hullo hullo hullOOO i am back wassupPPP enjoy this idk either
He's unreasonably nervous tonight.
If he lets himself think about it too long, he can convince himself that he's misinterpreting everything. That he just misheard Edric, or that he's reading things wrong, or the messages they've been exchanging for the past few days are just a trick of the light. An after-echo of illusion magic.
He glances down at his scroll, and swallows. They're still there. Black text on a white background. Stark, and bright. It hurts his eyes in the dark room, and he rubs at them. His vision does not improve, if anything, it's even blurrier. The letters pulse at him from the scroll, and his eyes sting in beat.
It's the early hours of the morning, and he can't sleep. It's stuffy in his room, the curtains closed, and his bed-sheets clammy. He's cloaked in them, fully covered, but he wants to kick them off. He doesn't, though. It would make too much noise, firstly, and secondly, he's not a child. He can stay in bed, and force himself to sleep.
His scroll glows still.
He turns it over, and leaves it like that for five minutes, tossing and turning as he attempts to fall into slumber. His eyes fall heavy for a few brief moments, and he can feel himself slipping softly into sleep, before a cry of a crow wakes him, and he finds himself jolted upright in bed, all hope of sleep gone.
With a sigh, he turns the scroll over again. The messages are waiting there, read, but unreplied to.
mischiefs_other_half: hey goldie ;0
so i was thinking
what if we went on that date i mentioned
Those messages were sent three hours ago. He hasn't replied in that time. He keeps meaning to, keeps typing out short, panicked responses, watching the three dots appear next to his name, and then disappear.
He doesn't know what to say.
He wants to go. He wants to say yes, so badly that his fingers itch to send one, simple message. He can tell that Rascal (his palisman, he'd finally settled on a name) could sense his indecision, the little red bird-looking creature was fluttering around the scroll, dancing close to it. Almost dangerously close, really, he's concerned that the palisman is going to press a feathered foot to the 'send' button.
Are you sure? He types out, and deletes it just as quickly.
Sure. When?
He deletes that one too. He doesn't know what to say, and it almost scares him, the possibility of what could come from this. It could splutter out like a weak fire in the rain.
It could spark, and roar, and he could find himself not so alone.
I'd love to. I've missed you.
He fumbles that message out, almost sending it when he sees the tiny 'mischiefs_other_half is typing…' show up on his screen. He backspaces frantically, but the damage is done.
mischiefs_other_half: it's fine if you don't want to btw
sorry if you felt like if i was pressuring you
He sighs, and finally starts formulating an actual response. His anxiety spikes again; he worries he's lost the offer, that he's hurt Edric's feelings beyond repair.
Then he remembers that Edric is remarkably thick-skinned, and equally as persistent, and he doubts that something as simple as a few too many moments spent typing would put him off.
: No, you weren't pressuring me.
I was just surprised by the message.
Edric replies back almost immediately. He isn't surprised. His replies have always been lightning quick. Hunter is constantly surprised by the fact that Edric seems to genuinely enjoy talking to him. He doesn't know why, he's stilted when it comes to carrying a conversation, and outright abrasive when he's provoked. He knows he can be rude, and Belos has called him cruel, before - 'you're a cruel boy, Hunter, disappointing your uncle like this - and he's floored that Edric still wants to talk to him.
mischiefs_other_half: you didn't think i'd forgotten you did u?
because i wouldn't DREAM of doing such a thing
He chuckles softly at that, and immediately covers up his mouth with a faintly scarred hand. He stays still for a few moments, unmoving in his bed, feigning sleep in case he's been heard.
Laughter isn't a common sound where he lives.
When he's certain he's safe, and that his uncle isn't about to burst in, taking the scroll off him, and undoubtedly making him regret ever messaging a certain green-haired Blight boy, he turns the scroll back on again.
: No, not at all.
You're still sure you want to go on a date with me?
Asking such a question makes him nervous. A wave of anxiety washes over him, and he half wants to delete the last message. It's clingy, and near pathetic, and exactly what he doesn't want to be. He's not the kind of person to sound so - so desperate. So wanting.
He'll beg for his uncle's approval, but it feels completely unlike himself to wish for something like this.
mischiefs_other_half: yeah?
obviously?
like you're super cute and mysterious and why would i not want to smh silly goldie
Hunter rubs absentmindedly at his lower lip, and flushes, ducking his head even though nobody can see his face. It's a strange gesture to be making with only the faint glow of the scroll to light the room. He feels like one of the teenagers he's seen around Bonesborough.
: You are still yet to see my face.
He sends, pointing out the obvious. Unless Edric saw the other day…
He shakes his head. He doesn't think he would do that, for some reason. He thinks that they have a level of trust established between them at this point.
mischiefs_other_half: and?
your still cute
Hunter smiles at that, and quickly types out an easy reply.
: You're.
He knows he's deflecting, somewhat, trying to distract from Edric complimenting him (not flirting, he has to keep telling himself) with a simple aside. And grammar is something that bugs him. Not in a huge way, but he likes to hand in his reports with apostrophes in the right places.
mischiefs_other_half: ughhh shut up u know what i meant
He does know what Edric means - the other boy is sweet, really, with his blunt way of putting things, and open transparent attitude. Still, he's not going to admit that. He wants to stick to his guns.
: I might do. I'd understand it better if you spelt a word as simple as 'you're' correctly.
He rubs absentmindedly at his eyes, forcing himself to stay awake. He still wants to sleep - he's busy tomorrow, with his forms, and chores, and Titan-knows-what-else. But he wants to finish this - whatever this is - first.
mischiefs_other_half: fine fine fine
so fussy smh
you're still cute
happy?
He is happy. More than he'd care to admit. The feeling of being seen, of finally being noticed, and held to the light is something he wants to capture. Lock it away, like one of his uncle's experiments. Store it in a glass bottle, so he can drink it in on the days where he feels utterly, and completely unlovable.
(Though, he reflects, this is so much more human than one of his uncle's experiments. This feels like something that Luz would read in one of her books. Something that others beg to steal for themselves.)
: Quite.
He replies, and leaves it at that, because he doesn't know what else to say. The urge to say something else, something better, nearly overwhelms him. His fingers skitter over the top of the scroll, and he can nearly feel the heat of it beneath the pads of his fingers.
mischiefs_other_half: !
this is a momentous occasion r u finally letting me flirt with you?
i should throw a party
Hunter frowns down at his scroll. His eyes narrow at the second message, and they flicker shut for a moment, trying to process it. Is he letting Edric flirt with him? He doesn't think so. Usually, though, he does dismiss the other boy's advances, mainly because he can never agree with the compliments slung at him. They're not insincere, far from it, but he just - he can never quite work out what to say, and how to come across.
He realises this is the first time he's somewhat agreed, or accepted Edric's compliments, and something akin to apprehension spikes. Which is ridiculous. He feels like they're on the same page, now, Edric was asking him out on a date, for Titan's sake.
(An offer he still hasn't accepted, he realises, feeling somewhat guilty.)
He doesn't reply to the second message, because he's completely unsure what to say, lost, even, and focuses on the last one.
: I've never been to a party.
He types out, sends and then puzzles over why he'd said it. He's been to events, fancy formal things, where he'd been expected to suit up, and stand in the corner. More like a moving statue than a person. He'd just been his uncle's prop, something to display the might of the emperor's coven, and nothing more.
But he's never been to a party. He doesn't know what they're like, if he's being honest - if he imagines one in his mind's eye, it's one of his uncle's events, but with teengers instead of stuffy adults, and red cups instead of champagne flutes. He doesn't know what the music would be like, he's never adapted a taste for good music himself. Whenever his uncle plays something, it's either some nameless violin score, or something he never learns the name for.
He's sure that Edric has probably been to plenty of parties.
mischiefs_other_half: lol ur not missing out on much
promise
He finds that oddly reassuring. It isn't like he wants to go to a party, he finds his uncle's events overwhelming as it is. High-pitched violins stringing in his ears, and the low mumbles of voices, and the sweet sickly scent of punch - it all makes him tense, and nervous, and he's not sure that he'll ever want to replicate it, even with people his age.
: Why not?
He asks instead, mainly because he's curious to see if his constructed idea matches reality.
mischiefs_other_half: idk man usually they're all basically the same
emira just makes me do karaoke and then we leave early because mom makes us go home by 10
Huh.
He wonders for a moment what 'karaoke' is, and decides against asking Edric. He doesn't want to seem stupid, even if the word is completely unfamilar to him. He frowns, and tests the word out in his mouth. Kar-o-ke. It comes out sounding sharp in his hushed whisper.
He waits for a moment for any disturbances outside his room - there's nothing - and he turns back to his scroll.
: When Belos hosts an event, it doesn't finish until early morning.
But that doesn't sound that enjoyable.
He winces, a shadow flickering over his face quickly, disliking his wording. He would start typing in the way Edric does, in an almost reckless manner, with no concern for grammar, or correct punctuation, or even if his words make any sense, but he fears that his words may be read the wrong way. And besides, he doesn't know how to start. Him using a simple ':)' to sign off a message would just seem wrong.
mischiefs_other_half: wait wait what belos has parties?
man i thought he was just like
stuffy
Hunter frowns.
: Not parties. They're events. For Coven members.
To celebrate things, mostly.
He wonders why Edric has never attended one of the events, afterall, his parents are fairly involved with the Coven. They've been producing Abdominations for the Coven for a good few months, now, and he's certain he's seen the Blights slinking around the castle, dancing with their purple-spotted creatures in the rooms of the castle, the Abdomination's heads bumping against the ceiling.
The idea of Edric being in his house - in his room, even - nearly overwhelms him with an emotion he can't put his finger on. Because it's something he wants, and for a moment, he feels selfish. It's extremely rare for him to want something, purely, and completely for himself.
He allows himself to wonder, just for a second, what they'd do. He think he'd just spend most of the time showing Edric his paperwork, trying to get the green-haired boy to understand the work he spends all of his hours on. Maybe introduce him properly to Rascel. Show him the small, personal artifacts he keeps in his room.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd finally take off his mask. The mere thought of that makes fear wash over him, with the force of a cresting wave. Every time he thinks about it, he feels the same way - tight on the inside, overwhelmed with insecurities. The thought of him brings him back to square one, back to when he first met Edric - like he wants to grab his cloak, and just bolt.
mischiefs_other_half: oh huh
i mean that sounds like a party to me
belos probably just doesn't want it to sound to fun
Hunter is too tired to point out that Edric needs to add an extra 'o' to his 'to.'
Nine times out of ten, he would, but it doesn't seem worth it. Not today.
The corners of his mouth downturn as he tries to work out a response. He needs to defend Belos, he knows that much. He has done every time the topic of his uncle arises in conversation, just in case.
Just in case his scroll gets discovered. He figures that if Belos reads his messages, sees that he never once betrayed him, nor spoke ill of him, his punishment would be lesser. It's a foolish hope, not rooted in fact, but he clings to it all the same.
: It wasn't fun.
It's a formal event. I don't think it's supposed to be fun.
Even if it was a party, I just had to take people's coats, and then stand by the throne.
Is what he says, instead of any kind of real defence towards Belos' ability to have fun (or lack of.) It's not a direct dig at his uncle, but it isn't the usual glowing praise he places upon Belos or the Coven, and it seems out of place.
mischiefs_other_half: … well that sucks
doesn't he have like
servants to do that
not his nephew
That is a question that Hunter has pondered time and time again. Before, he wouldn't worry too much about it - he knows that a boy in a gold mask looks better than any of the other uniforms that Belos kits the servants out in, and appearances carry their weight in gold when it comes to a Coven event. Now, he's not so sure.
Because it's not just the events. It's everything else. It's the missions, and it's the paperwork, and it's every tiny shitty little thing that his uncle has ever asked him to do - even if it's never a request, it's just phrased like a kind question, when it's a direct instruction. It's the needless risks he's taken, the bruised ribs from falling down a hill when he was fifteen and out on his fifth or fiftieth mission, the things he's done when surely, surely there was somebody else to do it.
He's taken so many risks, and at this point, he doesn't even know if they were worth it.
: Yes, he does.
But it's fine. I like helping him.
(That was a lie.)
mischiefs_other_half: whatever u say goldie
if you need to talk to me about anything, u know u can?
That thought is reassuring, and he holds onto it, before it flutters out of reach.
He knows he can talk to Edric. He's made it clear, time and time again, that he's there. Hunter didn't quite know at first what that was supposed to mean, but now he thinks he does.
It means being there at two in the morning, when Hunter is still chipping away at paperwork, coping with a splitting headache, and with only his scroll for company.
It means being there when Hunter gets back from one of his hopeless personal missions, and sending instructions, message-by-message, on how to bind a wound.
It means being here, now, for whatever this is.
: Yeah, I know.
Thank you, Ed.
You're a good friend.
It feels strange to be sending such an emotionally vulnerable message - at least by Hunter's standards - with no follow up correction of spelling, or hidden jab, or- anything. He just feels raw. Wrung out, like a damp cloth.
mischiefs_other_half: you called me ed!
we're besties now
for reals
He has to stifle another giggle, and feels like a schoolgirl for doing so.
: Me not calling you 'Ed' didn't deter you from calling me your 'bestie' like, two hundred times.
He replies, smiling stupidly to himself.
mischiefs_other_half: don't lie you love it
besides it can't have been two hundred times
Hunter pouts at his scroll, opens up the 'search chat' function, and types in 'bestie.' His screen pops up with '256 results found', which he screenshots, and sends to Edric.
He only has to wait for a second before he gets a response.
mischiefs_other_half: ,,, i stand corrected
anyways i'm going to sleep
goodnight goldie ! 3
The heart makes his pulse quicken, and it gives him the confidence to do - to do something.
: I thought you were messaging about a date?
Because I was thinking we could meet in two days time.
He doesn't get a response straight away, which worries him more than he'd want to admit. Even though Edric was the one to initiate the date conversation initially, he worries if he's done something wrong, and that thought only intensifies with no response in two minutes.
When one does come, he heaves a sigh, visibly relieved.
mischiefs_other_half: ! i'd love to ;)
where do you want to meet?
He frowns, thinking, before his fingers tap over the keyboard.
: Where we met last time, if that works for you.
He rubs at his eyes, and holds back a yawn. Titan, he needs to sleep.
mischiefs_other_half: wowww you're such a romantic
i'll see u there :D
okay i'm sleeping now
Hunter blinks at his scroll, feels a smile quirking the corners of his lips, and replies.
: Only for you.
And I'll see you at noon, promptly.
Sleep well.
He turns his scroll down before he can read the next reply, entire body weary, almost heavy.
He can't fall asleep straight away, his fingers keep tracing along the sheets to reach for the scroll, even though he knows there's no reply. He presumes Edric has finally gone to sleep. He hopes he has, he doesn't like the idea of the other boy being as tired as he is.
Eventually, he turns on his side, with a slight huff as his ribs press uncomfortably against the harder part of his mattress, the part where it dips down, worn out by age. The throbbing pain that starts to kick in doesn't bother him that much, though, he's learnt to ignore it.
He squeezes his eyes fully shut, and slowly drifts into sleep, comforted by 'two days time', and the fact that he finally, finally, has someone who listens to him. Someone who seems to take him for who he is.
And that thought eases him fully asleep, and he drifts off with a slowly spreading smile on his face.