[ there was also the difference of someone called jesus but eren couldn’t give enough attention to remember or set aside differences based on that. oh, well. eren holds his hand up in simple gesture of “no thanks”, an odd thing, considering he usually ate a truck’s worth of food on the daily— it’s just another perk of the winter season. metabolism slows, and he feels far less need for spending energy on chewing. besides, he’s more than happy to just relish in the aftertouch still tingling on his horns. all four of them, even when only two had been grabbed. ]
I wanted to see your face when I say I listened to your disk.
[ ah, yes, the infamous eren way of life— straight to the point. no build up or anything just. surprise snipe. ]
[boom, headshot! it's a good thing that Styx has amiably put the pretzel bit back at this point, because when his bonded delivers such a resounding blow the little bag slips straight from his fingers.]
Hours?
[that's more or less the span of time between now and his dropping off the gift, but he'd just thought...well, holidays were busy times. even simply perusing his other gifts (because certainly he'd gotten more) and visiting friends would have taken up a fair chunk of the day.
but no. it had been listening to music. his music. the expression on the drummer's face is absolutely one worth traveling to see, a near comical mix of incredulity and awe and - and the desire to be excited, absolutely thrilled, if he can just wrap his head around this reality.
big hands rest on the dragon's shoulders as he ducks his own head briefly, peering up into Eren's eyes like the change in angle is going to provide him with more answers than he has now. this was...far beyond anything he'd anticipated. the witch's fervent hope had been for his friend to like it, to see what Styx himself saw in him, but hours...that was truly incredible.]
it's time to sit down, maybe. eren's own hand rests on the drummer's shoulder before guiding them both in a seat (couch?) one next to the other. even as his weight made him sink into the cushions he doesn't stop the small smile that comes in his fingers pressuring the spot he held with a reminding squeeze to bring him back to earth— consequently, opening the door that would let the excitement in static shock there be completely free to come out. ]
I had to get every part. [ it was the kind of thing you'd listen to several times and still hear something new. even now, if he heard it again (which he would), he'd probably see something else he hadn't before. when eren inhales, he finds himself holding the air as some heart swelled in the words to come— he just didn't know how to articulate any other way. ] Every part of me that you did.
[ it's touched him in a profound place, even the tragic grasping for some hope there that styx managed to catch somehow. like he knew him. like he knew him for a very long time. "it was amazing"? no, amazing didn't cut it. the building sense of finding somewhere he belonged, though . . . maybe that could begin to express it, as the grasp on the witch's shoulder turns into a splayed yank of his hand on his back to begin bringing him into a tight fucking embrace. ]
[Eren is, as always, a faithful tether to reality. the fog which shock had clouded the drummer's mind with dissipates under his friend's careful guidance, although his gaze never wavers. open and clearheaded as he was now, the only thing he wanted to give his attention to was right in front of him.
there are so many questions he has, so many little insights he wants to give - what was your favorite part? the bridge here drove me fucking nuts getting right! - but what Styx sees in the suspension of breath supersedes all of that.
oh, oh - he gets is. he fucking gets it.
tears prick at his eyes even before Eren's moved, the man's crushing embrace returned tenfold with a muffled cry of joy. this song had been about understanding more than even the melody itself and finally, finally he'd succeeded when it was most important. he sobs into his dragon, grinning wide enough to crack his jaw through the tears. it's majorly uncool to be crying this easily but man, he doesn't fucking care.]
It's all you, man. Every day.
[every time Styx looked at him, that was what he saw. wasn't it beautiful?]
[ don’t cry don’t— well, there went crying. eren had always been a child and young man that was easy to slip into tears, emotional or saddened, mostly angry— until it iced over. he hardly cried now, neither does he truly remember the last time his eyelids watered, perhaps some months ago, a year ago, maybe more. the internal proximity styx has to eren is enough to touch him in that way, turn on the waterworks even if it’s just a drop as he felt the captivating joy embrace him just like the hulking witch’s body did and wonder to himself: have i felt this before? they wet the corners of his eyes and make them sting at best, forcing him to keep blinking until they’ve become pink. that’s all fine as he crushes the frame of sobbing shoulders into him and adds running talons on his back in preparation of nicely aimed pats that felt like smacks. he wants to say more but all that comes out is this weird . . . wordless croak, and at the croak, eren puffs out a laugh. ]
Thank you. [ he could definitely be evil, but he— he wants to stay? he wants to stay and feels a tremendous guilt swell in his gut and hopes that once he’s done, he does get to stay, and live with this for as long as he could. ] —I don’t want to leave.
[haha, what the hell was that noise? those bracing slaps of Eren's have been keeping his witch from falling into the deep end of blubbering emotion, but it's the dying frog impersonation that hoists him back completely. Styx laughs right alongside his friend, loosening their vice of an embrace only enough that he could bump up against that scaly forehead. oh, geez, had they both been crying? what a pair...it made him happy, though. radiant.]
Then stay. We want you to too. [and then, with deep sincerity, in case that idea feels too unreasonable for the dragon:] I want you to.
[the only one whose opinion truly mattered was Eren's, of course, but there was something comforting in knowing it was shared by another. what would this be like, after all, if his dragon wasn't here?]
[ it’s not so simple would’ve crossed his mind with more vigor, but now it’s just a weak hush to him obliterated by the strength of one thing only: the sharing and the ultimate mellowing his forehead receives upon any gentle press invited. ]
We’ll see.
[ but undeniable was the surge that couldn’t be described any better as the bubbling of a hot bath in his gut. a harmless one that tempted more and more, a step up from butterflies. it’s the exact thing that makes a difference to hear just as eren would say it others, everyone but himself. he inhales, wants to say something—
but thinks his gifts are better at expression. he was to peel himself away of course, back to the hole under the bed, but all he needs to do is just slink beneath the space in a half crawl to drag out, firstly: a square wrapped in leather. ]
[ this was all small talk to stuff a barren elephant in the room (if they were in a room). eren’s tongue tips out, and for a moment he stares hard, squints at the puca as he spoke without actually listening to a single word he said— before unfocused rounded pupils thin back to honed shards. he has been quiet, hasn’t he? he should fix that: ]
[The Winter chill settles upon them in their very not-elephant-shaped room, as it's the great outdoors. But there's certainly an elephant in the room as Eren stares at Mettaton like he didn't understand his own upset?
Like he wasn't even listening. Talk about a slight.
For a moment, Mettaton feels his temper flare. His ire could consume him, but his arm sparks in protest, a grounding reminder to do whatever it took to retrieve his arm. He could feel however he felt about Eren later, once business was taken care of.
Mettaton's gaze is level for a heavy moment, his smile working its way into a tight, small frown. His arm sparks again, still dripping with some sort of clear fluid, not at all clotting like any good organic wound should. He lifts the (unopened) box, taking only two steps forward.
And then he just... lifts his leg and delicately unlids the ornamental box with the tip of his boot. He sure did that. Leave it to Mettaton to utilize his legs to the greatest extent.]
You know, Eren... I don't see why this trade has to happen. At all. [He doesn't say that with his usual playfulness, even though it's somehow easygoing and light. Under the overcast, darkening sky, a dark, rich blade catches light overhead, polished perfectly. It's a tease of a knife, as Mettaton hasn't yet shown it to him fully.] It's my arm we're talking about here!
[ what a glint. it’s a shame that eren can’t be damned to recognize the talent in the robot puca’s leggy presentation. an art form, no doubt . . . but the real art here was the lovely glint of the blade’s face, prompting the largest filling of his pupils, round and leaving no space for the ice color of his iris— he’s engaged and interested, the end of his tail forming a methodical sway of prickling spines as he got up and dipped down to get an obvious better look. the puca’s tone was heard but disdained, and the wyvern’s talons rake against the metal in his hands, making it cry out as he stroked the fines, jagged edges it was ripped from. those ends were sharp, as his thumb pad proves when it prods his skin and harmlessly scrapes at scaling. ]
It’s mine.
[ he’ll say it only once with a chilly and superior sense of indifference like he was calling something pink when it was blatantly blue. was mettaton stupid? it didn’t matter if it came from his body or not. it was eren’s, now. it was his the second the metal ends bent into keen tips. it belonged to him and his ridiculous pile of other hazardous objects. he’ll be more offended the second time that isn’t acknowledged.
though he’s watching the teaser of the blade and not mettaton, his talons begin to tap the longer he watches— an anxious, impatient tapping that betrays the mostly placid look he keeps on his face, and the forked tongue that more rapidly slides from the back of his teeth and in the direction of the box’s lid. he wants to see it he wants to see it— ]
Open it.
[ he’s being rude, isn’t he! like a suspicious and fixated addict . . . a trick? it could be. mettaton better be careful with his leggies, eren’s tail is beginning to slither and surround them in a very recognizable semi-circle . . . ]
[Eren... If it weren't for the fact she was supposed to be hidden, she'd be having words. Claiming stolen goods as his own was one thing, someone's limbs was another. Hidden within her illusion the fae's arms spread in an unseen threat. Her lips curling back to show teeth.
He really did need taking down a peg or two... Or five.
But for now, there was nothing the fae could do. Though she did slip up, not mask her scent for a split second when that long serpentine tail gazed her boot. Then the illusion was back up fully as she stepped over it.]
[Mettaton gives Eren a smile. It's a touch malicious, tired and tried, his brow knit and his laugh soft, near incredulous.]
Demanding... How rude of you. [With that dexterous leg, the robot points to the lid, already on the floor... The box is open, but it's Mettaton taking a moment to stabilize the box amidst all of his gesturing with hand and leg alike.] I don't know where you get off on calling MY arm, yours. The nerve. If you were that much of a fan of mine, you could just ask, darling! I'm quite generous. [Pause. A twist of his smile in response to the shrill cry of talons upon metal.] And don't scratch my arm like that.
[How accommodating Mettaton would be, if Eren just came up to him and told him how much he loved his arms! A unique pick for a favorite feature, but Mettaton would understand. There's a lot to love about him, he'd say.
Where Mikasa's illusion falters at the possessive curl of Eren's long, serpentine tail, Mettaton remains just as house-fire-smelling and distractingly waving a boxed knife around as before. This won't stop Eren from noticing her, but maybe, just maybe, Mettaton's Puca luck will rub off on the Fae who deigns to keep her invisibility.
Or maybe fast action will work. With Mettaton's remaining arm, he holds out the knife for Eren's appraisal. It smells sweet, but not precisely telling of chocolate... Sweet, bitter, but it's obviously sharp and glistening, even signed with Mettaton's initials on its blade! How nice. Mettaton's irate smile veers charming, and his arm socket sparks as he unconsciously tries to gesture with his missing arm to its splendor like he's advertising a product on the streetside.]
If you like what you see... I'll let you take it, but you have to give me my arm first! I promise I'll hand over this knife! You have my word.
[ a wonderful combination of puca luck and mettaton’s prompt distraction is the only thing that saves mikasa’s presence in the shadows. otherwise— his tongue would’ve caught it. the aroma of wild berries, of honey and tart . . . it is dim on the puca’s furry ears. his pointed stare at where the fae should be is quickly interrupted by wanting to see the knife. the deep growling at the back of his throat is almost an imposter to purring— but there’s an edge to it. he keeps saying his arm his arm and it is not his arm unless he chooses to give it to him. and what an observation it was . . . his eyes are so wide, so astounded, like coming upon a wonder of the world, a true wonder.
he doesn’t have this knife. eren bends in ever angle to be able to catch it at its most beautiful. even a gasp drips from his lips as the greed presses its hands to his pride and strangles it quiet. it was. gorgeous. tentatively, eren hovers his talons out , clicks them back into a retreating curl, thinks— thinks long and hard.
well, he supposes, even if his pinned ears drop in deflating body language when silently saying his goodbyes to the pointed edges of the robotic limb. it’s a good trade. his hoarding blinds him to anything else.
he holds both hands out, palms up; one of them is free and beckons for the faux blade, while the other holds mettaton’s arm, secured to take back but equally ready to let go if he’s given the trade. ]
[ then, he was ready to go. leave this place, this prison, and go somewhere better with a chain attached to his ankle. it's just a cuff, but looking at it— he would otherwise be able to deal with it, but it was the dragon in him. the same way he'd get uneasy with a large presence of water or rainfall, the magical cuff gave him bubbling anxiety. like it shouldn't be there. like it would destroy everything he had.
dramatic at best, which is why he says and expresses little of it, for now. now, it was better that they walked back home. slowly. eren's steps were consistent but sluggish, the emergency first aid he'd received only enough to cap the gaping patch from getting out of control and get him prepared for either more, medicine and rest. to be fair, he should be in the hospital for a few days. eren declines.
so on their way, he holds styx's arm as a crutch, and wonders, with his head down: ]
[the dragon can lean against his witch as heavily as he needs to. Styx is so used to measuring his gait for others that he barely needs to think about restricting himself to the gradual pace of his companion. even if he had - anything was better than staying down in those suffocating cells.]
Yeah, they don't bother me.
[it bothered him deeply to see any on the people he loved, but divorced from that reality Styx was unbothered by such things. metal leaned too heavily into the brutal for that - he could even see beauty in gore at times, splayed across album covers like a true battlefield. for a friend, a dear companion, he already knew that he wouldn't so much as flinch.
they've proceeded several more shambling steps before a secondary thought occurs to the giant. it's a testament to how seriously all this has impacted him; under normal circumstances his mind would have never been sharpened enough to pick up on a potential error he's made.]
...I know some healing magic too.
[suddenly he's burningly grateful to have thrown so much into his practice of that field after Dorchacht.]
[ his wounds might’ve been healed to an emergency’s limit— he no longer bleeds, they still burn, but eren . . . feels numb to it. as if it were just mere background noise that he could get through just fine if he ignored it. which, in truth, might work out. his general pain threshold is extraordinary, enough that he’s able to inflict it onto himself with little second thoughts.
a problem as much as it was a red, waving flag. he hopes they’re closer to home. home . . . he’s calling this home, in his head. speaking of heads, his feels light. he might be durable, but he still has blood and lost plenty of it. it’s swimming, and one of his hind legs misstep. ]
What else are you working on?
[ just something to compress what he’s feeling. it felt like a cool cloth to the sting. he wasn’t going to be avoidant for long, there were still questions and answers lurking at the back of his mind. when he’s sitting and they’re in their quiet place, he’ll bring it up. ]
[his frame wobbles, but there's no chance for Eren's steps to waver. his witch picks up the slack in an instant, leaning in far quicker than his bulk ought to permit to fill in any holes punched in the dragon's gait. the downward slide of the armor is what he's been anxiously on the lookout for, after all, and the readiness is a comfort even if being right isn't. he'll carry him home if it comes to that...he won't allow more pain to befall the man.]
Lot of healing magic...'nd protection spells. Elemental stuff - mostly lightning. Dunno why, but it comes a lot easier than the others.
[...some transformation charms as well. just in case.
they were just a conversation's length away from home now, from that door he'd unwittingly left flung open to the world at large in his panic to reach Eren's side. to give his friend something other than the shared struggle to distract himself with, Styx adds a quiet confession to his reply.]
...I wanna get better, you know? At keeping people safe.
[ had he left the door open or was that recent? a spell he didn’t catch or . . . no, it was left ajar. wide open in a rush. eren muses quietly through styx’s progress, but holds his breath when the last words reach him. it receives both a slight physical and emotional reaction; a stroke to his chest, a drop of his heart to his gut and then to his throat before dissipating with a swallow. he’s said that so much growing up. heard others beyond the walls voice the same. in his heavier steps through the door frame, he puts the rest of his strength in walking— he will not be a further burden. ]
Or else I’ll die . . . Without accomplishing a thing. [ that was always his motivator, and it still always would be. he nods to it. it might help that styx’s electricity magic earns a slight boost from eren’s elemental: fire, heat. condensed energy that leads to burning. ] I’d say that all the time, to keep moving.
[ because sometimes he’d break down terribly when he wasn’t good enough or lagged behind. he always did, when he was younger, and once in a while, at times like these— he’s reminded that he still could be that person if he wasn’t careful. ]
[the brief stoppage in his own throat feels so natural for the manner in which today has unfolded that Styx doesn't think it useful to attempt to sort out whether it had come from himself or his bonded. even without the connection, their fatigue was synchronized through experience.
it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
[ things eren has learned today: neither mikasa or her dog knew how to play (his way). the boot warns his talons even though it doesn’t make him budge. for a moment his hand just hangs there— he leans back in his chair afterward, and tips it to balance on the back legs with a flattened expression looking upward. elsewhere. not even the conversation was flowing and brought more bitterness than something good to talk about— but he’d started that in the first place, hadn’t he? ]
Right.
[ with an acknowledging grunt, the wyvern leaves mikasa in her quiet, in peace. tater, too. maybe some other time, he’ll be better at conversation, and conversation with mikasa no less. he’s looking for some money in his pocket wallet (it’s just a sack) to keep the money for his share ready to pay. fertilizer waits. otherwise, he keeps balancing on his chair. ]
[Maybe one day he could play with the puppy. If Tater was a puppy, Momo figured he'd be fully grown now with how long Mikasa had owned the little guy. But for now, the boy wanted to lick his bowl clean and not play. Priorities.]
Yeah... [And with that she finished up. Time to wait for the waitress to come back, Mikasa also reached into her pockets. Getting her money. Enough to pay for both. If the dragon was paying attention to the number of cunes in her hand.] A witch.... I still feel tired though.
[She wasn't sure if that was because it was a weak bond or if her need for magic was just that strong. Everything she'd learnt about fae indicated that they were magical themselves. The mention of them being the ones to teach humans magic, how true that was is debatable but it didn't change that fae were close to magic.
Though would the extra magic help with her feeling tired? She'd felt that way before, since Eren had left, before magic flowed through her veins. She wasn't sure if there was anything else to add to the topic of her bond status.
Mercifully, the faun reappeared. Favouring the fae, standing near her instead of the dragon who got another wary look. Though it didn't take long for her to get distracted, counting the money Mikasa had passed over. Then she was taking the plates, not even bothering the dragon.
Mikasa... She'd paid, like she said she would, in exchange for the wormpede skewers. And now she was awkwardly rearranging. Wrapping the dog leash around her wrist, sorting the crutches out. ]
[ ah, well . . . there went his money, even though he waved it at miss faun. nearly waved it. he’d still want to pay for his share, but— fair trades, right? he wouldn’t object too much if that was what she wanted. time to get up. ]
I need two to feel calmer. I only have one right now.
It got a small nod, the fae focusing on getting up more than responding. Making sure she didn't hit Tater with the crutch of get his leash tangled around it. It'd still probably end up tangled at some point, if he saw something he wanted to investigate and dashed off. She couldn't be angry though...
But with the meal paid for, it was time to head off on their journey for compost. The slow walk out and then back to her cottage. It was probably for the best that they set off now. Maybe they shouldn't have stopped to begin with, she felt like they'd both already reached the limits of their social skills. But, she lifted her head looking straight ahead, chin level.
It was the most they'd spoken in a long time without any guises.]
It's probably the same for me then, from what you said about dragons and fae... [How the two rarer species of monster had some kind of connection. One that old that the details hadn't been written. Rather annoying how all the useful history seemed to be missing, both here and back home. Where did the Cywd start? Where did the titans come from?]
...Does that mean you're not calm now then? [She did frown at that, attempting to peer at him while hobbling along. The height difference making it hard to see his face without pausing. She'd just felt tired for now but then again, she'd been on that much medication that she might have not felt much else.]
[ “not calm”, hah. it wasn’t that close to the wording he gave, but close enough. eren doesn’t laugh, ironically or otherwise as they venture back to their destination. all he does say, until the next round of conversation (if any), would be: ]
It’s easier to lose control or get hungry, [ which wasn’t the case now, but maybe he should clarify: ] not for food.
[ for things. blood. monster. witches. anything that was sure to anger him, the hunger would rise and carry him as if it were the normal and right thing to do. would more bonds help with that? yes— it’s why he consumes more blood under one single witch; he takes more than he should.
the farm should be close by after a few more minutes, anyway. ]
[Ah... That. That she knew about all too well. From her own experience in being so magic starved that she'd mistaken it for hunger. Turning violent and mauling a wild animal, then a monster, and finally a witch. Even then, even after being injured in her frenzy, she'd still felt that deep gnawing hunger that didn't fade.
That it's still a matter of control, even with the bonds. That got a exhale. The fae ducking her head again to focus on her crutches. Watching them, as though if she took her eyes off of them, they'd slip on the cobbles. Even though she'd been fine before.
Her tongue poked out, licking her lips. A small grunt slipping out, then she gave up. Not even able to test the words, unable to think of what to say. This place... It was a lot to deal with even if it was so much nicer than home.
Even here though, they couldn't live without worries.
She kept moving. Tater breaking her out of her thoughts as they got to the farmland, yipping and trying to look at the farm animals they crossed. Little tail wagging, new friends? But Mikasa kept walking along, heading over to a small farmers' stall. It mainly sold veggies, fruit and eggs. The fae had to ask about compost and fertilizer, gotta keep the manure away from the fresh produce. The cunes cross hands and she had two rather large hessian sacks of dirt... Sacks that a human who worked out could have carried one of, it might have taken some effort. But she'd have been able to carry both if she had the use of her arms. But a human still could have managed one, a stronger monster like a dragon or turnskin wouldn't have an issue at all.
...Except for those with sensitive noses.
But the point was. Mikasa could just have asked one of the many turnskins around the city to help. But she hadn't.]
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FOR STYX
[ there was also the difference of someone called jesus but eren couldn’t give enough attention to remember or set aside differences based on that. oh, well. eren holds his hand up in simple gesture of “no thanks”, an odd thing, considering he usually ate a truck’s worth of food on the daily— it’s just another perk of the winter season. metabolism slows, and he feels far less need for spending energy on chewing. besides, he’s more than happy to just relish in the aftertouch still tingling on his horns. all four of them, even when only two had been grabbed. ]
I wanted to see your face when I say I listened to your disk.
[ ah, yes, the infamous eren way of life— straight to the point. no build up or anything just. surprise snipe. ]
For hours.
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Hours?
[that's more or less the span of time between now and his dropping off the gift, but he'd just thought...well, holidays were busy times. even simply perusing his other gifts (because certainly he'd gotten more) and visiting friends would have taken up a fair chunk of the day.
but no. it had been listening to music. his music. the expression on the drummer's face is absolutely one worth traveling to see, a near comical mix of incredulity and awe and - and the desire to be excited, absolutely thrilled, if he can just wrap his head around this reality.
big hands rest on the dragon's shoulders as he ducks his own head briefly, peering up into Eren's eyes like the change in angle is going to provide him with more answers than he has now. this was...far beyond anything he'd anticipated. the witch's fervent hope had been for his friend to like it, to see what Styx himself saw in him, but hours...that was truly incredible.]
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it's time to sit down, maybe. eren's own hand rests on the drummer's shoulder before guiding them both in a seat (couch?) one next to the other. even as his weight made him sink into the cushions he doesn't stop the small smile that comes in his fingers pressuring the spot he held with a reminding squeeze to bring him back to earth— consequently, opening the door that would let the excitement in static shock there be completely free to come out. ]
I had to get every part. [ it was the kind of thing you'd listen to several times and still hear something new. even now, if he heard it again (which he would), he'd probably see something else he hadn't before. when eren inhales, he finds himself holding the air as some heart swelled in the words to come— he just didn't know how to articulate any other way. ] Every part of me that you did.
[ it's touched him in a profound place, even the tragic grasping for some hope there that styx managed to catch somehow. like he knew him. like he knew him for a very long time. "it was amazing"? no, amazing didn't cut it. the building sense of finding somewhere he belonged, though . . . maybe that could begin to express it, as the grasp on the witch's shoulder turns into a splayed yank of his hand on his back to begin bringing him into a tight fucking embrace. ]
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there are so many questions he has, so many little insights he wants to give - what was your favorite part? the bridge here drove me fucking nuts getting right! - but what Styx sees in the suspension of breath supersedes all of that.
oh, oh - he gets is. he fucking gets it.
tears prick at his eyes even before Eren's moved, the man's crushing embrace returned tenfold with a muffled cry of joy. this song had been about understanding more than even the melody itself and finally, finally he'd succeeded when it was most important. he sobs into his dragon, grinning wide enough to crack his jaw through the tears. it's majorly uncool to be crying this easily but man, he doesn't fucking care.]
It's all you, man. Every day.
[every time Styx looked at him, that was what he saw. wasn't it beautiful?]
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Thank you. [ he could definitely be evil, but he— he wants to stay? he wants to stay and feels a tremendous guilt swell in his gut and hopes that once he’s done, he does get to stay, and live with this for as long as he could. ] —I don’t want to leave.
[ not after having this golden soul touch his. ]
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Then stay. We want you to too. [and then, with deep sincerity, in case that idea feels too unreasonable for the dragon:] I want you to.
[the only one whose opinion truly mattered was Eren's, of course, but there was something comforting in knowing it was shared by another. what would this be like, after all, if his dragon wasn't here?]
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We’ll see.
[ but undeniable was the surge that couldn’t be described any better as the bubbling of a hot bath in his gut. a harmless one that tempted more and more, a step up from butterflies. it’s the exact thing that makes a difference to hear just as eren would say it others, everyone but himself. he inhales, wants to say something—
but thinks his gifts are better at expression. he was to peel himself away of course, back to the hole under the bed, but all he needs to do is just slink beneath the space in a half crawl to drag out, firstly: a square wrapped in leather. ]
Ready to see you?
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FOR METTATON
[ this was all small talk to stuff a barren elephant in the room (if they were in a room). eren’s tongue tips out, and for a moment he stares hard, squints at the puca as he spoke without actually listening to a single word he said— before unfocused rounded pupils thin back to honed shards. he has been quiet, hasn’t he? he should fix that: ]
Let me see it.
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Like he wasn't even listening. Talk about a slight.
For a moment, Mettaton feels his temper flare. His ire could consume him, but his arm sparks in protest, a grounding reminder to do whatever it took to retrieve his arm. He could feel however he felt about Eren later, once business was taken care of.
Mettaton's gaze is level for a heavy moment, his smile working its way into a tight, small frown. His arm sparks again, still dripping with some sort of clear fluid, not at all clotting like any good organic wound should. He lifts the (unopened) box, taking only two steps forward.
And then he just... lifts his leg and delicately unlids the ornamental box with the tip of his boot. He sure did that. Leave it to Mettaton to utilize his legs to the greatest extent.]
You know, Eren... I don't see why this trade has to happen. At all. [He doesn't say that with his usual playfulness, even though it's somehow easygoing and light. Under the overcast, darkening sky, a dark, rich blade catches light overhead, polished perfectly. It's a tease of a knife, as Mettaton hasn't yet shown it to him fully.] It's my arm we're talking about here!
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It’s mine.
[ he’ll say it only once with a chilly and superior sense of indifference like he was calling something pink when it was blatantly blue. was mettaton stupid? it didn’t matter if it came from his body or not. it was eren’s, now. it was his the second the metal ends bent into keen tips. it belonged to him and his ridiculous pile of other hazardous objects. he’ll be more offended the second time that isn’t acknowledged.
though he’s watching the teaser of the blade and not mettaton, his talons begin to tap the longer he watches— an anxious, impatient tapping that betrays the mostly placid look he keeps on his face, and the forked tongue that more rapidly slides from the back of his teeth and in the direction of the box’s lid. he wants to see it he wants to see it— ]
Open it.
[ he’s being rude, isn’t he! like a suspicious and fixated addict . . . a trick? it could be. mettaton better be careful with his leggies, eren’s tail is beginning to slither and surround them in a very recognizable semi-circle . . . ]
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He really did need taking down a peg or two... Or five.
But for now, there was nothing the fae could do. Though she did slip up, not mask her scent for a split second when that long serpentine tail gazed her boot. Then the illusion was back up fully as she stepped over it.]
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Demanding... How rude of you. [With that dexterous leg, the robot points to the lid, already on the floor... The box is open, but it's Mettaton taking a moment to stabilize the box amidst all of his gesturing with hand and leg alike.] I don't know where you get off on calling MY arm, yours. The nerve. If you were that much of a fan of mine, you could just ask, darling! I'm quite generous. [Pause. A twist of his smile in response to the shrill cry of talons upon metal.] And don't scratch my arm like that.
[How accommodating Mettaton would be, if Eren just came up to him and told him how much he loved his arms! A unique pick for a favorite feature, but Mettaton would understand. There's a lot to love about him, he'd say.
Where Mikasa's illusion falters at the possessive curl of Eren's long, serpentine tail, Mettaton remains just as house-fire-smelling and distractingly waving a boxed knife around as before. This won't stop Eren from noticing her, but maybe, just maybe, Mettaton's Puca luck will rub off on the Fae who deigns to keep her invisibility.
Or maybe fast action will work. With Mettaton's remaining arm, he holds out the knife for Eren's appraisal. It smells sweet, but not precisely telling of chocolate... Sweet, bitter, but it's obviously sharp and glistening, even signed with Mettaton's initials on its blade! How nice. Mettaton's irate smile veers charming, and his arm socket sparks as he unconsciously tries to gesture with his missing arm to its splendor like he's advertising a product on the streetside.]
If you like what you see... I'll let you take it, but you have to give me my arm first! I promise I'll hand over this knife! You have my word.
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he doesn’t have this knife. eren bends in ever angle to be able to catch it at its most beautiful. even a gasp drips from his lips as the greed presses its hands to his pride and strangles it quiet. it was. gorgeous. tentatively, eren hovers his talons out , clicks them back into a retreating curl, thinks— thinks long and hard.
well, he supposes, even if his pinned ears drop in deflating body language when silently saying his goodbyes to the pointed edges of the robotic limb. it’s a good trade. his hoarding blinds him to anything else.
he holds both hands out, palms up; one of them is free and beckons for the faux blade, while the other holds mettaton’s arm, secured to take back but equally ready to let go if he’s given the trade. ]
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FOR STYX
[ then, he was ready to go. leave this place, this prison, and go somewhere better with a chain attached to his ankle. it's just a cuff, but looking at it— he would otherwise be able to deal with it, but it was the dragon in him. the same way he'd get uneasy with a large presence of water or rainfall, the magical cuff gave him bubbling anxiety. like it shouldn't be there. like it would destroy everything he had.
dramatic at best, which is why he says and expresses little of it, for now. now, it was better that they walked back home. slowly. eren's steps were consistent but sluggish, the emergency first aid he'd received only enough to cap the gaping patch from getting out of control and get him prepared for either more, medicine and rest. to be fair, he should be in the hospital for a few days. eren declines.
so on their way, he holds styx's arm as a crutch, and wonders, with his head down: ]
Are you alright with wounds?
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Yeah, they don't bother me.
[it bothered him deeply to see any on the people he loved, but divorced from that reality Styx was unbothered by such things. metal leaned too heavily into the brutal for that - he could even see beauty in gore at times, splayed across album covers like a true battlefield. for a friend, a dear companion, he already knew that he wouldn't so much as flinch.
they've proceeded several more shambling steps before a secondary thought occurs to the giant. it's a testament to how seriously all this has impacted him; under normal circumstances his mind would have never been sharpened enough to pick up on a potential error he's made.]
...I know some healing magic too.
[suddenly he's burningly grateful to have thrown so much into his practice of that field after Dorchacht.]
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a problem as much as it was a red, waving flag. he hopes they’re closer to home. home . . . he’s calling this home, in his head. speaking of heads, his feels light. he might be durable, but he still has blood and lost plenty of it. it’s swimming, and one of his hind legs misstep. ]
What else are you working on?
[ just something to compress what he’s feeling. it felt like a cool cloth to the sting. he wasn’t going to be avoidant for long, there were still questions and answers lurking at the back of his mind. when he’s sitting and they’re in their quiet place, he’ll bring it up. ]
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Lot of healing magic...'nd protection spells. Elemental stuff - mostly lightning. Dunno why, but it comes a lot easier than the others.
[...some transformation charms as well. just in case.
they were just a conversation's length away from home now, from that door he'd unwittingly left flung open to the world at large in his panic to reach Eren's side. to give his friend something other than the shared struggle to distract himself with, Styx adds a quiet confession to his reply.]
...I wanna get better, you know? At keeping people safe.
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Or else I’ll die . . . Without accomplishing a thing. [ that was always his motivator, and it still always would be. he nods to it. it might help that styx’s electricity magic earns a slight boost from eren’s elemental: fire, heat. condensed energy that leads to burning. ] I’d say that all the time, to keep moving.
[ because sometimes he’d break down terribly when he wasn’t good enough or lagged behind. he always did, when he was younger, and once in a while, at times like these— he’s reminded that he still could be that person if he wasn’t careful. ]
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it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
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FOR MIKASA
[ things eren has learned today: neither mikasa or her dog knew how to play (his way). the boot warns his talons even though it doesn’t make him budge. for a moment his hand just hangs there— he leans back in his chair afterward, and tips it to balance on the back legs with a flattened expression looking upward. elsewhere. not even the conversation was flowing and brought more bitterness than something good to talk about— but he’d started that in the first place, hadn’t he? ]
Right.
[ with an acknowledging grunt, the wyvern leaves mikasa in her quiet, in peace. tater, too. maybe some other time, he’ll be better at conversation, and conversation with mikasa no less. he’s looking for some money in his pocket wallet (it’s just a sack) to keep the money for his share ready to pay. fertilizer waits. otherwise, he keeps balancing on his chair. ]
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Yeah... [And with that she finished up. Time to wait for the waitress to come back, Mikasa also reached into her pockets. Getting her money. Enough to pay for both. If the dragon was paying attention to the number of cunes in her hand.] A witch.... I still feel tired though.
[She wasn't sure if that was because it was a weak bond or if her need for magic was just that strong. Everything she'd learnt about fae indicated that they were magical themselves. The mention of them being the ones to teach humans magic, how true that was is debatable but it didn't change that fae were close to magic.
Though would the extra magic help with her feeling tired? She'd felt that way before, since Eren had left, before magic flowed through her veins. She wasn't sure if there was anything else to add to the topic of her bond status.
Mercifully, the faun reappeared. Favouring the fae, standing near her instead of the dragon who got another wary look. Though it didn't take long for her to get distracted, counting the money Mikasa had passed over. Then she was taking the plates, not even bothering the dragon.
Mikasa... She'd paid, like she said she would, in exchange for the wormpede skewers. And now she was awkwardly rearranging. Wrapping the dog leash around her wrist, sorting the crutches out. ]
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I need two to feel calmer. I only have one right now.
[ but one was better than nothing. ]
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It got a small nod, the fae focusing on getting up more than responding. Making sure she didn't hit Tater with the crutch of get his leash tangled around it. It'd still probably end up tangled at some point, if he saw something he wanted to investigate and dashed off. She couldn't be angry though...
But with the meal paid for, it was time to head off on their journey for compost. The slow walk out and then back to her cottage. It was probably for the best that they set off now. Maybe they shouldn't have stopped to begin with, she felt like they'd both already reached the limits of their social skills. But, she lifted her head looking straight ahead, chin level.
It was the most they'd spoken in a long time without any guises.]
It's probably the same for me then, from what you said about dragons and fae... [How the two rarer species of monster had some kind of connection. One that old that the details hadn't been written. Rather annoying how all the useful history seemed to be missing, both here and back home. Where did the Cywd start? Where did the titans come from?]
...Does that mean you're not calm now then? [She did frown at that, attempting to peer at him while hobbling along. The height difference making it hard to see his face without pausing. She'd just felt tired for now but then again, she'd been on that much medication that she might have not felt much else.]
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It’s easier to lose control or get hungry, [ which wasn’t the case now, but maybe he should clarify: ] not for food.
[ for things. blood. monster. witches. anything that was sure to anger him, the hunger would rise and carry him as if it were the normal and right thing to do. would more bonds help with that? yes— it’s why he consumes more blood under one single witch; he takes more than he should.
the farm should be close by after a few more minutes, anyway. ]
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That it's still a matter of control, even with the bonds. That got a exhale. The fae ducking her head again to focus on her crutches. Watching them, as though if she took her eyes off of them, they'd slip on the cobbles. Even though she'd been fine before.
Her tongue poked out, licking her lips. A small grunt slipping out, then she gave up. Not even able to test the words, unable to think of what to say. This place... It was a lot to deal with even if it was so much nicer than home.
Even here though, they couldn't live without worries.
She kept moving. Tater breaking her out of her thoughts as they got to the farmland, yipping and trying to look at the farm animals they crossed. Little tail wagging, new friends? But Mikasa kept walking along, heading over to a small farmers' stall. It mainly sold veggies, fruit and eggs. The fae had to ask about compost and fertilizer, gotta keep the manure away from the fresh produce. The cunes cross hands and she had two rather large hessian sacks of dirt... Sacks that a human who worked out could have carried one of, it might have taken some effort. But she'd have been able to carry both if she had the use of her arms. But a human still could have managed one, a stronger monster like a dragon or turnskin wouldn't have an issue at all.
...Except for those with sensitive noses.
But the point was. Mikasa could just have asked one of the many turnskins around the city to help. But she hadn't.]