Star Crossed Scars ( MNN + Equusheart)

MonstarNomNom

Dead But Delicious
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. One post per day
  4. 1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
6 pm EST - 10 pm EST
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Nonbinary
  3. Transgender
  4. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Fantasy I Scifi I Modern I Magical Slice of Life I Medieval I Alternate Reality I Romance
Capture.PNG

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The soft crackling of a fire could be heard in the small, dimly lit space. Morning light was just beginning to peek through the nearby greenery and the wildlife within the forest began to stir. A small hut sat nestled within a nearby grove, a small trail of smoke billowing from it's roof. Just beyond an open window, a slender figure could be seen crouched by the fire, small orange flames licking a bowl held in their hand. A low voice spoke in a soft elvish chant, glowing fingertips running along the clay surface.The contents within the bowl seemed to glow as well, the sticky liquid giving way to a gentle bubble. A sound nearby seemed to jostle the figure from their concentration, looking over to a small cot at the edge of the room. The man stood, revealing a tall frame and long auburn locks tied into a messy mop of a braid.

Now, make no mistake Myriil was not normally one to welcome strangers so openly into his home. However when he stumbled across a man the night before he had made an exception to that well learned rule. He had been non-responsive and bleeding out with a seemingly mortal wound- the elf could not simply walk past. It had been a struggle to awkwardly finesse a way to carry him back to the safety of his home, but Myriil had been determined to find shelter for him from the elements. Once safely to his cottage, he had made quick work of concocting remedies to stem the bleeding and bandage the man as best he could with what little supplies were at his disposal.

It seemed a waiting game at this point, to see if it was enough. Many would have perished easily from a wound as extensive as the one that trailed along his side. But this one had a strong spirit- stronger than most he had come across in some time.
"Mala suledin nadas," Myriil spoke, blue eyes etched in shadow. He observed the handiwork of his bandages to make sure none had come lose as he slept. He reached two fingers into the bowl, scooping out the warm liquid and gently applying it to some of the smaller wounds that scattered his body. From what he could assess, it seems he had been attacked by an animal, and a vicious one at that. It set his mind with unease to know that something with such ferocity could be lurking nearby.
 
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"Can't make coffee if we don't have any." Myriil replied curtly, of mind to roll his eyes dramatically behind the cloth he still wore to cover his eyes. While they had grown friendlier over the days, he was still so hesitant to trust. His past prevented him from feeling comfortable, even around friendly acquaintances. He didn't dare call the man a friend, at least not yet. What made someone a friend? The elf wasn't sure he could remember.

"I need to go into woods to gather food and supplies. And you need to stretch. You're getting too comfortable laying around all day while I do all the work." The tone of his voice was light, and he offered Arthfael a smile before taking a seat on the chair beside his cot. "So I've decided it's time you start paying me back for all the hard work I've done." Myriil briefly thought about wiping that cocky smirk off the other man's face, but he decided the relaxed expression looked nice on him. "How does it feel this morning?" His voice softened with the question in reference to his wounds.
 
"Ahh, you're no fun," Arthfael grumbled in reply as he feigned disappointment. Arthfael had grown to become comfortable with Luthais though he still couldn't understand why he insisted on being such a damned sour puss. Though Arthfael was pleased when the elf at least gave a smile. It was few and far in between when he did, but Arthfael was finding that he liked it.

"Stiff," Arthfael groaned out when asked about his wounds. "And they itch like hell." Arthfael raised a hand to start scratching at the big scar along the side of his face, almost as if just talking about it was enough to make it itch.
 
Myriil exhaled a stream of breath through his nose in amusement at being proclaimed as being "no fun." "Well, someone has to be the responsible one. You don't see me getting scratched up and stuck in a stranger's bed from picking fights with beasts much bigger than myself." The orange haired elf remarked, the smile still present on his features as he observed Arthfael scratching at the fresh scar. There were still some open wounds which which required tending, but at this rate he would be rid of all bandages before the end of the week.

"That means the remedy is working. Put this on it and it should help with the itch." He pointed to one of the many small bowls now on the makeshift workspace that had once been a small nightstand. A pleasing aroma drifted from a pot hanging just above the small fire at the center of the hut which signaled the food was ready. "Once you're done with that you can join me for breakfast."
 
Arthfael grumbled slightly at Luthais' little jab. It wasn't like he had been completely willing to be in the middle of that fight. And it certainly wasn't his choice either. Not that the elf would've understood anything about that. When Luthais gestured to the bowl with the ointment he was to apply to his wounds, Arthfael raised an eyebrow at Luthais.

"What, you don't want to apply it yourself?" Arthfael asked, flashing the red haired elf with his most charming smile. "And here I thought you enjoyed having your hands all over me." Arthfael chuckled as he sat up with a slight groan. It was beginning to get a little easier for him to move about without being in pain.

"Well, if you want me to come with you I suggest you get me something to wear." Arthfael turned back to Luthais and gave him a wink. "Unless you prefer me as is?"
 
Myriil blew an exasperated breath through pursed lips at the man's mock flirtations. The more Arthfael felt better, the more impossible he had become with saying flustering things like that and Myriil had no idea how to handle them. It made the elf thankful for the blindfold so the light flush on his face wasn't as obvious as it would have been with his cheeks fully exposed. "I thought you might like to apply it yourself for once since I'm apparently so rough, as you like to complain," he quipped right back in feigned confidence. "I suppose you might like for me to hand feed you breakfast as well?" He tried to capture that same attempt at jest, but he always sounded so serious no matter how he tried to inflect his voice. It was a work in progress.

He had moved from the chair, trying to not let the image of Arthfael standing bare in the middle of his hut linger too long on his mind. He moved to a small basket, lifting out some freshly clean linens he could wear. "My clothes should fit you fine- the ones I found you in were unfortunately tattered and not salvageable." Myriil placed them on the chair he had previously been sitting in. His voice was slightly more awkward now, "I will be by the fire and you can join me when you are done." And with that he had shuffled off to crouch at the flames, forcing his gaze to fixate on the stew that was bubbling with his back turned to Arthfael.
 
"Well, if you're going to be so grumpy about it," Arthfael commented as he reached to pick up the bowl of ointment. He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement as Luthais turned his back on him. Pleased with the reaction he'd managed to get out of the elf. Arthfael watched him a moment, almost admiringly before his eyes grew distant and sad as some hidden memory stirred in his mind.

He dipped his fingers into the contents of the bowl and gently began to apply it to his wounds. The ointment no longer stung as it once did at first. Instead it was cool against his skin and it brought a pleasant relief from the itching. His touch lingered slightly as he applied the ointment to the big gash that ran along the side of his face, his fingers lightly running along the scar, as he always did, as if to remind himself it was still there.

Sighing, Arthfael set the bowl to the side and carefully rose to dress. The trousers were a little tighter fitting than he was use to but they would wear well. He tied off the fastenings and pulled on the tunic before joining Luthais at the fire.

"So what's breakfast?" Arthfael asked as he gave a sniff at the pot.
 
Myriil let his eyes wander back to the other man as he walked to join him, his eyes wandering beneath the fabric. He could not make out much from the distance but he was glad Arthfael could fit in them. It would have been tragic if he had to walk around stark naked. "Everything Stew," Myriil hummed in reply, lifting the wooden spoon to reveal a weird amalgamation of ingredients, some looking like vegetables and some perhaps being meat. He prided himself in taking extra care with food as it was a small thing he could take extra time to prepare and enjoy. It helped to occupy his mind on the particularly lonely days.

"It doesn't look like much, but I worked with what I had left. And despite how it looks it does taste nice," he offered with a small smile, knowing full well it probably looked a bit unappetizing. He had access to so many fresh herbs and ingredients it was almost impossible to make anything taste foul. He reached for a wooden bowl, scooping a generous serving into it before offering it to Arthfael. "I'll let you decide for yourself though."
 
Arthfael gave another sniff at the stew as Luthais scooped them each a bowl of the stew. He had to fight back a pur of pleasure as he took the bowl meant for him and started to eat.

He hadn't been introduced to much as far as human or elf food went, but Arthfael had taken a liking of the stews and whatever else that Luthais had made. The blending of the different herbs mixed with cooking meats and vegetables was quite pleasing to taste and smell. Though Arthfael was starting to wish that there was more meat instead of vegetable.

Healing for his kind, while quicker than most, was a strenuous process and required a lot of energy. Which was why the time Arthfael wasn't talking with Luthais or eating what food he was brought was mostly spent sleeping. And now the energy that had been drained to heal, left Arthfael's Hernmey self craving the richness of raw meat and blood. Maybe when they went outside they might find a nice stag or two.

"That's good," Arthfael grumbled low as he finished his bowl and wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm.
 
The elf hummed in approval at Arthfael's satisfaction. "Seems your appetite is catching up to you finally," Myriil commented before taking another sip from his bowl, quite impressed with how quickly he was able to finish it so quickly. "It's a good thing I am taking you with me to help if that is the case. I'm not sure I could gather enough by myself. Feel free to eat more."

He continued to take his time with the stew in his own bowl, peering over at the other man from over the rim. He looked over the scar, its jagged edges and imperfection that cut through Arthfael's otherwise perfect features. The imperfection was hardly a bad thing. "I should ask, what is your preferred hunting technique?" He asked curiously with a gentle tilt of his head.
 
Arthfael gave a long pause at Luthais' question. With talons and fangs would've been his first response, but he couldn't let on to what he was. The less Luthais knew about him and his kind the better. And the more safer he would be.

"I'm pretty handy with a spear and bow," he said finally. He had spent time among the humans in the past and had learned to hunt the way they do. While it wasn't nearly as effective as hunting in his true form, it did help with being able to blend in.
 
The elf's head tilted slightly at the uncharacteristic silence that had suddenly fallen over Arthfael. He did not pry, but was simply curious at to what might be going on in his head in that moment. He watched his eyes, noting that he seemed to be thinking about something. Perhaps he had unintentionally touched a chord with that question. "I do have one of those, luckily." He nodded, the wooden spoon in his bowl making a dull clunk as it hit the bottom. "I'm most favorable to traps myself." Myriil paused and returned his line of sight to Arthfael. "If you would like to eat more, you are welcome. I can gather what we need to bring."

He stood, placing the bowl next to the small washing bucket he kept. He stood in front of a small mirror that hung on the wall, deft fingers working the to braid his wavy hair into a manageable braid. He then reached for the fold that still sat over his eyes, but paused. He desperately wanted to not wear it anymore, but he was also so uncertain of Arthfael's reaction that it made him wary. Vicious words of his past mocked him at the the back of his mind. His eyebrows laced together and he straightened, reaching for the tie at the back and undoing it. 'I am not weak. I am stronger than to let the past control me like this.' He thought to himself, pulling the fabric from his face. Staring back at him were two hazel crescents standing out within a shadowy abyss, a reminder of the burden he was forced to carry. He didn't remember what it was like to have what everyone might consider normal eyes, but they were his and he had grown to accept them for what they were.
 
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Arthfael nodded and gave a grunt of thanks as he moved to scoop himself another bowl full of the stew. As he ate, Arthfael watched Luthais curiously out of the corner of his eye as the elf worked his long red hair into a braid. Arthfael hummed softly in approval, wondering how that hair would feel between his fingers. With a sigh, Arthfael pushed those thoughts away.

"About damn time you took that off," he grumbled as Luthais removed the cloth from his eyes. "I was getting tired of trying to see what was underneath." Arthfael turned to look at Luthais fully.
 
That unamused grimace he so often wore around the other man fell over Myriil's otherwise elegant features at Arthfael's remark, casting a glance in his direction through the reflection. "Do you blame me for being cautious for my well being?" He retorted, not daring turn around just yet and fumbling with his braid in a flustered haste. The other man probably did not know what it was like to be ridiculed for things he could not change, that he had had no say in.

"How could I know you would not treat me the same way others have my whole life?" His voice became much softer, losing the annoyed edge to it as he finally found the strength to turn around, looking at the man with the eyes of what many said were a demon's. He had to admit it was nice being able to look at him without the hindrance of sheer fabric in his way. "I am sure this may be a shock to learn- I do not trust easily. But I am trusting you with this." The elf did not linger on the subject, however, and had quickly moved on in an attempt to distract himself by rummaging for supplies for the outing. He did not know what he was looking for, all he knew if that he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact for too long. It was terrifying for him, but he knew he couldn't keep going at his daily tasks trying to conceal it.
 
Arthfael watched the red haired elf closely, regarding him in a contemplative silence. While Arthfael had admittedly been surprised by Luthais' scarlet colored eyes, they didn't seem phase Arthfael. Well, why would they when Luthais' eyes matched his own.

"No," Arthfael said in a soft, low tone as his gaze shifted to the fire. "I wouldn't blame you for wanting to keep that hidden from people." He stared at the flames, his mind lost in thought as he felt a wave of guilt come over him. His kind, and other demons as well, were likely the reason for the lifetime of scorn Luthais had suffered. If only he knew the true monster sat just feet from him into front of the fire.

'The less he knows about me the better,' Arthfael thought to himself. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, but time didn't make it less true. After he finished off his stew, Arthfael set aside the bowl and moved to stand. Becoming restless with the need to be outside and hunt.

"So, where is all this equipment of yours?"
 
Myriil stopped, hands splayed atop a clean space on a small table as he gazed blankly at the drying herbs scattered about its surface. He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on his breathing to try and calm himself, feeling badly for how he had suddenly snapped at the other man. He promised himself he would apologize later when he was calm once more. For now, he didn't trust himself with the words.

"It is...outside." He finally responded, a slight shake in his tone, the elf straightening once more and shouldering the small sack of supplies he had prepared. "Just around the corner on the side. I will show you." He worked to smother the flames of the cooking fire as he spoke. He stopped before heading to the door, seeming to have something else on his mind. He cast a glance toward Arthfael, lips pursed as if he wanted to say something else. It took him a moment before the bravery seemed to find him, "my name...is Myriil." The timing was awkward, he was sure of it, but it was burden he needed to relieve himself of.
 
Arthfael stared at the elf in silence. It really shouldn't have surprised Arthfael that Luthais had lied about his real name. Arthfael was a stranger after all and it was only the smartest thing to do given the situation. And yet, why Arthfael did feel that slight jab of betrayal? It wasn't like Luthais meant anything to him. No, not Luthais. Myriil.

"Very well, Myriil," Arthfael muttered back in a low voice, his expression guarded. "Let's collect this gear of yours and get to hunting then, shall we."

Arthfael turned away from Myriil and moved to open the door. Outside, Arthfael paused a moment to breath in the fresh air.