Said demon had travelled a good portion away. Managing to find himself a stable looking root lifted from one of the grand giants and plunked down there. The redwood roots formed a strange cocoon around him, half sheltering him from the world, half exposing him to the ancient forest that stretched for miles. Arc’s eyes were closed, but the edges of his sharp features seemed to twitch occasionally, as if he was waiting for something—or someone. His senses were alive even in sleep, attuned to the rustle of the leaves, the faintest shift in the wind. He could feel her approaching, even in the depths of his rest. Having taken the chance to rest in waiting seeing as he wasn’t about to enforce or demand her to get her butt moving and stop being distracted by everything!
Calia did reach up running fingers through beautiful gem colored leaves, wistful and regretful that she needed to leave at all. Wishing too that these worlds filled her with that missing bit of hope she so desperately needed, but at least glad that the tree wanted to spend time with her at all.
She was not alone. Hard to trust it, hard to believe it. Still, she put that knowledge down in her empty chest where maybe it could grow and flourish, to take the place of all those dark thoughts that continued to live in there.
Seeking out where Archimedes had wandered off to was not difficult, nor did Calia make any rush of it. Continuing that quietness of stepping through the forest like a visiting phantom. Gentle of foot and quiet in breath… she did not expect to come across him snoozing away at the base of one of the giant redwoods. Taking this as an observation to observe the man while he was at rest, instead of the animated pain in the ass he liked to be.
…or had been. Before his humbling experience and return to memories. That was something for her to get used to as well. With all that the fae tree had told her, it almost felt as if she’d placed all of her eggs in this horned basket. But that wasn’t really true, was it? He’d offered her a heart, if she wanted to take it. One that didn’t have to be stolen from someone else.
So this binding really wasn’t a prison she’d placed herself in. It was a choice she was actively making. Good? Bad? Impossible to say.
Quiet as could be, Calia crouched down next to him and reached a finger out, with every intention of gently booping him on the nose.
Without opening his eyes, Arc’s lips curled into a lazy, knowing smirk.
“Bold of yah, little lass,” he murmured, voice a slow, velvety drawl, thick with the weight of sleep. His lashes fluttered slightly, but he didn’t stir beyond that, still sprawled against the ancient redwood’s roots like he belonged there—like the forest itself had shaped the earth to cradle him just so.
A single pointed ear twitched, catching the sound of breath, the near-silent shift of her clothes. “Yah think I wouldn’t notice?” His voice was amused, teasing, though he made no move to stop her.
His chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm, his body completely at ease, but there was no mistaking the way his fingers curled just slightly, sharp claws grazing the bark beneath them. The air around him hummed with something subtle yet dangerous, a predator allowing the game to play out simply because he chose to.
And still, he did not move.
“Well?” Arc sighed, cracking open one violet eye, gaze gleaming with mischief. “Are yah going to do it, or have yah lost yer nerve?”
Calia froze there, finger hovering an inch or so away from his face. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t started or was startled by him waking and calling her out. Didn’t jump or shift or make a sound. Just froze there, watching as he seemed to slowly unfurl himself like a waking cat coming out of a deep slumber.
Had she really lingered so long with the faerie tree that he could’ve fallen into such a deep sleep? Or was it that this might’ve been the first time he was able to just be at rest without a palace full of people potentially stumbling over him?
Not to failing to notice that while he did not tense, there was a… feeling. Uncertain if it were by magic or just an awareness, but Calia could see there was a game here. Of disturbing sleeping predators and testing of luck. An unspoken challenge, even before he opened up those violet eyes and spoke the dare out loud.
He was not the only dangerous thing here, he ought to remember that.
“I was not trying to be unseen and unheard,” she told him simply, bridging that inch gap with a soft and simple touch to the tip of his nose. Complete with the uttered boop under her breath.
Snapping jaws at the whole booping of nose, in a light display, Arc pulled a heavy breath. Letting head sloush a bit towards her. Being supported by that of the grand tree that had been kind enough not to come alive like some treant to toss him into the next countryside. All a dramatic thought of course but a thought no less.
The sensation that had been present, receded. Likely associated with an intention that when he was trying to catch up on the lacking slumber of recent, that most would avoid approaching. Granted, Calia wasn’t most and they both knew she could make him bow whether he wanted too or not. Others, didn’t have that power. And sleeping out in the open –even without steady traffic of mortals beings but more grassland critters- it was better to be overly protective than not at all.
Arms rose to cross over another. Sluggish and lazy attempt. Watching her with a mischievous hold, “What now then? We continue the means of wanderin’ along till the next pique of interest and yah go scurryin’ off? If that be the case, then I’ll just wait here. Catch up later when yah’ve made it to nightfall and have less of a chance to just zip here or tarry off there.”
Yawning and letting sights put themselves away, Arc shrugged at her. “Have fun.”
The only thing that pulled back quick as a whip was her hand, not about to be bitten, even in jest! Seeming to be completely devoid of any fear that he was going to jump up and suddenly be a wily fighting beast. He was all full of mischief and fire, but now she was taking a second look at him, attempting to see past all that to wondering if he needed more rest than he wanted to admit.
Calia herself was tired, but that was more of the mind than the body.
“Sorry,” she apologized easily, glancing away to take a good gander of the forest around them. “I’ve spent my whole life ignoring their calls, it’s hard not to answer them now.”
Just like with the fae jackals before, the tree called and Calia wandered. That was likely a very stupid thing to do, this she knew. So far she’d been lucky enough and in the future she really was going to be a little more mindful not to go chasing after anything that called her name or to her spirit.
Who was she kidding, though. She was going to do it again!
However, Calia did have to be a little more considerate of the fact she was no longer on this journey solo. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten the binding existed between them, but she had forgotten to keep him in the loop. Involve him. Calia couldn’t just tell him to fuck off and entertain himself whenever something pulled her off course.
“If you’re actually so weary, you can pop yourself back into your little buggy form and I’ll carry you along until nightfall.”
Of course, since he dared to close his eyes again, there she was raising that hand and eveeeeer so slowly going in for that second boop.
Hands lifted to show he wasn’t mad or upset at her. He didn’t really understand either the whole following unheard calls and pulls of magic, but she wasn’t going to hear him giving any sort of lectures about it either. She was a big girl and if she wanted to do it, who the hell was he to stop her. So arms tilted and opened palms forward, a gesture for her to go. Be free. Enjoy and frolic and play and follow whatever she wanted.
He was rather serious about staying put and catching up with her later. She honestly could tell him to fuck off and entertain himself. It was well within her contractual expectations as the owner.
“Yah not guna carry me. I ain’t guna treat yah like a dark haired chariot again. I’ve,” Arc was already peeking at her again. Rings looking immediately to the finger getting ready for another poke, this time actually swatting lightly at it. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. So yah don’t need to offer or whatever.”
If anything he was going to turn into a beetle to scurry up this tree to get away from her need to poke at him! “Go. Be free. A wildling in the grand forest. Follow whatever calls and beckons. I ain’t here to be a keeper or waggle finger’s at what to do, what not to do. Yer an adult.” Slightly leaning away from her then just in case there was a third time coming. “Yah might as well enjoy the chance to go full faelin’.” Funny, he was actually very honest about his thoughts.
He wasn’t going to say anything and wasn’t looking to be carried or babied or even considered. This was her element and who was to say how much she was going to get to enjoy it after… well whatever came after the mage tower.
Calia found that hard to believe, that he’d turned an entirely brand new leaf over and was suddenly not going to be a horned minx when the mood struck him. Breaking into a soft grin when he swatted her hand away, only reacting herself long enough to rest her elbows on her knees and listen to him try to shoo her off like some feral woodland fox.
“Alright then, a different question,” she muttered in quiet amusement. “Do you need the rest, Arc? If so, you can nap and I’ll go catch us something to make up a good lunch.”
Aside from her concerns about how Starling was faring, there was no need to be in a rush. Well, she supposed getting her heart back was better done sooner than later, but that was going to require a lot more time and effort than what can be done through a simple travel day.
“Do you prefer rabbits or quails? Like that one over there?”
A lie. Maybe the first actual lie done on purpose, because she pointed past him towards that unseen, nonexistent bird and then immediately went for that third attempted boop!
He did say she should enjoy being a faeling after all!
Should he be surprised that she had the listening skills of a piece of wood. Probably not.
Was he surprised she had the listening skills of a piece of wood. Also not.
Didn’t meant that when she was crouched there looking no more like a dastardly little spriggan trying not to look exactly as such a description, that he was preemptively leaning away. Not sure that he shouldn’t just shift appearances and in fact scuttle away. Somewhere knowing that she probably would scale the tree with her nails and teeth just to make a point. Maybe she was more of a enchanted beaver?
Brows crunched inwards. Suspicion appearing at her change of question. “I was nappin’ till yah had yer fun or ran off naked in the woods. Whichever came first.” He hadn’t intended to just stay there all day but he also wasn’t going to hasten her to get a move on either. Telling her what to do was a good way to revert back to the former statement of piece of wood.
So when she was then asking him if he preferred rabbits or quails and stupidly fell victim to looking where she had pointed, she came at him. He had every intention of dodging. Truly, he did. But the combination of Calia’s sheer audacity, the shameless lie, and his own half-asleep sluggishness sealed his fate.
Her finger booped his nose.
A single moment of stunned silence followed. His pointed ears twitched, his violet eyes went comically wide, and then—
With a rather undignified flail, Arc jerked back in exaggerated shock, lost his balance, and promptly tumbled off the root.
There was a thud—a rustling of leaves and a very ungraceful, “Tch—!” as he landed flat on his back, blinking up at the canopy above. One of his legs was still hooked over the root as if he’d desperately tried (and failed) to stop his own fall at the last moment.
For a beat, he just lay there, absorbing what had just happened.
Then, in a slow, dramatic motion, he draped an arm over his eyes. “This,” he declared, voice utterly grave, “Is the worst thin’ that has ever happened to me.”
From above, he swore he could already hear Calia trying—and failing—to hold back her laughter.
With a grumble, Arc reached up, blindly waving a clawed hand in her direction. “I know yer laughin’,” he accused, still refusing to move from his tragic sprawl. “Yer an absolute menace.”
“Oh noooo…” it was the most bullshit delivery of shock that could have ever been delivered. Having started immediately when he made his all too dramatic flail, continued that ooooh until he was flat on his back, where she was then leaning over that root to peer down at him. Where at least for the briefest of moments she was simply looking him over to make sure he hadn’t actual hurt anything before… well.
Immediate cackling laughter loud enough to send real quails flapping off into the brush.
“I promise I’ll tell you when I’m going to run off naked in the woods,” she told him first. No mischief in her features, just this gentle soft smile of amusement as she ‘helped’ by pushing his leg off the root. It didn’t match the midnight assassin attire she had going on, or the fact she was strapped with weapons anywhere she could stash them. Simply a green-eyed faeish smile.
One that had no issue at all climbing over that root, standing above him for a second just to make him a little worried that she intended to wrestle him for no gods damned reason, before she went ahead walking off towards the darker woods.
“I’ll go fetch us some lunch. Let me do a nice thing, Arc. Continue your bugloafing.”
“Yah, sure yah well.” Arc shifted as he laid there with her shoving leg off where he had been originally quite set and comfortable to be no more than a person napping in the woods. Doing nothing. No misbehaving. No ill omens concocting themselves in his head. Just waiting and now on the forest ground as he was truly no frightening demon anymore. Well, it was doubtful he ever had been truly but there was a sense of lost pride in that.
Looking up at her obviously so amused and pleased with herself. Sorting arm from eyes to rest over chest, making no effort to getting up. Rather just leveling an almost worried thought that she was suddenly going to pile drive him into the ground as her idea of fun. To ram elbows and break noses. Bend femurs in half while giggling because it was thrilling to her. There was nothing soft or sweet about her!
Not even remotely convinced she knew what a nice thing was but he just made a flip of hand in the yup… as you wish. Waiting till she was successfully walking away so he could pick himself off the ground. Pulling twigs and leaves from hair as he wasn’t sure what the hell it meant to be bugloafing.
A good part of him even considered just disappearing as a sort of indication that he was pretty serious about not lurking around while she discovered herself. But he just climbed to feet. Dusted off and sat back down. Rubbing head slightly to check if he had thumped himself at all.
Calia really didn’t understand the man at all.
Granted, they needed time to get to know each other again, beyond their first impressions and all of their own assumptions. He’d not been himself any more than she had in their first encounter, so there was a lot to untangle to find what was real and what was temporary. While Calia herself no longer felt threatened or even flinched around him, she wasn’t so dense not to notice how he still did. Maybe not literal flinches, just a feeling that he was always waiting for her to turn on him. To lash out either in either words or physicality.
She was used to that feeling. She was so sick of that feeling.
The man was even hesitant to say a contrary thing to her too, Calia hadn’t failed to notice that either. If he didn’t want her to treat him like a pet or slave, he was going to have to be brave enough to call her out. Of course she wasn’t always going to be happy about it, but it was necessary, wasn’t it? An advisor needed to advise, and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t willing to listen.
Calia didn’t know how normal people made friends. It wasn’t as simple as announcing it, there clearly needed to be a building of trust.
So here she was. Stalking through the redwood forest, gathering up all she needed to make a quail trap. All it really took was some vines, a stick and a good big piece of flat bark. Calia could’ve used magic now if she wished, pop a quail from anywhere with a jolt of lightning or an ice pellet… that just seemed a little unfair. Unnecessary and too far removed from the act of having to kill an animal for a meal. Always feeling that if she had to kill something to eat, it had to be done with her own hands and with respect.
Once her trap was set, then she did in fact slink her way through the underbrush being that wild faeling. It didn’t really feel any different than her life before, hunting through the woods as quiet as could be. Seeing what little edible treats she could find in bushes, trees, or growing up from the ground. Again, it’d be easy just using magic to make something grow. But it was spring and there was bounty a plenty.
…maybe a tiny part of her worried that her liberal use of his magic was actually taxing and he wasn’t saying anything about it.
It was weird to care. Not to say she never cared about people before, just only it was weird worrying about him when there’d been a time she wanted nothing more than to kill him!
Quails were such daffy little things that all it really took was a few tasty looking blueberries and wild seeds and plop down into her trap they went. A single bird was all she needed for the pair of them, including the bits of herbs she’d found and a spring onion. It wasn’t going to be a gourmet meal that’d dazzle the likes of a royal palace, but Calia knew how to cook well and it was a funny thing that no one had ever really thought she could.
Who would expect a princess to be able to cook, anyway! Especially with wild game!
She plucked and dressed the bird out in the brush, where she could bury the unwanted bits to sustain the forest and back to the loafing demon she went. Half believing he was going to hide somewhere like a wounded animal just to get away from her. Regardless, she didn’t say another word to him… not intentionally, just from being focused on her current task. To set up a small fire pit to roast her trussed up quail with herbs on a stick over the fire.
Plopping herself down to watch over it after she took the time to remove the sword harness off her back and allow for more comfortable lounging of her own.
Tired, she was tired. Maybe once she’d checked in on that stupid mage, Calia would take the sparkling tree’s advice. Take herself on down to see the ocean for the first time and rest for real. Not just going through the motions at the royal palace, but an actual real rest.
Of course he wasn’t entirely sure about her. Actually taking those statements about how she was dangerous and feral and she could do spectacularly treacherous things to heart. Where others may have thought she was being evil or boasting in ways that weren’t cute or funny; he knew how true they were. Calia was quite the predator and he was on the strange up and down boat of emotions that really didn’t know how to handle a lot of it. Attempting to navigate where he could still be parts of who he had been while shirking and stripping off the worst parts that had been present. The rotten bits that made him exactly what the horns on his head declared him as.
This was a tightrope walk that he was admitted uncomfortable with. Being exceptionally mindful as to let her be free without constraints or commentary or even potentially unsavoury. It was also a strange battle to try to fit what former parts of him into what he was now. Quietly discovering that there really wasn’t too many good parts left.
He had been serious that he hadn’t had friends for a long time so this was a whole new avenue of awkward that honestly was being pushed aside.
Was it a tightrope or a juggling act?
It did seem important that he not react or do anything that could be deemed as anything less than perfectly suitable. In the case, he had left her to the fae tree to wander away as not to eavesdrop or lurk like some creepy stalker in the woods.
Add on that watching Calia, he didn’t think she could be gentle or sweet. Because she had no reason to be. The woman was a tough warhorse practical. She was the type of person that met the world with her teeth bared. Because she had too, or wanted too. He wasn’t sure. That unwillingness to be coddled. The sort that didn’t want to be sheltered; she wanted to fight. She didn’t want to be protected; she would stand. Bloody and laughing. Victorious on her own terms.
A good part of him did admire that about her.
But he was private about it. As truthfully, he didn’t know if saying any of that was liable to get his head chewed off.
Leaning back against the redwood’s root, staring up at the latticework of branches overhead. The golden light filtering through the dense canopy. He let out a slow exhale, running tongue over the sharp edge of fang in thought. Friendship. The word itself felt strange on his tongue, foreign in a way that had nothing to do with language and everything to do with him.
He understood alliances—temporary pacts forged out of necessity. He understood debts and favors, the weight of a bargain struck and the price always lurking behind it. But friendship? That was something different. Messier. Something that wasn’t bound by duty or blood or owed obligation.
He wasn’t sure if it had value or if it was just another fleeting thing mortals clung to, hoping it would keep them warm in the long nights. Would it hold when the fire burned low? Or was it just another illusion, like so many others?
And more than that… was it something he could even have?
Elven. Demonic. Not quite one, never fully the other. There was no place that fully wanted him, no space where he belonged without some part of him being out of place. That was already going to be quite the problem. It wasn’t just because he wasn’t welcomed in his old home. But the whole realm. Demon’s weren’t exactly the sort of folk you had drinks with. Talked with.
And friends—real ones—didn’t they require something he wasn’t sure he could give? A piece of himself laid bare, something unguarded, something real. He had spent so long shaping himself into what he needed to be—clever, dangerous, untouchable. Did he even have anything else left to offer?
He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.
Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t matter, not in the way that kind of thing required.
Still…
His gaze flicked toward the place where Calia had been, as she made her reappearance. An apparent prize in hand. She was fierce, unyielding, so damned determined to carve her own way through the world.
With Calia… he didn’t know if it could work.
Not because she wasn’t strong enough. No, she was more than strong—steadfast, relentless, the kind of person who would charge headfirst into a storm and dare it to stop her. She didn’t flinch away from fire; she embraced it.
But he wasn’t sure if he could do the same.
Friendship—real, true friendship—meant letting someone in, dropping the carefully constructed walls, showing them the parts of yourself that weren’t just sharp edges and smirks. And Arc wasn’t sure he had the space in him to do that. Not anymore.
And if he did—if he let her in, if he called her a friend, if he trusted in that kind of bond—what happened when it broke? Because things always broke. People always left, or changed, or turned away when they saw too much. He had learned that lesson young, and he had learned it well.
So why should this time be any different?
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Staying quiet and staying where he was because he wasn’t about to interrupt what it was she was doing. Mostly because she seemed to have found a private serenity right now in which he wasn’t about to poke at.
Calia in her thoughtful quiet too was trying to decipher what it took to make someone a friend. Having not had one, a personal friend that was close to specifically her? Rhelic would’ve been the first and Calia sure as hell wasn’t sure how that had happened. Trying to dissect it down to little details, the way she always over-thought things, as if it was a magical spell that she needed to learn the ins and outs of in order to cast it.
They’d both been women, with similar temperaments, and a habit of blunt speaking. Rhelic had understood her without Calia having to really do anything but be honest about herself, which had Calia thinking that maybe the drow woman was not such a good example for making of the average friend. She was clever and had been long-lived and experienced in a wild variety of people while being a bartender and traveler. Clocking Calia with ease, so all the princess had to do was not be shitty.
…because being shitty sure did get in the way of making a solid friendship with Commander Prince Renus. Every time she thought they were comfortably understanding each other, she’d open her mouth and say exactly the wrong thing. Having surely tried to mind herself and be open to connecting, but clearly not trying hard enough.
Calia didn’t even have the courage to tell him goodbye. That probably didn’t make a her a good friend, now did it.
None of this was going to help her with Archimedes, though. Not even starting from the ground to go up, but from a deep ditch filled with stabby rocks and lava. Worse yet, there always seemed to be a balance of power between them that was on one side or the other. None of it was fair.
Why did she let that damn beautiful fae tree get into her head like this! They could be miles from here by now and Calia could remain blissfully stupid!
Luckily for her a quail on a stick didn’t take long to roast with a good fire. Taking it down to split in half with one of her smaller daggers and place a portion each on a big flat leaf she’d collected. With a quick blowing breath, out went the fire like a lit candle in the breeze. Taking his to set near her at a safe distance for him to sit.
Tempted, wickedly in that moment to pspspspsps him like a cat, knowing damn well that’d be a bad idea.
“It is ready for eating,” she said instead.
He was somewhere between deep thought and going back to sleep truthfully. Finding it might have just been easier to do so as one just simply dreamt when sleeping. Not having existential crisis about being a living outcast in a world that really didn’t want things like him. And now having the awareness and morality to be bothered by it when days ago he had been so unbothered by it all that it never mattered anyway and hindered nothing about what he did, how he did and that!
Perking ears to raise noticeably at the whole being told it was ready for eating, pulling gaze from behind lids to blink once or twice at her.
Slowly dropping focus to the whole set down of item and he certainly didn’t hide the brunching of brows. “Yah caught it. Yah don’t need to be sharin’ food.” It was probably unnecessary to be said –while he did eat- he had more of the metabolism that was on par with a snake. Could go a while without food and he had munched a little bit that morning. Plus, he was feeling privately awkward about his own run away wagon of emotions, going up hills and down the other side at record speeds. “Yah be the hunter, the spoils are for yer energy and enjoyment.” Arc was smirking, a gentle but somewhat impish offering.
“I had a dry stale piece of bread this mornin’, I be good lass.”
Rejection! As always the hurt was immediate, taking things too personally than she probably should’ve. But Calia had promised to stop reacting like a snapping viper every time she felt slighted, promised not to automatically assume everything was all about how terrible she was. Forcing herself to take in a deep breath and try to use words… not spicy words… just nice, normal, descriptive words that didn’t sound like a threat.
“Let me do nice things,” she repeated the phrase from earlier. Hesitating there when she realized she’d sat up straight and stiff like she was liable to jump up and do gods only knew what. Having to force her posture to be nonthreatening as well, curling forward, leaning to the side… eventually just letting out a groan and collapsing backwards into the grass to throw her arm over her eyes.
“…can you please just eat with me so I don’t feel so stupid,” she declared. “This would be ten times easier if we just slept together, at least then I’d know what to do with you!”
Oh he seen it. The very mention that he wasn’t trying to impose and was knowingly very awkward about his own emotions currently, how she went rigid. Practically expecting her to turn only that of her head towards him rather than her neck to start snapping and hissing because the tone or the phrase was not what she wanted to hear.
Honestly, he wasn’t trying to reject her. Just uncomfortable with himself, over her.
So they sat there a moment. In a silent standoff of waiting perhaps to tell if Calia was going to do that thing he was actually worried about. Blowing him up!
There was a palpable tension that he suspected most others would have folded themselves up into the smallest form and crab crawled as slowly but quickly to get out from under her radar. He was still a demon even if he was absently waiting for the gesture of hands and his insides being turned into confetti. She spoke instead, insisting that same phrase that got him squinting at her. Trying to determine if she was about to lure him closer to just grab his whole nose off this time rather than playfully booping it.
Save she flopped over and he was sighing at her. That turned into a airy laugh, “Lass, yah assume yah know what to do with me in that mannerism. I ain’t submissive and I know yah ain’t submissive. That would just be another disaster with both of us gettin’ pissed off.” Pulling a breath and sighing again, he crept down finally. “Yah ever just think I might be feelin’ awkward about the whole interaction thin’?” At least he was willing to talk.
Coming to sit closer, “This is weird for me. And I ain’t sure what to do with it, so I’m tryin’ my damnest just to be aloof because these knockin’ thoughts ain’t doin’ me any good besides feelin’ out of sorts and uncomfortable with myself as a demon actin’ like he’s just a normal every day person. That’s all. I was tryin’ to be polite.”
Arc frowned somewhat, “It’s weird, is all. Eatin’ together is so domestic and I ain’t sure how it works with myself. It’s a me thin’, not a yah thin’.”
Her middle finger went up at him at his declaration that she wouldn’t know what to do with him because neither of them were submissive things. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that she wasn’t taking any serious offense, her whole body did finally melt away all that tension in an instant. Pulling herself back up to sit up with a sheepish expression, but at least it was not anger or hurt or anything seemingly dangerous.
“Then we’re both being stupid,” she did admit. “Out here in the woods trying to pretend that we’re normal people doing normal people things, when we’re not. Can we just be casually ourselves, then? Sassy demon and fae monster and all?”
The irony was sort of hilarious that he seemed to be in that same boat, just really not knowing what to do with her. How to have a conversation or just exist in the same space and do perfectly mundane simple things like having a lunch. At least now that strange barricade had been broken, to allow discussion once again. Reaching for her own leaf of food she plucked a bit of meat off the bone to pop in her mouth before squinting her eyes at him.
“…and who says a dangerous lady couldn’t be the submissive one in bed? I can tell you it’s not me that makes that an issue. It’s the idiots that don’t know how to talk to me. Trying to boss me around like I am at their service instead of making it any sort of interesting for me.”
That middle finger ONLY affirmed exactly what he said but pulled a low humming, near chuckle. Aiding his slide down to sit and look at her eventually. As she was sitting and declaring they were both stupid. Prompting that raised brow because what the hell did that mean? Of course she explained and stated that she found it stupid that they were trying to pretend to be normal people when they were absolutely not.
“I probably still need time before I’m sassy anythin’.” Arc admitted but finally settled that once she had taken her leaf plate, he replicated it. Considering it but actually picking at the offering.
For half a second because apparently she was going to continue the topic about something that was never going to happen. Arching a very pointed brow at her with the whole up and down that loudly stated he didn’t believe her to be submissive at all. Even if she was telling him that apparently it took the right one to talk to her to get her to do so. Thoughtfully chewing before, “I don’t get the feelin’ that even if the right one managed to talk to yah in a way yah liked, that yah’d be givin’ him the time of day anyways.” He wasn’t trying to be rude, just stating his thoughts.
“Of course there are ways to be dominant. Not just, get on yer knees bitch.” Arc did understand the difference. It was a play of power. To be commanding. To have that of one’s presence filling the space in confidence and certainty. It was that undeniable claim before one even touched the other. No hesitation. An edge and power but not to just act like you were doing it. It had purpose.
A ghosting thumb over lips. Testing and teasing. A slow and deliberate anticipation. Firmness. Intentional. Pulling a woman closer, guiding her exactly where he wanted without saying it. Control was not something asked for, it was something one work like a second skin. It settle like a second skin.
“Hell even just a quiet byt unrelentin’ voice of velvet command to a woman’s throat, tellin’ her that yah want to hear her, but not to plead. No waiting. Just claimin’.” Arc shrugged about it, “And yet I don’t see that bein’ somethin’ yah would allow anyways. It’s fine to be the boss. Yah seem to enjoy it anyways.” The demon considered her, “I don’t see yah takin’ well to anythin’ that wasn’t by yer command.”
Calia could concede that things for him were in a place where he wasn’t quite ready to be his usual self. Having understood herself that when things happened that shook you down to your core, it wasn’t as simple as placing all the pieces back and then going about life as normal. As long as they could at least do simple things together instead of as separate entities sharing the same space, she could work past that awkwardness.
This completely inappropriate conversation was a very good start. Something so wildly away from what was proper and polite, but didn’t stumble into territory where she sounded like some sort of war goddess that could decimate armies with a cold look. One of the few things they had in common that wasn’t steeped in past traumas. A safe topic that wouldn’t get them both in trouble.
Drawing a smirking grin out of her when he seemed to have this idea that she was a bedroom dominatrix. He wasn’t entirely wrong, Calia always spoke clearly exactly what she wanted. If that came out like a command, well, far too often it had to be done! Sometimes it was just easier to take control, because she’d be left bored and unsatisfied otherwise.
“It’s not fun being the boss all of the time,” she told him with a soft laugh. “I’m not going to follow commands or demands from someone I can’t respect and take seriously, though. You have it easy because you can throw a rock and hit a delicate madam. I’ve got a very small pool to work with, and seem to be unlucky enough to keep landing on crazy assholes.”
With a bit more of the meat pluck off bones, she paused before it reached her mouth, scrunching up her nose in the process.
“I do try to be softer sometimes, but that gets me a lot of predatory sorts. It’s not a safe world for a soft girl.”
Eyes rested upon her. Appreciating the meal that she had generously offered and made. If he was supposed to be one of the people shocked because she was a princess and could put together a wild meal, the memo hadn’t reached him. He understood being able to survive and having skills that didn’t seem like they belonged. However it seemed their very odd conversation was pulling more focus. Listening to as she expressed it wasn’t fun to be the boss all the time.
Hearing how she expressed so firmly that she wasn’t going to follow commands or demands. He could understand. To a point. But it also simply expressed soundlessly that Calia didn’t exactly know either the difference between a command and a command. Suggesting it was far easier for him to just pick anyone and get what he wanted.
Pointing out that it wasn’t easy to be soft because there were predatory. Which Arc hummed his agreement too.
“Yah got it wrong though.” Not about to exactly agree with her statement about how easy it was. “Sure, I could find any dame and get a delicate one. But that’s the point yer missin’.” Arc was strangely thoughtful, “Delicate is exactly what yah said. Delicate. Fragile. Easily breakable, easily harmed. That, unless yer a fuckin’ pig, isn’t thrillin’ or enjoyable either. This is the difference and it makes sense why yah can’t or haven’t or won’t let someone else have that power, cause it requires a sense of trust. That the fellow or lady yer interested in, is trusted.”
Arc shifted to look around a bit. “Dominance isn’t just grabbin’ someone and throwin’ them to their knees while whippin’ it out. It’s about a command of power. Yah know they are in command but they aren’t puttin’ yah in position’s yah don’t want. They know this. They radiant raw power but are just tender enough without being weak. It’s a balance. The lass knows she’s not about to be put into somethin’ she isn’t ready for, she’s trustin’. She’s radiantin’ off that confidence that the man has. She knows he could hurt her but he doesn’t. She knows too that she’s exactly the thin’ that is drivin’ them incredibly wild that it’s takin’ everythin’ in their power not to lose themselves. She is the reason. And that is a intoxicatin’ experience for her. She still has the power, she is in control still because he’s listenin’. How he moves, how he watches and replies to her body language while still takin’ control. Hard kisses, pushin’ to soft surfaces. The force is there but its bein’ applied to lavish. To lathe over her. To contort to her body, her wants and it’s bristlin’. Pushin’ that barrier and he’s smart enough not to lose himself out of simply wantin’ to hurt. He wants her. She wants him. There is a trust there and a sultry passion that’s not just bein’ bossy. Forcin’ someone down. Holdin’ them down. Anticipation, firm and intentional. He only takes because she’s offered.”
Straightening some Arc leveled a look at her, “And I can clearly say, yah don’t trust anyone, let alone a stranger enough to be in charge. Because that means lettin’ down yer guard and havin’ faith that they’ve read yah well enough to do that. That they possess the capability. But that also means yah have to be willin’ to be charmed by them. To want them, not just simply wantin’ to scratch a sexual itch.”
He ate a little more and let the moment linger. “I said I like the young naïve ones, but that doesn’t mean I pick them off and hurt them. I leave them with a night they won’t forget. I’ve got to enjoy it too and it ain’t any fun just to fuck and be a disgustin’ pervert. It’s enjoyable to have the heat. The passion. The intimacy, at least for a night.”
He’d said she got it wrong, which resulted in a wordless reply of a rise of eyebrows and an expression that spoke please do tell, while she shredded the last bits of meat off bone. Fully expecting him to declare being a bossy soul was the best thing ever, that there were plenty out there that could do the deed right, and maybe with a splash of her just being difficult.
What she got instead was so much more than she actually bargained for. Listening casually at first, as it was no big surprise that it required trust to allow someone to do things to you while you were in a vulnerable position. Except he seemed to have some pretty strong opinions beyond just that. With plenty enough detail too that her casual eating and listening turned to another slow pause. An open expression of soft surprise and mild interest.
Damn! To talk like that, no wonder he had every miss he met woven with his fingers. It seemed he was not full of complete bullshit after all.
To here it like this too in such detail, now clued her in on why her most recent excursions were falling short. Before, it was easy enough to give that leeway of trust to simply scratch that itch, as he called it. She had enough rope of trust to give to still make it fun and frivolous without having to think about it. Now? Something in her had been cracked, so even something quick and fast and simple was difficult to achieve. No one could really be trusted anymore, not even handsome strangers for a few fancy hours.
“Point taken,” she agreed with a bit of a sheepish shrug of her shoulders before it faded into a smile. “I doubt I ever trusted someone enough to begin with, and I’m even worse now. I’m glad you have that passion and care in you, Archimedes, it’s not as common as one would hope.”
Said with all genuine confidence, it honestly did ease a lot of her worries about his salacious habits. When they’d first met, he’d made himself sound like a complete monster, of course she’d been horrified to let him fool around with women. Granted, he did kill one, but she also burned down that entire tavern, so didn’t exactly have the room to criticize when perhaps both of them had been at their absolute worst.
Shoulders shrugged gingerly, not in that meh sort of way. But more of an I know sort of way.
He didn’t fault Calia for not trusting people. She had a whole lifetime of things built up that made her erect this impenetrable wall. No one could scale over and she certainly hadn’t built a door in that wall to let others through. She had a trap door that people could fall into when she deemed them one inch too close to hurting her. Resulting her in rejecting, ejecting and ensuring they knew they fucked up.
“I know it ain’t common. I may be a flirt and a whore, but it’s all too easy to walk into a place and just pick the weakest link. People force each other all the time. There’s no gratification in my mind for that stuff. I might be a demon but I do have wants. Desires and sex is a baser need. But it doesn’t have to be shove someone up to the wall and get yer jollies off. The intimacy part, it’s the part that is addictin’. Bein’ wanted not just used, entirely different.” So he looked at her, “Hence why yer comment about knowin’ how to handle me is incorrect.”
The demon wasn’t being arrogant, just factual. “We are on two different levels. I don’t wanna be bossed around and yah don’t want someone to do somethin’, yah want yer pleasure and a moment in time to just drown out only yer thoughts. The benefit for yah is men are far easier to get off and yer pretty so they are eager to just get a chance to be fucked. We are not compatible. Tis fine. Wouldn’t be worth it anyways, we’d just disappoint and piss off another.”
The demon left that there only to look at the whole meal prepared. “Thank yah though. This was… awkward but nice. The thin’ yah wanted.”
“I suppose you are right, we aren’t compatible at all,” she agreed, a soft sort of amused smile with it. The funny part about it wasn’t even their bedroom interests, as Calia bet she could surprise him just as much as she could see he’d be very entertaining for herself. The incompatibility came directly from that lack of trust. Not just her, either! Arc did not trust her and would never trust her.
That ought to hurt her feelings, and it did in a small way. Only fact was fact, she couldn’t deny it. Even she knew she was not a safe bet to place one’s trust in. Maybe it was time for her to let it all go and accept the fact she was always going to be a singular entity.
At least he liked this lunch and the very moment it was finally mentioned she straightened up in a delighted, preening grin.
“It’s good, right? I love to hunt and cook, especially outside with the open air and a fire. Now dinner won’t have to be awkward and weird, because you can see I’m not trying to poison you or torture you with small talk. It’s only a nice moment of rest.”
A low hum of approving agreement came that expressed he was glad she understood and wasn’t thinking of taking the open statement as a shame or a slight against her. Of course had he known where her train of thought was going, he probably would have contested it. One didn’t, and simply accepted that this was where that topic died.
He had stated before that Calia was absolutely not his type before and he had meant it. There was something still very nice about having someone gentle and compassionate with you, even if they were strong and proud. That lack of trust really did hinder interactions, now didn’t it. And well, she did say he was full of bullshit and didn’t seem to know that sometimes he meant what he had said. Compliments and all.
Instead he complimented the whole meal. Pointing out that it had been awkward of course, but she was preening. “I never said poison.” Arc defended, “Just I didn’t know yah could be nice to someone that yah just finished tormenting to boop me three times and interrupt a nap.” He looked at her point blank, “Yer the one always sayin’ yer dangerous after all, I’m just obligin’ by understandin’ it.”
“Never said poison,” she pointed out, because Calia could lay money down that he’d thought it at least once! She wasn’t going to make a big deal bout it though, as it was an assumption well earned. Instead taking to polishing off the very last of her own food before she was rolling up the boned remains into the leaf like a little tiny casket.
“You could have slept through a boopin’, you didn’t have to start flailing,” was her counter, complete with perfectly innocent beam of smile and teeth. No apologies there in the slightest, but there wasn’t any threat there either. Just an easy being even when she climbed up to her feet, giving a gesture at his leafy plate so she could take it along with her own.
“I am dangerous within the right contexts,” she tried to explain in earnest. “…I’m attempting to learn to keep my stupid mouth shut about it so people will stop thinking I mean I’m going to explode into violence over everything and anything. I’m just… a little unpracticed with casual conversations, when it doesn’t involve charming a man to sleep with me. I’m not very… socialized.”
That he could not disagree with. Relenting with a bob of head and a soft yah alright. As she would be correct. He would have and had thought she might attempt to poison him at all. Not particularly sure if a demon could be poisoned with anything less than holy or divine stuff but he wasn’t going to express that either. Honestly not being too curious to find out what could in fact do such to a being of his creation. Watching to shortly replicate the motion of bony remains to roll into the leaf.
Guessing she was going to return the item back to Gaia as was elven tradition. Give and take.
“Would yah have slept through someone doin’ it to yah?” Asking curiously out of modest wonderment. “It’s not exactly easy restin’ when yah can be attacked at any given moment simply because of biology.” Pointing out that for him to catch rest, he had to be alert in some aspect still. But she was smiling, amused with herself. So he doubted she understood at all or really just didn’t care. Which was probably the latter. Merely giving her the leaf so he could also climb to his feet.
Stretching. Listening. Hearing how she was both reminding what he already knew of how dangerous she was. How she liked people to know that but also seemed like she wasn’t sure she liked how people would tend to react to it. Himself included. Not sure why she even cared about that seeing as well, he was just respecting what she told him.
“And?” Arc asked her, “Am I supposed to help or are yah just tellin’ me that yah wanna practice on me instead.”
Would she sleep through someone booping her nose? The question did make her pause, tilt her head and actually stand there running through the scenarios in her head, as if it were a more complicated question than just a simple yes or no. Being see as he pointed out that he had plenty to fear by the way of being attacked, Calia quickly realized it wasn’t a question he actually wanted an answer to.
He did tend to do that a lot, ask her questions that he clearly didn’t like the answers to.
In fact here was another, halting her again to look him over, debating if this was another instance where her real answer wasn’t going to be appreciated. As it surely sounded as if he didn’t want to be talking to her at all, let alone help her figure out which statements were going to get her trouble during conversations with normal human people.
At least she knew now she wasn’t one of those human people. She could feel a little less bad.
“…I’ll practice with someone else if you don’t want to. I was thinking of hiring a companion before I found you.”
Surely if she were paying someone they’d be more likely to weather through an an awkward conversation with her, anyway! Swallowing a sigh, Calia turned on a heel to find a nice spot to bury the leafy coffins. Digging up a shallow hole under a bush and putting the bundles in the earth where they could nourish more trees, plant life and bugs. A soft patting of her hands to give encouragement and she was back to standing and dusting off those fingers on her pants.
“Off we go, then. See how far we get before nightfall and maybe then some, I don’t mind waking late.”
Well that was curious.
“I… hmm.” So he wasn’t expecting her to say much of anything. Honestly, he’d almost preemptively prepped himself for no more than another one of her feral catty grins with eyes all a near glow. To show she was being impish, not to tell him that she was in her own way trying to bounce the means of practicing socializing with him.
It made him naturally worry in a way that she was putting problematic effort in. Demon after all. But then she suggested hiring a companion in which he sort of just raised a brow at. About to ask her if he was supposed to just start now getting used to the part of having to hide himself because they both had to know that travelling with him was going to be pretty difficult. Hell, she might as well have just made them a sideshow freak sign and used him to make money for her excursions.
Well aware and probably thankful that his mouth hadn’t popped off about all of that. Because it was in fact a reaction based more on his internal emotions than anything logical.
She went to bury the offerings and motioned in her way to state they were off once more. Leaving him to tarry after. Propping hands behind neck as they walked, mulling over the whole thing still. Really picking at it. “Yah think it’s a good idea to try practicin’ yer socializin’ with someone that has to hide themselves in public just to avoid larger problems?” Arc asked her. Sincerely. He wasn’t digging for some twisted comment or looking to stick his finger into her side in a way.
Just earnestly curious. But for added matter, “I’m just sayin’ the obviousness. Not tryin’ to pick a fight or suggest nothin’. More worried that yah might be accidentally barkin’ up the wrong tree. Yah’ve got quite the accruement of issues, the whole demon wrangler aspect ain’t guna get yah bonus points with anyone. I just… don’t want yah to be disappointed is all. I ain’t too grand at this whole thin’ either. Many years lack of practice, is all.” Ears emoted themselves to somewhat flatten, as if expressing he was trying to think and be authentic with his thoughts. “May not be bad to have a companion though. Someone a little less, horned. I can stay outta the way so yah aren’t eyeballed like some lunatic.”
Calia really had no idea where she was going beyond just knowing the direction and being able to follow the course via the sun and shadow, so she didn’t trudge so fast that she was leaving him behind anyway. In fact, she was very careful to make sure they were at a close enough pace, as they were meant to be a partnership after all. Not her dragging him around by the neck.
She would’ve been fine if he wanted to have them fall back into silence and not speaking at all, so she was curious enough when he did decide to pipe in again. Suggesting that maybe he wasn’t such a great idea to be practicing her conversational skills on, because… he was a demon? She might have accepted the reasoning that he’d been in the hells for so long and he wasn’t so great at communicating himself – clearly – the rest felt like nonsense though.
“Isn’t you being a demon making you perfectly adapt at talking to me?” she questioned, actually wondering why he didn’t seem to realize that. “I’ve seen you at your worst in being cruel, seen you at your lowest too at someone else’s hands. I know where you came from as someone that loved the people around you so much that you sacrificed everything for them. So I don’t really care what other people see when they look at you.”
Calia did look him up and down for a second, at the horns and the general vibe of him. Granted, he would have to hide bits of himself just to keep safe.
“You’re already disappointed with me so if I say something stupid now it doesn’t matter much. I don’t have to see fresh horror every time I open my mouth, just the same. Finding another companion is just an idea if I have to. Not really what I want to do when I have you.”
“How so?” How did him being a demon make him perfectly adapt for her to try that effort of socializing. If anything, wouldn’t it have declared a stronger reason not too. Granted it seemed she had been sitting on some reasons just waiting to pull them out. Even if there was an arch of brow at the whole at his worst, at his lowest. Not sure those were credible resources to pull into reasoning but he also couldn’t conflict them either.
How could he. He wasn’t even sure what would be used to do so.
But she said something that still got that pause. A look at her in such a that lingered in his head completely. “When have I said I was disappointed in yah? In general. I mean recently, not before, that don’t count at this point. Old hat, old mentality, new perspective here.” Shooing away any commentary that could have been used before he had gotten the unwanted gift of his brain being abused and the outcomes of his actions to come and cripple him at those silent moments.
Arc exhaled slowly, gaze steady as he looked at her, his usual smirk absent. The daylight flickered across his face, casting sharp shadows against the carved edges of his features. He was quiet for a long moment, as if choosing his words carefully—something rare for him.
“Yah know,” he began, voice lower than usual, rougher, “I’ve met a lot of people. Fought beside them, against them, watched them break, watched them bend.” He tilted his head slightly, his violet eyes flickering over her like he was studying something just out of reach. “But yah… yah don’t break. Yah don’t even bend. Yah’ve just keep goin’.”
There was something unreadable in his expression, something guarded, but the way his fingers twitched against his neck betrayed the restless energy beneath his composed exterior.
“It’s… admirable.” The word felt strange on his tongue, like he wasn’t used to saying it out loud. “I don’t say that lightly, Calia. There are plenty of warriors, plenty of people who can swing a blade or cast a spell, but yah—” He huffed a quiet, almost amused breath, shaking his head. “Yah fight like it’s the only option. Like yah refuse to be anything less than everythin’ yah are, no matter what it costs yah.”
His fingers curled slightly against his palm, his gaze dropping for the briefest second before returning to hers. “I used to be like that. Or maybe I just thought I was.” His lips pressed together, tension settling in his jaw. “Back when I was still… me—before all of this. Before I had to ask myself whether the person I am now is anythin’ like the one I used to be. Besides the obvious answer bein’ a resoundin’ no.” That was neither here nor there.
His voice had dipped lower, more serious, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging between them. “That’s the thin’ about bein’… what I am now.” His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to say it. “A demon. It doesn’t just change what yah are, it changes how people see yah. How yah see yerself.”
He scoffed, the sound humorless. “There’s a voice in the back of my head that says it doesn’t matter how much I try to be somethin’ other than what I’ve become. That no matter what I do, it won’t change the way the world looks at me. Or the way I look at myself. Especially now.”
Arc looked forward slightly, his violet gaze flickering to take in their current location. “But then there’s yah.” He said it plainly, like a fact rather than a confession. “Standin’ in front of me like yah don’t give a damn what I was, like yah refuse to let the past decide who yer supposed to be. And I wonder—” He let out a quiet, sharp breath. “—if yah can do it, why the hell can’t I?”
He glanced at her then, something raw and almost uncertain in his gaze. “I’m not sayin’ I know how to be… better. But I know I respect yah, Calia. More than I probably should. And even if I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with myself, I do know this—”
His voice softened, just slightly.
“I don’t want to lose whatever this is. I’m just awkward about it and tryin’ to figure it out. So I’m guna make a hell of a lot of mistakes right now. Probably permanently. But I’m not disappointed in yah.” It was the closest thing to an admission he could give.
Calia almost opened her mouth to tell him that he didn’t need to say he was disappointed in her, she already knew it was in the back of his head just like it was for everyone else. He just had a much better deadpan face and didn’t let the expressions slip out the way ones like Renus did. But he’d fussed for recent examples and she really didn’t have any, so all he got was her dubious glance.
He was right, though, that he was different now that he had his full scope of memories back, and that it wasn’t fair for her to keep judging him by just those few short days. Anymore than Calia wanted him to hold those few days against her either.
Giving a curious examination back to him when his voice shifted, certain she could argue about not bending and breaking, because Calia was certain she’d been broken so many times that she was nothing more than this haphazard constructed piece of glass shards.
Then he called her admirable and she shot him a look that feared he might’ve gone mad!
Could someone have all the blood rush out of their body and still be burning red in the cheeks at the same time? These were weighty words, meaningful words. The sorts of things no one had ever painted her with, or came even close to thinking about her, let alone actually saying them out loud and to her face.
Calia kept her eyes forwards and downwards at her feet, suddenly concerned she was going to misstep somewhere and fall on her face. Maybe even a deliberate shoving of her head into a tree hollow, as this was both embarrassing and heartbreaking enough – in a good sort of way – that she was afraid she’d burst into tears like some soft hearted idiot.
She was an idiot, but she didn’t want to be the kind of girl that cried about everything!
“…those are compliments of the highest order,” she did manage to say, even with the frog that was trying to jump into her throat. Finally managing to tear green-eyed sights away from the forest around them to actually look back at this strange former mage turned demon. Calia didn’t really have that gift of saying just the right words, so it was surely a struggle to find ones that could truly express how much this actually meant to her.
“We’ll make our mistakes and grow together,” she told him. Tearfully, possibly, but Calia was going to pretend that wasn’t happening. “It might even be a joy to see what magnificent things we can do.”
Arc let out a slow breath, his lips quirking just slightly—an almost-smile, not quite reaching his eyes. “Magnificent thin’s, huh?” His voice was softer now, quieter, like he was turning the words over in his mind. “That’s a nice thought.”
If only he believed it.
He wasn’t sure what he had to offer in all this. Not really. Maybe Calia could grow, could fight, could shape herself into something stronger with every battle and hardship, but Arc? He was still trying to decide if there was even anything left of himself worth building upon. He was a shattered thing, pieces barely holding together, and if he ever let his grip slip, he wasn’t sure what would be left—just dust, just remnants of something that used to be whole. Well aware that much of his thoughts were sharp and jaded from every action that had been given back. Still privately struggling with it all. But not about to let it show outwardly. Certain he didn’t want any sort of attention about it at this point.
His gaze flickered to her again, and he caught the sheen in her eyes, the way her breath wavered just slightly when she spoke.
Ah.
Arc said nothing about it. Didn’t acknowledge the tears threatening to spill, didn’t shift or fidget like someone uncomfortable with emotion. He simply let it be, let her have the moment without calling it to attention. Some things weren’t meant to be dragged into the light.
Instead, he exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“Guess that means yer still stuck with me, then,” he said, voice carrying his usual easy amusement. He tilted his head, offering her a practiced smirk. “Not that I’d blame yah if yah wanted to rethink that arrangement. I come with a long list of problems, zero refunds, and a tendency to be a pain in the ass. Pretty raw deal, if yah ask me.”
There. A neatly packaged joke, just sharp enough to keep anything too real from slipping through.
His fingers twitched. He had the oddest urge to reach out, to brush a stray piece of her hair back into place, to do something with the quiet weight between them, but he resisted.
“Yah’ve got this way of makin’ even a damn demon think he’s capable of somethin’ decent,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Dangerous talent, that.”
Then, softer, more certain, as he looked at her once more:
“Guess we’ll just have to see what magnificent thin’s yah can scheme up. I wouldn’t get too wild about it though, I don’t think we need too much attention drawn more towards the odd duo.”
Oh thanks goodness, the moment of sweetness passed by way of his wicked jokes. Calia was not sure she’d be able to graciously handle sincere gratitude and compliments when he had this dramatic and prose-worthy way of saying things. All theatrics and grand elegance, that was wasted on someone like her. And yet… it did so make her feel so much lighter. Kind of wonderful, to actually hear the words from someone when it was just between the two of them, intimate and real.
She did not know if she could raise a kingdom from ashes, but if he believed these things about her, actually did respect her and believe she was so unshakeable, then Calia could at the bare minimum take care of him. Extreme as it was to go from wanting to murder a man, to now wanting to be his most loyal of champions… but she was a woman of extremes, now wasn’t she? If the world did not want him as a demon, he would have a place with her and actually be appreciated for it.
Letting out a stilted laugh, she did meet that violet gaze with a crooked sort of smile and a shrug of her shoulder.
“Then let us hope those mages aren’t up to no good. I’d hate having to flee the country as murdering fugitives after doing all that work to win favor.”
Arc chuckled, the sound rich with easy amusement, as if the thought of becoming a wanted fugitive was just another mild inconvenience. He tilted his head, watching her with that sharp, knowing glint in his eyes.
“Oh, don’t be temptin’ me,” he drawled, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “I don’t know if we wanna find out how strikin’ we look with a bounty on our heads. While it adds a bit of intrigue, could be problematic? The infamous demon and faelin’ daughter of magic, hunted across the lands, all because some crazed mages couldn’t handle losin’ to superior talent.” He placed a hand over his chest in mock sincerity. “Truly, a tragedy for the ages.”
He let the joke settle, letting the easy humor mask the darker thought lingering beneath.
Not that it mattered.
If something went wrong, it would be his fault. It always was, especially in these lands. It didn’t matter how carefully they played this game—if people needed a scapegoat, they’d point to the demon first. The mages could weave whatever story they wanted, and the world would lap it up. If a single thing went awry, the weight of it would land squarely on his shoulders.
But there was no point in dwelling on it. He was makin peace with the idea that people would twist whatever they wanted to suit their narratives. It was just a matter of making sure they didn’t get the chance.
Arc exhaled through his nose, gaze shifting to the further treeline. Assessing their location and just how really long the means of travel was.
“Well then,” he murmured, quieter now, his tone losing some of its edge. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that, shall we? I’d rather not have to waste yer time dodgin’ bounty hunters on top of everything else.”
The words were light, but the meaning beneath them was anything but.
Calia decided it was best not to tell him that she didn’t care if they became fugitives for such a thing. Her way of making things right might be too aggressive and messy, but she was so tired of apologizing for doing what was necessary in the moment. If the way things were done in the elven kingdom were so broken that it took her shattering things to bits just to get them fixed, that sounded like a THEM problem. Maybe they ought to start working a little faster!
However, there was something to that softer edge of his voice that had her glancing to him and his suggestion of avoiding it coming to such things. Setting her to a quick, dawning realization that any move they make against those mages wasn’t going to blow back on her so much as Archimedes. They’d cut flesh and bone from him for days, put singular blame on him for the past, and she could sure as hell bet there were some bitter feelings now about the present.
Things that were Calia’s fault, not Arc’s.
Best that she handle Starling as quickly as she can and get them out. Try not to look at anything, not to make waves. It was one thing to take responsibility and accept the consequences of her ill-made decisions, but Arc didn’t deserve to catch the fire for it.
The rest of the day was so much more serene. No more awkward silence, just a peaceful one. Calia really didn’t need to talk as long as she felt secure. Though ever so often she’d point out something lurking in the trees, an animals, even a fae or two. This time giving him a quiet murmur when they were passing something trying to talk to her, and didn’t go chasing after it like an ill-behaved toddler. None of them had the same pull as the fae tree did, anyway. Just whispers of come play, little sister as the jackals had done.
There was so much more magic here than in Caeldalmor. Fae-touched magic in volumes that was so loud it could drown out her own thoughts if she weren’t careful.
By nightfall she might’ve just had them keep walking for several more hours still, but even she had to admit it was a tiring sort of day. Reaching to give him brush to the arm to signal they should find a place to nest for the evening.
At her gentle touch, it was a fine silent suggestion that had him moving through the forest in final search, his steps soundless on the moss-covered ground. The towering redwoods around them formed a thick canopy that shielded the night’s chill, as the air felt richer with the scent of pine and earth. Glowing violet eyes scanned their surroundings, the rhythmic pulse of his gaze matching the slow beat of his heart. The horns on his head pulsed subtly, their dark curves gleaming faintly in the dense night.
Ahead, the clearing came into view. It was a space of soft, bioluminescent moss that lit up the area in an ethereal glow, offering a moment of quiet amidst the looming trees. Arc approached with the ease of someone who knew the wilds well, and after checking the area for any danger, he stepped into the center of the clearing. The moss shifted under his weight, and he nodded in approval. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself.
He paused a moment to glance behind him, then let out a small, dry laugh. “This ought to do.” His violet eyes flickered in the dark, as if amused by the situation. He shook his head slightly. “Not terrible for a beddin’ down, should be sequestered enough to avoid anythin’ that might be too curious for its own good.”
Arc moved toward the massive roots of a nearby tree and stooping to feeling the coolness of the wood beneath palm. His glowing eyes reflected the soft light of the moss around him, and the steady pulse in his horns seemed to resonate with the quiet hum of the forest. He took a moment to breathe, his body still but his mind ever-churning.
“We’ll reach the Mage Tower by late morn, since the push was greater this night.” he said quietly. His voice was low, but there was a weight to it—he couldn’t shake the feeling that what was waiting them there was nothing good. Outside the whole wantin’ to still punch Starling in his pretty boy stupid looking face. Add on the fact he just hoped the mage tower had not come up with any more wild ideas that were highly questionable to nature and just everyday morality. Not entire sure he of all people, ought to be the compass on that!
Arc leaned back slightly, the faint light from his eyes casting shadows on the ground around him. He let out a breath, as if to dismiss the unease that had settled into his chest.
His horns pulsed once more in time with his heartbeat, the sensation grounding him, and for a brief moment. Then back to her, signaling a moment.
Arc’s eyes flickered with a quiet pulse as he scanned the night, before he flicked his wrist and called on the arcane energy surrounding him. A shimmering door, the size of a small closet, appeared in front of him, its edges crackling with soft, ethereal light. The air around him seemed to hum with the power contained within it, the kind of magic that had become second nature to him, though it always held a quiet grace.
He reached out with his hand, grasping the handle of the door as if it were something as mundane as a cabinet. With a smooth motion, the door opened with a soft sigh, revealing the contents inside. Within the shimmering space, floating weightlessly, were various items—scrolls, trinkets, vials, and weapons—but Arc’s gaze immediately found what he was looking for.
His fingers brushed against a neatly folded blanket, the fabric light and soft. He grabbed it with ease.
With a quiet exhale, Arc stepped back, allowing the arcane door to fade behind him, its shimmering edges closing with a subtle shimmer. The blanket now in his grasp, he turned toward Calia, eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the forest. There was no grand gesture, no need for words—just the silent offering of warmth. His hands extended the blanket toward her, the soft fabric billowing lightly as he handed it over.
“Here,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. There was no hidden agenda in the act, just a quiet understanding that she might need it. “This should help. Might as well settlin’ in for the night. I can go meander about for some wood as yah take a load off yer feet.”
Well, this was a fine and spectacular place to make a nest, wasn’t it. There was truly were so many pretty natural wonders here that Calia had never seen before. Glowing cave moss, yes. This stuff, not at all! They weren’t even in the middle of a fae wood where she’d expect to see it. She could appreciate how the ground felt soft and springy under her feet, and were this a different time she might’ve pulled off her boots to go padding around barefoot just to feel closer to the earth itself.
He had this hesitant sound in his voice about that mage tower and Calia really couldn’t blame him. She felt it too in the pit of her stomach, that worry she’d done something massively stupid with her cursed enchantment. A good healthy fear that she wasn’t going to be able to control herself if things weren’t at least above board, even if it was a little sketchy. There was no use in dwelling on it for now, though. It’d just end up with a night of poor sleep, likely to make them even more irritable come the morning.
Calia when he gave her pause to, wondering the whole means of why when they’d had their little spot picked out. She was more than fine to stretch out against the tree and snooze away. Even climb the thing if she wanted to be extra wary about ground predators. He was doing something with magic though, and she was curious enough to watch.
Mouthing an unseen the fuck when he summoned up a whole ass door out of the aether. A door to… floating things! An elsewhere door! A roaming closet.
Calia was still standing there with her mouth wide open like a stupid gaping fish, even when he passed her the blanket and she hugged it to her chest. Too stupefied by this new mystifying magic to clue in that he’d given her something cozy to sleep with.
“Oh no no no, forget fire, what was that,” she exclaimed with awe pointing at the empty space before she was already stepping forward and then around where the door was. Reaching out free hand to touch the residual magic to see what matter of construction she could pick up. This was now the most fascinating thing in the universe and no one was going to sleep until she could do it too.
“How big is it? Does it have to be a door? How many things can you put in there! Can a person go in there? Is it like a tiny mini realm or is it more a floating void space? How do I make one?”
It was perfectly mundane to him. Not even worth a second thought, let alone the first one to even cast the magic at all. So natural and so everyday boring that when he had taken out the blanket to give to Calia, he really ought to have expected her to be bewildered by it. It took a double glance at her when he had expressed that he would go find some good timber to put together a fire, that he realized she was all mesmerized.
Short lived. For she was telling him to forget fire but to explain. Stepping over to where it had been momentarily opened. As if it would still be there rather than a construction tethered quite literally to him.
Watching a moment while she rattled off questions at him in such a quick pace that for a true moment, he wondered if he had broken her accidentally. “Easy, lass. Easy.”
Motioning her just to give him a second to put together answers at all before she rapid fired more at him. Unfurling fingers, “As big as I need it to be. No it doesn’t have to be a door. Again, as many thin’s as I need it to be. Only I can go into it. And it’s called a Arcanum Hollow.”
Arms went to cross over his chest them. “It’s not a physical space in that of a conventional sense. More like a pocket of existence woven from the arcane itself. Everythin’ inside it are held in perfect suspension. Yah know, weightless. Untouched by time. It’s linked to my own essence. A personal vault.”
Really he shouldn’t be shocked it was something she wanted to know how to make. And he hummed about it. Not because he didn’t think Calia couldn’t do it, she probably could. But the whole explaining and seeing if she was going to be receptive to the whole training of it. “Yah gotta understand spatial magic, strong mental focus and the connection to the arcane flow. Bending reality to accommodate a space that doesn’t yah know, really exist in the physical world. It ain’t like a chest or a bag, it’s a fold in reality. A tethered void existin’ parallel to our own realm, linked only to its creator. I can teach yah, no problem. Just, are yah willin’ to listen to me and not get frustrated? Yah know, at me.”
There were a whole lot of technical words in that explanation and now Arc was getting a front row seat of what countless of instructors had to deal with when it came to Calia. That sort of disassociating glazed over disinterest in all of the technical jargon, with the nodding along as if she was already understanding and just wanting to get immediately to the good parts.
Without any hesitation too because she was wriggling herself out of her sword harness to rest against the roots of the tree and taking that soft blanket to wrap around her shoulders and arms like a shawl. At least having enough senses left to not want to leave it on the mossy ground.
Beckoning her fingers at him that she was ready to learn right here, right now, with no care about anything else because this was now the most interesting thing in the world.
“Show me arcane flow. …What happens to all of the stuff if you die? Does it pop all on top of you back into this realm, or is it gone forever in the void? If mages die with these Arcanum Hollows still existing beyond their own lifespan, would there then not be a little backdoor to go rummaging around in those pocket closets? If it’s timeliness, could you then go in it and stay there for ages and come back out just as you are one hundred years in the future?”
Calia did pause there, holding up a finger when she remember he did ask her a question.
“…I’ve never deliberately killed a teacher before. You will be fine.”
“Yah look like a dull frog when yah stop payin’ attention.” Arc called her out seeing how she was glazing over for having been told technical terms. “Stop being a faelin’ for two seconds, yah do need to know technical terms.” Good grief.
However there needed to be a little more light! Just to make sure he could see all her expressions and that he wasn’t making them up in the dark. Extending a hand, fingers curled with practiced ease as a flicker of violet fire ignited in his palm. It wavered for a moment, not like a normal flame, but something more ethereal—glowing without heat, alive in a way that normal fire was not. With a slight movement of his wrist, he sent the ember drifting upward, where it split into several smaller flames that hovered in the air like captive stars.
The dim glow pulsed softly, casting a flickering dance of shadows across the towering trunks of the elven redwoods. Bioluminescent moss clung to their roots and trunks, shimmering in quiet response to the summoned flames, as if waking from slumber.
The clearing around them deepened with the interplay of darkness and light, Arc’s conjured fire illuminating the forest floor with pools of orange glow. It was enough to see by, to navigate, but still left the depths of the woodland untouched, shrouded in mystery. He cast a glance at Calia, the faint flicker of amusement in his expression barely visible beneath the eerie glow of his eyes.
“The shit disappears.” Arc stated flatly, “Lots of interestin’ thin’s have been lost because mages and warlocks and wizard’s alike die. Yah can stop it if yah give a vial of yer blood to someone. Give, key word. It cannot just be taken. No force, it’s gotta be willin’ given over and another mage can open it. Just usually mages don’t trust others, hence the whole losin’ stuff.” Just he pointed at her, “I wasn’t thinkin’ of it till yah said it, yah faelin’ goblin. And if yah kill me, yah lose the contract, lose the magic. Fair remainder.”
“Now don’t get all dull eyed. Yah have to listen even if it pains yah and yah just wanna go flittin’ off or climbin’ up the tree like an overgrown squirrel. Yah start doin’ any of that, I stop teachin. I know how to do this stuff after all. And this is the way I was taught.”
He remained standing for his own means. Arc extended a hand, palm up, as if holding something delicate yet unseen. His violet eyes glowed brightly in the dim light of the elven redwood forest, his curved horns pulsing strongly with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Arcane magic,” he began, voice calm, measured, “is not somethin’ that simply appears when we call for it, for mages that is. Fae’s are different but in this example, we stayin’ with mages. As that is what I am. I know yer not… It is always present—woven into the air, the earth, the very fabric of existence. Arcane magic is magic. It’s what makes is all up. It’s natural, its everywhere but people confuse it and think it’s just like plucking an apple from a tree. It’s gotta be drawn out, shaped, and controlled. Otherwise, more people would likely be able to do it.”
As he spoke, his fingers twitched, and the air around his palm wavered, like heat rising from stone. A thread of faint, golden energy began to spiral upward, coiling around his wrist like liquid light. It moved slowly, deliberately, responding to his will rather than flowing of its own accord.
“It starts here.” He tapped his chest lightly with his free hand. “From within. A mage acts as a conduit, pullin’ the energy through themselves and into the world.”
The shimmering arcane thread hovered just above his fingers now, swirling lazily in place. With a slow, careful gesture, he pulled his fingers apart, and the energy stretched, elongating into a thin line between them. It vibrated slightly, as if resisting the shape he gave it.
“This is the part most fail to understand. Magic does not obey out of respect or duty. It resists, always. Yah do not command it; yah negotiate with it. Yah shape it, but yah must listen to it in return.”
He released one hand, and the energy shuddered, momentarily unstable. Then, with a subtle shift of his wrist, it smoothed out, forming a perfect, unbroken line of light.
“If yah force it, it breaks. If yah let it go unchecked, it consumes.”
With a small motion, Arc twisted his fingers, and the thread of magic curled into a tiny, floating ring. Then, as if proving his point, he clenched his fist. The energy sparked once, then unraveled, dissipating back into the air like mist.
He exhaled, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Control is not about strength. It’s about understandin’. The more one fights it, the more it fights back. But if yah learn to move with it…” He flicked his fingers, and another delicate strand of magic wove itself into existence, wrapping around his wrist like a phantom ribbon.
He turned his gaze to Calia, one brow arching slightly. “Now, let’s see if yah can make it listen. I know yer gifted. I’ve seen it but arcane is in fact different than elemental.”
How could anyone know that giving her this freedom to use magic at will was going to be like opening Pandora’s box. The light to illuminate their mossy clearing was a nice little trick, but all she could think about now was making her own little pocket space to stash things in. Like the very damned squirrel he was telling her not to behave as if she didn’t like all of his lecturing.
He probably shouldn’t have called her a faeling goblin either, as the smile she gave was exactly that. Ear to ear wide grinning with promises of all sorts of mayhem to come. All she needed was little horns at this point and something shiny to be hoarding.
If she had to learn it his way, so be it. She was a studious little student when she was actually invested and interested.
Maybe even too studious, for Calia wasn’t more than a hair’s breadth away. Practically on his back, and might’ve done so if she wasn’t busy walking and inching around him, taking a look at his hand and the arcane magic in it from every angle she could peep with those curious green eyes. Literally studying it from some perspective she never really was going to be able to explain. All those technical jargon words someone else likely knew, of the shape and sound and flow of the stuff.
He wasn’t wrong, though. This stuff was different from the elements she called. She could move the earth and grow the plants. Freeze, flame, speak the wind and walk the water. All of that was as natural as breathing. Using glamours was close to this, though… something that wasn’t an elemental magic, but pulling from a different source. A style she’d never really had the chance to touch and practice with.
…on top of that she had to work through himself as a conduit instead of immediately grasping it with her own natural talent. Twice as difficult.
Oh, but how she was up for the challenge!
Smooth as water she touched three fingers to his chest, an infuriatingly sweet smile to go with it because she knew she was showing off. Touching that magic quite literally through him first, to begin steps backwards to pinch middle finger and thumb together oh so slowly. A gentle, soft touch.
And there it was, instead of gold a moonlight silver strand floating and dancing in an unfelt breeze.
“Hello there, beautiful love,” murmured at the strand itself like the blasted thing was alive. “I bet you’d like to do something fun.”
It sure wasn’t a mage’s way of negotiating with magic, but it gave Calia a giggle, turning her palm upwards to let that strange to a looping dance, like a twirling sea dragon.
“This part is the easy part,” she started. He’d seen her do it like it was a piece of cake, after all. “From here I have trouble. With elements I can affect and shape what is already available. This kind of conjuring – to shift this into other shapes has always been hard for me to really… visualize? Like when you see someone paint a painting, and you know every ingredient and brush stroke, but still you can’t replicate it perfectly.”
Then there was a small grimace. “It also seems to be harder to hold too,” she admitted. Taking free hand to press a spot at the bottom of her sternum. “My guts start aching right about there when I start conjuring the new instead of just manipulating what’s here as it’s second hand from you. I didn’t have to deal with that before.”
Oh for she was truly that of a goblin. And he practically could feel the years and exhaustion of his late father on his own head then and there. Knowing very aptly well that his father had been the one to teach him for a few years and how Omal took over. The two of them tag teaming him because unlike them, he had been born exceptionally gifted with magic. They had it, they were just as gifted but there was a raw energy and the sheer mass of the well within him was unusual. And they had to deal with him wanting to do it bigger. Better. Faster. Stronger.
Wishing to ignore the laws and lectures. Because he could just do it, right?
Well that was the thing about being too confident. You might be good but magic didn’t always listen either. Eventually it would blow up in your face and that was never a fun thing. But with Calia now practically becoming a second head, he was almost debating if he ought to be teaching her at all. For really one to understand magic properly, one had to fail too. Failure taught more than success did. That was never a fun lesson but vital.
So when she was channeling into that well and touching him as if she just knew everything, Arc leveled a look at her that was probably more akin to Atticus than himself. The oh you think you know it all, do yah. It was usually those looks that his father gave that resulted in the lesson being finished and him having to figure out things without any tutelage. The if you’re so good at it, then do it yourself.
He had more than a few combustions and wild surges himself. Confidence was good but being cocky and showy could be a great way to cock it all up. Still Calia was talented and a part of him wondered if she was not simply faeling.
This also was a moment to where he considered her thoughtfully as she pointed out that it was easy and only staved because she was pulling from his magic, not her own. How she was aching, “Not familiar with that, it may be a form of manna sickness since as yah said, it’s second hand from me. Not yer own. People who have manna can actually deplete it. Resultin’ in one’s body pullin’ on its own organs and causin’ internal damage. Fatigue, disorientation, sluggishness, hunger and thirst spikes, as minor sickness. Pain and instability like burnin’ in the veins, tremors, nausea, manna leaks for somethin’ more moderate.”
Arc took a few steps thinking, “Burnout and collapse, crampin’, bleeding from nose, ears and eyes, blackhouts, uncontrollable surges that are the worst wild surges, even permanent nerve damage as the severe. And if yer really stupid, its call the final price. A complete loss of magical ability, no spell can be cast, no energy drawn. A lingerin’ cold in the body as if yer hollow. Bone deep exhaustion that never fades. Emptiness and of course,” Arc shrugged, “Death. Everyone has different levels of mage wells. Fonts of magic. Yer feelin’s of gut pain could be a form of it. The way to know and learn is by trainin’. Discipline and understandin’ the balance of magical exertion with recovery.”
The demon hummed, “I haven’t felt yah pull too much but I am an arch mage. So that’s likely cause the well hasn’t been tapped so badly. Regardless, trainin’. Lettin’ yah get familiar and explore with it.”
Head shook and glowing violet eyes found her once more. “But the lesson continues. Yah know how the arcane flows, which is good. Spatial magic,” he began, his voice smooth, methodical, “is the art of bendin’ space—foldin’, stretchin’, and manipulatin’ it beyond its natural limits. Most people think of space as fixed, solid. But in reality, it’s more like fabric—woven into reality itself. And with enough skill, a mage can tug on the threads. But one has to train their mind too. It’s not somethin’ that comes easy. There are many people with magic that can’t even summon this because the construction of focusin’ can be difficult. Especially if yer mind is constantly noisy.”
He slowly drew his fingers apart, and a ripple in the air formed between them, like the surface of water disturbed by an unseen touch. The distortion shimmered, revealing an inky void beyond—a depthless space that should not exist, yet did. This time doing it without the door since she had asked if it always had to be a door.
“This is the Arcanum Hollow—an extension of spatial magic and arcane manipulation. It is not a physical place, but rather a pocket of existence carved from the spaces between. As I said, its a void only accessible to its creator, molded by their magic.”
The ripple widened slightly, and for a brief moment, glimpses of carefully arranged items could be seen again—scrolls, vials, a dagger, and various other possessions suspended within the lightened hollow.
“To create one, yah must first understand the nature of arcane magic as we said. The Hollow cannot be forced open; it must be shaped, the way a sculptor shapes stone or a weaver crafts cloth. Yah take a portion of reality and fold it inward, separatin’ it from the rest of the world.”
With a fluid motion, he pressed his hands together, and the shimmering void sealed itself, vanishing as if it had never been there. He smirked slightly, tilting his head. “And to yer former question—no, yah cannot hide inside one. Yah may store objects, but living thin’s? That’s a different kind of magic entirely.”
His glowing eyes flickered toward Calia, a challenge hidden in his tone. “If you wish to master spatial magic, yah must first understand how to bend space before yah can contain it. Using both willpower and ones mind, they must push and pull at the fabric of existence, as though pryin’ open a locked door that isn’t there. Otherwise…” He made a flicking motion with his wrist, mimicking an explosion.
“Let’s just say cleanin’ up after a collapsed pocket is messy. And that’s not even considerin’ the whole how does one put items into the space. Since it really isn’t just throwin’ somethin’ inside. It’s a mental visualizin’ of an object enterin’ or leavin’ the space. Spatial magic is very much, brain not hands. Yer head gets tired. Masterin’ the Arcanum Hollow is a test of patience and control. Once properly formed, it becomes one of the most valuable tools in a mage’s arsenal, a personal vault hidden between the layers of reality. It’s about wisdom. Reality doesn’t take kindly to those tamperin’ with it even on the best days.” Arc considered her, “Clear as mud?”
Well there was a fun bunch of descriptive words of the horrors of manna sickness that Calia did not like to hear, want to hear, and certainly did not appreciate. By the time he reached loss of magic she swished her little silver away back to the aether, with such a look of horror that death was actually preferable!
He wasn’t feeling any kind of ill way, but she was getting the pains. Likely he was right and this was just something she needed to flex an exercise, like a muscle she’d never used before. Still, he’d managed to temper down her forward momentum to not go hog-wild right from the start, and to instead take it with a little more thoughtful consideration.
Leaving her to cross her arms when he went on with this lesson, sparking up new threads of the arcane magic to give her the visual demonstration. It was admittedly a lot easer for her to learn it when she could see it being done. All of the spoken words just seemed to get jumbled up in her head just as badly as they did when she was forced to sit down and read them.
She was also discovering he seemed to step into this role as teacher so fluidly, so effortlessly. Having her wondering if that was part of his education in being a future advisor to the crown, or if he was just naturally someone that enjoyed sharing knowledge. He had a love and passion for magic that was undeniable, something she related to deeply herself. This being able to educate with it was on a different level that she found admirable.
She’d once upon a time wanted to teach fledging knights, but she never really had a way with speaking to even an individual, let alone a crowd. Calia could certainly be a good training partner and give physical example, but this part… the being able to explain things was just as valuable wasn’t it?
“If it’s brains and not hands, then no wonder it’s tricky for me,” she answered with a cheeky grin. “I’ll start practicing in tiny bits. Not really in the mood to go accidentally blowing myself up and taking you out along with me. At least not this soon.”
It always felt good to flex and pull and play with the threads of magic that were the very strings to his existence. Mentally, he had not been exaggerating that he was thick in the weaves of magic. It was his being. His life and while he had been cut off from it for a very long time, filled with demonic magic, this was home. And he did understand more now than before, why his father worried so excessively.
Magic was a powerful thing.
Calia was a powerful thing.
He was a powerful thing.
Together they could be quite the dynamic and entirely dangerous duo that the world itself could either marvel at or fear. All it took was being too full of one’s self and believing they were the pinnacle of it all, to ruin everything. To make grave mistakes as he had.
“Spatial magic in general isn’t the sort that comes easy to most. Hell it took me nearly ten fifteen human years to really get it together. And it was a constant piss off.” Arc admitted. He was good but he was not perfect. But the difference was between him and Calia, he had literal years and years to perfect his art. To learn and adapt and feel and understand and suffer through it. There were plenty of spells that did not come to him so easily and while it aggravated him beyond measure, he did understand that time and training were the greatest tools he had.
“Yah won’t blow us up. I ain’t entirely sure yet how yer magic and connectivity works so fluidly to pick it up so easily, but yah do. It’s quizzical but I suspect its cause yer not a mage. And fae magic is actually different than what I use. What I know is fae magic is deeply tied to nature. Emotions and unseen rules of the fae realm. Its instinctive, yah know whimsical. Unpredictable rules. While arcane is magical energy that draws on personal willpower or cosmic forces. It’s not livin’ like fae magic is.” The man stepped around again on the tree root, “It follows laws and it typically doesn’t carry hidden consequences like fae magic can, unless someone really fucks up their incantations.”
The demon paused, “Best way of what I know between the two is, fae is chaotic, arcane is studied.” But he shrugged, looking at her. “Yah seem to be in the middle ground.”
Of course he seemed to be energized now, “Actually, I’ve got a grand spell that yah could probably master right quick and it is spatial. And a bonus cause yer a swordswoman,” Fingers flickered at her, “Come on lovely lass,”
Arc stood before her, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he lifted hands once more. “Spatial magic is all about bendin’ the space. As I said. Movin’ the fabric. But this one in particular is moving space between two points. Watch closely.”
He flicked his fingers, and a faint shimmer ripples in the air around his feet. The space around him seems to fold inward for a split second—then, in the blink of an eye, he’s standing three feet to the right, as if he had never moved at all.
“No momentum, no sound. Just a shift in location,” he explains. “It’s like steppin’ through a door that only exists for a fraction of a second. The trick is feelin’ the distance in yer mind before yah step.”
He gestured for Calia to try. “Picture the space between here and there. Feel it compress, like folding a piece of paper. Then—step. Even if yah can’t do it right away, it won’t explode. Or twist or whatever. But yah pick thin’s up exceptionally quick so I have no doubt.”
“I was always able to just do as I wished with it without even having to think, until I was a little older and I started questioning the hows and whys. Then I got so focused on the details and doing it perfectly right, that I frustrate myself.” A simple shrug of the shoulder came with that admission. It was probably a lot deeper and more complicated than that, even Calia was aware. Fear of being caught doing something she shouldn’t. Insecurities over being so different and having a secret talent at all. That hyper focus of her wasn’t always a boon either, she could zoom in on something to the point of being compulsive.
How could she not be charmed by his enthusiasm in this moment, though? Betting Archimedes had never had a chance himself to really share magic this way, as he had a former life of responsibilities and roles he had to fill. So there was no hesitation in her approaching and watching close to see exactly what new trick he was about to teach her.
There he went. In a blink to shifting space. Calia had seem him do this before if she remembered right, but of course it hadn’t come with this nice little explanation on how she herself could mimic it.
“I can do that – something similar. Although, I have never done it without a horse before…” It did have her going curiously silent, standing there reflecting on herself and her own natural gifts while sifting through his arcane magic to feel it out. Having never actually seen how it was done from an outside perspective, that means of fast traveling she’d done had been so instinctual, Calia wasn’t really sure when or how she’d even learned how to do it.
Actually, no. She remembered the first time. Freshly sixteen, realizing the older boy she had such an infatuation with cared more about magic and power than he did about sense. She’d taken one of the horses from the stables and just ran as far as she could, ending up in a part of Caeldalmor within mere minutes instead of the several days ride it should’ve been. Nothing had been able to keep her stationary, though she did always return back to her home.
Taking a deep breath, it wasn’t too hard to mimic the ripple he made and tug that fabric of space. To slip through with a quick little hop.
Where she practically fell out of the other side a few feet away, landed on her ass with a startled yelp and bewildered surprise!
“…that wasn’t the same! I take it back!”
“Instinctual.” Arc pointed out as she stated she was just able to do as she wished. Truly pushing the means that she was fae. Personally he only knew the basics of fae magic but they could absolutely be wrong too. That was the thing, he might know but he was not omniscient. His theories, his ideas, his knowledge could all be wrong because he was learning from sources of books. Other people’s encounters. Assumptions.
He only knew arcane simply because it was him.
There was clearly more about Calia than one could know. Something deeper and there was probably an answer out there that existed in the fae realm itself, not in the mundane.
For now though, he was peaked with interest to see if she could use a basic spatial spell. It was particularly effective in battles when one had to be fast and cutting. To be in multiple places at once, attacking and keeping that of an opponent on their own toes! So when she came close and was observing what was being done, he paused only after completion.
Hearing her mention that she could do something similar. It took a moment but he did nod, “Sidestep. Fae travel.” Arc named it effortlessly. “From what I know, it’s very similar. Workin’ like slipping between layers of reality rather than movin’ through them. Like walkin’ in a forest, takin’ a step and suddenly emergin’ miles away. Like the land itself folded itself to accommodate yer movement, not the other way around.” Stepping in place for effect, “Spatial blink that I did is not used for large movement. Like miles, its short. Concise. Can be used in quick succession. So slightly different but not immensely so.”
The man thought a moment, “Actually think spatial blinkin’ is derived from fae travel.” Fingers stroked at chin thinking about it. Sure that the spell took strong influence from it but for now he wasn’t going to lodge into magical semantics. Giving head a shake before watching her starting to mimic the motion.
Again, she was effortlessly replicating the spell as he suspected. Enacting it that his younger self would have been pretty pissed off at how easily it came. For how long he struggled with it! Thankfully he was older and understood better that there was always someone better than you ever were.
When she was then on her rear, he stepped over. Offering her a hand, “Yah still did it. First try. It’s not a failure, Lia. It’s progression. Just a bit of refinement and familiarity with the spell. Is all.”
Once she was standing and he could release, he was looking thoughtful. Eyes aglow and horns pulsating in the light that had been cast. Looking at her but mostly through her. Till he blinked and was turning. Staring outwards, fingers and claws tapping with thought. He was putting something together, taking a cue from Calia. “Fae and arcane,” muttered. More steps and the sound of claws tapping. “The unison of creation yah possess appears to be quite flawless. Unusually constructed. Almost a oddity of arrangement as most fae and arcane from belief do not work in symmetry. Law and chaos…. Law… chaos hmm…”
Whatever he was thinking, it was clearly indepth. “What about abyssal…” Demonic magic. He hadn’t been tapping into it too much lately since he had gotten his arcane flow back but… could it be similarly comprised into the same construction as Calia’s own unusualness?
“Comtemplatin’… spatial and abyssal… arcane and abyssal… There would be a toll for it. More manna consumption likely but the destruction would be greater. Stronger. Hmm…”
Head was given a shake then. Arms stretching upwards as to store away his thoughts, “Well, I’m sure yah can figure out the spatial blink easily enough. I’m sure yah will figure most of the spells out effortlessly, yah’ve got raw knack. Likely to make most mages upset about it since we train for years and years to function.”
Once Calia was back on her feet and only feeling mildly stupid, she watched him fall into sort of focused thought that she knew all too well. This was riveting for him! Getting to witness different styles of magic through her fumbling through it. Having this chance to study something new and wrap his thoughts around it.
…he was getting into magical theory and technical jargon again, and Calia could feel her own brain wanting to check out. Realizing in that moment, she truly honestly had no ambitions to be someone all knowing when it came to magic. Didn’t give two shits about how much power she had. All she really wanted was to be able to use it to in ways that benefited and entertained. The Arcanum Hollow was a useful skill to learn. So was this spacial blinking thing.
Beyond that? Well, she liked to play. Calia was content with that.
The princess finally just laughed, tugging up that blanket to drape over her head like a warm cozy hood.
“Okay, Professor. Maybe it’s good I am not in a magic university, I like learning things but I really don’t care about… what do they call it? Maximum power? All knowing, all powerful? There’d be a bunch of pissed off mages angry about my wasted potential.”
It was going to be something he was going to think about. And eventually try. To construct spells that used both arcane and abyssal magic. If he had the abilities for both, then cultivating them to work in tandem would be useful. And dangerous. But of course those would be things for him to develop since in a manner of seconds and looking at Calia pulling the blanket over her head, she declared vocally that she didn’t give a shit anyways.
Well that was good to know. So he wouldn’t share or talk about his own thoughts in the regards to potential ideas.
Simply show her things she wanted to know so she could use for her own benefit and leave it at that.
It was a bit saddening internally to understand swiftly that all he was probably useful for was telling her these things she wanted but nothing else. Granted, then again, he already knew his uses for Calia was the magic font and just being as she said, the sassy demon. Such things didn’t unfold or encompass parts of himself that were knowledgeable. Curious. Interested and broader than just the sassy sort.
He was to stay in a box of expectation. Be a demon, be a lout and nothing else.
“Ah well, if I were a professor, I’d be the one that gives extra credit just for showin’ up.” Grinning broadly, “And they’d prolly kick me out for flirtin’ with the pretty lasses anyways.” Arc slotted himself back into place mentally with a flip of hand to snuff out the light. Hopping off the root to just temporarily wander in checking, “Well, I’ll just keep eyes out for now. Ain’t ever too sure what’s lurkin’ out in these areas but if its fae, I’ll be sure to stay outta the way.”
Something wasn’t right now, but it was hard to tell if it were just Calia’s own insecurity and paranoia in seeing something that wasn’t actually there, if she’d genuinely said something hurtful, or if it was simply him and nothing to do with her at all. Only feeling that it felt a bit too quick snuffing out the magic light and announcing he’d stay out of the way if something faeish made an appearance.
Feeling almost compelled to say something, tell him he was a good teacher and she enjoyed listening to his lecturing even if she didn’t understand half of what he’d said. Not even sure if that was the issue at all and finally just having to leave it be. If she started prodding at him every time she had a twinge of insecure thought, she was going to be obnoxious. Nor would it be any good trying to pry open his feelings for her to meddle around with when it wasn’t her place.
One day at a time, Calia had to remind herself!
“Don’t stay up too late. You could use the sleep too,” she told him instead. A simple means of care without the poking and prodding. Turning herself to find a nice nook at the base of the tree roots where she could slide into a nice seat propped up against the trunk. …finally taking a look at the blanket she had wrapped around herself with confusion, having somehow even forgotten he’d handed it to her at all! An embarrassed flush was the result that she promptly ignored.
“I’ll be fine, rest yer head.” Arc called at her not about to fuss or stress about staying up as late or just staying up at all. The woods could be dangerous after all but after the whole adventuring, he suspected it was probably more dangerous for him than her. Fae tended to prefer their own kind and he was not that.
The moonlight filtered through the ancient trees, casting long shadows across the elven redwoods. Standing vigilant, his back against one of the massive trunks, his eyes scanning the darkened forest. The breeze whispered through the leaves, but it was the quiet in his own mind that seemed the loudest.
Why am I like this?
He stared into the night, the stars glittering far above through the canopies, and his thoughts slipped into a familiar spiral. Magic had been everything to him—it had always been. It was more than just power; it was life itself, flowing through him like blood. He had seen magic used to heal, to protect, to create beauty. It wasn’t just a tool, but a bond to the world around him. And yet, for all his longing to share it, to show someone the beauty he saw, there was a cold knot in his chest—a weight that had been growing heavier with each passing day.
I want to share it with someone… but I can’t. I never thought this feeling would return with the memories. And I can agree that it ought to be turfed back to the damnable void.
He glanced over at Calia, resting nearby in the quiet of the night. His chest tightened. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. He couldn’t let her see the truth.
He had hoped, at first, that maybe she could see past the layers he wore, that maybe she would understand the magic the way he did—that it was more than just power to use. But now, the doubt had crept in. The way she looked at him when they spoke about magic—it felt different, as if she didn’t care about the meaning behind it, only what it could give her. His manna, his power. His ability.
She wants me for what I can do, not for who I am. That ought to be obvious and yet the struggle is still there. This recollection of the past isn’t helpin’ either.
The thought stung more than he expected. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to believe that maybe—just maybe—she saw him as more than a means to an end. But every moment of hesitation, every time she looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to perform or provide, made him feel like nothing more than a tool to be used.
Is this all I am to her? To anyone?
He clenched his jaw, the cool air biting at his skin. The darkness around him seemed to deepen, and in the quiet of the night, the shadows of his doubts grew larger. The more time he spent with Calia, the more alone he felt—alone in a way he hadn’t before. Because now, there was something at stake. She was too close. He couldn’t let himself care for someone, trust someone, and that made everything more dangerous. If she ever found out, truly found out, what lay beneath the surface of the act he put on, what would she think?
He had perfected the mask—the charming smile, the easy banter, the warmth of his presence—but it was just that. A mask.
She can never know the truth.
The truth that he was, at his core, a demon—or at least, the blood of one. The truth that his magic wasn’t just a gift; it was a curse, a reminder of the darkness that clung to him, no matter how brightly it tried to shine. The truth that he wasn’t whole.
Even if he wanted to, even if he wanted to trust her, he knew it was dangerous. Because if she knew—if she saw the darkness he kept buried deep within—what would she do? Could she still be his ally, still see him as something more than a demonic outcast? Or would she leave him behind? That would be the most logical of reasons and he damn well knew all of these doubts were because of what had been forced back.
The doubt gnawed at him like a festering wound, eating away at everything he tried to hold onto. He wanted to share with her, to open up, to have someone understand him—but how could he? How could he ever show someone his love for magic, his passion for it, when all they saw was the thing they could take from him?
I’m just a source to them. I’m just a way to get what they want. That hasn’t exactly changed, now has it. Even in the past, it was the expectation of being the mage advisor. What I could give to Carlisle.
He felt a wave of loneliness crash over him, even though she was only a few feet away. The distance between them had never felt wider. He watched her sleep, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest.
He closed his eyes, pushing the thought down, burying it beneath the layers of his well-crafted persona. He couldn’t let her see his doubts. He couldn’t let anyone see the cracks in his mask.
For now… I’ll keep up the act. Keep her close. But keep my distance. I have to.
The forest around him seemed to echo his thoughts, the wind stirring the leaves like whispers in the dark. Arc leaned against the tree, his eyes fixed on the sky above. There were no answers, no clear path forward. But the night stretched on, and he would keep watching over her. Even if he couldn’t share his true self, he would keep her safe from the things lurking in the shadows.
Even if it means sacrificing everything to keep the truth hidden.