Dating & Devilry
Prologue: Un(S)able to Communicate
Weyland Lemming wasn't supposed to be here; his arrival was not at his intended destination. An island getaway, surely, but a deserted one? Why hadn't he read the fine print? Why had that thieving raccoon extorted a currency from him that he didn't even know existed? What reasons had he to stay?
Why on Earth did Weyland become an Island Representative for an island he hated?! Freedom was supposed to be that; a getaway from the harsh realities of life, a short vacation to enjoy the finer things. In the end, it turned into him being needed to complete task after task; finish request after request. If he was anything, he was a man of his word. So why did he give it to Tom Nook of all… creature-people? Weyland still didn't know what to call them, and he'd been here for a year now.
He sighed as he stared at the page in his journal. Words threatened to be written in an unbridled anger; they did not spill forth from his hands. A wrath seethed inside of him, one he could scarcely control.
He hated Tom Nook; deriving Weyland of his necessities to fund Tom's ridiculously expensive Resident Service's commodities. He hated the creature-people of this island.
So why had he stayed? It is a question he had found himself asked more often than not. Was it the niceties of his humble homestead, of which he'd pieced together himself? Was it the enrapturing vista beyond the isle? Weyland knew one thing. He dared not leave. He had nowhere else to go.
His mother loved him dearly, but would not bring forth the gall to ask him to return. His father loathed him, for Weyland's abandonment of the family. Had he abandoned home? Maybe, maybe. Weyland, however, would not return, this much he knew. His reasoning, outlandish to those overseas, was that he had fallen in love. Far be it from Weyland to deny himself emotions. He had felt them greatly over the years.
Agony. Anger. Affection. Adoration. Despite everything in himself that had urged him to flee, Weyland stayed. Fight or flight had no longer controlled him; he had committed himself to this community several others and himself had built. Fallen in love with the mundane and mediocrity of his life that now existed as his.
Yet he hated it all the same. Some part of Weyland knew himself to be weak. Weak minded. Weak spirited. Weak willed. Unable to take what was his, and go, while the getting was good. Some piece inside of himself held a glimmer of hope that he may one day leave and return home.
Unbeknownst to that little sliver that remained, Weyland had deigned it best to have kept purchase on this isle. Freedom was never free, but by God, did he love it.
Dark, scraggly brown locks of hair fell over his eyes as sighed; a gravelly outtake of air loosed itself from his lungs. As he had leaned forward over his desk, he couldn't help but fathom why he remained even still. "Damn you, Nook." Weyland uttered to himself as he had known there was no one else to respond.
His equally abyssal eyes loomed over the blank paragraph that had yet to write itself. He ignored the upper half of the page; the beginning lines of his entry taunted him, as if jubilant in his dismay. "Slider was your responsibility… why do I owe you for that?" He mumbled the question to himself as he had known there was no answer. Tom Nook was many things, but above all else, he was a bell-hungry bastard.
To Weyland, it was a pittance. He'd started his new life on this island in debt, and he feared he would die on this island in debt. He would not be so kind to simply let it happen.
He leaned back in his chair. The cold oak frame pressed against the thin material of his shirt and cooled his back as he stared up at the ceiling. The year had come rather quickly; too busy having helped new and newer occupants settle across the island having been most of his time spent abroad. Yet, that was not the reason for his seethed mentality. He rampaged in his mind because he had fallen in love. An emotion he so blindly had fallen prey to.
Weyland hefted another sigh from his chest, his hand ran up to his scalp to brush back against its forlorn strands of hair. His duty as Island Representative weighed on his fortitude in the face of Tom Nook. The raccoon that had accosted Weyland's good-hearted nature; took him for every bell he had earned and spat on his meager wage.
Tom Nook was many things to Weyland. A thief, a scoundrel, a filthy highwayman. He hated everything about him. So why had Weyland stayed?
Images of an aged hedgehog swam to and fro in the young man's mind, and he growled to himself. Unrequited, unapproached, and unknown. Sable Able, of the Able Sisters' seamstress shop, was laid dominant in Weyland's thoughts, horrendously so these past few months. Shy, yet intelligent, and quite enraptured in her work; Weyland could never voice his thoughts to the quietest of the three Able sisters.
When they'd built shop on their isle, having made their temporary visits into a more permanent stay, Weyland was ecstatic. His eye for aesthetics and cosmetic was unmatched; that was… until he'd met Sable. Her craft was without par, and he found himself envious of her skill behind the seams.
Envy soon turned to adoration. Adoration, to affection. Yet even as he'd acknowledged these feelings within himself, Weyland couldn't will himself to approach and acknowledge her presence. Not that he was shy, mind, but that he found it out of bad taste to pull the spiny lass from the work she was so blatantly enamored with. After all, to love one's work is to love one's self.
Weyland had hated his position as Island Representative, but when Sable and Mable moved onto the very island Freedom became, he'd grown to love it. His grievances towards Tom Nook turned to a partnership built from mutual trust, and a willingness to pursue shared interests.
Is that why he'd stayed; to mend bridges he thought broken? No. To appreciate the growth of this isle he'd so abhorred over time? No. Weyland had remained on the Isle of Freedom because of Sable, and he hated that fact as much as he harbored a secret love for it.
He sat up with a groan and pulled himself from his chair. Having stood upright, he glanced about his humble abode. A bit back, Tom Nook had offered to expand upon Weyland's home, but the sole human of Freedom declined. He would not indebt himself once more, but he would work with the raccoon to provide himself amenities, basic and exotic.
Dark brown wooden material lined his walls, and a deep maroon mahogany floored beneath his feet. His gaze lingered above the fireplace on the furthest wall; framed above the inactive alcove was the grand opening of the Able Sisters' shop. Several of the creature-folk he'd come to know—and quietly cared for—stood at its entrance with wide grins. Amidst them all, Sable stood next to him with a demure smile plastered beneath her seemingly bored expression.
Weyland knew better. That was the grin she used when she was content with a piece she'd so lovingly created. At the time, they had hardly uttered two words to each other; a hello, and a goodbye. He hated them both at first. He hated everyone at first. However, when he saw Sable behind her machine, intent on an article of clothing he'd still never seen completed, he hated her just a little bit less than the others.
An outstretched hand found itself against the glass that encompassed the photo, and Weyland stared at it with a longing in his eyes. Behind pursed lips, pulling further to one side than the other, he frowned. If it wasn't for Tom Nook, Weyland would have never met Sable; Weyland would have never grown to care for his own work.
Yet, somehow, that brown hedgehog's passion inspired him, and Weyland hated how he could never tell her. He hated how he could never find it in himself to let her know. As he pulled his hand back to his hip, he lamented on his feelings.
Through a pierced gaze, he huffed quietly, and turned to his bed. Its supports a beige wooden material, same as the desk he'd sat at, and the chair he'd sat upon. How Weyland longed to thank Sable for her passionate approach to her career; to thank her for everything she didn't know she had done for him. How he longed to speak with the quiet hedgehog that turned his life around.
As he'd laid on his mattress, having left the covers beneath him, he stared at the ceiling in wonder. Would she ever acknowledge him? Would she ever know the depths of his affections? Would she…
Weyland slept horribly that night.
My first entry into Animal Crossing was Pocket Camp, believe it or not.
After having played New Horizons for the first time this month, I'd grown infatuated with the gameplay and cosmetics residing within. Little did I know that it was also an inspiring piece of entertainment.
After taking a several-year hiatus, I return to this Godforsaken site to bring you… Dating & Devilry! A romance, that starts out more like a drama, that bleeds into an amorous tale! Let me know if there's any errors or discrepancies and I'll work right on them (:
As usual, you're all the best, and I hope you continue to enjoy!