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for kii
Dear Kii,
Welcome to Fire Emblem hell! I tried to combine two of your key interests. I'm not sure if I nailed it, but I figured that you'd at least enjoy the mental images.
- Eth
Felix's gaze flickers towards him-- the creature is curled up peacefully, chest rising and falling as he sleeps. The Demonic Beast has dull orange wings and a dragon's snout, and it makes a strange, scratching sound from the back of its throat, as though it's trying to swallow. Felix sits up in the pile of hay, and his nerves from earlier in the day start to bundle again in his stomach.
“You can hear me.” Felix regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. Of course the Beast can hear him. It's transformed, not deaf. Nevertheless, the Beast doesn't wake from its slumber; Felix can only imagine that transforming must have sapped the energy out of him.
After all, he isn't a creature, not really. He was human once, just like every Demonic Beast out there-- he was his human.
Sylvain had a Crest of Gautier, which meant that he could use the Lance of Ruin-- he wasn't supposed to turn into a Beast.
Yet Felix had heard a loud shriek in the middle of battle, and saw Sylvain tumbling off his horse onto the soil. He'd screamed Sylvain's name, only to watch his skin start to melt from his flesh, like it was being dissolved by acid; scales began to coat his body like the armor he'd once worn.
Felix could taste bile at the back of his throat. “Sylvain!” he'd yelled, before Ingrid leapt in front of what had once been their friend, eyes narrowed at the enemy.
“He's with us,” she had snarled. And for once in his life, Sylvain had deigned to obey.
“Can we turn him back?” Felix had asked Mercedes, earlier. His heart was about to leap out of his throat.
There was no mistaking the bags under her eyes. “We're doing our best,” she'd said, placing a hand on Felix's shoulder. He assumed it was supposed to be reassuring, but all he could think of was how the warmth wasn't Sylvain's.
Sylvain's eyes flicker open. He inches closer towards Felix, so they are almost touching; there is a playful flicker in his eyes as he bumps his snout against Felix's nose. A soft sensation tugs at Felix's heartstrings, and he shifts slightly in the hay, resting his head on Sylvain's belly.
“We'll get through this,” he murmurs. Sylvain snorts in response. Even if he's currently starved for words, Felix knows that his boyfriend is in full agreement.
Welcome to Fire Emblem hell! I tried to combine two of your key interests. I'm not sure if I nailed it, but I figured that you'd at least enjoy the mental images.
- Eth
Felix's gaze flickers towards him-- the creature is curled up peacefully, chest rising and falling as he sleeps. The Demonic Beast has dull orange wings and a dragon's snout, and it makes a strange, scratching sound from the back of its throat, as though it's trying to swallow. Felix sits up in the pile of hay, and his nerves from earlier in the day start to bundle again in his stomach.
“You can hear me.” Felix regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. Of course the Beast can hear him. It's transformed, not deaf. Nevertheless, the Beast doesn't wake from its slumber; Felix can only imagine that transforming must have sapped the energy out of him.
After all, he isn't a creature, not really. He was human once, just like every Demonic Beast out there-- he was his human.
Sylvain had a Crest of Gautier, which meant that he could use the Lance of Ruin-- he wasn't supposed to turn into a Beast.
Yet Felix had heard a loud shriek in the middle of battle, and saw Sylvain tumbling off his horse onto the soil. He'd screamed Sylvain's name, only to watch his skin start to melt from his flesh, like it was being dissolved by acid; scales began to coat his body like the armor he'd once worn.
Felix could taste bile at the back of his throat. “Sylvain!” he'd yelled, before Ingrid leapt in front of what had once been their friend, eyes narrowed at the enemy.
“He's with us,” she had snarled. And for once in his life, Sylvain had deigned to obey.
“Can we turn him back?” Felix had asked Mercedes, earlier. His heart was about to leap out of his throat.
There was no mistaking the bags under her eyes. “We're doing our best,” she'd said, placing a hand on Felix's shoulder. He assumed it was supposed to be reassuring, but all he could think of was how the warmth wasn't Sylvain's.
Sylvain's eyes flicker open. He inches closer towards Felix, so they are almost touching; there is a playful flicker in his eyes as he bumps his snout against Felix's nose. A soft sensation tugs at Felix's heartstrings, and he shifts slightly in the hay, resting his head on Sylvain's belly.
“We'll get through this,” he murmurs. Sylvain snorts in response. Even if he's currently starved for words, Felix knows that his boyfriend is in full agreement.
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FUCKING
SYLVAIN
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SYLVAIN FUCKINGJOSE GAUTIER IS
A
DRAGON
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I ABSOLUTELY KNEW I HAD TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU
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