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love-and-monsters · 6 months

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Halloween Poll Story

Multiple gendered eldritch god X gn human, second person, 8,024 words.

Happy Halloween! This story was the result of polls you all voted on. I hope you enjoy some spooky Halloween romance. Just as a heads up, I might not be around on this blog too much for a while after this for reasons I will explain in a later post. But I thank you all for your support.

Content warnings: Possession and mind control of innocents, implied manipulation, some possessive/obsessive behavior.

Summary: You have been working as a cursebreaker for years, clearing curses on items sent for recycling. But an unusual curse turns your mundane job in a surprising direction and catches the attention of a powerful being.

Perhaps things would have gone better if you were less exhausted. A notification had shot you out of bed at nearly five thirty, letting you know that the E train had been temporarily closed due to an infestation of direrats. The only other way to your work was the D train, which took a more roundabout route, and a connecting bus. When you’d arrived at the station, the D train was teeming with people also trying to make it to work on time, so you’d needed to shove your way past people to actually make it on in time. The bus had barely been better, and when you tried to grab your breakfast, you’d been dive-bombed by a pigeon-griffon and dropped your hash-brown.

Your work was a bit quieter than usual when you entered. It was never quiet- there was always banging and whirring and mechanical noises from the various pieces of equipment. But the usual chatter and shouting was softer than usual. Everyone seemed focused on their own work. You followed their lead and headed to your work station for the day’s load.

Being a cursebreaker at a recycling plant was an easy job. Identify the curse, stamp it out, and break down whatever the curse had been attached to for processing. Nine times out of ten, it was just removing the curse sigil, easy enough to do with a solvent or paint remover. Technically, anyone could remove a sigil, but most places employed a cursebreaker to do it regardless- a cursebreaker could identify the curse itself, something that was important in case it was booby-trapped. A cursebreaker might be more expensive to employ than your average worker, but it paid for itself when they prevented a curse that turned everyone within six miles into stone from activating.

Most of the time, the job was easy, anyway. You’d just been getting into the groove of it, scrubbing away paint like a champ, when a more complicated curse slid across your desk. Metaphorically speaking. You didn’t have a desk. It was booby trapped, stubborn, and overly complicated. Unweaving the magic took so long that you blew through your lunch break, and it sapped your reserves. Holding a curse in stasis took energy, and this one had been fighting you the whole way. You tossed it aside, relieved that it was over and ready to get back to simple, prank-level curses that could be removed with acetone.

And the next one was like that! And the next one. And the one after that. And then you ran into a problem.

Most curses you got were attached to objects, usually small ones that could be carried around and hidden somewhere before activation. Jewelry was most common, but sometimes they were things like hand mirrors or books. Furniture was not uncommon either. Sometimes even random bits of garbage. The curses were usually painted on, or carved into them if you wanted to get fancy. Easy to get rid of, if you combined removing the sigil with deactivating the curse. But the next curse was… not that.

It was metal. Maybe wrought iron, though you couldn’t tell for sure. It sort of looked like a wrought iron fence. But it was not painted or carved with a sigil. It was a sigil. And it was huge, almost bigger than a hubcap.

You lifted it up to feel the weight in your hands. It was lighter than you expected, but still quite solidly built. Even through your gloves, you could feel the faint heat it emitted. Powerful stuff. More powerful than you’d been anticipating. That… wasn’t good.

See, you weren’t necessarily a good cursebreaker. Good cursebreakers either went into government positions or private contracting firms. Both of those jobs were cushy, or as cushy as a job only two steps away from disarming bombs could be. Curses were dangerous shit, and if you could disarm the manmade curses or even the significantly nastier natural curses, you were set for life.

Unfortunately, your level of skill was only good for a recycling plant- undoing the piddly little curses that people slapped onto garbage that ended up in the dump. So much of the job was just scrubbing away poorly-constructed sigils that they didn’t bother to pay well for it, and they didn’t bother to check credentials that closely. So if you hadn’t quite passed the full cursebreaker exam and your license was technically only provisional… well, it didn’t matter much, did it?

Except now, looking down at a sigil that was more complicated than it had any right to be, it mattered.

You could call someone. Get it bumped up the chain of command, have the sigil taken elsewhere. But that could risk someone poking their nose into why you couldn’t, and you didn’t want to take the chance that someone would take a closer look at your credentials and see they didn’t pass muster. You needed this job.

Then again, trying to break a curse without knowing what you were doing… that could end in ways a lot worse than unemployment. Okay, new plan. The sigil looked impressive. But it was, possibly, not actually that dangerous. People did that sometimes, tried to make sigils look more impressive than they were to impress clients, especially rich ones. So maybe you just needed to tweak a little bit and it would fall apart.

You placed a hand on the very edge of the sigil and extended your senses into it, just enough to see the shape of it. The sigil itself would reveal information once it was fully surrounded by your senses and it would-

A white hot bolt of pain snapped through your arm, ignoring your heavy work glove. You snatched your hand away on pure instinct, and the sigil wobbled and clattered to the ground. The sound barely registered with you. There was just the blazing, boring heat in your hand. It didn’t feel like a burn. It felt like a white hot worm was twisting and boring its way through your flesh.

You staggered back, panic flaring through you. Cursebreakers were resistant to most curses- you were all schooled in those basics. But being resistant wasn’t the same as being immune, and the curse was in you. There were only precious minutes before it fully activated. Minutes that you couldn’t waste. But the pain was so much you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t-

The pain vanished. It didn’t go away instantly. It gradually cooled away, more like sticking a hot piece of metal in water and letting the heat steam off. You slumped against the back wall of your workstation, panting heavily. Sweat poured down your face behind your mask. Trembles worked through your body, making your hands unsteady. What had that been? You could still feel where the pain had been, like something on the inside of your arm had been burned raw.

Cautiously, you approached the sigil. It sat innocently on the ground. You kicked it. The metal scraped on the floor, but there was no pain. After a moment of hyping yourself up, you picked it up with your good hand.

Nothing. The sigil wasn’t biting anymore, at least. But you hadn’t just been holding it when the pain happened. You set it on the table and eyed it cautiously. The sigil had activated when you’d pushed your magic into it. Not even a large amount of magic, just enough to get the shape of it. If it had defensive elements that sensitive in it, the entire thing was far beyond your pay grade.

You debated on it for a moment, chewing your tongue in frustration. You needed to turn the sigil in. That was what you were supposed to do. It was too powerful for you to break down properly, and trying to break it down improperly risked some serious issues. But you would need to tell your boss for that, and you didn’t really want to risk losing your job.

You wrestled with it for a moment. The sigil didn’t seem to be immediately dangerous, and there weren’t great records kept about what items were given to who and when times they needed to be cleared by. So…

You propped the sigil up against one of the far walls of your workspace and turned to the next curse on your pile. It would keep. You could decide what to do later, maybe after a good night’s sleep.

The rest of the sigils went by easily. Your arm didn’t hurt anymore, though there was a vague, weird feeling in it. Not quite like a tingling, which was usually what residual magic felt like. More like… a weird coolness? Almost like there was cold air touching your arm, but from the inside.

It was a weird sensation. You tried not to dwell on it too much.

The direrat nest had been cleared by the time you left work. A bit strange. Direrats could chew up sections of track, given enough time, so even small nests often needed days of repair work. But you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You boarded the E train, which mercifully had only a few people, so there were seats, and dozed on your way home.

Perhaps that had been a bad idea, because you’d been groggy your entire walk home. And even though you probably should have eaten something and gotten some chores done, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl into bed.

Your arm still ached, even as you tucked yourself in to sleep.

Most nights, you didn’t dream. This night, you did. The dreams were disorienting, disconnected, and bewildering. Images of flying, falling, looking down over cities and up through the depths of the ocean. And the strange, consistent feeling of slithering through something like a wet tunnel, with walls on all sides and a single-minded determination to reach your destination.

You blinked your eyes open and groaned. It was like you’d barely gotten any sleep at all. Your head was fuzzy and pounding, though not with pain. It felt more like your blood was just pulsing around your brain.

It took several minutes before you could manage to force yourself out of bed. Your arm felt… strange. Not bad. Not even tingly, which was, again, the normal thing magic would have done. It felt a little warm, and it seemed to pulse in the same rhythm as your head.

For a moment, you entertained the idea of just calling in sick to work and avoiding the whole mess. You didn’t feel sick, but you did feel weird. But your therapist had been telling you to ‘avoid avoidant behavior’ and it wasn’t like you were getting paid for not working. After taking some time to mull it over, you decided to go in.

After showering and feeling somewhat more human, you headed out. The sky was cloudy, but not just a normal fall storm- there was a nearly green tinge to the clouds, like a summer thunderstorm before a tornado. You tucked your coat closer around your shoulders. Your arm and head pulsed.

The streets seemed emptier than usual. Even early in the morning, there were usually a decent amount of people around. It wasn’t entirely strange, considering that it looked like there was going to be a bad storm, but the streets were eerily quiet. It was unsettling. Your arm and head pulsed.

The ride to work was quiet. You dozed a little. It was peaceful. The tunnels were quiet and dark and traveling through them felt right. Your dreams and the real world merged in a strangely pleasant way. Your arm and head pulsed.

Work was the same as usual, with the same ambient noises. You stepped into your station and froze.

The sigil was gone.

You’d left it propped up against your workstation, just next to the table everything rested on. It was unmissable. Even if it had fallen over or rolled, it would have been visible from the entrance. It was gone.

Your blood ran cold. And at that exact moment, your boss appeared at the entrance of the hall. “C’mon back. I gotta talk to you.”

If possible, your blood ran even colder. You nodded and followed him.

It was a short walk to his office. That was nice. It didn’t give you much time to think about all the different ways you were fucked.

He stepped inside the office, gestured for you to head in as well, and closed the door behind him. The room seemed weirdly dim- it had a window, but the light was gray thanks to the clouds, and the fluorescent lights were off. There was a votive flickering at the corner of the room. Weird. Were candles allowed in this building?

Your boss sat at his desk, drawing your attention toward him. As you looked, your blood turned to an icy slush in your veins.

That was where the sigil had gone. It was sitting behind his desk, just barely visible. It didn’t look restrained- that was something of a relief. Maybe it hadn’t been as bad at you’d been thinking and you were just going to get scolded for not taking care of it the day you’d been assigned it. Maybe you could bluff your way out of it.

Your boss leaned over your desk. He was a big man, bearded, large stomach and beefy arms. He could definitely be intimidating when he wanted to. And you were expecting him to glower and glare and demand explanations.

What you weren’t expecting was him to smile. “How’s your arm?”

You’d stopped paying attention to it, in the cold terror you’d felt when you’d been called. But now that your attention was drawn back to it- it was warm. Pulsing. That strange feeling was still there. Maybe stronger than it was before. You glanced down at your arm, but it looked normal. Same as it always does. “It’s fine. Of course.” You clear your throat. “Why do you ask?”

His smile widened. The lighting of the room made it look… almost unnatural. Like it wa too wide. “It was your point of contact. Mortals can react unpredictably to it.”

A slow, prickling sensation crawled up your spine. That smile… that was wrong. Your boss didn’t smile like that. You’d been working here for a year and a half. He’d never smiled at anyone like that before. He didn’t smile, period. Especially not to someone who fucked up the rules. And you couldn’t imagine him calling anyone ‘mortal’ either.

Good cursebreakers used their brains. They thought about what they did, had models and scientific understandings of curses. Years of knowledge, practical and from books. A good cursebreaker survived by thinking about things, coming up with theories and applying their smarts.

You were a bad cursebreaker. Bad cursebreakers survived on their instincts. And your instincts were saying to get the fuck out.

It took seconds to get out of the room. Only a minute to get out of the building. You fled down the street, not trying to go anywhere in particular. Just trying to get away. After several blocks, your lungs and legs were screaming for a break and you had to stagger to a stop.

No one was following behind you. And, after taking a moment to assess, you realized that you probably hadn’t been followed at all. There had been no footsteps following you as you ran.

You took a moment to think about that. He hadn’t bothered to pursue you, which meant either he didn’t care where you went or what you did. Or he figured he was going to find you anyway. Both those options were chilling. It meant he believed, at least, that you were powerless to do anything against him.

Bereft of anything else to do, you slipped into a nearby café and contented yourself with nursing a small coffee. And thinking. Your boss- no, that hadn’t been your boss. In retrospect, you should have seen it sooner. He had a slight accent that this voice hadn’t had. In fact, the accent your boss had spoken in had been identical to yours.

Your arm pulsed with warmth again.

You fumbled for your sleeve and yanked it up. Again, there were no physical marks on your arm. Except…

On your palm. Right where the sigil had initially touched your skin. There was a tiny spot, almost like a burn. You didn’t remember seeing it when you last looked at your arm, though it was small enough that it would have been easy to miss. You ran your finger over it. The mark didn’t hurt, though touching it did make the warmth pulse strangely.

You’d already had your suspicions, but this more or less confirmed it- whatever was happening to you, to your boss, it was because of the sigil. It had affected you, somehow, as well as affecting other people.

Okay. You knew now that it was due to the sigil. Now what? Go to the government? There was a cursebreaker office only a few stops away by train. They would know what to do. Probably. If you’d been infected by touching the sigil and your boss had done the same when he moved it, then another cursebreaker should be able to fix it by breaking the curse without touching. Not easy, but possible.

You headed back out into the storm. It hadn’t started raining, but it looked like it might do any second. It felt a little like there were eyes on you as you headed for the station. Maybe your guilt conscience was prickling at you.

The train ride was mostly empty. That was a little unusual, but you were grateful for it. You just wanted to curl up in the back of the car and close your eyes.

Once the train stopped, you hurried toward the cursebreaker’s office. You’d only been there a couple times, and neither visit had been pleasant. Nausea curled in your stomach as you headed through the large doors at the front.

It was a typical office building, with a few plants and an overly-fancy looking waiting room. A bored-looking secretary sat at a desk, clicking away at a keyboard.

You approached and she, predictably, glanced up. Then she beamed. A wide, overjoyed smile. It was so out of place it stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t the smile of someone greeting another shitty customer. It was the sort of smile you give when a loved one you haven’t seen for years shows up unexpectedly at your door.

“Hi!” she said, leaning over the counter toward you. “What can I help you with? You glanced over your shoulder, just in case she was maybe addressing someone else. There was no one else there. “Um. Hi. I was looking for a cursebreaker?” You couldn’t help the hesitation in your voice. It was just weird, the way she was looking at you.

“I see.” She didn’t look back at her computer. Her gaze on you was unrelenting. “And what do you need a cursebreaker for?”

You felt a prickle of sweat bead on the back of your neck, despite the coldness of the room. “I need to break a curse.” Surely this wasn’t protocol, to make someone explain their curse issue in the lobby. Even if no one else was around.

She smiled indulgently. “I can take you to one of our cursebreakers, then. I believe Tamson will be available right now.” She stood. “Follow me.”

“I’m sure I can figure out their office if you just give me a number,” you said. You sort of didn’t want to spend more time with her than you had to. There was something about her that was just… Unsettling.

“Now, we wouldn’t want you to get lost,” she said. “And it’s certainly no trouble. Slow day, after all.” She laughed to herself, like it was some kind of clever joke you didn’t get.

There was a part of you that was considering just leaving, but you weren’t sure what else to do. And cursebreakers were always vaguely weird, right? Everyone said so. Maybe their secretaries were weird too.

You followed her down a series of halls lined with doors until she came to one marked ‘Aaron Tamson.’ She didn’t even bother to knock before opening the door.

Tamson was sitting at his desk, staring right at the door when you walked in. Like he’d been expecting you to be there right at that moment. He must have heard your footsteps. The secretary stepped into the room behind you and closed the door.

“Thank you, Molly,” Tamson said. You glanced over your shoulder at her. She was standing right in front of the door. Blocking the doorway. Like a guard.

Your stomach curdled. Your arm pulsed with warmth. Did they know why you were here? Was this the prelude to an arrest? No, they would have called their actual guards, if that was the case. Not a secretary. But they were definitely trying to keep you here.

“Don’t mind Molly,” Tamson said. “You just gave us such a surprise when you ran before. We don’t want that happening again.”

“Wha- what are you talking about?” A bit of anger made its way into your voice. Anger was good. Anger felt safe. Like maybe you could fight your way out of this. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just- I just need a cursebreaker.”

He laughed. Molly, behind you, joined in his laughter, making it an eerie chorus. Your skin prickled and your arm throbbed with heat. “Oh, come now. We both know that’s not true. You bit off a bit more than you could chew in the curse department, and I think that’s frowned on by most humans, yes? Poor thing. You couldn’t possibly have known what you were getting into.” Cold sweat dripped down the back of your neck, contrasting with the uncomfortable heat in your arm. “You know about that?” “I don’t see how we couldn’t.” Molly spoke that time, and you whirled to look at her. There was something unsettling about her expression. Not just in the way she was smiling, which was still creepy just due to the situation, but the fact that her expression was the exact same as Tamson’s. Not just that they were both smiling, but the way the corners of their mouths were positioned, the amount their eyes crinkled at the edges. It was subtle, but looking at two very different people with completely identical expressions made your uncanny senses go off like crazy.

This was not ‘two slightly weird people trying to intimidate you because they knew about your crimes.’ This was wrong.

“Please, don’t be so frightened,” Tamson said. You spun back toward him. He was standing, leaning over the desk. “Nobody here wants to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was shrill, trembling. “Then why are you trapping me in the fucking room?”

“Not trapping,” Molly said. “Not like that, anyway. We just want you to listen to what we have to say.”

“All I want,” you said, “is to get a cursebreaker and to destroy that sigil and to have things go back to normal.”

Molly’s brows drew together. “No,” she said in a gentling voice. “You don’t want that. You just think you do right now.”

“Let us explain first,” Tamson said. “Then we’ll see how you feel afterward, all right?”

You swallowed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“There are always choices,” Molly said. “But you won’t be leaving the room until we’ve said our piece.”

You slumped into the chair used for consultations. “Okay. Then talk.”

They smiled. The same smile again. And then they spoke. In unison. “The sigil is ours. We did not make it, but it belongs to us. We do not know the circumstances of its creation, only that it gave us a pathway into this world. We could see into this world, this realm, and see the million tiny spots of magic. But the pathway was not large enough for us- a window, to use your terms, instead of a door. We needed a door.

“The sigil was taken, moved. We were powerless to stop it, but we could nudge. Make our sigil less obvious. Let it drift, until it came upon a place where we could extend our power.”

The sweat on the back of your neck was like ice and your stomach was rolling. “Which was me.”

“Correct.” Molly and Tamson gestured toward you in the same motion. “Think of it was an incomplete circuit. With one last application of energy, you completed the circuit. And thus, we were freed.”

The picture of what the hell was going on was becoming slowly clearer in your mind. Other realms. Needing to use doorways to come through to your world. They were old creatures, creatures from a place not quite like Earth. Sometimes, they were referred to as gods- people had even worshipped them a long time ago. But eventually, with the advent of cursebreakers, they’d been sealed away. The only fragments of their power that remained on Earth were the curses that people could use. The ultimate curses were ones that would bring the old gods back, the ones the allowed them to extend their reach into Earth once more.

The curse you’d been working on hadn’t looked like that. It had looked like, if not a normal curse, than at least a human one. But if they’d been able to disguise it, then maybe you wouldn’t have known.

Your arm was radiating heat. Not like burning, but like there was just warmth pulsing out from inside it. You glanced down at it. That little burn spot you’d noticed before seemed… bigger? Or maybe you were just imagining things due to stress. “Are you going to kill me now?” It seemed a logical step. Murder the person who knows about you so they can’t stop you. Why they were telling you this, you didn’t know. Maybe it was like a weird, elder god brag.

There was silence for a moment. Then Tamson stepped forward and slipped his fingers under your chin. You had been looking down at the ground, so he had to press a bit to get you to lift your gaze to his. Molly pressed in close to your side. “You think we’re going to kill you?” It was hard to get a read on his tone. He could have been sympathetic. He could also have been winding you up you it was funnier when he stabbed you.

“You are the one who called us into the realm. You reached out to us and brought us in through your form,” Molly said. Her voice was very close to your ear. “Your magic was the spark that allowed us to enter. Through you, we became whole.”

You shivered. “Does that mean- I’m still important to you so you’re not going to kill me?” Maybe if they killed you, the sigil would no longer work.

Tamson’s brows drew together, but he smiled. “Yes. I think that’s a good way to put it.”

Okay. That was… good, right? Terrifying, but good. You were going to live, and the longer you lived, the more time you had to figure a way out of this. “Okay.”

“Good,” Molly said. She headed toward the door, tugging it open. “Then let’s get going. Lots to do.”

Tamson puts his hand on your back, pushing you relentlessly forward. You dug your heels in, stumbling a little when he kept moving. “What? Where are we going?”

“There’s much to set up, I assure you. But currently, we’re going to collect the sigil,” Tamson said. He pressed both his hands to your back, practically shoving you in earnest while Molly doubled back to grab your arm and started pulling you down the hall. Your legs were barely moving at all, but they were dragging you along with little issue. Weren’t cursebreakers supposed to be sort of noodley? Did being possessed by an elder god give you weird strength?

By the time they got to the door, they were practically carrying you, supporting your weight at either shoulder. A couple people were doing… something on the sidewalk, sketching something out on the ground, and they smiled at you as you passed. A prickle shot up your spine and your arm pulsed again. You were getting real sick of that sensation.

“Are, uh. Are those…” you trailed off, casting your eyes deliberately at the people on the sidewalk.

“Part of us, yes,” Molly said.

You swallowed. “Is- is there anyone here who isn’t?”

Tamson laughed. “Looking for someone else to talk to?” His tone was light, but your stomach sank like a rock. That had been so stupid. Never let your captors know you’re looking for an exit plan, that’s like the first rule of being kidnapped. “There are others. Some people have more fortitude. Some bodies just aren’t needed right now. But you won’t be seeing many of them out and about.” He flicked a finger up toward the sky. “The storm, I’m afraid. Most people won’t venture out into such things,”

The sky rumbled ominously with his words. You shuddered. “It’s just a storm,” you said, trying to push forward. There was no hiding the tremble in your voice, though. Molly gave you a sympathetic look, leaning in like she was trying to comfort you.

“It is a storm, yes, but it’s also a manifestation of our power. Think of it like this- when we poured into this world, we moved to take bodies. But not all bodies could contain us. So a part of us possessed the storm. We’re in many places at once. And no mortal would wander out into a storm made of our power.”

“Except me,” you said. The thunderstorm didn’t register as anything unusual with you. Did other people really see it as so strange?

“Well, you are touched with our power,” Tamson said. “You’re hardly a mortal anymore.”

Your arm burned. Not painfully, but certainly enough to get your attention. You flinched. Both Molly and Tamson took that as an opportunity to secure their grip on you.

They pulled your toward the street and a car pulled up. You weren’t a car expert, but it looked fancy. Did elder gods care about that? Or were they trying to impress you specifically? Tamson and Molly shoved you inside, settling on either side of you. The backseat was tight, but both of them still seemed closer to you than necessary.

The car ride gave you time to think. You were not the only person in the city who wasn’t possessed, but anyone who was possessed was probably cowering in their houses. Further, you didn’t know how far this whole thing spread. If you could look at your phone without them seeing, you could get a better idea of how bad things were. People commuted into the city- there had to be some sort of awareness that something had gone wrong. Unless it had spread a lot further than you’d thought. If you could just check the news, you’d at least be able to get your bearings.

Molly leaned against your shoulder. She hadn’t let go of your arm since you’d gotten into the car. “Thinking hard? You jumped. “Don’t look so worried,” Tamson sighed, directing your attention to him. “You’re as jumpy as a frightened kitten.”

“You really don’t believe we’re not going to hurt you, hm?” Molly sighed. She gave you the saddest set of doe-eyes you’d ever seen.

“I don’t have a lot of reasons to think you won’t,” you said.

“We already said we weren’t going to,” Tamson insisted.

“Yeah, well, you’ll forgive me for not thinking an interdimensional creature that possessed a bunch of people is going to tell the truth all the time,” you muttered. Molly and Tamson frowned, their expressions perfectly in sync once more.

“We’ve never lied,” Tamson said. “We’re not lying now.”

“You keep saying that. It doesn’t mean I’m going to trust you.”

“All things in good time, then,” Molly said. “You’ll see.”

The car pulled to a stop outside your work and Molly swung the door open. You boss smiled at you as he passed the sigil inside. Molly practically shoved it at you so it was sitting on your lap. As soon as it came in contact with you, your arm blazed with heat. Sweat started to bead on your brow. Tamson sighed, leaning against you. “There, you see? The power it contains and the power you contain… They’re quite closely linked now. One and the same.”

Without a conscious thought, you started tracing the lines of the sigil with your bad arm. The warmth pulsed as deep as your core, like something in your soul was stirring.

You were so entranced that you didn’t notice the car was moving until it stopped again. Molly tugged gently on your arm. “Come along, dear.”

You blinked. The car had parked outside of a church, one of the more ornate ones in the city with stained glass windows sending colored light onto the sidewalk. Tamson and Molly pulled you inside, with you still clinging to the sigil.

Inside, the church was surprisingly dark. Candles illuminated the stained glass, but most of the seats and the pulpit were shadowed. You tripped over the uneven flooring and Molly steadied you. “Watch your step.”

“I can’t watch anything,” you snapped back. “It’s pitch fucking black!”

“We’ll watch for you,” Tamson suggested. “If it was bright, it would spoil the surprise.”

“What surprise?” Neither of them answered, just giggled in unison. You ground your teeth.

Both of them hauled you up to the pulpit, then past it and into a tucked away little corner. It seemed to be designed as somewhere for the choir to stay, given the closets holding robes and the dinky electric piano tucked into a corner. Tamson hovered next to me while Molly took the sigil. “I apologizer for not taking you home right now, but churches are just such lovely places to coalesce energy.”

“What are you coalescing energy for?” you asked.

“For you,” Tamson said, simple as you please. You blinked. You’d been expecting a plan to take over the world/galaxy/universe, not… that.

“Sorry, for me?”

“Yes,” Molly said from where she was mounting the sigil on the wall. “Humans are so woefully deficient, after all.

“Defi- I really don’t understand what’s going on.” You made a halfhearted attempt and running away, but Tamson just grabbed you in what seemed to be a really enthusiastic hug. You felt rather squished against his chest.

“You don’t need to understand. We’re going to take care of everything,” he smiled. Molly’s smile, equally beatific, radiated across the room.

“I might not need to understand, but I’d like to,” you pushed, tentative. They didn’t seem keen on actually hurting you. Maybe if you nudged them, they would be more willing to explain.

Tamson’s expression shifted, almost like he was considering it. He traced a hand along your arm, touch feather-light. The warm and pulsing almost seemed to subside for a moment. You’d gotten so used to it that without it, your arm felt cold.

“Isn’t it usually the case that the paladin receives some of their patron’s power?” he asked, so quiet it was almost like he was musing to himself.

Your brain stuttered over the word. “The paladin?”

“There are other words for it,” Molly said. You startled. She’d practically appeared right in front of you. “Priest or priestess? Disciple? Chosen one? All similar concepts. One who serves and is served by us or our kin.”

“I’m not serving you,” you sputtered. Molly and Tamson shrugged in unison.

“You did. You opened the gateway, did you not?” Their voices were in sync again, a perfect chorus. You shuddered, but the only place to retreat back into was Tamson’s embrace.

“Not- not on purpose.”

“No? And yet, your magic jumped so eagerly to us. We felt it, dear paladin. Dear walker of Earth.” They were cooing at you, pressing up into your personal space. “We know you, dearest to us. Down to your heart. When your magic opened the gateway, the first thing we knew of this beautiful place was you. We reached through you and we knew you and we knew you would be ours.”

“I didn’t ask to be yours,” you said. Your voice was strangled. Your body was fighting itself. You should be leaning away from them, and there was some terrified, rational part of yourself that wanted you to do that, but there was another part that said to lean in. They were close to you, warm and sweet. Perhaps you’d just hadn’t been held in a long time, but your entire body yearned for the contact. They couldn’t be telling the truth, that they cared about you. But you wanted them to be.

“Maybe you didn’t ask with words,” Molly said. “But we know you and we know your longing.”

“For things to be different. Safer. A world where you never need to be afraid, or stressed, or in pain. You have brought us here, and we saw your heart and your pain and we adored you, because no one can ever see that deeply into another’s soul and not adore them. So we will protect you, now. Our dear paladin,” Tamson sighed.

“Together, we will bring this world into a new age,” they said, their voices unified again. No, not just their voices. You could hear, faintly, other voices saying the exact same thing. Like the entire city was speaking in unison.

“I-” you choked out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were going into shock. Your companions (companion?) didn’t seem bothered. Tamson rocked back and forth in a slow, soothing motion. Molly brushed her fingers along your scalp and made comforting noises. You closed your eyes for a moment, sagging with the utter exhaustion of the day.

“It’s all right,” Molly said. “Let it all go.” Your arm was warm, still, and it still pulsed, but there was something pleasant about it. Like lying against someone’s chest and hearing their heartbeat. Like the warmth of a fire on a chilly night.

After some amount of time, Tamson shifted his weight, lifting you up a little. You moved to get away instinctively, and tumbled right into Molly. She made no effort to hold onto you, but you didn’t move that far away from her.

“We weren’t sure if you were feeling up to walking,” Tamson explained. “It’s time to go downstairs.”

“What’s downstairs?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” Molly said. She linked her arm with yours. “We’ll show you.”

You allowed yourself to be led, with one of them on either arm. You actually passed a few other people as you made your way to the basement. No one you recognized, though all of them broke into beaming smiles when they saw you. They also bowed at the waist, a reverence that you hadn’t been expecting.

The basement was down a set of stairs in the back of the church. Now, you’d been a church basement once before, due to being dragged there for some kind of event, and that time, it had resembled a sort of dingy little storage area. There were a couple different rooms, the paint was peeling, it smelled kind of musty. This was not the sort of church basement you were expecting.

The area was spacious, almost cavernous. It was so big, in fact, that it didn’t actually seem to fit under the church. Maybe it was an optical illusion, but the ceiling seemed too high.

The entire place was bathed in purple light, though there was no visible source. The area just seemed suffused in it. Smaller points of reddish light came from candles that were stationed all around the… room? It was hard to call it a room. The walls were undefined, fading into darkness. In the center of the room, there was a platform, with more candles clustered thickly around it. Molly and Tamson guided you toward it.

“Am I supposed to sit here?” you asked, eyeing the platform. There was a fancy, throne-like chair in the center. It looked iron-like, with an ornate designed along the back of it. The pattern looked a little familiar.

“Yes, of course.” Molly pushed you up closer to it and you paused. Yes, the back of the throne was familiar- it was made up of a lot of tiny little sigils, all intertwining with each other to create one, large pattern.

“How is this possible?” you asked, stretching your hand out to touch it, though you thought better of it before actually touching it.

“It’s remarkably easy to warp physical things within our realm of power,” Tamson said. “And when the sigils are fully formed, we can bring more power into the world and affect more.”

“It’s a wonderful system,” Molly sighed, leaning her head on your shoulder. You shivered. “And you shall be part of it now.”

“I sit here and what, you give me your power?” Suspicion was starting to prickle over your skin again. It looked dangerously close to something that would suck your soul out or mind control you.

“We offer you some of our power, as our paladin.” Tamson put his hand on your lower back and gave you a little push toward the throne. You slid a cautious step closer. Tamson pushed a little harder. This time, you dug your heels in, feeling a bit like a stubborn child trying to avoid going to a doctor’s appointment or something. Tamson paused, with a questioning little, “hm?”

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, her breath a inch from your ear. You froze. “It’s all right. The power is frightening, but we’ll be right here with you. We’ll help, adored one.”

“I don’t know. I can’t-” Your arm was overly warm, making sweat prickle along your body. Your breathing was quick and shallow.

“It’s all right,” Tamson said. “Are you frightened of us?”

You pressed your lips together and didn’t answer.

“Yes. It’s all right. We can show you that you don’t need to be,” Molly offered. She reached down and lifted your arm, the one that was still warm. The heat was centered at your hand, radiating outward. Her fingers felt cool against your skin. “Here.”

You glanced down at what she was indicating. The red part of your palm had spread. It no longer looked like a small burn mark or spot. It looked like a pattern, the red mark splitting into multiple red lines that created an ornate picture. Something you recognized.

The sigil had appeared on your skin.

You trembled. It wasn’t complete yet, but you could see the red spreading, bit by bit. It would be complete soon.

Molly smiled. “You see our connection,” she murmured. “The mark of our favor on your skin.”

“It’s not done yet,” you said. You couldn’t keep the shake out of your voice. “What happens when it’s…”

“We can show you,” Molly said. She pressed a finger to the center of the sigil and something at the back of your mind unfurled.

It was like you had been curled in a tiny ball for your entire life and just now you were getting the chance to stand up and stretch your limbs. There was pain, almost like your brain was splitting open, but it was relieving as well. You could feel your body shuddering, but your body wasn’t important. Why would something as constrained as a body be important? You could see and feel the entire building, like you were surrounding it with your mind.

Something else touched your mind, gentle as a nudge. It was difficult to describe what your senses were doing, but the best description was that you ‘turned’ to ‘look’ at what had nudged you.

It was them. You could ‘see’ them. They were ‘curled’ around the bodies of Tamson and Molly, and you could ‘see’ other parts of them extending into the other bodies in the city and stretching up into the sky. They were bigger than you, much, much bigger, even in your expanded form. They ‘nudged’ you again, affectionate and warm. Each touch gave you a str age sense of what they were feeling, like their feelings were akin to body warmth. Their love pressed against you with every ‘touch.’ You reached out to them, following their ‘motions’ and trying to reclaim the adoration they were giving off. It was so much and so overwhelming and so good. You had never felt as genuinely cared for- their mind gave off pure gratitude and love for your entire being, for your humanity, for your soul.

With a near-painful abruptness, you were back in your own body. Your face was wet. Tears, yes, but also sweat and drool. Molly and Tamson were cooing at you, holding you in both their arms. Your body was sore, and not pleasantly so. You felt like you’d been sprinting for miles and been hit by a truck.

“What was that?” you groaned.

“Us,” Tamson said. “You, as well, though mortals are poorly suited for such a strenuous experience. You could only endure it due to our influence.”

You groaned again and made an attempt to get up. Molly and Tamson lifted their arms in time to catch you as you fell. Tamson allowed you to lean against him until your breathing stabilized again.

“Do you see now?” Molly asked. “The depth of our affection for you? How we adore you?”

You shuddered. Yes. You could feel it in your chest. The certainty of it. Tamson stroked your head and you leaned against him with a shuddering sigh.

“Come now,” Molly said. You whined as she tried to pull you upward. “I know you are tired, but you need our power.”

Tamson joined in on the tugging at you. “Just a modicum of our power and you’ll feel better. We promise.” With both their coaxing, you were dragged to your feet and hauled over to the throne. You were pretty boneless at first, but you were soon moving with them, reaching for the throne.

They carefully placed you on the seat and you sagged into it. The chair was not comfortable, but it made your arm steadily heat up. Your skin tingled.

There was a sensation like being watched. Like hundreds of eyes falling on you. No being watched in an oppressive fashion, either, but like reverence. Molly and Tamson knelt at either side of the throne, their hands on yours, drinking in the sight of you.

And then- it wasn’t like before, like your body had split open and sent the inner essence of you billowing up. It was more like there was a crack in your back and some of your essence had instead, slipped out, curling and billowing outward. You were still within your body, but you could extend more of yourself outward.

You fumbled, trying to acclimate yourself to new senses. Power surged through you and, fumbling, you scrabbled against the edges of reality, trying to orient yourself, and nearly tore it.

Their presence curled around you, lifting you up and away from the edge and balancing you next to them. There, now, my dearest. None of that. I am here with you now. Their ‘voice’ was warm, kindly, and almost… awestruck.

Dimly, back in your body, you were aware of the city folk bowing their heads in your direction, whispers of prayers and praises on their lips. All echoes of what this being felt for you. But you could only stretch your mind out toward them, and shudder in joy and relief when they stretched back and suffused you with adoration.

Come, adored one. We have much to do now. A city is only a fraction of what we can do, and you deserve continents upon continents of love.

You were a bad cursebreaker. Maybe you could be a good god.

#exophilia #monster romance #halloween poll story #monster lover #monster partner #eldritch god #eldritch being

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love-and-monsters · 10 months

Text

Feathered Dragon Partner

Nonbinary feathered dragon X gn reader, 11382 words

So I finished this and I did not proofread it and now I’m posting it so. I hope it scans. Let me know what you guys think. Might be kind of quiet on here for a while bc I’m trying to actually write my own novel, so. We’ll see how that goes. Anyway, enjoy.

A chance encounter at the market, a free sample, and an unfortunate injury. What do they all have in common? Why, a certain feathery, scaly friend who is quite interested in you!

Content warning for minor injury and mention of medical malpractice causing physical harm.

The Avieras Festival was in full swing, and you were ducking, dodging, and weaving your way through the patrons that packed the street so thickly it was near-impossible to find space. Most of them were in elaborate costumes, which only made navigating tricker. Some wouldn’t care if you trod on a hem or feather as you hurried by, but others would care. And they usually cared enough to spend ten minutes lecturing you on exactly how expensive the fabric you’d just ruined with your bootprint was. And sometimes they even cared enough to stick you with a dry cleaning bill, which was really the last thing you needed. So, you avoided stepping on people in general.

Festival days were good business days, generally, but you needed to find the right location to set up. Too much in the thick of it and you’d risk your wares getting knocked over by overeager or drunk patrons. Too far out and no one would be interested.

You located, after a few minutes of searching, an alcove that offered enough shade to be comfortable, and enough light to draw in patrons. As soon as you reached the spot, you snapped open your charmed bag and pulled out a sturdy roll of carpet, which you set on the ground in front of you, and your wares.

A table would have been better to show them off, since putting them so close to the ground risked them getting dirty, but even a collapsed folding table would have been hard to fit through the opening of your bag, so you let it be. The carpet sufficed, and you had two thin racks to display your best work upon. They would be sufficient to draw customer attention.

This part was the worst part. You enjoyed the crafting and the creating and not so much the selling. But, well. It was part of the job. So, you slapped the best smile you could on your face and started waving enthusiastically to the crowd. Every now and then, you’d see someone pause as their eyes snag on one of your creations and you called out to them. “Hello, ma’am! Yes, this mask will go wonderfully with your costume, see the lovely yellow, and the purple accents will bring out the richness of the color! Oh, and I have a hairpiece that goes perfectly if you’d like to bundle them together-”

You’re not bad at selling, but it does feel a lot like you’re putting up an act. It’s not like you’re not proud of your work- you wouldn’t sell your festival masks and accessories if you weren’t pleased with how they came out. But the energy required to act cheery and polite and overly-enthusiastic was ridiculously draining. By a couple of hours in, your stock was over half-gone, and you were utterly grateful. Perhaps you would sell out early and you could grab some delicious fried food and scuttle away to your home before the night got too wild.

“Well, aren’t these just delightful,” someone mused from entirely too close to you, and it took all your customer service skills to smile cheerfully instead of screaming and leaping out of your skin.

The prospective customer was leaning over your stand, gazing at your wares with clear interest. You recognized them, if only dimly. They worked as a butcher, and you’d seen them several times when you picked up food from the store. However, they’d always had their hair up and their feathers tucked away when they worked. Now, they were letting their hair hang free down their back, almost to their waist. Their skin was oddly colored, almost milky, with scales along the backs of their limbs. Plumes of feathers decorated their ears and their scaled tail. AS they shifted their weight, one of their hands resting on their generous hips, their skin caught the light and glowed in opalescence. The scales on their forehead had been picked out with some silvery makeup, making them stand out even more.

You picked your jaw off the floor and slapped your customer service hat back on. “Ah, thank you very much! You already seem fairly well-feathered, but perhaps I could offer you a small hairpin? I have some that aren’t quite so ornate if you’re looking for something lower key.”

As they leaned forward to examine your wares, you swept a critical eye over them. It was sort of a fun guessing game you tried to play with yourself, to figure out exactly what species each customer was. Most of the time, you didn’t get an answer, since it was pretty rude to ask someone casually what they were, but it was still fun. The oddest one had been a combination between a merfolk and a dragon, which had resulted in something like a human upper half, albeit completely covered in scales, and a sea-serpent tail. They’d also been a remarkably good customer, though they’d tried haggling for a better price.

This person… well, the scales suggested a dragon, but feathered dragons were rare, and even more rarely did they assume a humanoid form. Not to mention they had wings. Perhaps some sort of hybrid, then? Or maybe a harpy and dragon hybrid? You’d never seen one, though it did seem like this one should be more feathered if it really was a combination.

They cleared their throat and you hurried to focus your mind on their purchase. You could speculate after they were done. “See anything you like?”

“I believe so,” they said, their eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But I…” They hesitate, their tail curling. The feathered tufts of their ears twitch. “I…”

“Can’t decide?” you asked. It was always sort of flattering when customers felt that way- nice to know you’d been able to catch their eye with multiple pieces. Perhaps a better salesperson would have convinced them to buy both, but you figured if they wanted both, they would have bought them in the first place. You were happy to sell even one piece. “I can help you decide. Which ones do you like?”

The customer hesitated, then selected two ornamented hair clips- a pale pink and a deep sea-green. Both of them matched shades that appeared in their feathers and along their glimmering scales. Either would have been a good choice. You picked them up and held them out consideringly.

“Here, let’s see…” You held both clips up, one on either side of their face, and directed them to look into the mirror. “The pink one is a bit simpler than the green one- less feathers and jewels, see? You’ve got feathers on you already, so I don’t think you need the excess feathers, unless you’re going for an over-the-top look.” You glance over them with a critical eye. “However, the pink also blends in with your outfit a little more, so if you want it to stand out, the green might work better. Are you thinking of wearing this for daily use or just when you’re getting dressed up for a festival or party?”

“I suppose daily,” they said, tilting their head from side to side. Their eyes, bright yellow as topaz, glitter in the sunlight.

“Then the pink might be a little more lowkey,” you declared. “But it’s all up to you, of course.”

They hesitated for a moment longer, considering. “The pink, then,” they said.

“Wonderful,” you said, placing the green clip down on the table. “Would you like me to wrap this or would you like to wear it right away?”

“Right away,” they said.

“Sure! Makes sense that you’d want to wear it for the festival,” you said. “Now, your total is fifteen shen.”

They reached into their pocket to pull out their wallet and passed you a few coins. You tucked them smoothly away. “I can put it in your hair for you, if you’d like,” you added. They stared at you, yellow eyes going wide. “Only if you’d like! Some people just have a difficult time getting the clip into their hair on their own- but you can also just borrow a mirror if you would like.”

“No, I would appreciate the help,” they said. You gestured for them to turn and they did so, crouching down to allow you to reach. They were tall, so that was another suggestion they were related to a dragon. Then again, you had some gnomish blood, so most everyone was taller than you.

You gathered the silky strands of their hair into your hand and settled the clip in place. They twitched a little under your touch and their tail shuddered when you took an extra moment to stroke a few strands of hair back into place.

“There. Does it look all right to you?” you asked, offering them a mirror that was angled so they could see the back of their head. They nodded and brushed off their front as they stood.

“Thank you for the help,” they said. “And your work is quite lovely. I hope you’re finding success here.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you said. “Ah, here, take this as well!” You reached down and grabbed a small, though still pretty, tail cuff. It was designed to clip into place, with an adjustable band to keep it from slipping down the tail. You pressed it into their hands.

The feathers on their tail and ears fluffed up in surprise. “Oh- but I didn’t pay for-”

“The Avieras Festival is for celebrating feathered creatures,” you said, pressing the tail cuff on them more insistently. “Think of it as a party favor. And you’ve been quite sweet, I think you deserve it.”

Their eyes went wide and they took the tail cuff like it was a holy artifact. “Thank you,” they said. They smiled, showing off their pearly white canines. “You really are a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

With that, they reached out, affectionately patted my cheek, then headed off into the crowd. You blinked after them. You had been pretty sure you were flustering them for a moment there, so it was a bit strange to have the entire thing turned around on you. Fortunately, another customer arrived in a moment and you could launch straight back into your customer service mode.

The pace of sales picked up throughout the night. You sold out quicker than you’d anticipated, with plenty of time to enjoy the festival. You packed away your belongings in your bag and headed out to explore.

It was late evening as you headed out into the main section of the festival. The town center was full of people dressed in feathered outfits. The Avieras Festival was a celebration of avians- typically, that meant people with some kind of bird relation, like harpies, but it technically included all kinds of feathered creatures. That meant that everyone was dressed in feathers. Some people had more elaborate outfits than others, with multicolored feathers and even bird masks, but most people were just wearing feather accessories. Harpies and other flying creatures soared through the sky in an impressive array of aerial dancing. Music floated through the air with them, bright and lively.

Exploring the festival involved you getting as much unique food as you could and shoving it all in your mouth while you examined the items for sale. There were several games set up along the streets. One of them was a modified version of flight chicken, where two contestants were suspended by magic and then dropped toward the (magically cushioned) ground. The goal was to pin your opponent underneath you before you hit the ground. While most people participating seemed pretty poor at it, the matches that involved experienced partners were fascinating. There were a couple other games that were usually played in the air that had been modified so everyone could enjoy them, plus some other games that could by played just as easily by people on the ground. You tried a couple of rounds of a game like ring toss, which involved getting a wooden circle to land around a peg from several feet up, and won a tiny, simple wooden bird. You probably could have bought it for less than you’d paid to play the game, but willing it made the experience better.

After playing a few more games, you wandered over to the art installation that covered the far side of the festival. It was meant to cover the multiple traditional forms of art from different harpy flocks, from fashion to paintings, and there were even a few sphinx artifacts. A large platform toward the middle of the installation held a rotating cast of musicians and dancers. You paused to watch a group of harpies weave in and around each other, smoothly moving from dancing on the ground to in the air. A sphinx passed by, flexing her wings in time to the music. You even caught sight of what was probably an aasimar, gold-skinned and faintly glowing, examining a flight cape.

By the time you finished the art exhibit, it was getting late. Several of the games and activities made for children had packed up, and the party had shifted to more of a late-night-club vibe. Pulsing lights lined the buildings, casting a multicolored glow across the scene. It was pretty, and you did consider staying for a bit longer, but you were already exhausted from selling and walking around. As a large portion of the townspeople headed out to continue the party, you headed back to your home.

The streets got clearer the further you headed away from the festivities, though there were still pockets of people. Some of them were rather drunk. Just as you turned a corner, a group of stumbling drunks bowled into you, practically trampling you as you fell to the ground.

“Hey!” you protested, but your voice wasn’t that loud thanks to your surprise. Two of them, the taller two of the bunch, barely seemed to notice you. The third one turned and gave you an apologetic wave before being dragged off.

You cursed to yourself as you got up. Parties always brought out the asshole drunks- admittedly, you were on the small side (curse that gnomish blood) and the lighting wasn’t good here, so it was possible that they hadn’t seen you. But they still could have at least paused when they hit you!

“Oh dear,” someone murmured, and you heard rapidly approaching footsteps. Someone crouched and a slender, pale hand entered your field of vision. “Are you all right? Can you get up?”

“I’m fine,” you groused, taking their hand so they could tug you up. “Not hurt or anything- ow.” You put weight on your left leg and it throbbed. Probably not broken or even sprained, but there was going to be a very nasty bruise in the morning.

“I beg to differ,” your helper said, and you finally looked at them properly. To your surprise, you knew who they were. Their hair clip and tail clip were still secured neatly in place, right where they’d been place when they’d bought them. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” You lifted one of your hands to brush the dirt off your shirt and paused when you saw the oozing scratches along your palms. There were little bits of grit in the cuts. You winced. “Ow. Damn.”

“You should get those cleaned out,” they said. “Here, there’s a water pump nearby.” They took you gently by your wrist and led you a few feet away to a public water pump. They withdrew a pack of tissues from their side pouch and wet them before turning back to you. “Let me see your hands.”

You extended your hands out, palms up. They gave you a grateful smile and started swiping the wet tissues over the cuts.

It stung, of course, and you sucked in a sharp breath. They crooned in their throat, a gentle shushing noise. “I know it hurts, I just need to get all that gunk out.” Their thumb traced your wrist, stroking over the pulse point. You swallowed.

They took a few moments to clean it out, then paused, tilting your hand back and forth to make sure the dirt is gone. “There we are,” they murmured. “I don’t have any bandages on me, I’m afraid.”

“It’s really not necessary,” you said. “They’re just small scratches. See, they’re hardly even bleeding anymore.” You held your hand out- the cuts were still red, but no longer bleeding. They looked them over carefully, their tail swaying slightly as they focused.

“And nothing else hurts?” they asked. “You’re feeling okay otherwise?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fine. It’s not a problem.”

They nodded, then looked around you to glare in the direction the tramplers had gone. “Hmph. Shame that festivals can bring out the worst in people. They didn’t even bother to stop.”

“No, but I’m fine, really,” you said.

They flicked their tail with a ruffle of feathers. “Yes, but you if you haven’t been…” They shook their head. “Ah, well. I suppose we should just be grateful it wasn’t worse.” They slipped their hand under your chin with a feather-light touch and tilted your head back and forth. “And at least there’s no damage to your cute face, hm?”

A warm flush rolled over your entire body. Their tone was lightly teasing, but still quite sweet, and it wasn’t like you were used to receiving flirtation like that. You stepped back, pulling your chin from their grasp in embarrassment. “I- uh. Th- thank you.”

They hummed pleasantly. “Of course. No problem.” They gave you another look over, their brows furrowing. “Ah… would you mind if I walked you home? I don’t mean to be pushy, but I do want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” you said, taking a step forward. One of your ankles throbbed, but it held your weight.

They looked unconvinced. “You’re favoring your left ankle. Are you certain you’re all right?”

“Probably,” you said. “It hurts, but my home’s only a couple of blocks from here. I can manage.”

They frowned. Their tail swayed back and forth. “At least let me walk with you? I just don’t want you collapsing as soon as you’re out of sight. It will give me some comfort.”

“If you insist,” you said, offering them a weak smile. They seemed genuinely worried about you, and in all honestly, you weren’t totally sure how well you could walk anyway.

They stayed by your side as you headed toward your house. A couple of times, they needed to reach out and steady you when you forgot your ankle was bad and put your weight on it. The insistent throbbing pain got worse every few steps, and by the time you were within a few feet of your home, you were practically dragging your leg behind you. Your eyes watered with the pain.

Your companion put a hand to your shoulder, encouraging you to lean against them. “Are you certain you shouldn’t see a healer?” they asked. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“If it still feels bad tomorrow, I’ll see a healer. Right now, I just need to put it on ice and elevate it,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” they said. They paused, still looking at you with obvious worry, then their expression brightened. “Ah, let me give you this.” They rummaged in their pocket for a moment, then pulled out a small, shimmering disc. They took one of your hands in their own, turning it so your palm was facing upright, then pressed the small disc into your palm. Their hands completely covered yours. You could feel the disc against your palm, thin but surprisingly sturdy.

“What is it?” you asked as they withdraw their hands. You lifted the disc closer to your face to examine it. It was thin, strong, and pale colored. When you turned it in your hands, a pale stream of light illuminated it, turning it opalescent. Exactly like-

“It’s one of my scales,” they say. “If your ankle is worse tomorrow, you can just say my name to it and I’ll come to help you out.”

You blinked. “Really? But- are you sure?” Scales were strange things to give away. For the magically inclined, scales could be made to always be connected to their body, even when physically separated. If you said your name to the scale, they would know you were calling for them, no matter how far away you were.

They winked, golden eyes gleaming. “Say Tazriel, and I’ll come. I like making sure good people are well taken care of.” With no further explanation, they strolled off into the night. Their pale scales made them stand out against the gloom for a while before they finally faded into shadows.

You tucked the scale close to your chest as you hobbled the rest of the way home. It wasn’t far, and after resting for a few moments, you felt better. Though when you had to rummage through your freezer get the ice out, then stack your pillows to elevate your leg, then get comfortably settled in you seat only to realize you had to pee- well, maybe it would have been better to have a little help.

You fell asleep after some time of fitfully turning and shifting in your position. It was hard to find a comfortable sleeping spot with your ankle elevated. And apparently your sleeping body had no consideration for your health, because when you woke up, your ankle was no longer elevated, but twisted haphazardly under you. When you flexed it to get an idea of how fucked you were, pain rolled up your ankle and punched you in the gut. Okay. Pretty fucked.

It took a few tries to actually stand and hobble your way into the bathroom to really assess things. Your ankle was swollen and bruised and it hurt to put weight on it. Bad. You couldn’t assess whether or not it was broken, but it was sprained at a minimum. God dammit. You’d really wanted to avoid seeing a doctor. Maybe you could just give it time? If it healed on its own, everything would be fine, right? And if it didn’t get any better, then you could see a doctor. There was no reason to go to all the trouble when you hadn’t even given it a chance to heal. Right?

Part of you was aware that you were in denial and grasping at straws. A larger part of you was willing to accept anything that meant no doctor’s visit. So you hobbled your way back to bed, with a pit stop in the kitchen to stock up on food, and flopped back down, fully intending to stay in that spot all day.

As you did so, you saw something gleaming on the covers next to you. You scooped it up and- oh, right. The scale.

You rolled the little thing over in your fingers, enjoying how the light played off of its surface. It would be gorgeous to use on one of your projects- though they’d also probably be hard to get. Most people didn’t make a habit of handing out their scales, and even if you managed to find a seller, the quantity would be pretty small. Couldn’t be yanking out every one of your scales to sell, of course.

You rotated it in your hands, recalling their words from the night before. Say Tazriel and I’ll come. Interesting. That was a little unusual. People, as you’d already said, didn’t tend to go handing out their scales. On the other hand, they had seemed genuinely kindhearted and concerned, and you’d never heard a bad word about them. Though, to be fair, most of the words you heard about them tended to focus on how pretty they were. But still, people in this town were gossips, so if anyone had a problem with them, you were sure you’d have heard of it. But you’d also never heard of them handing out their scales like candy to anybody else. Bit of a mystery there.

After a few more moments of looking at the scale and considering, you turned and set it carefully on the table next to your bed. The offer was kind, but you were reluctant to drag anyone else into your mess. Maybe if it wasn’t feeling any better the next day, you would call them and ask for their help to get to the doctor.

You spent another boring day in bed, reading a couple of books and flipping through random videos on the scrynet. It was mind-numbing, and your hands were twitching by the end of it, but you didn’t really want to get out of bed. Eventually, you fell into a fitful, unrestful sleep.

When you woke, the pain in your ankle seemed to have dulled. Cocksure and overconfident, you swung out of bed, placed your feet on the floor, and collapsed when your bad ankle rolled under you and sent waves of pain up your leg.

Well. Crap. Had it somehow gotten worse overnight? How was that even possible? You blinked back the sting of tears from your eyes and twisted to look at it. Bruises still mottled the skin around the ankle, and it was definitely still swollen, though it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the day before. You probed the skin with the tips of your fingers and hissed. Pain. Bad enough to make your stomach tighten. Once you were actually braced for the pain, you could put some weight on it, though it wasn’t fun.

Son of a bitch. You’d really been hoping it would get better. You considered your options as you limped to the kitchen to get something to eat. It wasn’t so bad to put weight on, you reasoned. It was painful, sure, but a little pain wasn’t so bad. You could handle it.

You sat down and examined your ankle once more. Like, okay. It was probably bad, and you should probably go to a doctor. But it wasn’t like you couldn’t walk at all. That would be the point where it got bad, right? If you couldn’t walk at all. You could still keep off it for a while, for the most part, and then it would heal up. Why go to the doctor if they were just going to tell you to rest your ankle, which is what you were already doing?

(Again, there was that part of you that recognized you were just making excuses and that you really should just go to a doctor. But the bigger part of you still wanted to avoid going, and that bigger part was winning out.)

You ate and dragged yourself back to your room, collapsing onto your bed. Okay. Another day in bed. That wasn’t so bad. And you could probably try to work at least a little. You sat down for most of it. That wouldn’t bother your ankle too much, right?

Just as you were making the firm decision that you were probably fine to work, a gleam of light on your night table caught your eye.

You shuffled a little closer and reached out. As your fingertips met the light, you felt something small and disc-like. The scale. You curled your fingers around it and brought it up to your face.

It was definitely glowing. The entire thing shone like it was reflecting a strong beam of sunlight. You squinted at it, rotating it back and forth. Weird. Did scales do that often? Did it mean something? You’d barely gotten any instructions on how it worked. Maybe you could do some scrying later, see if you could find anything on scales. Though you still weren’t completely sure of their species, which might make it harder. They were probably a feathered dragon, right? Harpies didn’t really have scales like this.

The scale gleamed, sending a beam of light directly into your eyes. You winced. Was it getting brighter? How were you supposed to make it stop? You ran your thumb over it a few times, hoping to maybe trigger something, but nothing happened. You grimaced. Whatever. You could figure it out later.

As you grabbed a couple books to stash the scale under, so that maybe it wouldn’t burn your eyes out while you were trying to sleep, your mind wandered back to what they’d said. Call their name… “Tazriel,” you muttered absently as you placed the books on top of the scale. That was how they’d said it, right? It was a pretty name. You still felt a little awkward about calling them, but maybe you could stop by once your ankle was feeling better and let them know you appreciated the gesture. Yeah, that seemed the best way to handle things.

The decision firm in your mind, you settled back into bed and tried to ignore your ankle so you could fall back asleep.

You were just about to fall back asleep when the sound of someone knocking on your front door made you open your eyes. It was a polite knock, not like someone was banging down your door for an emergency. Maybe it was a delivery driver. They’d leave the package eventually.

You closed your eyes again. Only to open them again when the knock sounded once more. It was a little more urgent this time, though still not what you would consider an emergency knock. You considered getting up, but if it was a visitor, they would eventually figure out you weren’t home or something. It was fine.

The silence lasted a little longer this time, so you were settled back comfortably by the time the knock sounded again. This time, it was distinctly louder and rushed. You gritted your teeth. Okay. This person was not taking a hint, which either meant they were really obtuse or they had something important for you. But getting to the door meant getting out of bed and you were awfully reluctant to do that. The silence stretched on as you debated the finer points of getting out of bed versus staying nice and comfy.

After a couple minutes of silence, you realized the person at your door hadn’t knocked again. They’d wandered off, presumably. That was good. You could just lie back and relax and they would come back later if they needed anything else.

And then you heard the click and creak of the doorknob turning and your door- your FRONT DOOR- opening.

The indignation was enough to get you out of bed. Common sense stopped you from getting further than the hallway. You had a busted ankle- what were you going to do against a (possibly armed) thief? At best, maybe you could look so pathetic, they’d feel bad and leave.

Then your name, called in a semi-frantic voice, floated down the hall. That was surprising. Why would someone who broke into your house be calling for you? You hobbled a few steps out into the main entranceway of your house and stopped in surprise.

You knew both of the people standing in front of your open door, one more familiar than the other. The more familiar figure was your neighbor, a twitchy, if also kindly, water elemental. The less familiar figure was your savior from the other night, Tazriel. Their face lit up at the sight of you. “You’re all right?”

You shifted your weight onto your good leg and positioned your bad ankle so the swelling was not as noticeable. “I’m fine. What are you doing in my house?”

Tazriel blanched. It was hard for scaled creatures to blush, but they seemed to be trying their level best. “You called me.”

You blinked. “I did?” Almost as soon as the words had left your mouth, you remembered sliding the scale away and mumbling ‘Tazriel’ a moment before your fingers actually broke contact. Oops. “Oh. I did.”

Tazriel seemed to be regaining their confidence. “I was worried, of course, so I came by, but you didn’t answer your door. Fortunately, your neighbor did, and she said she had a key, so…” They trailed off, looking toward your neighbor. You stare at her too. She awkwardly rubs one of her arms.

“They seemed really worried, and you did tell me to use your key in emergencies,” she mumbled. She cast a shy glance sideways at Tazriel and you did not roll your eyes, but it was a near thing. Okay, they were pretty good looking, but you weren’t pleased that your neighbor was such a sucker for a pretty face that she would let them into your house.

“They’re quite kind,” Tazriel said, smiling at your neighbor, and she practically turned into steam. “They were worried about you too, once I told them what was going on.”

“Right,” you said. “So what’s going on?”

Tazriel blinked at you like it should be obvious. “You called for me and then didn’t answer the door. I thought you were really hurt.”

Oh. Actually, that wasn’t a strange conclusion to come to. “W-well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m, uh. Actually doing fine. It was sort of an accident that I called you. I’m sorry for disturbing you. But you don’t need to stay.”

They gave you a critical look, gaze roving over your body and fixing on your ankle. You shuffled it further behind your good leg to avoid their look, but this seemed to backfire. Their gaze grew more concerned. “You’re not putting any weight on your ankle.”

“I am,” you said, and gingerly placed your bad ankle on the ground. You leaned on it until your eyes were watering with pain and hoped they weren’t paying too much attention. “I’m fine. You can go back to your life.”

They narrowed their eyes, but didn’t say anything. For a moment, you were certain they were actually going to take your advice and leave, but then your neighbor piped in with, “You’ve been holding yourself all stiff since we got here. You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”

You shot her a glare as Tazriel gave you a new, more appraising look. “You are tense.” Their expression grew alarmed. “You shouldn’t be standing, should you?”

“I really have to assure you that I’m fine,” you said, but Tazriel and your neighbor were already dismissing your protests out of hand.

“Last time you told me you were fine, you had such bad food poisoning you could barely keep anything down,” your neighbor said. Tazriel brushed past the both of you and into the kitchen to fetch a chair. “I didn’t find out until two days later when I ran into you at the store looking like death warmed over.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you muttered. “And what were you going to do about it? It was food poisoning. You just have to wait it out.”

“You could have asked me to check on you. I would have done it. Or you could have asked me to take you to a doctor.”

You grimaced. Tazriel set a chair down next to you and gestured for you to sit in it. Once you were down, they crouched and peered at your ankle. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” they asked. “This looks bad.”

“It looks worse than it is,” you said hurriedly. “I really don’t need all this fuss. I’m just going to stay home until it feels better.”

Tazriel looked up. “You’re not going to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need one,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“You do,” Tazriel insisted. They probed at your ankle with their fingertips and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “You can’t walk on this. And it must hurt a lot.” They looked up at you and you were surprised by exactly how much concern was evident in their eyes. Their feathered ears twitched. It was ridiculous how cute it was.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, but their gaze was really hard to resist. “I just… I don’t want to go to the doctor.” Before they could comment on that, you braced a hand against the nearby wall and used the leverage to haul yourself to your feet. Well. To one of your feet. The other was still being held by Tazriel. “And they’ll just tell me to ice and rest it, which is what I’m already doing! Thank you all very much for your concern, but I think I’ll be heading back to doing that, so unless there’s anything else I can help you with…” You gave a pointed look to Tazriel. They were still holding your foot. They did not let go.

“You need a doctor,” they said, enunciating every word carefully, like you were a child or hard of hearing. “Your ankle could be broken.”

Your shoulders drooped a bit. “You don’t think it’s that bad, do you?” “I don’t know,” Tazriel said. “I can’t say. Because I’m not a doctor. Which is why you need one.” They folded their feathered ears back against their head and fixed you with their brilliantly golden eyes. It wasn’t quite a puppy-dog look, though it was pleading. Come now, their expression seemed to say. I want you to be all right. Won’t you let me help you? Their thumb was also tracing circles on your calf, which was making it surprisingly hard to focus.

“It’s… I just…” Your protests died on your tongue. They were just looking at you, but it was making your head feel sort of funny. Were they using their prettiness to hypnotize you? Was that what this was? Weaponized prettiness?

“If you’re nervous about going to the doctor, I could go with you,” Tazriel suggested. Their feathered ears perked up and you cursed internally. Somehow, that made them even cuter. “I know a doctor, actually. I could take you to her, if you’d like.”

They were giving you a look. An eager look, like they were already proud of themselves for having solved the problem. But you also got the impression they were not leaving here taking ‘no’ for an answer. They were going to be leaving here with you on a trip to the doctor’s or you were going to have a new roommate.

“Eh… uh…” You tried to think of a way out of this. They’re pretty, your brain supplied unhelpfully. It’d be nice to spend more time with them. Your own mind was even turning against you. “I guess that’d be… okay.”

They beamed. The fact that they looked even prettier when they did that was like adding insult to injury. “Wonderful! I’ll need to call ahead to let her know we’re coming, but she owes me a favor, I’m sure she’ll set some time aside for you.” They scrambled to their feet and practically skipped outside. You and your neighbor watched them go.

“Lucky,” she said in an undertone.

“Lucky?” you muttered back. “For breaking my ankle?”

She rolled her eyes. “For having someone so worried about you. Do you realize how frantic they were when they were banging on my door? It was kind of sweet.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Tazriel stepped back into the room at that moment, sparing you the indignity. “She says we can come in whenever we want,” they said. “But we’ll have a better chance of getting in right away if we go as soon as possible.”

“Just give me a couple minutes,” you said. “I just… need to brush my teeth.” Ever since hurting your ankle, your self-care activities, otherwise known as basic hygiene, had kind of gone down the drain. No one had commented on it so far, but the longer you were in the presence of a water elemental and the perfectly polished Tazriel, the worse you felt about it.

You hobbled to the bathroom and did as quick of a spot clean as you could. Once you’d determined that it was as good as it was going to get in the time frame allowed, you pulled on some slightly-nicer clothes and headed back out to Tazriel.

Your neighbor was gone by that point, and Tazriel was waiting for you in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?” they asked, fixing you with a cheerful smile. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.” There was a part of your mind insisting that, despite the indignity of it, you could probably get away with slamming the door in their face and burying yourself under the blankets until everyone forgot about this doctor thing. But that would be hideously embarrassing and you weren’t sure it would stop Tazriel anyway. They seemed rather determined. “Let’s get this over with.”

Tazriel nodded cheerily, then took a step forward, holding their arms out awkwardly. You took a fumbling step back, hands up. “Hey, woah, what are you doing?”

They paused. “You can hardly walk,” they said, as though that were completely obvious. “But I can.”

You did not lower your arms from their defensive position. “You’re going to carry me?”

They looked like at you like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Yes, of course. I can handle it.”

“Uh,” you said, looking them up and down uncertainly. “You’re sure?”

“Of course,” they said. To their credit, they sounded extremely confident. “You’re rather small, aren’t you? I can carry you.”

You felt weirdly embarrassed about being referred to as ‘small.’ “Uh. Well.” Why wasn’t your brain working? You couldn’t string together any thoughts! “I guess, if you’re okay with it…”

They grinned and scooped you up like you were a couple of grapes. You looped your arms around their neck. It was impressive how effortless the lift seemed to them. “Comfortable?” they asked. You made a nondescript sound that roughly meant, ‘as comfortable as it is possible to be right now.’ Apparently, they could interpret that, because they took off at a slow jog.

You’d been expecting they would take one of the trains, but they ended up heading in a completely different direction than the local station. It was slightly unnerving, but they seemed to know what they were doing. You did your best to relax back into their arms. While you usually felt rather uncomfortable about having someone carry you, this felt somehow reassuring. Maybe because they were strong enough that there was no wavering of their grip or unsteadiness.

They jogged for a little while, turning down some of the main roads. People looked at the sight with some interest, though few people actively stared, which you appreciated. After turning around a few corners, they slowed down and approached a decently large building painted in white and pink. They shifted you in their arms a bit before pulling open the glass door.

It definitely smelled like a doctor’s clinic when you stepped inside, with that stinging scent of antiseptic. A few other people were milling around the room. You couldn’t get a good look at most of them, but there was someone standing in a pile of feathers in the corner. You resisted the urge to snicker. There was always someone who took a feather-enhancing potion during the Avieras Festival and then had to deal with the consequences a few days later.

Tazriel ignored the front desk and headed toward the exam area. They nudged the door open with their tail and glanced around as they stepped inside. “Doctor Gella?”

There was a moment of silence, then a middle-aged woman wearing thick spectacles poked her head out of a room a few doors down. She had an enormous set of ram’s horns sprouting from her temples and a thin tail tipped with a trident. Oh, and bright yellow skin.

“Tazriel,” she said, nodding at them. “I assume this is the patient.” She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you step into an exam room and put them down?”

The exam room was pretty standard doctor fare- a sink and a few cabinets, a machine for checking blood pressure, a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs up against the far wall, and a bulky exam table covered in paper taking up a majority of the space. Tazriel set you down upon it and took up one of the seats. Dr. Gella gave them a pointed look. “It was kind of them to bring you here, Tazriel, but I’m afraid I can’t let you stay in the exam room while they’re being examined. Unless you would feel more comfortable if Taz stayed?” She directed the last question toward you.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you said. Ever since you’d started smelling the antiseptic, your heart rate had picked up, and sitting on the crinkly exam table wasn’t doing it any favors. Why did doctor’s offices all have to look the same? But you’d been through this before. You didn’t need anyone to hold your hand. Tazriel nodded amiably and headed for the door.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” they said. They gave you an amiable wink, then the door closed behind them.

The room felt a lot more confining all of a sudden.

Dr. Gella rolled a wheeled chair up to the edge of the exam table. “They’re quite sweet, but they forget the most obvious things sometimes. One of the reasons they could never work here.”

“Did they want to?”

“They were interested in one point. That’s how we got to know each other- they volunteered here when they were younger. But, as I’ve said, they’re a bit too distracted to be an attentive healer. Their knowledge of anatomy is impeccable, though. Hence why they ended up being a butcher.” Dr. Gella looked at your legs. “Ah. I see that’s the bum ankle they mentioned?”

You shifted, embarrassed. “Yeah. They told me I needed to come here, but…” You trailed off. Dr. Gella gave a half-smile.

“Not a fan of the doctor’s?” she asked. You shook your head. “That’s all right. Plenty of people aren’t. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

She shifted your leg up onto the exam table and slipped off your shoe and sock. The shoe was easy, since your ankle was swollen enough that it didn’t go on all the way. The sock was a little harder, and no matter how gentle she tried to be, it still hurt. You gritted your teeth and struggled as hard as you could not to kick her.

“There we go,” she said, setting your sock next to you. “Hm.” She grimaced. “I can see why they wanted you to come in.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you said, a little sheepish. Dr. Gella hummed disapprovingly.

“It’s definitely a bad sprain, at minimum. How long ago did you injure it?”

“Couple of days?” you said, shrinking back a little more sheepishly when Dr. Gella frowned.

“It might not have been that bad at first, but it’s certainly become worse thanks to not treating it right. I’m going to have to get a brace for it, and you’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks at least.” Her eyes glowed, suggesting she was using some kind of seeing-through spell. “Yes, it doesn’t look like there’s anything broken, but it’s certainly bruised and damaged and walking on it will make it worse.”

“Do I have to wear a cast?” you asked, hesitant.

“It’ll be a soft cast,” Dr. Gella said. You grimaced. “That bothers you?”

“I just… don’t like it.” You shifted in place, wincing when that shifted your ankle. “It bothers me.”

Dr. Gella smiled sympathetically. “If you don’t want to wear the cast, I’m certainly not going to make you do so. But it is my medical recommendation that you do so, as it will make sure that things heal better.”

You didn’t say anything. Yes, you needed to wear the cast. Yes, the idea of doing so made you feel sick to your stomach. You weren’t sure how to reconcile those emotions. Dr. Gella watched your expression, taking in your uncertainty, then forced a small smile.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I have another patient that shouldn’t take too long. You can take some time to think it over. If you’re too uncomfortable for it, then I can just give you some instructions for taking care of it, and if you feel better about the cast, we can put it on after I’m done with that patient. Sound good?”

You let out a relieved breath. At the very least, it got you out of the exam room so you could take a breather. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Certainly. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Dr. Gella helped you out of the room and offered you a set of crutches. Together, you hobbled back to the waiting room.

Tazriel was waiting in a seat close to the door when you stepped out. You nodded to Dr. Gella and went to sit next to them as she called in her next patient. Tazriel tilted their head, taking in your crutches and swollen ankle. “Are you done?”

“I’m not,” you said. “It’s… I’m…” You fumbled over your next words. Tazriel waited patiently. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Dr. Gella was right, I don’t have to know. It’s your health,” Tazriel said. “I can leave now, if you want me too, and as long as you have a way home-”

“You don’t have to leave,” you said. Talking to them was at least a distraction from both the throbbing pain in your ankle and the swirling anxiety in your chest. “I don’t like doctor’s offices.”

Tazriel nodded. “I sort of guessed. From the way you were acting about having to go.” They hesitated. “I know I probably overstepped, bringing you here, but you really did need someone to see to that ankle.”

“Yeah, you were right. I actually do need a cast on this thing.” You shifted your ankle and immediately winced. Bad idea. “But I can’t… bring myself to get one.”

Tazriel was silent for a moment, until it was clear you weren’t going to say more. “What bothers you about it?”

You hesitated. “When I was a kid, I screwed up my arm. It was a pretty bad break, from what I remember. And they put a cast on it. I complained about the cast a lot. It was tight and itchy and I didn’t like wearing it at all.”

Tazriel nodded. “Most people don’t.”

“And then, like a week and a half into wearing the cast, it started to hurt. Really badly. I complained about it, but I’d already been complaining about it so much, everyone thought I was just continuing with that. It kept getting worse, but it took another week before anyone believed me enough to take my back to the doctor. And then the doctor was really dismissive when we did go in, so it was a few more days before my parents finally got anyone to pay attention to what was actually happening.” You took a deep breath. “The cast was too tight. And there was some damage to my hand by the time they figured it out and took it off.”

Tazriel blinked, recoiling a little. You saw them sneak a glance at your hand, subtly trying to see what was wrong without being too obvious about it. “The damage wasn’t permanent, thankfully,” you said, stretching out your arm to show them. “There’s a little scar here, but after physical therapy, I can move my hand pretty much the same as anyone else. There’s a little residual pain, on occasion, but it healed well.”

“That’s why you were so fussy about going to the doctor,” Tazriel said. “You didn’t want another cast.” They curled their tail across their lap. “I… I’m sorry for dragging you here.”

“Ah, it’s not your fault,” you said. “You were right. I did need to go. And I wasn’t going to do it unless someone kicked my ass.” You glanced at the door to the exam rooms. “The doctor said I could go without a cast, if I was really uncomfortable having one on, but I really do need one. I don’t want to screw up my ankle any worse than it already is.”

Tazriel sat for a moment, their tail settled across their lap. They were plucking at their feathers. A little further up their tail was the tail band you’d given to them. It had clearly been taking off and cleaned at one point, maybe even polished because it was even shinier than when you’d had it. “You’re still wearing that,” you said. Tazriel glanced toward the band and gave a faint smile.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite beautiful. I appreciate it.” They ran their finger over it, relishing the little textural differences. “I truly wasn’t expecting a gift.”

You laughed, a little embarrassed by how warm their voice had become. “I’m sure people trip all over themselves to give you free samples. You must be swimming in them by now.”

“Sometimes,” they admitted with a sheepish grin. “I try not to accept them too often. I don’t like to take things without paying for them. It feels unfair.”

You nudged their side playfully. “Except when you’re taking from me, huh? Trying to drive me out of business?”

Their face scrunched up in a strange way. “Eh… well…” They ran their hands up and down their tail. “I had… I had a bit of an idea about that. I was hoping perhaps I could offer to pay you back… by taking you out to dinner.”

You thought for a moment. “You wanted to ask me out to dinner?” They nodded. “Why dinner?”

They blinked, like they hadn’t thought that question would be the next one. “It wouldn’t have to be dinner, I suppose. That’s just traditional. But if you didn’t want dinner, I suppose coffee would work as well? Or if there’s something else you’d like to do?”

Your brain chugged for a moment before everything clicked together. They were asking you on a date. Right? Or maybe you were reading them wrong? You’d never been good with those sort of subtleties- maybe they meant something else? Like a friendly dinner? But if you interpreted it as a friendly dinner and they didn’t, then they would be hurt if you treated it like a friendly date, right? But if you tried to clarify and they weren’t asking you on a date, that would be so embarrassing, and maybe they’d be mad at you for being presumptuous about them asking you out… You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you were staring at them until Tazriel cleared their throat. “Er. I- You don’t have to say yes. I thought it might be charming, I suppose? But I suppose it is a little too pushy, so don’t feel obligated to-”

“No, no! I want to!” you said hurriedly. You couldn’t just sit there and let them feel bad! Although, now you were going to have to find a way to determine if this was a date or not without letting them know that you weren’t sure what you’d signed up for.

It seemed like answering in the affirmative was the correct choice, because their entire face brightened. “Really? Ah, that’s a relief. I’m afraid I’m not all that good with these sort of things- people assume I am, I think, but I’m really not used to it at all.” They gave you a particularly rough pat on the shoulder, which jostled you enough to make your ankle ache. You grimaced and they pulled their hands back, tucking them against their body. “Sorry. We can, uh. Hold off on the dinner until you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I… suppose I should get the cast. To make sure that everything heals all right.”

They looked uncertain. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

“It’ll be scary, but I’m a grown-up. I can handle it.” Despite your words, your stomach churned. It wasn’t even going to be a hard cast, like the one you’d had as a kid, but the idea of something pressing in tight, restricting you like that… how were you going to sit through the procedure and just deal with it?

An impulse darted from your brain to the tip of your tongue before you could think better of it. “Will you sit with me when I get the cast on?”

Tazriel’s ears fluffed up and their eyes went wide. It was hard to tell if they were surprised or pleased to be asked. Or both. “You want me to go in with you?” Their tail gave one large wag before they settled it back into their lap. “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

“If I say you can be in there, then you can be in there,” you said. “I’d just like someone else in there with me in case I, like. Freak out or something.”

They looked at you for a long moment and you were just about to rescind the offer out of embarrassment when they nodded. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”

Their agreement couldn’t have come at a better time, because the exam room door swung open again and Dr. Gella stepped out. “There you are,” she said, nodding in your direction. “Have you made up your mind?”

You nodded. “I’d like Tazriel to come back with me. Just as, uh. Moral support. If that’s all right.”

Dr. Gella looked between the two of you with slightly raised eyebrows, but all she said was, “There’s some paperwork you’ll have to sign, but I don’ t think there will be any problem with it.”

Tazriel gave a single squeeze to your shoulder and followed you and Dr. Gella back to the proper exam room. You hopped back up on the table and signed a few forms Dr. Gella provided for you while Tazriel hovered a bit awkwardly nearby. “Now, I’m going to set your leg in place with magic and form the cast around it,” Dr. Gella said as soon as the paperwork was safely stored away. “That will make the most comfortable and best-fitting cast. But you’re going to have to try and not move.”

“I can try,” you said. The phantom sensation of being held in a vice grip, unable to pull your leg away even as it was clamped down on tighter and tighter and tighter hit you and you took an unsteady, gulping breath.

Tazriel moved closer so their shoulder was brushing against yours. Even with the high examination table, they had to bend over a bit. “Where were you thinking of going for dinner?”

“F-for dinner?” you said, distracted. Dr. Gella carefully worked a disinfectant and cleaning spell over your ankle, causing a race of cold tingles over your skin. The magic sparked and seemed to solidify as she shifted the magic to start holding your leg still.

“Hey.” Tazriel’s voice dropped a little, adopting a soothing register. “Don’t focus on that, okay? Look at me.”

You turned your head to catch Tazriel’s golden eyes. They beamed. “There you go! Now, I asked you about dinner, remember?” Their face took on a thoughtful expression. “Oh, but you weren’t sure about dinner, were you? I’m happy to go with whatever you’d like.”

“U-um.” The grip around your ankle was tightening, enough to put pressure on the swelling. It ached awfully. “I- I guess… lunch would be fine?” Dinner was too fancy, right? Getting lunch seemed much more low-key. Though, if they were asking you on a proper date, dinner would be more traditional, right?

“Lunch works,” Tazriel said amiably. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“I’m not sure.” You hazarded a glance at your ankle, but before you could get a proper look at it, Tazriel was calling your attention back.

“There’s a cute little bistro near my workplace. If you have no objections, we could go there. Have you ever been? I don’t remember the name, but it’s a pale green building with ivy crawling up the side.”

“I think I’ve seen that,” you said. The grip around your ankle had stopped tightening, but the pressure was still there. You couldn’t flex it at all. Your head thundered erratically. “It looks nice. I’ve never been there.”

“I’ve only been there once, for breakfast, but they had quite a good egg sandwich.” Your gaze started to wander back toward your leg and Tazriel squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to them. “But they’ve got a lot of variety, so I’m sure you can find something you’ll like there.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured, still distracted. The magic was solidifying into a soft cast, molding itself to the shape of your leg. There wasn’t much pain, but the feeling was still unsettling.

Tazriel licked their lips, their tail flicking rapidly. “Ah, um… Maybe you could talk about how you made this?” They swung their tail around to show off the clip still set against their scales. “It’s lovely. I was very surprised you were willing to give it to me.”

“Well, it is good business practice to make sure customers come back,” you said. “And you were a nice customer.” And maybe the fact that they were cute hadn’t hurt either. Had you actually been flirting with them without realizing it? Well, you weren’t that good at flirting when you were trying at it. Maybe flirting while you weren’t trying made you better at it. It had gotten you a maybe-date, hadn’t it?

“There we are.” Dr. Gella stepped back to examine her handiwork. “Well done. It’s all set.”

You looked down at your leg. It was booted up in a deep blue material, making one of your legs significantly heavier and more awkward than the other. You could move your leg with a decent amount of effort, but you couldn’t really flex your ankle. Gingerly, you slid off the table. Tazriel caught your arm immediately, letting you lean against their body.

“Careful,” Dr. Gella said. You couldn’t tell whether she was talking to you or Tazriel. “Your ankle’s still going to be fragile, so I’d suggest using crutches and keeping as much weight off of it as possible. I’ll write you a script for some pain medication. Take it easy for at least two weeks, then come back in and we can reassess.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for all your help.”

She waved it off. “Of course. I’m always ready to help Tazriel’s friends.”

“Let me walk you back to your house,” Tazriel said. “Just to make sure you get back okay and have everything you need.” Their tail swayed back and forth eagerly. “And you still have my scale, right? You can call me if it gets worse or you need anything.”

Dr. Gella made a noise of surprise. “A scale, Tazriel? Really?” They paused, looking at her like they’d forgotten she was in the room. “I thought those were important to feathered dragons.”

That answered one of your questions. “I’ve never met a feathered dragon before,” you said, giving Tazriel a surprised look. They rubbed the back of their neck.

“I’m only three quarters- My grandma married a harpy. I’ve got a few more feathers than most feathered dragons.” They swayed their plumed tail back and forth, displaying the pretty feathers there. “And most modern dragons don’t hold to that old notion of scales being given to- you know. It’s convenient.”

“A seerstone is more convenient,” Dr. Gella said. You looked between them, feeling like you’d missed something important.

“What old notion?” you asked. Tazriel shook their head at Dr. Gella, who continued speaking as if she hadn’t seen them at all.

“It was an old tradition for dragons to give out scales to people they were interested in establishing a courtship with,” she said. Tazriel dropped their face into their hands. Their tail drooped to hit the ground with a dull thump. “Admittedly, courtship has fallen out of fashion, so it’s not quite as common anymore, but plenty of dragons still hold to the-”

“Okay, I think maybe you need to go home and rest,” Tazriel said, popping up from their hands and speaking much louder than was necessary for such a small room. They scooped you up over their shoulder with one arm and grabbed the crutches Dr. Gella had for you with the other.

“Be careful,” Dr. Gella said. “You don’t want to jostle their-”

“I’m always very careful,” Tazriel said in their too-loud voice. “I’ll see you another time, thank you.”

You awkwardly propped your head up from where it was hanging down Tazriel’s back. “Thank you, Dr. Gella.”

“Of course. If you need anything else, please give me a call. Just ask Tazriel for my contact information,” she said. Then Tazriel left the room and the door swung shut behind you.

You let yourself lay limply over their shoulder, ignoring the bewildered stares as you walked through the waiting room. Once you were outside and Tazriel’s embarrassed walk had slowed, you picked your head up again. “Perhaps you could give me an opportunity to walk on my own?”

Tazriel stuttered to a stop. “Oh. Yes.” They moved to the shadow of a building and carefully put you down so you could lean against the wall while they put the crutches down. “I shouldn’t have picked you up like that, I was just…” They trailed off.

“It’s fine,” you said, deciding to be polite and not call attention back to their embarrassment. Then you had a question and decided to do it anyway. “Um. So, the thing with the scale…” Tazriel immediately looked like they were considering making a run for it. “It would have been more convenient to use a seerstone, wouldn’t it? Why did you pick the scale?”

Tazriel really looked like they were hoping the ground would swallow them up, but, to their credit, they stood there and answered. “It.... isn’t used as a way to start courting anymore, but… there are certain connotations to it and there are a lot of old legends and…” They cleared their throat and stared firmly at the ground. “I was planning on asking you out. I just hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet. The scale was more spur of the moment than anything. I didn’t want to ask you out in that moment, not when you were hurt, so I picked something that was similar, but not something you would recognize. I hoped it would maybe help me feel braver next time I saw you. And I suppose I thought maybe the scale would make it more likely for you to call me than just connecting with a seerstone.”

Well. That answered your other question. It was a date. A pleasant prickling sensation rolled through your chest. “I- I thought it was sweet,” you said, partially because it was true and partially so Tazriel didn’t look so painfully shy anymore. They smiled at that.

“Let’s get you home. And connect seerstones so we can actually plan everything out for our lunch.” Tazriel helped you get set up with the crutches and you began your slow journey back to your house.

It took a while to get back to your home, but Tazriel was a pleasant conversationalist. In fact, you were almost disappointed when they stopped at your front door.

“I’ll see you again,” they said. “Get some rest. If you need anything else, I’m available. By scale or seerstone.”

“I’ll call. I promise,” you said. “Thank you for everything.” You carefully balanced yourself on your crutches and reached one of your arms up toward them. They obligingly leaned closer. You took their face in your palm and tugged them in close for just long enough to press a kiss to their cheek.

They didn’t make a sound, but their tail and ear feathers fluffed up. “I’ll call you,” you said. They nodded rapidly. Grinning, you stepped back into your house. You needed to rest up your leg. Once you were healed, you had a date to go on.

#exophilia #monster partner #monster lover #dragon #feathered dragon #dragon lover #monster romance #monster love

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