ilios shifted his still booted feet back a bit more, tail curling around them protectively.
“...rrhuu? A...yyearrr…”
“Yes. We have had quite the adventure, you and I.” The air of the tent was tense, literally charged. G’raha could see little sparks appearing on Ilios’ body, like a thunderstorm across a mountain range. As he shifted closer, enough to see Ilios’ face clearly, a soft spark popped under his hand from proximity. Another sparked softly as he leaned towards Ilios, hands slowly reaching for either side of his face. Moongold tracked on them, Ilios’ body tense, ready, yet he held his ground.
A soft warning growl. Deep, rumbling, fangs bared.
G’raha’s hands tenderly cupped Ilios’ face. He watched Ilios’ ears; they were swiveling, changing positions between pinned back then up towards him, back and forth, back and forth. His tail curled tighter around his legs. Another low growl, but it rumbled a touch less. G’raha’s face was so close to Ilios’ now, moongold eyes locked onto his crimson. They searched. G’raha tried to keep from breathing so hard; it was nerve wracking being this close.
The possibility was terrifying...thrilling. The warmth in G’raha’s chest had spread up his neck, face, to his ears as well as down to his belly, arms, legs. Their lips were so close…so close.
Ilios bit.
G’raha froze.
A fist landed hard against the side of Ilios’ head, the sound of the impact loud inside the tent. Ilios’ bite grip loosened enough for G’raha to pull back without further damage, skittering off the cot, holding his mouth to stop the bleeding. Ilios growled deeply, furiously, holding his head. A large spark followed by several others fired off sporadically across his body ending with a large one at his head, the brightness forcing G’raha to look away. Ilios cried out, bent over his knees, breathing hard, groaning.
G’raha blinked tears away, from the bite, the flash, and his heart. He looked at his hand; it was covered in blood, pooling slightly in the folds and creases of his hand. His normally racing mind was halted as he stared, watching a drop fall to the carpet.
“G-G’raha?”
Ilios.
Their eyes met, one set greatly confused, the other deeply hurt.
“Wh-why are you bleeding? What-what happened?!”
Ilios moved off the cot, eyes never leaving the blood on G’raha’s mouth, chin, down his neck and shirt. As he stood he paused, a hand suddenly to his own mouth. His jaw dropped, eyes widened more as he saw deep red on his hand. He realized what the warm metallic flavour on his tongue was.
G’raha’s blood.
Ilios met G’raha’s frozen, hurt stare again. He began to move towards him, reaching up a hand which began to glow with soft white and blue energy. “Hold still, let me - -”
G’raha backed away. Ilios stiffened. “G’raha - -”
“No.”
“G’raha, p-please wait - -”
“St-st-stay aw-way.”
Then he was gone, the tent flap falling behind him, the swish of his tail as he disappeared into the camp.
Ilios stared after him, trying to think of what could’ve happened. Why didn’t he remember biting him? Or what led up to it? He sat heavily on the cot, the bed creaking beneath him as he stared at his bloodied hand. “What the actual fuck did I do?”
He inhaled deeply to clear his mind only to stop, a grimace now on his face. Fear. He smell it clearly. It mingled strongly with G’raha’s scent. “fuck...” The Warrior of Light buried his face in his hands, long tail curling around his ankles tightly.
Several minutes passed. There were sounds outside the tent, some approaching, but no one entered. He couldn’t hear words but could recognize some voices. Rammbroes. Wedge. Cid. A few Sons of Saint Coinach in the distance.
But no G’raha.
****** ******
The soft ring of the link pearl chimed in Ilios’ ear. He ignored it, ears pinning back. It chimed again. And again. And again.
“...yes? No, no...sorry, I had taken it out. Yeah. Didn’t want it to fall out.” Ilios sighed deeply. “Now? Yes. I’ll meet you and the Scions at the Royal Promenade. I...I need to...clean up...first. No no, just...just been doing...hero...things. Heh, yeah. See you in a few moments, Antecedent.”
Outside the tent Cid paused as he reached for the tent flap. The unmistakable sound of a teleport *fssp* faded. Cid looked inside. Empty.
He sighed, shaking his head. G’raha wasn’t talking, in fact he had literally run for the Crystal Tower soon as his lip was healed by the camp chirurgeon. He’ll just have to approach Ilios later.
As Cid returned to the main part of the camp, he nearly collided with a Son of Saint Coinach who came running full speed and wild eyed. “Whoa!”
“Master Rammbroes! Master Rammbroes!” Cid stayed put. Something was amiss. “’Tis G’raha Tia, sir! He came into the Crystal Tower, and began order researchers out!”
Rammbroes frowned deeply, large arms folded. The large Roegadyn looked positively unmoveable. “What? Why would he do such a thing?”
“I do not know, sir, but he was quite insistent. He all but bodily forced me out of the gates.” The researcher adjusted her uniform, smoothing where she could into some semblance of order. “I suppose it’s possible he told one of the others, but I wasted no time in finding out. I thought it best to hasten here and ask your guidance.”
Rammbroes’ frown became impossibly deeper. “Very well. Let us go and speak with these researchers, and get to the bottom of this queer business.” He spotted Cid listening intently nearby. “Master Garlond, please come with me. No doubt G’raha means to seal off the Crystal Tower, but it worries me that he did not breathe a word of his plan to us.”
Cid’s eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded, but he kept his conclusions to himself.
For now.