Author Sheltigrrl, a.k.a. Shelti and/or Kitty
Disclaimer This all belongs to me. Moi. Mich. Yours truly. Copyright teh Sheltmeister. So if you want to take (read: make loving fanart/fiction of biggrin ) talk to me first, savvy?
Series My original series Eris. Buwaha.
Warnings Feebly angsty fluffy goodness. If I even have to warn for that. Oh, and a vaguely weird narrator and another guy with a bit of an accent.
Notes Dedicated to FRITZY-CHAN-BOO 'cause she's awesome. Also dedicated to ramen. Because ramen is GOOOOOD. (...and also makes me HYPER...)
{AND NOW, THE STORY:}
By the Lake
The Orchid Gardens are Casa Dultae’s pride and joy. Created by Queen Orchid II over a century ago, they have since become the most famous gardens in the world. They are arranged in a circular pattern, and are nearly three kilometres wide in diameter. They are also a complete maze. Fountains over here, roses over there, a grove of fruit trees to your left—it’s huge, it’s complicated, it’s nearly wild, and it doesn’t seem to have any sort of planning to it. Needless to say, it is not hard to get lost in the Gardens.
Because of this, I was wandering around there for most of the morning before I found him. He was sitting by the lake in the centre of the Gardens, knees hugged to his chest, staring out across the waters. I paused. I’d never seen that look on his face before; such a lost, lonely look. He had always been determined, clever, always knowing where to go and what to do next. To see him look so uncertain was disconcerting.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised. With all that had happened recently, uncertainty was to be expected. We weren’t sure what we were anymore, or where we stood, or what would happen to us now that we were limbo, so to speak. I didn’t even know what to call him anymore. I knew what I wanted to call him, but it wasn’t what the others were saying. It wasn’t his real name.
That was the crux of the issue, really. He remembered and I didn’t. He had a life before, an identity, a family. I probably did, too, but I didn’t remember it. I didn’t know who I used to be. Since that … incident in the Temple, he did know who he used to be. So did the others. They had always known. That was why they found us. He had friends, a sister, a home, even his name had returned to him. Not the name Vereor had given him, but the name his family gave him. I didn’t know what name my family had given me. He knew who he was.
That person, that Faerie, was different from the Demon I had known. I knew that. I was willing to accept it. But … was it too different?
Hidden in that question was a deep fear, and one I didn’t want to face.
“Milan,” I said, coming up behind him. He looked up at me. He didn’t look surprised. That at least hadn’t changed; it took a lot to surprise Milan. No. Not Milan—
“Jahari,” he corrected softly.
“Jahari,” I repeated, and sat down beside him. “I was looking for you.”
“Ye found me.”
“Why are you sitting here?”
He shrugged. “I wanted t’ think. I’ve a lot to think about. A lot’s happened.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. He stared out across the lake again, eyes distant, but I found myself staring at him. More than once I’d be lying in bed, watching him sleep, and wondering how I managed to have such a beautiful creature as a lover. He was tall—but not quite as tall as I was—and slender, but all muscle, with catlike grace and reflexes. His features were rather delicate, with his narrow face, thin nose, and high cheekbones, and silky jet-black hair. And his eyes—I’d always known them as vivid scarlet, but lately they’d changed. His right eye was still red, yes, but his left had become a deep emerald green. Their original colour, apparently, like how my left eye had changed to brown. Green—an unusual colour, especially for a Vampire. But it suited him. The only disfiguring mark on his face was the long, spidery scar that stretched across his cheek from the edge of his right eye to his jaw line.
“Akuwin?” he said suddenly. “What’re ye starin’ at?”
“You,” I told him, unashamed. “Because you’re beautiful.” He didn’t blush, but he very determinedly did not look at me. So I put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “And,” I added, “because I can tell you I love you and not be scared to say it.” At least, I hoped so.
“Really?”
That was an unexpected response. “Really really,” I said (and instantly berated myself for how irretrievably stupid that sounded).
“Even after …” he waved his hand in the general direction of the lake, “everythin’?”
“Yes.”
“I’m different now, y’know,” he said in a soft voice. “I know I am. I feel like I’ve been two people, an’ I’m not sure anymore which one o’ them I am. An’ it scares me, Akuwin. I don’ like bein’ scared.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m scared too, actually.”
“Of what?”
How to begin. I sighed, and pulled him closer. “You said yourself, you’re different. You have your life back, that’s what’s different. And I’m still the same. You have a family now, friends, a home—even your real name. And I’m afraid that you….”
“That I what?”
“Won’t need me anymore,” I finished lamely. “Even though I still need you.”
“Akuwin…” He finally looked at me, and smiled. He never smiled before, and now he did it often. Whenever he did, I’d melt. “Tha’s one thing that hasn’t changed. I still love ye. I was actually afraid ye might not love me anymore, since…”
“Milan—“
“Jahari.”
“You’re still Milan to me,” I said, mildly frustrated with those bloody names.
He smiled again and snuggled into my shoulder. “I know I am.”
We stayed like that for a long time, looking out at the lake together. A pair of lost souls who, by chance, had found each other, and then aren’t quite so lost anymore. Even if so much had changed, our love for each other had not, and that was something we could always rely on. Life before wasn’t as important anymore, I thought. Only our life now, and in the future.
His sister found us the next morning, still beside the lake and sound asleep in each other’s arms. “Honestly,” she said, “have ye two not noticed it’s Novembre? If ye keep sleepin’ outside like this, ye’ll catch cold, an’ then pneumonia, an’ die, an’ it’ll serve ye right. Now c’mon, it’s breakfast and ye gotta get warmed up somehow.”
Milan—Jahari—whatever looked at me sideways, and grinned. I recognised the glint in his eye, and grinned back. “Okay, Mïcah,” he said, shrugging. “Whatever ye say. Breakfast, an’ then bed.”
“Bed--?”
“Like ye said, we gotta get warmed up somehow.”
He took my hand and led me through the Gardens, with his sister’s voice following us: “That is not what I meant an’ ye know it, Jahari Killikoi!”
{fin}
{And now, an illustration.}
Series Eris...
Pairing ...it's all the same as the story. Illustration and all that.
Medium used Quill pen and ink and coloured pencils.
Time Taken At LEAST three hours.
Notes Illustrates that there story. Up there. The one you just read.
Bigger version here.